Alfonso suddenly doubled over with a harsh cough. “Khak!” Dark, blood-tinged droplets splattered from the corner of the king’s mouth.

Ophelia bowed her head, her expression tight with worry as she watched his heaving chest.

“Your Majesty, you should rest. I will take my leave now.”

“Very well. Go.”

The moment the door closed behind her, her expression hardened.

She could not allow Cassandra to die by hanging. That would be far too merciful, and nothing like the agony Veronica had endured.

Ophelia could never allow a clean death without a moment’s true suffering. At the very least, Cassandra should experience that scorching, suffocating despair for herself, if only once.

But this was the royal palace. Cassandra had been taken to the Lysimee Palace, which was surrounded by royal guards standing shoulder to shoulder.

She could not set fire to it as she had at Lady Margaret’s townhouse.

As she walked down the corridor, considering her options, a familiar figure appeared before her.

“…Aunt?”

“Ophelia, you don’t look well.”

Ligeia stepped closer, concern etched across her face.

“Renoir told me. He said you’re with child.”

Perhaps if it were Ligeia, she could hypnotize Cassandra and make her experience the agony of being burned alive.

For that to happen, however, Ophelia would have to reveal everything:

Not only what Veronica had suffered, but also the truth that she herself had died and come back to life.

Steeling herself, Ophelia took a deep breath and led Ligeia to a secluded spot in the hall.

“There is something I need to tell you, Aunt.”

“What is it, Ophelia?”

Ligeia stopped walking, turning fully to face her.

Ophelia hesitated for a long moment before finally parting her lips—slowly, deliberately.

“The truth is… I have come back in time.”

Ligeia’s eyes widened immediately. She looked startled, certainly, but there wasn’t a hint of doubt in her expression.

In fact, her gaze seemed to urge Ophelia to continue, as though she already believed her.

Ophelia revealed a truth that she had kept hidden from him for a long time.

“Lady Cassandra ordered the governess to set the fire and kill Veronica. I… left the palace unaware of anything, and when I returned, I had to see my child—charred black—lying there…”

“…So that was why your feelings toward the Crown Princess were so strained.”

“Later, I fell from the balcony and died. But when I opened my eyes, I saw that Veronica was still alive.”

Ligeia shuddered as if the thought alone horrified her, biting down on her lip.

“But it’s all over now. I protected Veronica… and in three days, that woman will be executed.”

“…”

“But still… at the very least… I want her to feel even a fraction of the pain my child endured.”

Ligeia, who had remained silent, lowered her head gently.

“I understand. If that’s all you ask, I can make her feel it through illusion. Her body will remain untouched… but the agony of being burned alive will be exactly the same.”

When she finished speaking, Ligeia wrapped her arms slowly around Ophelia. Her warm hand stroked Ophelia’s back.

“You’ve suffered so much, Ophelia.”

Those words felt like: It’s all right now. As if telling her that she could finally be at ease because she had managed to protect her child at last.

Her eyes grew hot.

Emotion surged up her throat, and she quietly swallowed a breath against Ligeia’s shoulder.

***

“We greet Your Highness the Princess.”

When they arrived at the Lysimee Palace, the guards surrounding the area bowed at once. Their courtesy was impeccable, yet none stepped aside to let her pass. It was obvious they had no intention of allowing Ophelia inside.

‘Of course. If anything happens, they would bear all the responsibility.’

Ligeia pursed her lips and let out a soft whistle.

It happened instantly. The guards’ eyelids dropped heavily, and one by one they collapsed to the ground as though their strings had been cut.

“I put them to sleep for a moment. When they wake, they won’t remember that Ophelia came here.”

Ligeia spoke lightly, lowering her hand as if she had done nothing remarkable.

The interior of Lysimee Palace was filled with stale air, most likely due to it having been left unused for so long. Ornate decorations lay scattered across the floor, their shattered fragments littering every corner. Even the curtains had been torn into ragged strips.

It looked as though Cassandra had started wreaking havoc the moment she arrived.

Then—

Cassandra, who had been crouched against the wall, snapped her head around. Her dull gray eyes brightened at once when they landed on Ophelia.

“…So you really came to save me, Lia!”

Cassandra reached out, overflowing with relief, as if Ophelia were her one remaining hope, someone she trusted implicitly to deliver her.

“Foolish creature.”

Ligeia’s cold voice cut straight toward Cassandra. She approached her slowly, lifted a hand, and covered Cassandra’s eyes while murmuring something under her breath.

Cassandra slapped her hand away at once, unable to comprehend what was happening.

“Do you know who I am? How dare you touch me with those filthy hands!”

Ligeia only looked down at her with open disdain. Then she turned and offered Ophelia a gentle smile.

“The illusion will begin on the hour. I’ll step outside, so speak freely if there’s anything you wish to say.”

When Ligeia left, Ophelia lowered her gaze to the clock. There wasn’t much time left until the appointed hour.

So she had to tell her—everything—from beginning to end.

“Sister. Did you know?”

“…”

She spoke again, this time using the title Cassandra once allowed. There was no longer any need to deceive her with respectful forms like Your Highness.

“Veronica’s eyes were never damaged.”

“…What?”

Cassandra’s voice cracked dryly.

“I told her to do it, to pretend she couldn’t see, to deceive you.”

Cassandra’s face twisted in an instant, her widened eyes trembling with rage and disbelief.

“Sister. But… do you really think Annette didn’t know that?”

Ophelia tilted her head and lifted the corners of her lips in a soft smile.

“It was all very easy, thanks to how much you trusted Annette. She told me in advance that you were coming to the marquisate, so I had plenty of time to prepare.”

Cassandra’s breath grew harsh, unsteady.

“Thanks to that, we were even able to hide Lady Johanna’s child.”

Only then did Cassandra appear to grasp the full picture. Her teeth ground together—

Craack.

The brittle sound split sharply through the room.

“You… You dared… to deceive me? You and Annette, both of you deceived me…?”

“And the one who hid Frederick, the person you were so desperate to find and kill,
was none other than Annette.”

Cassandra began to laugh, hollow and unstable, unable to inhale or exhale properly. Her shoulders trembled violently, as though refusing the reality before her.

“Ah… and that boy who shot you on Foundation Day? He’ll be released soon as well.”

“…Don’t tell me that was also your doing?”

Cassandra’s right hand groped for her limp left arm. The tremor from her rage traveled through her entire body.

Ophelia looked down at her, her voice calm and even.

“I didn’t order him to fire the shot, but I did know you would lose your left arm. So if you want to believe it was my doing, that’s fine.”

Cassandra’s lips turned a sickly shade of blue.

“All this time, you bowed to me as the Crown Princess… showed respect… obeyed me… Was all of that—just…”

“If the Duchess of Loren had lived, things wouldn’t have gone this far.”

Cassandra’s hand froze mid-movement, as if struck.

“I’m glad I had the Viscountess of Lirier tell the Emperor that Princess Amalie had given birth to the Duke of Loren’s bastard child.”

“…”

“Because if not… the Duke wouldn’t have taken his own life. And the Duchess wouldn’t have died, either.”

Cassandra’s face twisted completely out of shape.

“What did I not do for you? Tell me! My mother said someone as low-born as you didn’t deserve to be treated as kin, but I cared for you!”

“…”

“When Mother beat you, who was it that protected you? You… do you think you would have survived without me?”

That was why Ophelia had believed.

Why she respected Cassandra more than anyone, why she once looked forward to the future Cassandra would lead for Quilche.

Ophelia brushed away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

“You wretched little—! Do you think I’ll let you get away with this? I’ll tear you apart!”

“What can you possibly do now, sister? You’re no longer the Crown Princess — in fact, you’re not even a princess anymore. You’ll die bearing the Loren name.”

She added, reminding Cassandra of the one fact she had forgotten.

“And history won’t record your name. You’ll be remembered as a patricidal traitor who craved the throne and poisoned her own father.”

Cassandra staggered to her feet and lunged at Ophelia—

Tick.

“I’ve been waiting.”

“…”

Tick.

“To see this look on your face. The look of someone who has lost everything.”

Tick.

The second hand of the clock touched the hour.

At that moment—

“Aaaagh!”

Cassandra’s scream split into a raw, piercing shriek. She immediately began clawing at her own skin—
scratching so violently that her nails tore and broke, yet she didn’t stop.

“It burns…! Aaah—!”

Her eyes rolled back, her body convulsing.

Cassandra collapsed to the floor, dragging herself across it, scraping her fingers along the ground.

“Sp… Spare me… s-save me…!”

Her convulsing body slammed repeatedly into the floor. She flailed her hands desperately through the air, as if trying to escape a fire engulfing her whole world.