Episode 55

I was so shocked that I could only stare into Lian’s violet eyes, barely managing to ask him another question. My voice, coming from a stiffened throat, didn’t even sound like my own.

“Do you mean that after that, you’ll die?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Really die? Because you used the Serpent’s power on Marquis Senwood?”

“Yes.”

“Lian, if you’re lying about this, I will be truly furious. Is what you just said the truth?”

“I am a liar, but I do not lie about matters like this.”

So Aiden’s words were true: the Serpent’s power was indeed tied to his life.

All the more reason he shouldn’t have used it for something so reckless.

How could he smile so brightly while telling me he had only a few years left to live?

What on earth is wrong with this madman?

Why did he risk his life for something I never asked him to do and then rejoice in it alone?

What am I supposed to do with this?

Am I supposed to thank him? Or did he expect praise for a job well done?

“Why did you do such a thing?”

“Of course, for Your Majesty and for Crown Princess Lothania.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to act? I intended to reveal the Marchioness of Senwood’s crimes through a trial. Lothania wanted the same.”

“Your only evidence was the confession of a traitor from the White Shadow. A trial? If we lost the trial, you would have to release the one who killed His Majesty the Emperor.”

“We could have found more witnesses or evidence once the trial started.”

“And do you really think evidence that hasn’t surfaced by now would suddenly appear during the trial? Really?”

Lian tilted his head, a crooked smile on his face, and I had no retort. It was a concern that had troubled me even after I decided to proceed with the trial.

Lian adjusted his posture and spoke again, as if trying to soothe me.

“Your Majesty, the noble trials of Belpator have always been a battleground for power between the Emperor and the nobility. They were the last resort for nobles to keep a check on an Emperor who thought he could command the beasts as he pleased. So why would you start a trial when avoiding it would have been wiser?”

Is that so?

The Emperor was the judge presiding over noble trials, and as the Empress Regent, I had assumed this trial would favor us.

But had I misunderstood?

Was I so ignorant of Belpator that I was about to embark on a reckless venture that would only leave Lothania scarred?

In my confusion, I turned to Aiden, who was standing behind me, seeking his guidance.

But before I could meet his gaze, Lian’s voice interrupted.

“There’s no point in asking Duke Tilender, Your Majesty. You know as well as I do that he never received proper training as the Dog’s successor. He knows nothing about the Empire’s affairs.”

Aiden glared at Lian coldly but did not refute his words.

He had spent five years just trying to survive his father’s madness, so Lian was likely correct.

Seeing my hesitation and confusion, Lian drove his point home.

“Besides, what if things had gone wrong, and Your Majesty had been forced to return to Dirmil? The Crown Princess wouldn’t have survived.”

“Do you think I would let that happen?”

Aiden’s voice, filled with anger, cut through the silence. His eyes flashed dangerously, but Lian remained unfazed, keeping his focus solely on me.

“To prevent that from happening, I chose the fastest and most certain method. I sacrificed decades of my life to save you and the Crown Princess, and you’re not going to praise me for it?”

Lian asked pitifully, his eyebrows drooping slightly.

After what he had done, expecting praise was absurd, and I should have rebuked him harshly, but the words wouldn’t come.

I reminded myself not to believe everything that came from the Serpent’s tongue, but the fact remained that Bonita had indeed conspired with my father. Who knows what other plots she might have been devising?

That thought made me waver.

Had I been too harsh on Lian, who claimed to have shortened his life to protect me and Lothania?

What he had done was undeniably horrifying, but was it right for me to judge right and wrong when it came to the lives of myself and Lothania?

I didn’t know.

Never since becoming Empress of Belpator had I felt so lost, so utterly helpless, as I did today, like a child lost in the woods.

In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to praise or condemn Lian.

Lian continued to look at me with an almost pleading expression, but perhaps he sensed the turmoil within me because he didn’t push further.

After a while, I managed to steady myself enough to ask Lian another question.

“I didn’t know the Serpent’s power could make someone kill or commit suicide. Lian, could you kill anyone if you wanted to?”

“Not just anyone. My power only amplifies someone’s hidden desires; it can’t force them to commit murder if they don’t already have the will to do so.”

“I don’t understand. The Marquis was said to have adored his wife and son.”

“Human emotions are always a double-edged sword, Your Majesty. Deep within the Marquis’s love for the Marchioness lay a fear that she didn’t truly love him.”

“So you convinced him that the Marchioness was unfaithful?”

“I merely suggested that she might have been. He chose to draw the sword.”

“So, although he acted because of your power, it’s not your fault?”

“As I said, I can’t create feelings that aren’t there.”

The power that may have saved my and Lothania’s lives was cruel and cowardly.

It was unbearable to look at Lian’s face, devoid of any trace of guilt.

It was agonizing to think that I couldn’t even demand guilt from the loyal Serpent who had risked his life to save the Empress and Crown Princess.

“I’ll cancel today’s council meeting. Lian, you should return home.”

Though he looked slightly displeased, Lian complied without protest. He stood, bowed gracefully, and exited. Only after hearing the door close behind him did I let out the breath I’d been holding.

Who was truly cruel and cowardly?

An innocent child was dead, yet here I was, feeling a twisted sense of relief that an enemy had been removed.

It felt as if scales were sprouting from my skin, as if I were about to transform into a serpent myself.

Aiden’s large hand rested on my trembling shoulder.

“Your Majesty, are you alright?”

The warmth of his touch and his gentle words shattered the dam holding back my emotions.

“No, I’m not alright. Everything is horribly wrong, and I’m the worst of it all.”

“It was the Serpent’s doing, acting on his own. You have done nothing wrong.”

“No, everything is wrong. How am I any different from Lian, who twists people’s hearts without a second thought, when I feel relieved despite knowing how wrong it is?”

“You’re different because you recognize that it’s wrong.”

“And what of that? It’s just thoughts—nothing but thoughts.”

Thoughts have no power.

It had been nearly four months since Nerian died, and I had become the Regent of Belpator.

I had always felt powerless, always feared that I wouldn’t be able to protect Lothania, but never before had my own incompetence been so painful.

Is it necessary to accept being wrong in order to survive?

Something critical within me felt like it was crumbling.

Aiden moved in front of me, kneeling to bring himself down to my level. He took my hand and looked up at me.

He hesitated for a moment, then began to speak, gently brushing his thumb over the back of my hand as if the words were difficult for him to say.

“I still vividly remember the day my father first returned after using his power. People say he went mad after becoming a rabid dog the second time, but I know better. He had already lost his mind that first day.”

“…Aiden.”

“He lost control and wielded his sword in a frenzy. The next day, when he saw what he had done, his spirit broke.”

Aiden’s father, Ceshuf, had become a berserker when Nerian ordered the extermination of a noble family suspected of assassinating his first Empress.

They said he had slaughtered the entire family in a single night, a massacre so horrific it was impossible to witness with a sane mind.

But Nerian’s suspicions didn’t end there. A few months later, another family was wiped out, and Ceshuf completely broke down.

Aiden was only fourteen at the time.

“The Empire’s Dog isn’t so weak as to break from a single moment of madness. A single word wouldn’t have shattered him. I was wrong, and it wasn’t your fault. But…”

The Emperor likely never said those words.

Even if Ceshuf had lived with the guilt, even if Aiden had survived, the Emperor would never have admitted he was wrong.

Because he was the Emperor.

The Emperor’s judgment was always right, and his orders were absolute.

“So you are different, Your Majesty. You are different because you can say that something is wrong, that it must not happen.”

Aiden’s heartfelt words, spoken with calm sincerity, helped lift my crumbling spirit.