Hari hung her head low, then stiffened her neck with force. She ignored the glances cast her way and looked straight ahead. Though Achilleon was beside her, he couldn’t block the blade-like stares.

She could understand why Achilleon had insisted on accompanying her. The rumors about Hari had already spread throughout the palace.

“Why is that leech of a woman here again?”

“She tried to seduce Prince Antor with her body to escape, didn’t she? Then when she nearly got herself killed, look how she clung back to Prince Achilleon. I don’t understand why His Majesty the Third Prince doesn’t execute such a bat-like woman and keeps her alive instead.”

“When she should be locked up for her crimes, she’s taking leisurely walks like this. What could His Majesty be thinking?”

“She’s pregnant with the Second Prince’s child. She may be a criminal, but killing an expectant mother is a bit… So once the child is born, they’ll probably sell it into slavery and execute that woman cruelly.”

Hari passed by the whispering nobles. Because Achilleon was beside her, it remained at this level, but the passing servants looked ready to throw stones.

“Now doesn’t seem like an appropriate time for a walk, so let’s return.”

“…Yes.”

Rather than lifting her spirits, her heart only grew heavier.

‘I’m sorry you had to hear such terrible things.’

After changing clothes and sitting on the bed, she unnecessarily touched her belly and whispered to the baby. Achilleon watched Hari like this for a long time with sunken eyes, then left the bedroom. The moment he leaned the back of his head against the door, a sigh escaped.

What should he do with Margharita?

The frightened physician didn’t seem likely to lie even in front of him. Then perhaps… Most likely, the child’s father was Antor. If only it were his child, despite finding Hari’s crimes detestable, he could protect them both.

Even if the nobles opposed like lightning, he had intended to make Hari his queen. He had wanted to do so even at the risk of losing a great number of supporters.

He covered his forehead with one hand. Somewhere in his heart burned painfully. Just imagining the two of them embracing and kissing made his stomach turn… and now a child too.

His eyes grew hot with an anguish he’d never experienced before, and rough breaths escaped. Achilleon looked at the door that wasn’t tightly closed. Hari was reading a book, comfortably leaning against her pillow.

From the soft murmuring voice he could hear, she seemed to want to read to the child that hadn’t even taken shape yet. This time, the center of his chest, around his solar plexus, ached like it was being torn apart.

He went to his office and picked up the documents piled on the table. Antor’s trial schedule, succession ceremony schedule, and petitions saying he should take a proper noble daughter as queen.

Nowhere in the documents was Hari’s name mentioned, treating the disposition of a lowly woman carrying a criminal’s child unworthy of mention. His secretaries also assumed he would naturally punish Hari himself.

He knew. No one here valued Margharita, and no one wanted her existence.

Only Achilleon, only he wanted Hari…

He crushed the paper in his hand with force.

* * *

When the sound of dragging footsteps approached, Antor raised his head. Though not bound, he had no strength in his body from the commotion he’d caused earlier. Behind the guard holding a torch, he could see the figure of an old man.

“You are…”

“I came to see your face before leaving. His Majesty the Third Prince specially permitted this visit.”

It was High Priest Egoto. He looked ten years older, perhaps from the harsh ordeals during the investigation. Seeing the old man who had so loved gold ornaments standing hunched in shabby clothes, Antor’s face contorted with rage. Fearing this might be his own future.

“You shouldn’t have taken His Majesty’s hand from the beginning.”

“When did you wag your tail saying it was good, and now you say such things? Have you forgotten who allowed you to grasp all that wealth?”

Now facing an old man who was neither high priest nor anything else, Antor pressed his face forward and violently shook the iron bars.

The guard tried to intervene but couldn’t stop the confrontation between two men who had once held the highest positions here, and could only watch. Antor, with bloodshot eyes charging forward, looked like a vicious demon. The noble prince’s shell had peeled away, revealing ugliness.

His raw face, distorted with malice, was even chilling. But Egoto remained calm even seeing that monstrous true face.

“I’m going to Mento Island. By the Third Prince’s mercy, I escaped death.”

But you won’t. A strange emotion flickered momentarily in Egoto’s eyes.

“Antor.”

Antor, who had been seething, flinched. The voice with its quiet resonance brought back memories of first meeting the high priest in childhood.

‘Antor?’

‘That’s right. High Priest Egoto. I’m Antor and I’m seven years old. I came to meet the High Priest.’

The high priest’s face, younger and colder than now. Gray eyes staring intently at the maid’s child.

The high priest seemed to recall the same past memory.

‘I’ll just take a little of the sacred fruit.’

‘I cannot give it without the king’s permission.’

‘I’m going to be king. The High Priest is refusing the future king’s command. Do you know? How great a sin that is.’

Acting like he’d heard something somewhere. The child looked up provocatively.

A ridiculous tone mixing honorifics and commands. Though he wore clothes puffed up to look dignified, his eyes seemed somehow precarious.

‘The future king?’

‘Yes, so I command you by the prince’s authority. Give me just a little sacred fruit right now. I really need it. And this is a secret… Do you understand?’

The desperation hidden in the young prince’s arrogant eyes. The high priest hid his twitching lips and asked with an expressionless face. Though arrogant, the prince’s shameless eloquence and spirit weren’t bad.

‘If I keep the secret, what can Your Majesty give me?’

‘I’m a prince. And I’ll become king after my father. There’s nothing I can’t give you, Egoto.’

‘Ah, is that so? How are you certain you’ll become king?’

‘Things go as I decide. I’ll definitely become the next king…’

The high priest smiled a little. The young prince puffing his cheeks and bouncing around was amusing. A little endearing.

The half-wit prince stared blankly at the smiling high priest, then gained courage and thr*st his chest out even more shamelessly.

‘If you side with me, I’ll give the High Priest anything. I promise! Since you’ve already listened, please listen to just one more thing.’

He wanted to study sacred power, try using holy relics, tour the temple, teach me… Why had he been so swayed by those unreasonable demands?

Egoto had failed to see in time the growing red malice in the prince’s eyes that had been full of pure passion and desire.

Young Antor had killed Achilleon’s beloved horse with the sword he’d obtained for him. He had killed Dictys with the poison he’d obtained for him.

‘With big brother gone, I’ve removed the obstacle. My world will come soon. That Achilleon fellow is a bit troublesome, but… he’s still a child, so I can crush him slowly.’

Emerging from his reverie, the high priest looked at Antor shrouded in darkness beyond the iron bars. Over him, he seemed to see the overlapping face of Dictys, limbs twisted in death, shedding tears of blood.

“Your Majesty… is being punished.”

“What?”

“The curse of those Your Majesty killed will follow you.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, you crazy old man!”

Bang! Antor struck the iron bars with his fist.

“You’ll soon go to His Majesty the First Prince’s side.”

“Shut up… Shut up! Do you think I’ll die quietly?”

“Aren’t you imprisoned? What more can Your Majesty do?”

Egoto quietly stared at Antor, who only glared with clenched fists. Antor had committed countless unspeakable crimes. After getting blood on his hands, he would come to Egoto, kneel and confess. At first he trembled and suffered, but gradually stopped visiting the temple.

‘Selina’s maid. I killed her.’

The Second Prince killed people recklessly for being annoying, for making him angry. Then he would casually mention it to the high priest like throwing away trash in passing. There was no trace of guilt. Even in death, he wouldn’t seek the goddess’s forgiveness. Of course, neither would he himself, who had secretly helped from behind.

Though he was more cunning than a snake and more terrible than a demon… in Egoto’s eyes, he still looked like that seven-year-old young prince.

“You’ve gone mad.”

The child who had come dressed in clothes decorated like a male peacock, imitating a swagger and waddling along.

Help me. High Priest Egoto, help me ascend to the throne.

Over the shouting that shook the iron bars, a young voice overlapped.

“So you’ve gone mad…”

Perhaps he himself had been the one to turn this child into a demon. Egoto confirmed the guard was standing far away and pressed his distorted face close to the iron bars.

“In the fountain of the Central Temple, there’s a gem called agate embedded. A stone called divine protection. If you use that gem made from Igrito’s sap, it will take you to someone nearby wearing agate.”

“……”

“But you’d have to escape this prison first.”

“Agate? Is that true? I just need to extract that gem?”

Mad hope that he could escape blazed fiercely in Antor’s eyes.

“…None of the temple priests could use agate. But if Your Majesty is capable, that would be different.”

Bitterness flickered across Egoto’s face. After staring at Antor silently for a long time, Egoto left those words and departed. Antor gripped the iron bars tightly while staring at the figure disappearing into darkness.

God had not abandoned him after all. There was still a way. Margharita. If only that woman would come.