Contrary to expectations, Ilion’s refusal was firm. While wondering if his interest in Ravenne had cooled, the affection that occasionally showed when mentioning her didn’t seem much different from before.

Then why?

If it wasn’t that his affection had cooled, what happened during the visit? If that’s why Ilion was acting this way…

Faced with a situation not going her way, Artia bit her lip out of habit.

“Then I’ll take that as the end of our conversation and take my leave.”

“W-wait.”

She hurriedly tried to stop Ilion, but it was futile. Even if she could stop him, what words could she use to persuade him? He said he no longer intended to save Ravenne.

‘What is he planning… Does he have something up his sleeve?’

Artia headed to her room, gnawing on her innocent lip. While she hadn’t expected him to reject her proposal, she couldn’t just keep biting her fingers forever.

If Ilion wasn’t willing, she had to find another way.

Fortunately, with the Pope’s help, the repair of the holy relic was almost complete. Though the situation was bad, there was still a way to turn it around. So…

“…Saintess, Saintess Artia!”

Lost in thought, Artia looked up at the voice calling her.

“What is it?”

“His Majesty is looking for you.”

“Now?”

Hearing it was Klaus’s summons, Artia’s face clearly showed her undisguisable displeasure.

“Yes, he told us to bring you immediately.”

He never leaves me alone. She swallowed her rising irritation and followed the soldier.

In the audience chamber she arrived at, Ravenne was already there before her.

Perhaps due to suffering in prison for a few days, her appearance wasn’t great, but her face wore a constant smile.

Artia glanced at Ravenne’s state before bowing her head to Klaus.

“Why have you called for me?”

“It’s nothing too important, but I thought you should hear this too.”

What useless talk is he going to have now? She raised her head to look at Klaus.

The man sitting askew in his chair, resting his chin on his hand, was occasionally tapping a familiar staff on the floor. Seeing the staff, Artia’s expression gradually hardened.

“That’s…”

“Oh, this?”

What he held in his hand was the holy relic that Artia had recently finished repairing. She had hidden it well in her room, but when did he…

“I happened to pick it up. Is it perhaps yours?”

Klaus said this with a sinister smile.

Before leaving her room, the artifact had still been there. It seemed he had searched her room while she was out meeting Ilion.

Even if Klaus had noticed the existence of the artifact, he shouldn’t know about its power yet. She hadn’t told even the Pope about the power the artifact possessed. But why did that smile make her so uneasy?

If she answered yes, questioning would follow, and even if she said no, it seemed difficult to avoid the situation where she was already suspected. If she was going to be suspected anyway, the only option was to deny it for now.

Artia calmly answered, hiding her tension.

“No. It’s not mine.”

The situation was spiraling towards the worst. Ilion had rejected her proposal, and now even the holy relic had been taken by Klaus.

She had never underestimated him for a moment. She had been cautious and vigilant, yet she was once again dancing in the palm of his hand.

“Is that so? Then let’s set aside finding the owner for now and continue our conversation.”

Klaus turned his gaze from Artia to Ravenne with a satisfied smile.

“Where were we… Ah, you said you’d accept my proposal?”

“Yes. I thought about it, and the position of Empress doesn’t seem too bad.”

Empress? Artia, still not fully recovered from her confusion, couldn’t easily follow their conversation.

She didn’t want to show her emotions in front of Klaus if possible, but it was hard to hide even the slight trembling of her fingertips.

Could this be why Ilion decided not to save Ravenne?

“Hmm… If it were before the punishment was decided, it might be different, but making someone who’s already a criminal the Empress would face strong opposition from the elders.”

“But Your Majesty, you said you liked me.”

“Well, I was quite shocked to hear that I wasn’t your type.”

Ravenne, who had been smiling throughout, now looked at him with a flustered expression.

“I-I didn’t know you’d take such a joke to heart.”

“So I’m the type to take things to heart.”

Artia felt an increasing sense of dissonance at Klaus’s playful demeanor.

Klaus, who had been closely observing Ravenne’s expression, slowly leaned back in his chair and continued speaking.

“There’s a time for everything. If you’ve missed your chance, you should give up.”

Whatever plan she had made with Ilion, they were already in Klaus’s palm. Her, Ilion, and herself.

Ravenne stood silently for a while with her head down, then asked in a trembling voice.

“I understand. Then I’ll participate in the Harvest Festival as Your Majesty wishes. But before that, there’s something I’d like to clarify.”

“What is it?”

Klaus’s expression already seemed to have the upper hand, and it appeared there was nothing Ravenne could do in the conversation to follow. Once she participated in the Harvest Festival, there would be even less she could do.

“I heard that the one who survives will have all their crimes pardoned.”

“Yes. There needs to be some incentive for everyone to try their best, right?”

“Wh-what happens if there are survivors other than the winner, even after the competition ends?”

Klaus stared at Ravenne for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Are you asking if pretending to be dead and hiding among the corpses would count as survival?”

Ravenne swallowed nervously, as if her true intentions had been exposed.

“I really can’t let my guard down. When you’re trying to exploit the ambiguity in the rules like that.”

Saying this, Klaus rested his chin on his hand and fell into thought for a moment.

“Then let’s make the rules of the competition clearer. We’ll acknowledge the last person standing after everyone else has fallen as the winner. All others will be considered losers, and if there are any still breathing, they’ll be executed on the spot. How’s that?”

Ravenne bit her lip slightly at Klaus’s words.

Artia quietly observed Ravenne. She seemed to have completely lost her words, entangled in the conversation with Klaus.

Her appearance wasn’t much different from Artia’s own. In the end, they were both just prey for Klaus’s amusement.

***

As soon as she returned to the prison, a soldier who followed delivered an announcement to the prisoners.

“The rules for the competition four days from now have been changed, so I’ll announce them again. Listen carefully, as there are new people here too.”

Saying this, he explained the rules of the competition.

“The competition will be held in a restricted area, and you absolutely cannot leave. Anyone attempting to escape will be executed on the spot, so be warned. All weapons except artifacts are allowed, and in addition to the basic weapons provided, bringing in weapons from outside is also permitted.”

Most of the rules were already known. After all, the original Artia had also participated in this damned competition.

“And finally, the competition ends when everyone is down and the last person standing is acknowledged as the winner. After the competition ends, even if you’re still breathing, you’ll be considered defeated and executed on the spot.”

After the announcement was delivered, the atmosphere in the prison became unsettled once again.

“What? What rules have changed?”

“If you fall, aren’t you dead anyway? What does it mean they’ll execute you?”

“I think they’re talking about those who pretend to be dead but are still alive?”

The men who realized the meaning of the new rules laughed boisterously, saying it was for the best, while those with less chance of survival, including myself, quietly swallowed.

Amidst this tense atmosphere, I called out to the soldier who was hurriedly trying to leave.

“Excuse me, I missed breakfast because of the visit this morning!”

“The meal time has already passed.”

“I’m going to die in four days anyway, can’t you let me eat something?”

The soldier looked at me with a sour expression for a moment, then told me to wait a bit before leaving.

“Miss, can you eat at a time like this?”

Apparently having overheard the conversation with the soldier, Sergio asked from the next cell, finding it pathetic.

“You need to eat well to keep your strength up.”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

“And the food here is surprisingly tasty.”

“…Ah, I see.”

The quality of the meals served was quite good due to Klaus’s special request. This was his consideration so that we wouldn’t die weakly and would provide sufficient entertainment.

So I should eat every grain without leaving any. To not die weakly, as he wishes.

Even in prison, time passed diligently.

While some people were enthusiastically exercising to somehow increase their chances of survival, others had lost their minds unable to bear the pressure of death.

There were those who lay still as if dead, escaping reality, and those like me who were passionate about trivial things.

Scratch, scratch.

“What are you doing?”

Sergio, perhaps bothered by the constant rustling next to him, spoke up.

“Trimming my nails.”

“…At a time like this?”