3. Liam de le Blumir Part 2 – The Path of Blasphemy

The silent night is like a rushing blade.

On a night when not even insects could be heard chirping. When the black surroundings were so quiet that one could almost hear the sound of blood flowing through veins, that small noise wrapped in stillness seemed to interfere with breathing.

Old memories came uninvited. Taking a deep breath, Cassian swirled his wine glass. The wine swirled chaotically. The deep aged grape and oak scents mixed dizzily.

The siblings who had given him everything were now gone. He had coldly discarded them.

“……”

A bitter smile bloomed.

Cassian was one who ruled the world with ideals.

A wealthy and powerful nation is a perfect ideal that no one opposes. But everyone’s ideals about the process of achieving it couldn’t be the same. Conflicts arose as each pursued their own greed and calculated their losses.

What Cassian chose was to discard the absolute minority whose damage wouldn’t be great. The unselected minority was always discarded without mercy, but no one raised a voice in opposition. More precisely, even if voices were raised, they were buried. Because the world turned according to what many people wanted.

Excuse, justification, pretext, reason — whatever word you attach to it, the conclusion remains the same. He discarded them, that’s all.

“Your Majesty.”

Baptiste glanced subtly at the wine that wasn’t diminishing. Cassian doesn’t enjoy alcohol. Even at banquets, he only pretends to drink. The clear cause is probably Amaryllis.

A rare invitation to drink followed.

“Lord Baptiste. Would you like a glass?”

“I would gladly accept.”

When he raised an empty glass, the Emperor personally tilted the bottle. The liquid made a clear sound as it poured.

Perhaps because of this, the horrific memories from Blumir covered Baptiste’s ears. The red liquid seemed similar yet entirely different.

Baptiste tilted his glass. Though it shouldn’t be possible, the fine wine seemed to smell of blood. Baptiste barely managed to push the liquid down his throat.

Above the familiar taste of grape sweetness and tannin astringency wrapping his tongue, a terrible fishy smell mixed in. Suppressing the urge to retch, Baptiste asked.

“Are you troubled?”

“……”

A pair of empty blue eyes gazed at the lonely floating moon. Cassian drew a smile.

“Perhaps, a little.”

The one who gave the order must take responsibility. It’s a position that sometimes requires ruthless coldness. There are no exceptions.

At the pure affirmation, Baptiste revealed a smile.

“I’m glad. Because Your Majesty would feel troubled even if I were to leave.”

“Lord Baptiste, enough with such jokes. Your weight and Lord Liam’s are decidedly not the same.”

The weight of the chamberlain, his right-hand man in name and in reality, was far greater. While it might have been different in the past, now there was no one who could compare.

“I’m honored.”

Baptiste bowed his head at such obvious care. As always, the words that needed to be said followed.

“But you know, Your Majesty. Liam de le Blumir…”

Baptiste’s words gained strength.

“He should have died back when he killed the Duchess of Blumir.”

“……”

Though it must have been because Cassian’s thoughts differed from Baptiste’s that Liam had lived until now. Instead of arguing, Cassian kept his mouth shut. He must have judged that Baptiste’s words had merit.

In Baptiste’s opinion, Cassian Pendragon’s greatest strength as a ruler was his ability to listen. Being able to hear and accept others’ words was a great advantage. The only person Cassian wouldn’t even consider listening to and would ignore was Amaryllis, who had greatly sinned against him.

Then, suddenly remembering something, Baptiste spoke again.

“Your Majesty.”

“Speak.”

“Belle Laure was there at that place.”

Unexpected news. Thinking of that woman, Baptiste involuntarily shuddered and muttered.

“It gave me… chills.”

“……”

Cassian’s eyes sank. What an ironic sight.

Whatever the case, questions remained. Why would a young lady from Tristan, who had no particular connection to Liam de le Blumir, visit such a grim place?

* * *

Lumière lingered endlessly outside the door. Should she knock, or not? Today too, after considering it several times, she withdrew her hand. She shook her head a few times.

Valentine seemed to be harboring various concerns, staying locked in her room. Though worried, there was nothing Lumière could do.

“Family…”

Suddenly, a questioning voice was heard. Startled, Lumière unconsciously clutched her chest. Her heart beat roughly.

“What does it mean?”

“G-goodness, you scared me.”

“Is it a relationship where you can forgive anything that happens?”

A questioning tone lingered, filled with confusion and a lack of understanding. As always, those crimson eyes appeared without warning, locking their unrelenting gaze on Lumière.

“Even if it means killing oneself?”

Though she had just managed to catch her breath, Lumière’s voice came out trembling naturally. It was an existence she simply couldn’t get used to.

“W-what are you suddenly saying?”

“Because the master was too lenient with Liam.”

“While Belle was lenient… that was largely because Blumir went mad early on.”

It was as if he possessed far more delicate sensibilities than anyone could have anticipated, unable to bear the weight of the emotions that had steadily accumulated over time. In the end, that man had succumbed to madness far too easily.

The demon’s eyes staring at the firmly closed door were terribly eerie. Though the reason was unclear, he seemed angry.

“And those two… had been through many things.”

Humans each have their own circumstances. Though those siblings were strictly speaking unrelated by blood, they were closer than most blood relations because of their shared past.

“If you asked me about the meaning of my dead husband or Cassian, I couldn’t really give you an answer. But if you asked about my parents’ place within me, it’s a bit different. Belle and Duke Blumir are even more complicated.”

She had hated her husband, and had little connection with her much younger brother, Cassian. She just thought of him as better than a stranger.

And Liam and Valentine were closer than Lumière and Cassian. Valentine’s leniency was probably because she loved her brother more than Liam realized.

“They say people easily forget favors but remember grudges for a long time. But favor and grudge are like light and shadow — if one is deep, the other is deep as well. If one is vivid, the other is vivid too, and sometimes that contradictory heart becomes unbalanced.”

She swallowed the words that favor and grudge aren’t necessarily feelings held toward the same person. Even Lumière herself wasn’t exactly sure what she was saying now. She felt she needed to say such nonsense to calm the ominous shadow before her eyes.

Whatever the case, isn’t it true that betrayal from someone who has shown you great kindness hurts more than falling into a trap set by a stranger?

“…It’s difficult.”

The demon’s eyes looked unwell as it answered quietly. Seeing the momentum as if it might do something unmanageable, Lumière whispered with effort.

“Just… watch for a while. She must be confused too.”

She swallowed the words that it’s because we’re human, because that’s how humans are. As Valentine always says, this demon wouldn’t understand.

No, even Lumière who had gone through that time couldn’t understand clearly. Such is the human heart. She felt it keenly when killing her husband — that when an enemy dies, it’s not as satisfying as you’d think.

What Lumière felt then was emptiness and futility. The emptiness of how easily a person can die. The futility of having been trampled until now by something that amounted to so little.

And, finally understanding the pleasure.

“Lu.”

At that moment, the door burst open. Valentine, emerging from her room after several days, called to Lucifer looking no different than usual.

“Let’s go.”

The demon, darker than usual, took her hand without a word.

* * *

All that was allowed to Liam Cheval, who had lost his position, was just a small resting place.

A small, lonely grave that no one would visit anymore, abandoned simply because there were no blood ties to bind anyone to its memory. The woman sat at the place where his name was engraved and offered a small prayer.

“……”

Her lips moved slightly. Words that couldn’t quite reach her tongue only echoed in her heart.

The sorrowful sun was setting. When the world was dyed red and shadows grew long.

The woman raised her head, sensing a strange presence. Her brown hair fluttered. Red eyes like the sunset distorted.

An unexpected meeting for both the woman and the owner of the presence. The woman spat out fierce words.

“Why… are you here?”

At that hostile voice, Valentine thought.

‘Why, you ask.’

Not to wallow in tears and self-pity. Not because of guilt, nor because she had done something wrong.

This was about maintaining the minimum dignity as a human being, even for her who had sold her soul to a demon.

“Because Her Highness asked me to place some flowers.”

She finally opened her lips. True to her words, Valentine held black roses in her arms.

“Why would Your Majesty the Empress be in such a place?”

“There’s nowhere in this Sehera I cannot go.”

“My, this seems like a place you shouldn’t visit… Perhaps I’m mistaken?”

Valentine tilted her head. Pretending to be innocent, pretending to be naive. That behavior scratched at the already gloomy person’s insides.

Her delicate lips curled up. A crooked sneer she didn’t even try to hide. It wasn’t the way to treat an empress of a nation.

“It’s a sight that makes me doubt my eyes. The Empress at the grave of an executed murderer.”

There was no need to voice what the citizens would say. Amaryllis understood the unspoken words. It would make public sentiment hit rock bottom.