He muttered under his breath, then bowed his head and shook his shoulders.

He shook with laughter.

So, the marquis had kept that as evidence. How foolish.

To stifle his laughter, the duke bit his lip. When was it again? During a meeting with the marquis, he had recorded their conversation in the orb and handed it over — a gesture of trust. A way to promise that he wouldn’t betray him and escape alone if things went awry.

However, for the duke, who had intended to use the marquis as a disposable pawn from the beginning, there was never any genuine intent to share the risk. He merely left collateral to ease the marquis’s concerns, all while secretly sending someone to switch the memory orb with another.

The real one had been in the duke’s hands. He had kept it safe until recently, when he checked the recording himself and destroyed it. Therefore, what they had now could only be the fake he had planted earlier.

‘They think if they show that to me, I’ll give up and confess. Too bad for them, they’re wrong.’

The Duke of Vaildion struggled not to show his relief. He forced down the corners of his lips, which threatened to curl up, and raised his head.

“A memory orb, is it? Pardon me, but may I ask what evidence that is supposed to provide?”

‘Other than that, there’s nothing they can use against me. I’m sure of it.’

Whenever he left messages for the marquis, he always used street errand boys. They were the kind who took payment without asking questions and knew nothing of the tasks they performed. There was no chance of a confession from them.

He had, of course, left no material evidence such as letters. The duke was confident he could emerge unscathed from this affair.

Banther, however, was unshaken by the duke’s composure, even after presenting the memory orb. As if he had expected this reaction, he made no reply and silently activated the orb.

He lightly wrapped his bare hand around the top of the orb. The orb absorbed a small amount of mana through the contact, turning opaque before it began to glow. This signaled the playback of the stored video. The duke swallowed his derision.

‘Go ahead and play it. What will show up is something completely unrelated…’

“Rest assured. The Emperor is not invincible. Bringing down one sick man is not such a difficult task.”

“…!”

The duke’s head shot up. His eyes widened with disbelief. Two figures sat facing each other in the projection created by the orb.

The image was clear enough that recognizing the individuals was no challenge. Their conversation continued.

“…I trust you, Duke.”

“You need not worry. Do you know which type of poison to use?”

“I do not.”

“Of course, even the previous marquis likely didn’t know that. I will tell you. The same poison must be used to make the stage perfect.”

“……”

“In front of the Emperor’s eyes, it won’t just be his beloved mistress who dies. It will be his mother all over again.”

“Shall we continue?”

Banther, who had stopped the playback, asked curtly as if not to waste time. The duke stood frozen, eyes bulging as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. He finally managed to scream.

“Th-this… How can this be…!”

This must be fake!

The Emperor answered the silent scream of the duke’s disbelief.

“You’ve met the marquis, so you know what kind of man he is. He’s cowardly and narrow-minded. Do you know what that kind of person tends to be?”

“……”

“Suspicious. Even if they’re not smart, their suspicion sometimes catches you off guard.”

“But surely…!”

The duke stammered, unable to believe what he saw. He was certain he had destroyed the real memory orb. He had checked multiple times; there was no mistake. He would have sworn on it. Then how…?

At that moment, the duke paused, realization dawning on him. He finally noticed the inconsistency in the video he had just seen.

Thud.

Like the marquis before him, the Duke of Vaildion collapsed to his knees. His strength left him, and though his body threatened to fall, the soldier holding his bindings kept him upright. The duke stared at the ground and laughed hollowly.

“How…”

The marquis hadn’t trusted the duke, just as the duke hadn’t trusted the marquis. Consumed by suspicion, the marquis had made a duplicate of the memory orb just in case.

Ordinarily, memory orbs could not be duplicated. But it was simple: the marquis played the original orb and recorded it onto another.

The duke destroyed the original orb but was unaware of the duplicate. The Emperor had obtained that duplicate.

“Take him away.”

With that curt order, the duke followed in his sister’s footsteps. As he was dragged away like a wild beast, he screamed in fury, sounding like a madman. No one paid him any attention.

Soon after, soldiers captured and bound the duke’s confidant and steward. The confidant was a given, but the steward had been responsible for disposing of the servants who had attended the duke’s sister. Both were soon to share their master’s fate.

The situation was swiftly resolved. The strong sun of Essis blazed over the estate and courtyard. Banther watched the soldiers returning in loose formation, then turned his gaze.

As always, the Emperor’s handsome profile betrayed nothing of his thoughts. Banther asked,

“How do you feel?”

Their enemy was captured. She would be executed in a place visible from the tower. It was an event that marked the end of a long nightmare, a moment surely deserving of some emotional reaction. The Emperor replied,

“I want to see her.”

The single phrase spoken casually did not specify its subject, yet Banther knew exactly who it referred to, even without hearing it. He chuckled lightly, his soft breath dissipating into the air.

‘How could it be otherwise?’

Banther recalled a fortune he had once received. When a noble visiting the palace brought a fortune-teller along, he had, out of amusement, paid the fee to have his future read. The fortune-teller, renowned for their abilities in the region, stared intently at their crystal ball for a long moment before speaking:

“Soon, there will be a woman connected to the one you serve. Treat her with the utmost respect. She will bring much to you. Perhaps…”

“A savior of the nation? I thought she might be a hero,” he mused.

“Hmm?”

“Ah, nothing.”

Banther grinned broadly. Even after being scolded for his frivolity, his attitude remained unshaken. He thought to himself, with no one around to hear, that he probably should have tipped the fortune-teller more generously.

***

The Duke and the Lady of Vaildion were officially executed. Alongside their deaths, the truth, which had been concealed until then, was revealed to all. The continent’s public opinion surged with outrage, and Essis quickly declared their intent to erase the name “Vaildion” from the kingdom.

The two, who vanished into the dew of the gallows, lost even their names. Mail thought that their desolate end suited criminals well enough.

It wasn’t until after the Marquis of Bolthen was beheaded that Iseline realized how close she had come to her own doom. She had narrowly escaped drinking poison and dying a meaningless death. Upon grasping what could have been her fate, Iseline spent more than a day and a half cursing the dead.

According to the palace servants who attended her, Iseline had, during that time, uttered more curses than she had in the past three years combined.

When the emperor met Iseline for the first time after the incident was resolved, he merely laughed and said:

“So, the one without ambition was my mother, not the Lady of Tengott.”

His choice of address had changed, and he corrected his earlier words.

Mail kept her promise — specifically, the one where she assured Iseline she could remain in the palace. Regardless of the circumstances at the time, Mail had nodded in agreement, so it was only fair.

However, Iseline could no longer stay in the Empress’s Palace. She moved to a guest annex and, no longer retaining the title of the emperor’s consort, took on suitable work in exchange for her stay. Though the work wasn’t strenuous, Iseline found it tolerable enough.

The Empress Selection Ceremony was first suspended and eventually canceled altogether. As compensation, resources from the empire were sent to the kingdoms of the candidates.

Banther, for his part, had speculated that the emperor might quietly insert Mail into the pool of candidates and continue the selection. The actual decision took him by surprise.

The reason for it was revealed when the emperor took Mail’s hand and confessed:

“Even if you had been one of the candidates, I would have canceled the ceremony.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to give the impression that I chose you from among many. It was you who chose me, not the other way around.”

“…”

“I’ll send a formal proposal soon. Wait for it.”

“Where should I wait?”

“By my side. The proposal will go to your family.”

This made Mail seriously consider whether she should send word to her father in advance.

Duke Vizeat, though robust for his age and known for despising the phrase “elderly,” was unlikely to respond calmly to news that his daughter, who had followed a princess to the empire, was suddenly poised to become empress. Mail found herself worrying about her father’s mental well-being for the first time in a long while.

With the Marquis and his conspirators dealt with, peace returned to the imperial capital, granting Rose more free time. She no longer bore the same responsibility of watching over Riela all day, and the effects of her newfound personal time were astonishing.

“Rose, that’s a ring I haven’t seen before.”

“It’s an engagement ring.”

“Oh, I see—Wait, what?!”