Chapter 32

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 32

Chapter Title: The Poisoned Oath

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Baldina Prison.

Lady Quizin had died after the tendons in both her hands were severed and she was whipped to death.

Mariyu had received the same punishment, but she was still alive.

The sound of footsteps splashing on the damp floor echoed through the cell. Mariyu struggled to open her eyes.

"Wh-who...?"

Medea stood behind the bars.

"It's been a while, Mariyu."

"P-Princess!"

Mariyu was gripped by terror.

She had witnessed Quizin's death right up close, which made her fear all the more intense.

In her mind, Medea had already become a colossal, omnipotent embodiment of evil.

"P-Please, Your Highness. Spare me. I'll do anything you command. Please, save Mariyu."

But at the same time, she was a god. The only god who could save Mariyu now.

"But I can't trust you anymore."

"I was wrong. I swear I won't betray you again. Never. I'm your servant, Your Highness."

Mariyu crawled desperately to the bars on her elbows and buried her face in Medea's dress, pleading.

"How desperate you are."

Medea murmured softly.

"A cornered person will promise anything. It's a pledge made at the edge of a cliff—one that's forgotten the moment you step away."

"No!"

Mariyu shook her head frantically, like she was having a fit. Why did I do it? Why did I dare try to cross that wall?

"I'm your eternal servant, Your Highness. For the sake of our old bond, please..."

At that moment, a small vial dropped with a soft plink in front of Mariyu.

"It's juice made from pulwan grass, which induces full-body paralysis. The poison is potent—if you don't take the antidote periodically, your whole body stiffens up until it chokes the breath from your lungs and you die."

Medea explained gently.

"One day, you might forget the oath you're making today."

"Y-Your Highness..."

"Drink it. Then I'll spare you. I'll heal your hands too, of course, and give you the antidote."

Only then did Mariyu realize.

Of course the princess wouldn't let her off so easily.

This was the same princess who had eliminated even the head maid while feigning utter innocence. Handling a bit of poison grass was nothing to her.

"Can I trust you, Mariyu?"

The princess asked with a clear, innocent expression.

"..."

Mariyu uncorked the vial with trembling hands. Her injured tendons made her fingers slip repeatedly.

Tears and snot streamed down her bloodied, filth-streaked face.

Medea watched the scene with cold eyes.

Mariyu is Samon's lover.

Which meant she still had her uses.

She was a pawn. The smallest, most insignificant piece on the chessboard.

But she's perfect bait to lure the enemy—then discard once she's served her purpose.

So she had to remain a pawn until she reached the back rank and was ready to promote.

Gulp. Mariyu swallowed the poison and lifted her head.

"I-I'm your servant, Your Highness. So please..."

"Yes, Mariyu. I'll trust you."

The princess's smile, holding her very breath in its grasp to the end, was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Don't disappoint me again."

Mariyu nodded frantically, barely daring to breathe.

By the time the fierce winds of reform sweeping through the palace had died down, the Queen Dowager summoned Medea.

"What jewelry would you like, Your Highness?"

A maid asked Medea, who was dressed in a sky-blue gown.

"This will do."

Medea selected a simple thread necklace with a single small pearl dangling from it.

"But isn't that too plain? You're going to see the Queen Dowager—we can adorn you beautifully."

Medea waved her off.

The simpler and more modest her attire, the more pity she could evoke from the Queen Dowager.

Though the Queen Dowager wouldn't scold her as harshly as before, Medea couldn't lower her guard for even a moment.

Medea rose to her feet.

Her outfit was plain, but her upright posture and resolute expression made her seem all the more incorruptibly pure.

"I'll escort you."

Marchioness Pinatelli, who had waited for Medea to finish dressing, stood.

"The Queen Dowager regrets her past actions. Please understand, Your Highness."

On the way to the Queen Dowager Palace, the marchioness said casually.

"She's a lonely soul. Though she treated you harshly out of lingering grief, Your Highness, in truth, it's the Queen Dowager who cherishes and protects Baldina's bloodline most of all."

Medea knew the marchioness was warning her about the Regent Duke's family.

"I know. I've grown wise enough to distinguish sweet flattery from bitter medicine. So I don't resent my grandmother."

Marchioness Pinatelli's expression softened in relief.

She had sought the head maid position for her family's vengeance, but her loyalty to the Queen Dowager was genuine.

That was why she inwardly worried Medea might come to hate the Queen Dowager.

"I'm impressed by Your Highness's gracious understanding. Come, let's go in. The Queen Dowager is waiting."

As they entered the Queen Dowager Palace, joyful laughter rang out from afar.

"Grandma, do you still think I'm a little child?"

"Such a rascal you are."

"Birna just wants to bask in her grandma's affection, that's all."

It was Birna's voice.

After the Queen Dowager had drawn her sword and driven the Claudio Ducal House from the palace, they were branded with the shame of their collateral lineage and didn't know what to do.

But the shrewd Catherine quickly grasped the Queen Dowager's intentions.

She took the initiative, relinquishing the privileges they enjoyed to ease the suspicions.

And every day, she brought Birna to visit the Queen Dowager.

The Queen Dowager was angry at first, but as her originally favored granddaughter visited daily and amused her, her heart gradually softened.

The Claudio mother and daughter no longer stayed in the palace overnight, but they lingered in the Queen Dowager Palace until the gates closed.

"Medea will be here soon, so wrap it up."

"Ahaha! You can't leave me out! I want to stay too. I miss my big sister."

"Good grief, who's stopping you?"

Birna's clear voice carried distinctly even outside the door.

"I didn't realize Lady Birna Claudio was still here."

Marchioness Pinatelli glanced at Medea.

Why are they clinging to the Queen Dowager's side at a time like this?

As someone who hoped the two granddaughters would reconcile quickly, the marchioness found the Claudio pair's motives suspicious.

"Greetings to you, Grandmother."

Medea pushed open the door and entered.

One step at a time. Her poise remained impeccable, without the slightest hesitation.

"Yes."

The Queen Dowager fixed her gaze on her.

This time, unclouded by anger, she took in her granddaughter's etiquette.

Posture. Expression. Gait. Astonishingly, there wasn't a single flaw.

The Queen Dowager, who had spent her life in the palace, had exacting eyes.

Even to her, she couldn't find a single fault in the current Medea.

"Sit."

The Queen Dowager personally poured tea. Medea sipped it calmly.

Even in the tea ceremony's every moment, the Queen Dowager couldn't stop scrutinizing and evaluating her granddaughter.

Yet she had no grounds to criticize.

Medea was elegant to the point where the Queen Dowager regretted her own earlier disdain for the daughter of a lowly dancer.

Medea lowered her eyes. She knew the Queen Dowager was observing her every move.

Yet she was confident.

I'm more than familiar with this by now.

In her previous life, when she followed Jason to the Kazen Empire, countless people had attacked her.

The rumor of the cursed half-princess had spread to the empire before long.

Medea's clumsy demeanor, devoid of any royal dignity, only fueled those rumors.

It was only upon arriving at the empire that she realized how foolish she had been.

She pitied herself for learning nothing under her uncle's protection.

Back then, she thought Jason wasn't summoning her to the palace because of it.

He couldn't present such an inadequate empress.

So she worked harder.

Without a single flaw. She overhauled everything from start to finish. Bloody practice followed.

Medea didn't want to embarrass her beloved husband.

Even though she had created everything Jason enjoyed—the national treasures, the evil dragon, the throne itself—she always felt like a debtor fretting before him.

It was all for nothing.

Jason, who had bled her dry, repaid no gratitude—instead, he stole her position and gave it to Saint Rachel.

If only I'd spent that time hugging my children one more time.

What did it matter, that cheap devotion offered to the likes of Jason?

She hadn't poured enough love into her children, precious enough to place in her eyes without pain.

Lian, Lea.

The betrayal by her husband stung, but her regret as a foolish mother cut deeper into her bones.

Her green eyes flickered briefly, then settled deeply.

The years of endurance were heartbreaking, yet they weren't entirely in vain, it seemed.

Now that chance had returned, the bloody pains of her past life had become Medea's weapons.

"You've mastered etiquette well."

The Queen Dowager said coldly—a rare compliment.

Marchioness Pinatelli relaxed.

"Wasn't it just the other day that etiquette tutors gave up and fled? How did you learn to greet so flawlessly, Sister? Share your secret with me."

Birna chimed in, pursing her lips.

"Or were you hiding it all this time, pretending to be a tomboy? You couldn't have improved overnight. It's truly amazing."

It was a silent accusation: Had she deliberately driven away the etiquette tutor Catherine assigned, saving her best for the Queen Dowager?

Medea responded calmly.

"Aunt's tutor was certainly excellent, but not suited to me. She specialized in noble etiquette, not royal."

Royal and noble etiquette should differ in truth.

But Catherine had wanted Medea to grow up ignorant, so she assigned a noble tutor and deliberately excluded her from royal education.

"No way. I was taught by her too."

The Queen Dowager glanced sharply at Birna.

Her younger granddaughter's attitude toward the elder was oddly off-putting.

After the recent incident, Birna's cheerfulness no longer seemed as endearing.

Perhaps because of that—her brash interruptions, her snippy remarks, the fidgety flicker of her eyes—began to grate little by little.