“Eliminate everyone and isolate the Saintess.” It was a cruel and insidious method Rigel would likely consider. Because that man was a devil!

Yet, he hadn’t anticipated being framed for regicide. He didn’t know what the King had said to the Queen during their private meeting to drive her to take her own life. But Rigel’s shameless audacity to exploit even her death sent shivers down his spine. And as if that wasn’t enough, he now involved Dekar’s daughter as an unwitting witness to the scene. No human could be this ruthless.

“W-Why…”

The young princess couldn’t finish her sentence, standing frozen as she stared at her mother’s lifeless body. Too shocked to cry, she remained silent, her gaze vacant. Dekar lowered his head, stricken with anguish, unable to comfort her.

What could he possibly say? That he didn’t kill the Queen? That he, too, had only arrived upon being summoned, finding the scene as it was? Anything he said would sound like an excuse. The only outcome now was for the princess to open the door, alert the palace, and have him arrested. With her as the sole witness, execution would be inevitable. Dekar resigned himself to his fate—it wasn’t a difficult conclusion to accept.

What indeed weighed on him was the young girl, forced to witness her mother’s death firsthand. She would undoubtedly resent him, and understandably so. While it was a bitter injustice for him, the blame couldn’t be placed on her. The princess was as much a victim of Rigel’s cruelty as anyone else, another pawn in this monstrous scheme. What pained him most was the thought of her carrying the scars of this horrifying memory for the rest of her life. How could anyone be so merciless? He wanted to cry out to anyone, if not Rigel, then to God himself.

“Your Highness…”

Dekar called out to the princess, his voice thick with helpless sorrow. There was little else he could say. No matter the truth, in her eyes, he was guilty. Perhaps even addressing her at all was overstepping.

The princess, staring at her mother, slowly lifted her head at his voice. Her movements were painstakingly slow.

And when their eyes finally met, Dekar instinctively held his breath.

Those golden eyes, gleaming faintly even in the darkness, looked straight at him—not with accusation, but with calm clarity.

“Your Highness…”

“What happened here?”

Her voice was startlingly composed as she asked for an explanation as if genuinely inviting him to speak the truth. It was as if she would believe him, provided he had nothing to hide. Perhaps that was why Dekar, caught off guard, recounted the events without hesitation, driven by an unexpected opportunity to defend his innocence.

“A summons came from the Queen late at night. When I arrived, the palace was deserted. I came here alone and opened the door, only to find Her Majesty already…“

“I see.”

The princess turned back toward her mother’s body. She carefully adjusted the Queen’s disheveled crimson hair, tucking it neatly behind her ear. Then she straightened her rumpled gown. Her touch wasn’t tender, but it was respectful, almost gentle. It was as if she wanted to ensure that even in death, her mother would remain as composed and dignified as she had been.

After a quiet “I see,“ the princess focused entirely on her mother. It was as though she no longer needed Dekar’s presence. Was that really it? Dekar couldn’t comprehend her behavior, and her calmness almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t begin to fathom the thoughts running through the young princess’s mind.

“Your Highness,“ Dekar called to her again, his voice more urgent this time.

“Do you believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The princess’s reply was unnervingly calm. She spoke as if there was no doubt in her mind.

Her demeanor was nothing like what Dekar had anticipated. He had expected her to break down in grief, accuse him of murder, or demand justice. Her quiet acceptance left him stunned.

Indeed, she should have screamed at him, denouncing him as the one who killed her mother. That would have been normal. That would have made sense.

But this? This was incomprehensible.

The princess’s behavior unsettled Dekar more than accusations ever could. Could it be that she was pure-hearted enough to trust even the words of someone standing over her mother’s lifeless body? If so, Rigel’s scheme had miscalculated. Perhaps she would even stand by him as an ally.

An ally…

“Don’t worry. I know.“

“Y-You know?“

“You’re not the kind of person who would do this.”

Dekar felt his heart plummet as her golden eyes bore into him.

Shimmering like sunlight, the golden irises seemed to pierce straight through him. It was as if she could see into his very soul, like he was standing before God’s gaze. He was overwhelmed by the sensation, an indescribable mix of awe and helplessness.

And then, a fragment of memory surfaced.

A conversation they had had with the late King Arphon during a solitary walk they had taken long ago came rushing back. Arphon had spoken with a sigh as they gazed out over the horizon.

“Helia will grow to be as precious as your daughter.”

“She is already a noble figure, Your Majesty. Is she not the sole heir to the Bailey Kingdom?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

The King had chuckled softly, a bitter smile on his face that had unsettled Dekar. It wasn’t like him to smile that way. Alphon was always a steadfast and reliable leader, someone who seemed unshakable. To see him wear such a frail expression had been disconcerting.

“I may have made a grave mistake.”

“That can’t be true, Your Majesty.”

Dekar had responded instinctively.

“Do you even know what you’re defending me from?”

“Anything and everything, Your Majesty.”

“No, no.”

The King had shaken his head weakly, his gaze still fixed on the distant horizon as if searching for answers in the endless expanse.

“At times like this, I wonder if I’m truly beyond redemption.”

“Your Majesty…”

Arphon had appeared deeply burdened as though weighed down by an irreparable mistake. Dekar had refrained from speaking further, instead respecting his King’s silence. Perhaps it was exhaustion from years of unrelenting duty. After all, even a king was human and could falter.

“Take care of Helia for me, even if I’m no longer here.”

At the time, Dekar had simply nodded, dismissing the remark as the musings of an aging monarch.

But now, those words echoed in his mind with newfound clarity.

The princess would be as precious as the Saintess. What could that have meant? And why did the myth of the empire’s founding resurface in his thoughts?

Trembling, Dekar opened his mouth, his lips quivering as though he had stumbled upon a truth too profound to grasp.

“Your Highness, no. I spoke falsehoods. I was the one who delivered the poison to Her Majesty the Queen. I am the one who took her life.”

Dekar spoke as he knelt before Helia and bowed deeply, his demeanor radiating guilt and contrition. Yet, the young girl’s golden eyes fixed upon him showed no sign of agitation or doubt.

“You’re lying.”

Her resolute voice cut through the air, more merciless than any death sentence. Dekar shut his eyes tightly, knowing full well that there was no deceiving the piercing gaze of the girl who seemed to see through everything.

Opening his eyes with a grim expression, Dekar cautiously posed a question.

“Your Highness, how did you come to be here?“

“A message arrived, saying my mother urgently requested me. It came from His Majesty’s envoy. I had my suspicions, but still…”

As Dekar pieced together the implications, horror dawned on him.

Thinking that Rigel’s scheme could be flawed was sheer arrogance. His plan was flawless. Too flawless, in fact.

Dekar had not simply fallen into a trap; his death and disgrace had already been predetermined. He was merely fulfilling a script already written. Involving the princess in this scene was unnecessary. Any passing servant could have testified against him. Yet Rigel had deliberately summoned the princess here. His true objective was elsewhere.

Rigel was testing Helia Bailey.

Whether or not Rigel fully understood her abilities, he was undoubtedly suspicious. He sought to discern whether her abilities posed a threat or a benefit. If she proved a threat, even as his own daughter, he would hesitate to eliminate her. His choice to openly use his messenger to summon her was a thinly veiled warning: Whatever you are, bow to me ultimately.

“Your Highness.“

Dekar’s voice came out steady, though his resolve hardened. There was no room for hesitation. His course of action was clear; his decision was unwavering. All he could do now was plead for the girl to heed him.

“I am indeed guilty of Her Majesty the Queen’s death.”