The midday sun in Essis was particularly strong. A man with neatly tied long hair held a white parasol, the kind suited for a lady, and sipped tea beneath it. His expression was calm, indifferent to the opinions of onlookers.

“Your Grace.”

At the voice calling him, the man turned his head. Reflected in his pale eyes was a large, sturdy man—his trusted subordinate, assigned to carry out his orders.

The man kept two trusted aides by his side. One was a foolish loyal hound, the other a slightly less foolish human. Duke Vaildion lowered his teacup and spoke to the latter.

“What did you find?”

“It’s true. The imperial family is scrambling to cover up the rumors, but there are too many witnesses to silence them all.”

The aide lowered his voice.

“They say the emperor has gone mad.”

“….”

The duke closed his parasol. The sun, now slightly tilted from its zenith, poured down scorching rays. Normally, the sensation of his hair heating up would irritate him, but not today. Whether it was sunlight or anything else, he welcomed it. A smile tugged at Duke Vaildion’s lips.

“So the marquis really succeeded. Remarkable. I can’t believe that fool pulled it off.”

It sounded as though he had expected failure. In truth, he had. Though he had extended his hand first, he never trusted the marquis. When news of the plan’s success reached him, he didn’t believe it right away. He verified it through his aide, and the result was clear.

With a satisfied expression, the duke poured fresh tea.

“The course of events is slightly different from what I anticipated… but the point is that the emperor has lost his mind.”

“Several people have already died.”

“As expected.”

He took a sip. The brew was perfectly steeped. He made a note to commend the maid who prepared it.

“Now that he’s mad, can he even see straight? He’ll k*ll them all—yes, slashing and slashing again with his own hands.”

“….”

“Even a beast wouldn’t remain sane after losing its mother twice. Let alone a man.”

The duke lifted his gaze. Squinting at the bright sun, he let out a long breath, a look of liberation crossing his face. He seemed refreshed. He stared skyward for a while, then lowered his eyes again.

“So what is the emperor doing now?”

“He’s in seclusion. It’s confirmed that he suffers from occasional fits.”

“And Duke Mohaim’s faction?”

“We need to investigate further, but there are reports of them turning away. Apparently, someone from the duke’s faction was killed by the emperor during one of his episodes.”

“Good.”

The emotion conveyed in her voice aligned perfectly with her words. For a reaction to someone else’s misfortune, it was strikingly inhumane, but her confidant seemed accustomed to it and remained unshaken.

After emptying his teacup once more, the Duke of Vaildion traced the rim of the cup in a circular motion, a peculiar habit that emerged when he was deep in thought. He recalled a distant past, already beginning to fade.

“We can’t trust anyone else. You feel the same, don’t you?”

The previous Duke of Vaildion had a notorious weakness for women. Since the laws of Essis permitted polygamy, he had as many as five legitimate wives. With so many wives, it was natural he had many children. Among them, the current Duke and his sister, Lady Elise, were born to his fourth wife.

Out of their many siblings, the two relied on each other the most. They were each other’s only true kin by blood, and their bond deepened as they grew. The Duke of their generation turned a blind eye to the children’s disputes, which only strengthened the bond between the two. Then, when the lady turned twenty:

“I’m going to be the Imperial Consort. I’m to marry the Emperor of the Helvern Empire.”

At the time, the Emperor was thirty-five years old and had lost his Empress the previous year. The Duke of Vaildion, who at that point had no title and was merely a noble’s child, was dissatisfied with his sister’s marriage arrangement.

Even if he was the emperor of a powerful nation, the ten-year age gap and the position of a consort rather than empress did not sit well with him. In his mind, his sister, renowned as one of the kingdom’s great beauties, deserved a better match. But the lady shook her head.

“No. This is the best option. For me, and especially for you to become Duke.”

Two years later, her words became reality. The Duke of Vaildion inherited his father’s title solely thanks to her.

With the power of the Emperor’s first consort, who had earned the Emperor’s love, the Duke ascended as the head of his family and immediately eliminated all his rivals.

From then on, peace reigned, and there was no reason for discontent. For several years, the siblings lived well in their respective roles. Though the lady had married for her brother’s sake, it seemed she came to love the Emperor. At one point, driven by jealousy, she made a small mistake, but it was just that—a mistake. Neither she nor the Duke thought much of it.

Unfortunately, about ten years later, they realized it was not a trivial matter after all. One day, the lady contacted her brother urgently.

Through the communicator, she spoke with anxiety. The Emperor was dying of illness, she said. After his death, his son would ascend the throne, and she was sure the new Emperor would strangle her. As she explained her fears, she was trembling.

The lady was cruel by nature but objective enough to see the consequences of her actions. The son of the woman she killed had every reason to hate her, and that hatred would surely drive him to k*ll her once he held power.

Understandably, the lady wanted to live. Though she treated others’ lives like ants, her own life was more precious than anything else. Desperate, she asked her brother what to do. The Duke, after some thought, came up with a plausible solution.

If she feared the new Emperor would k*ll her, why not ensure he couldn’t by dying first?

At first, it sounded like a cruel joke, but the lady understood his meaning immediately. Following his advice, she “died” before the newly crowned Emperor could k*ll her. More precisely, she faked her death.

The first consort, reported to have died in a carriage accident, was in fact alive.

She staged her own death—requiring a few sacrifices in the process—and fled to her family’s estate in Vaildion.

For the Duke of Vaildion, who ran his family like a dictatorship, hiding his sister was not a difficult task. Thus, she became dead to the world but remained alive, living quietly within the estate.

For a few more years, peace returned. To keep her survival a secret, she refrained from going outside, but the vast mansion did not make her feel trapped or isolated.

Everything she needed was provided by the servants, and the Duke periodically killed and replaced them to ensure silence.

One day, however, the lady fell ill. As her health declined, so did her mental state. She began showing signs of anxiety.

“I have nightmares. Every night, the Emperor comes for me. The Emperor, the son of that woman, keeps coming to strangle me. What should I do?”

It was as if her previous calm life had been a lie. She struggled to sleep, broke down over trivial matters, and often wept or lashed out.

There were limits to how much comfort or patience could be offered. When the Duke asked what she wanted, she begged him to k*ll the Emperor.

Of course, that was impossible.

The current imperial authority of Helvern was one of the strongest in history. Not only was the Emperor formidable, but the empire’s two most powerful families served him loyally.

How could such a man be assassinated? Declaring it impossible was not an exaggeration.

But telling her it couldn’t be done wasn’t enough. The lady’s condition was worsening. The Duke couldn’t turn away from the sister who had once secured his position. He agonized daily.

Then, from her sickbed, she made a proposal.

“It would be disastrous if the Emperor fully regained his sanity. Before that happens, we must use his memories against him. Let’s drive him mad.”

The lady lived as though she were counting her final days, fearing the moment the Emperor might remember the past, open the tower, and come for her. The Duke reassured her it was unlikely, but she was plagued by nightmares and didn’t listen.

She suggested creating a double for Sophia—the woman she had killed. By placing that double before the Emperor and reenacting the tragedy, they could shatter his sanity.

The emperor’s wound from his mother’s death was so deep that he erased his own memory. If he were to relive the same situation while that wound remained, he would surely be unable to endure it, and his mind would shatter.

A ruler who has gone mad cannot maintain the people’s loyalty. A lunatic becomes a tyrant, and a tyrant draws the resentment of many. In the end, that resentment will build up until the tyrant is completely overthrown by the masses.

The duke found his sister’s plan quite plausible. After all, there were no other ways to strike the emperor, who wielded absolute power.

The issue, however, was finding a double. Where could they possibly find a second Sophia?

The duchess described the deceased Sophia in detail—her appearance, her personality, the way she carried herself, and her manner of speaking.

“No matter how well you describe her, finding someone identical to her…”

In conclusion, such a person did exist.

Call it luck, perhaps. The duke discovered a woman in the Empire who was almost a shadow of Sophia. It happened on the day he visited the imperial palace as a delegate to attend the emperor’s birthday celebration. In the palace corridor, he turned so quickly to look back at a woman who passed him that he almost strained his neck.

Silver hair, sky-blue eyes, a pale complexion, and a frail, thin figure.

“…Find out who she is. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman’s name was Iseline Tengott. Coincidentally, she was already near the emperor.

Iseline not only resembled Sophia in appearance but also in small habits and hobbies. While her features were slightly different, everything else was the same. Judging it too perfect to be a coincidence, the duke dug deeper and discovered the marquis behind her.

The duke smiled upon receiving the report. How fortunate. It was as if the heavens were assisting him. The double he needed for the plan and a disposable tool to execute it were both right within the Empire.

“Arrange a meeting.”

Meeting him wasn’t difficult. The duke secretly approached the marquis.

“Would you care to bring down the emperor?”

What surprised him, however, was that Marquis Bolthen was not quite the man the duke had expected. He was timid, narrow-minded, and incompetent—far from someone who might covet the throne.

“How… how could that even be possible?”

Yet the marquis took the bait like a fish on a hook. Through their brief conversation, the duke inferred the reason.

The marquis was steeped in inferiority.

It was a long-standing inferiority complex. He explained that he learned about the emperor’s birth mother from his father. The previous marquis, who never left his estate after retiring, secretly kept portraits of the young emperor and Sophia.

Even bedridden in his old age, he lamented not being able to watch the emperor grow and expressed sorrow over the mother and son’s tragic fate. Yet, he left no final words for his own son, his blood heir.

“An inferiority complex toward the emperor.”

Parental influence on a child doesn’t end in childhood. The marquis’s inferiority complex was something that took root in adulthood. The duke felt a sliver of pity for Marquis Bolthen. He, too, had an unworthy father.

“Well, regardless, he’ll be easy to use.”

Pity was one thing, but from the duke’s perspective, the marquis was a convenient tool. The marquis had discovered Iseline by chance and turned her into Sophia’s double.

It was half an experiment, and he vaguely thought she might be useful in the future, though he had no concrete plans. He fell easily for the duke’s manipulation.

“It would be good for a mad emperor to have a target for his rage. The image of a weak nation crushed under the feet of a lunatic tyrant… Wouldn’t that be a striking picture for the entire continent?”

Thus, swayed by the duke, the marquis began to stage the scene. His suggestion to hold a selection for the empress under the pretext of filling the empty empress’s seat was solely to choose an actress—a scapegoat—for the role.

In the past, the first consort had killed Sophia out of jealousy. Candidates in a selection were ideal for recreating that situation. It was easier to frame someone from a weak kingdom rather than someone from the Empire.

The selection would proceed, and after some time, when the candidates had been narrowed down, Iseline would appear. The final scapegoat would then interact with Iseline, and the marquis would arrange for Iseline to be killed before the emperor’s eyes. This was the marquis’s plan—or more accurately, the plan born from the duke’s mind.

The scapegoat, framed by fabricated evidence and circumstances, would be deemed the culprit who poisoned Iseline. The duke provided the details of the poison to be used.

After that, the duke simply waited. If word came that the marquis had failed, he planned to wash his hands of the matter and withdraw immediately. Just in case, he even prepared to relocate his sister.

In the end, it wasn’t necessary. The marquis did not fail.

The duke took his hand off the teacup and once again reflected on the success of the plan. A smile naturally spread across his face.

“Tell my sister. She no longer has a reason to lose sleep. The cause of her nightmares has vanished, too.”

“I will deliver the message.”

“Has there been any other contact from the Marquis?”

“There was a communication saying he would repay the favor.”

“That’s perfect. Reply when the time is right to open the tower in the north of the castle and erase everything inside. Setting it on fire would be fine. The Emperor is in no condition to pay attention to that tower right now anyway.”

“I will do as you say.”

“Oh, and obviously, make sure my involvement isn’t revealed when you pass the message. There’s no need for me to leave traces just because that foolish Marquis did.”

“Understood.”

After issuing the order and taking a sip, the glass was empty. The Duke of Vaildion rose to his feet. As his heart grew lighter, it seemed his body felt more at ease, too. His trusted subordinate, who had been kneeling on one knee, stood up and grabbed a parasol.

“Once the tower is gone, there won’t be any need to replace the servants. My sister will be pleased.”

It was as if he’d given her an early birthday gift. The Duke laughed aloud as he added this. His slightly crooked teeth were visible in the laugh, expressing a sense of relief.

But neither he nor his subordinate noticed at that moment that the information gathered from their planted informant was unusually precise and well-organized. The Duke of Vaildion simply left the courtyard, laughing with confidence.

***