Mail told the Emperor everything she knew. Then she gave her opinion: she believed the marquis might have evidence.

And the evidence was none other than poison.

In the nightmares she had repeatedly, Iseline had been poisoned. Who could the culprit be at this point, if not the marquis? He had attempted to recreate a death from the past to rekindle the Emperor’s trauma.

If it was a prophetic dream, it meant the real marquis harbored the same intention. Therefore, it was likely he had poison hidden somewhere — the same kind used twenty years ago to murder the Emperor’s mother.

Upon hearing Mail’s thoughts, the Emperor immediately dispatched soldiers. Though some doubts remained, the marquis was the prime suspect.

Questions could be resolved during interrogation, and even if the poison wasn’t found, no plot left behind no evidence at all. A thorough search would reveal something.

Banther, who hadn’t been this enraged in years, volunteered to lead the mission. That had been several hours ago.

Soon, the office door opened. His friend and subordinate had returned after completing his task.

“Your Majesty.”

“The marquis?”

“He’s comfortably settled in the prison. But…”

“Does he keep insisting he’s innocent? Claiming he knows nothing and is being wrongfully accused?”

“How did you know?”

Banther’s eyes widened slightly at the Emperor’s accurate prediction. Indeed, the marquis had vehemently maintained his innocence even after imprisonment. During the interrogation, Banther had been tempted to t*rture him more than once.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that yet because, without solid evidence, the marquis was still only a suspect.

The evidence would surface soon enough, so they imprisoned him, but it was too early for t*rture. Banther had no particular penchant for cruelty, but in his current state of rage, he felt he could crush a few of the marquis’s fingers.

Leaning back in his chair, the Emperor spoke calmly.

“I think I know why the marquis is so confident.”

“What do you mean…?”

“The evidence hasn’t been found.”

“What?”

Banther asked in confusion. The Emperor’s expression barely changed, as if discussing something mundane, like a neighbor’s lost dog.

“…Is it all right if we don’t find it?”

“It’s not.”

“You seem too composed.”

Banther had taken soldiers and turned the marquis’s residence upside down. They had removed furniture, dug into the floors — everything.

When nothing turned up, they assumed the evidence must be at the marquis’s estate. But when nothing was found there either, Banther felt uneasy.

“Could he actually be innocent…?”

“No chance.”

“Just a thought.”

“Even if he’s not involved in treason, he’s still a criminal.”

The Emperor had previously investigated who was behind Ormil being brought into the castle. The person revealed was none other than Marquis Bolthen. He had dared to target Mail.

For the Emperor, harming Mail was an even greater crime than treason. The marquis’s execution was already decided.

“If necessary, we can fabricate evidence. But before that…”

The Emperor rose leisurely. When he heard the report that no evidence had been found in the residence or the estate, a thought had crossed his mind.

The estate was vast, so there were still areas left to search. But the Emperor felt that the evidence wouldn’t be there.

“Where are you going?”

“To confirm something.”

He gestured for Banther to follow. Banther complied. As they walked down the hallway, the Emperor murmured to himself.

“I’m curious to see how different the marquis’s clever scheme is from a twelve-year-old girl’s trick.”

“Pardon?”

Banther, puzzled, looked at him quizzically. But there was no further explanation.

It wasn’t long before the two arrived at the location. The puzzlement on Banther’s face grew deeper. Moments later, it turned into surprise.

***

Mail was on edge. She couldn’t stay still, moving here and there restlessly. Watching her was so dizzying that Riela, who was eating dessert, scolded her.

“Stay still, will you? It’s driving me crazy.”

“You should say it’s making you agitated, not crazy.”

“Really?”

Riela had completely recovered. The court physician’s prediction that she’d be fine in a day was accurate — truly a skilled doctor. Rose had wept with joy, and Riela herself treated her recovery as if she’d overcome a life-threatening illness.

After eating half of her chocolate cake, Riela put down her fork.

“Mail, you’re making me agitated. Sit down.”

She applied what she had just learned correctly. Mail, who had been standing deep in thought, snapped back to reality.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I bother you?”

“Yeah. Why do you keep pacing around?”

It had been hours. Ever since Mail returned to her quarters after parting with the Emperor, she had barely sat down except during mealtime. Riela, who had slept deeply the previous day due to a cold, had uncharacteristically woken early and witnessed Mail’s behavior all morning.

Even Riela, who was usually oblivious, couldn’t help but notice after half a day. At her question, Mail fell silent, choosing her words carefully. Given the nature of the issue, it was hard to answer honestly.

‘Saying that I’m worried about whether the traitor will be caught or not is…’

“Well… my legs hurt.”

“If your legs hurt, why are you moving around? You should be sitting.”

“Moving makes them stronger. If they’re strong, they won’t hurt.”

“Oh? That makes sense.”

Her spur-of-the-moment logic worked. Riela nodded as if convinced. Mail was surprised that her words had been accepted. Why did she believe that?

Just then, there was a knock. Mail, who had been waiting for news, opened the door before Rose could. It was Mac.

“There’s word that something’s been found. Will you come?”

He delivered the message in a low whisper. Mail’s heart pounded. They found it. She didn’t need to hear what it was.

Evidence.

They had caught the culprit. Was the dream truly prophetic? Mail nodded to indicate her agreement.

“I’ll be out for a while. Rose, please look after the princess.”

“Of course.”

Leaving behind Rose’s dependable farewell and Riela’s familiar wave, Mail stepped through the doorway. Her hurried pace across the corridor and out of the palace made Mac caution her to be careful not to trip.

To explain one of Mac’s difficulties: if Mail tripped, he would be as good as dead whether he let her fall or tried to steady her by touching her. Either way, he’d be dead. Fortunately, Mail didn’t trip before reaching their destination.

“Mail.”

“Your Majesty.”

The Emperor was waiting inside the entrance of the main palace. When they met, Mac took a step back.

“They said they found the evidence…”

“Yes.”

“Was it really poison?”

“It was.”

Mail’s expression grew complex. It was a strange feeling. This moment confirmed that her recurring nightmares weren’t meaningless, and that the marquis’s intention truly was to bring down the Emperor.

Should she be glad the culprit was caught? Or enraged that such an inhumane scheme had existed?

She didn’t know which emotion came first. In her ambiguous confusion, Mail gripped the Emperor’s sleeve tightly. He looked down at her.

“You can change your mind.”

“…What? About what?”

“I mean, you don’t have to meet the culprit.”

Mail realized how her action must have appeared to him. That wasn’t her intention. She quickly shook her head.

“I want to hear it directly from him — why he did it. Is that okay?”

“If that’s what you want.”

In truth, the thing she most wanted to ask was something the marquis couldn’t answer, but she kept that to herself.

The marquis was confined to the farthest room on the first floor of the main palace. He had been imprisoned earlier, but after the evidence was found, he had been moved there.

The reason was that the Emperor didn’t want to take Mail to a prison. Unaware of this, Mail merely thought the criminal’s circumstances were oddly favorable.

“You’ve arrived?”

Banther, who was guarding the room, turned as the Emperor entered. Mail returned his brief nod with a gaze of acknowledgment, then spotted the marquis. He was kneeling, his limbs bound, his face haggard.

It wasn’t the face of someone who had suffered torment, but one of stunned disbelief. He seemed completely dazed.

“Until the evidence was found, he kept insisting he was innocent… but as you can see now.”

Banther briefly explained. It seemed the marquis had firmly believed the evidence would never be found. When the proof was presented to him, his expression looked as if his world had crumbled.

A face more despairing than that would be difficult to see again. The moment he realized it was over, he lost all will, as if the thread holding him together had snapped.

Mail stared at the marquis with an emotion that was hard to define. It wasn’t their first encounter, but it was the first time she had seen him up close.

Strictly speaking, he was the source of her nightmares. If the marquis hadn’t devised such a sinister scheme, Mail wouldn’t have had the prophetic dreams. The damage he had caused was immense.

“…It’s strange.”

“What is?”

“I thought I’d be furious just looking at his face, but I’m not.”

Mail spoke honestly. It was a puzzling feeling. She thought facing the culprit would fill her with rage, but her heart remained calmer than expected.

Perhaps it was because the marquis’s face was already an empty shell. He had lost everything, and all that remained was to pay for his crimes. Mail looked down at him.

She had said she wanted to hear directly why he did it, but now that she was here, it didn’t seem that important. Even if she learned his reasons or circumstances, the fact that he was guilty wouldn’t change.

There was one thing she was curious about, but it was something he couldn’t answer anyway. Unlike in her dreams, the marquis had been caught before his plan could even begin. It wasn’t just a failed attempt — he hadn’t even managed to make a move.

So asking him why he had chosen the princess as a scapegoat was pointless.

Mail averted her gaze from the marquis. She had no desire to see more. She turned her attention elsewhere.

“What was the evidence they found? I’m curious.”