Chapter 95

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 95

Chapter Title: The Crown I Will Steal from You

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95

"..."

Garo tensed up alongside Cezare's lack of response. Surely his mad lord wasn't about to defy even the Queen Dowager.

"It has been an honor."

However, a cool voice rang out right on time, and he finally let out a sigh of relief.

The Queen Dowager turned toward the crowd brimming with elation.

"I believe we should end today's banquet here. Everyone, return home and enjoy a peaceful night. Won't the people rejoice when they hear of today's auspicious event?"

"Of course they will!"

The attendees shouted in unison.

They too were nobles weary of endless intrigue, so they immediately grasped the Queen Dowager's intent.

"Mother, the Kazen delegation hasn't left Baldina yet. Giving them such public humiliation will sour relations between our nations."

The Regent Duke interjected urgently.

"You've seen with your own eyes how they trample Baldina while preaching cooperation—how they reveal their ugliness. And yet you still think it's not enough? They couldn't care less about our plight, so why should we?"

The Queen Dowager snapped at the Regent Duke with icy sharpness before brushing past him. Duchess Catherine Claudio and Samon were likewise ignored.

"Joaquin, you're truly magnanimous to worry about the Kazens even now. But when your own niece, Her Highness the Princess, begged for your aid, why didn't that generosity extend to her?"

Count Montega, the border lord, said without hiding his contemptuous gaze.

It wasn't a question at all—he didn't even wait for the Regent Duke's reply before departing.

Starting with him, the guests ebbed away from the banquet hall like a receding tide. Many shared Count Montega's sentiment.

"M-My lord, please don't take it to heart. Everyone's just worked up from today's events."

His retainers approached hesitantly, offering awkward consolation, but he merely glared at the now-empty hall with chilling eyes.

"Medea... You really..."

Princess Palace.

Though Medea's victory had filled the palace with joyful cheers everywhere, her bedroom alone remained shrouded in gray.

"What do we do? The wound is so deep... Your Highness, how did you endure this?"

Saya sobbed.

She had thought the sword had merely grazed her, but upon closer inspection back at the palace, the flesh was torn open.

"We're almost out of holy water too, so there'll be a scar."

Saya's heart ached at the thought of a blemish marring her princess's flawless, smooth arm.

Everyone else is celebrating, thrilled with joy! But our princess is hurt like this, in pain!

Neril felt the same despair. Her princess always treated even herself as mere chess pieces without hesitation.

As long as she could devour the king, she cared nothing for her own pieces shattering in the process.

Neril knew.

When the Fourth Imperial Princess had thrust her final strike, Medea had deliberately not dodged.

This was a hidden card Medea had kept even from Neril.

'To draw out the Fourth Imperial Princess's panic and etch that sight into the audience's minds.'

Now that the princess had drawn blood,

even if the empire tried to dismiss today's duel as mere childish squabbling between young girls, it wouldn't be so easy.

No one could deny it was the optimal move to achieve her layered goals.

And the results had unfolded exactly as Medea predicted.

Neril couldn't tell if she should marvel at her master's precision in achieving her aims or try to halt her master, who was charging ahead without restraint.

But one thing was certain:

the princess's back, standing alone against the Kazens in the hall, had looked so small and lonely.

It was the back of a leader. The weight of a prophet.

So I, who am lacking, can only stand behind her—I could never match her stride.

The princess's efforts to save Baldina from crisis beneath the surface would likely never receive their due light.

Even knowing that, her master prepared for the next step in silence, which filled Neril with pity and sorrow.

As Neril blinked to hide her reddened eyes,

something rolled with a clatter to a stop before the sniffling Saya.

A small vial filled with shimmering blue liquid... holy water?

"Use this."

At the rich voice whispering in her ear, the maids jumped in fright.

They had spotted the white-masked man leaning against the bedroom window—the mercenary from Facade who had capped off today's banquet.

The moment Neril drew her sword in an instant and lunged toward Cezare,

"Neril, Saya. Both of you, leave us."

"Your Highness—!"

Medea alone remained calm.

Seeing her unflappable, Neril realized this impure intruder wasn't visiting her master's bedroom for the first time.

"You insolent—!"

"Now."

At the renewed command, Neril barely sheathed her sword. But she didn't forget to glare daggers at Cezare.

"If you try anything untoward to Her Highness, I'll burn Facade to the ground."

She added the savage threat even as she departed.

"You have fine retainers."

Cezare praised. Loyal ones who charged fearlessly even after witnessing his exploits today were rare.

Medea stared at him wordlessly. Moonlight cast a pallid, eerie glow on her deathly white face.

She resembled a night fairy foretelling doom.

A fragility as if she might crumble to dust at any moment stirred a chill in his chest.

"How should one repay unasked-for kindness?"

Yet as if that were merely his illusion, the princess fixed him with clear eyes and posed the question.

The form was a query, but the intent was plain.

Don't expect repayment for help I never wanted.

Yes, this was the princess he knew. Cezare swallowed a laugh and tapped the light green handkerchief tied to his arm.

"Consider it received."

By crushing the Fourth Imperial Princess, Jared, and Jason all at once, Cezare had gained even more.

All three were vultures circling the First Imperial Prince's faction, waiting to dismantle it.

"What would you have done if I hadn't stepped in today? Did you think that maid of yours could beat Kazen's First Army general?"

"Jared's a bit lame for First Army."

Medea smiled faintly as she picked up the holy water he had given her earlier.

"I'd have needed more holy water, but the outcome would've been the same. I won't refuse this."

Medea unwound the bandage. A raw red gash marred her pale arm.

It was hideous, but since this man had seen her self-harm before, she figured he wouldn't mind.

"Was deliberately targeting Jared's ring finger part of that too?"

The hand pouring the holy water paused.

During the duel, Cezare had perfectly understood Medea's signal.

No, he'd gone above and beyond, blowing off Jared's ring finger entirely.

Medea's original plan had been to inflict a deep wound on the ring finger.

Combined with the poison from Violetta and Belladonna, the finger would gradually stiffen and eventually become unusable.

'I chose a slow-acting method to avoid suspicion of my involvement.'

With Facade taking the fall instead, Medea could slip away unscathed.

"It was already unstable from the injury, and now with a missing finger, he'll struggle to hold a sword again."

A fatal blow for any swordsman, worse than death.

"How tragic."

Medea replied flatly. Yet flames blazed in her emerald eyes, mingled with wicked glee.

"Keep your subordinate close from now on."

"Worried Jared might retaliate against me? I'm not afraid."

And truly, she wasn't. She was eager, even. She had no intention of holding back anymore.

But Cezare found himself speechless at Medea's burning ambition.

"Have you forgotten? From today, you've made the entire Kazen Empire your enemy. Your foes aren't just that crippled Ten-Star Knight anymore."

For the first time, he could faintly empathize with Garo's anguish—the urge to tear out his hair and pound his chest whenever he looked at her.