Until the doors of the quiet audience chamber opened, Iberis had been sunk in deep thought.

She had even sent away Maria, who was always like her shadow, and sat alone in the silence.

Then laughter surged up in her like an emotion bursting free. The third subject of the Oracle. There had been no need to look into it separately.

The gods’ consideration in appointing those who had each saved her life as the subjects of the Oracle, so that she might set down the burden of the anguish of joining bodies with them, could not have been more revolting.

Yes, when she thought about it, the third subject of the Oracle who would soon open that door and enter was, if she were to call him a benefactor, a benefactor indeed.

“Except that he is someone I swore never to touch even if it meant my death.”

Killing intent stirred in those silver eyes, gone cold and still.

If she could, if she truly could. If she could cut through the curse itself, she would have done so any number of times.

Having struggled and struggled to the end only to find herself on one knee, she had nothing left but to follow fate.

To prevent the tragedy of destroying what she held dear with her own hands, she had to accept the Oracle.

Lionel, and even Kaian, she had been able to bear well enough.

The unfamiliar contact, the heat it produced, the feeling of it spreading to counteract the curse, she had even been able to enjoy that.

But this one was different.

“I shall truly die of rage.”

The truth was that she could not show her agitation, but at this moment Iberis was so furious she could not even breathe evenly.

And at last.

Before the door even opened, Iberis sensed the presence of those approaching. The pain and hatred, the anguish and fury that had risen across her face in a way so unlike her all vanished.

“……Enter.”

All that remained was the elegant, refined mask of the emperor.

Creak. The door opened. Sirak, his expression grave, and behind him.

The one she had resolved never to lay eyes on even in death stood there.

Those gleaming eyes that no darkness could conceal, a large frame and small face difficult to associate with a mage, gentle eyes, short silver hair, and red irises the color of blood.

Iberis’s lips twisted.

Everything about him was exactly the same.

“You’ve come.”

At her brief response, those red eyes stirred with a stranger light than before. One gesture, one word of permission, and he looked ready to shove past Sirak and come running.

Iberis stayed silent deliberately.

Please, please. Precisely because his desperate impatience, like his tail was on fire, was so plain to see, she pressed her lips together all the more firmly.

Hateful, unreadable, revolting, repulsive, and yet undeniably a man who had once saved Iberis’s life.

A genius Black Mage, and at the same time the Empress Dowager’s lover who had helped bring down Iberis’s father, the witch’s plaything. And yet a man who had the audacity to fall for Iberis at first sight and betray the witch.

And……

“Theodore.”

“Yes, yes!”

The man came rushing toward her in a fluster. She could see Sirak clicking his tongue with an expression of utter disbelief.

Casting a look that said not to do anything, Iberis regarded the man kneeling before her with cool eyes.

The Black Mage, Theodore.

Skilled in curses and poisons, the most powerful Black Mage alive, and at the same time the one who would know the Grand Witch’s curse better and more intimately than anyone.

She was supposed to do that with this man.

She still had no desire to.

“Theodore.”

“Your, Your Majesty. I, I knew the day would come when you would seek me out like this.”

His trembling voice sounded quite guileless.

His shoulders hunched as small as they could go, as though he had done nothing wrong at all, and even that looked rather pitiable. But only a hollow laugh rose in her. It had been the same back then. She had been fooled by those deceptively innocent eyes.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“Always, always, I thought of no one but you!”

Watching him jerk his head up and fix her with a gleaming stare, a vivid memory from the past rose in her.

A very long time ago. The first time she had seen him.

What day had it been?

Not yet knowing the woman’s true nature as a witch, it had been a time when she was at odds with the empress consort, her stepmother who shunned her.

That woman, smiling with alluring grace, had brought some man with her.

A youthful face, yet a large frame with extraordinary musculature, whether by nature or constitution, and one who carried a dense, surging black magical power.

A strange first impression.

‘Say hello, Princess. He is my precious mage. Quite obedient and exceptionally gifted. He is skilled in curses and poisons, so I shall permit you to seek this child out and make use of him should you have need.’

It had been utter nonsense, but she had not known that then. She had not known how dangerous a mage that man with the guileless face was.

If she had known, she would have cut him down on the spot.

But the Iberis of that time had known none of that. When she had locked eyes with that large man who stepped forward at the empress consort’s introduction, all she had felt was a creeping unease.

And so, now.

“You.”

Iberis extended her foot. Still wearing her shoes, she pressed the toe of her hard leather boot against the man’s throat.

It was quite a humiliating position, but the large-framed mage only trembled all over and bowed his head further.

“Tell me. Why do you think I called for you?”

“Hnn.”

He obediently offered up his throat, the vulnerable spot, so that Iberis could kick him more easily.

A dog gone mad.

No. A rabid dog howling and shaking, begging to be put on a leash. That was the mage before her.

“Are, are you giving me permission to speak?”

“Since when did you ever read the room? You’re already chattering away just fine, aren’t you? Answer me.”

“I, I am. I am a mage. A mage of the witch. So I predicted, predicted that you would seek me out.”

“Oh? Is that so? How?”

“The curse.”

“……”

“The curse must be killing you.”

Sirak, still waiting at the rear, was visibly startled at those words, his eyes sharpening.

His hand moved to the hilt of the sword at his hip. The meaning was clear: give the order, and he would cut the Black Mage’s head off.

Iberis smiled coldly.

She had thought that this one, despite his looks, was an opportunist like a rat who knew something.

“Ha.”

Thud. The toe of her boot pressed firmly and deliberately against the man’s throat.

The atmosphere was considerably oppressive, close to outright threatening, and yet Theodore, face going red as his throat was pressed down.

“Shameless creature.”

“Ngh……”

“You’re doing that even now?”

He was hard below. With a gasp and a pant, he trembled as though in ecstasy. That was the reason he was unpleasant and repulsive despite having quite a handsome face.

That sticky desire, that craving in his eyes.

“I forgot for a moment. Even this kind of suppression would be pleasure for you. Tch.”

“Gkh!”

She pulled her foot away as though she had touched something filthy, and the man, coughing, cast her a look of longing and parted his lips.

Iberis rose from her chair. She walked over without hesitation and seized the man by the collar, yanking him up hard. Even on his knees, he was nearly her height.

“You. Speak. Explain.”

“Ngh, ugh!”

“Theodore.”

She watched his face contort with pain at the choking sound with grim satisfaction and ground her teeth.

“You knew, didn’t you? That the escaped Grand Witch would leave a curse behind. That I, struggling under it, would eventually come to you. Isn’t that right?”

“Hh, hh, yes, yes. I was, waiting for you to, come to me.”

Killing intent rose thickly.

“Your, Your Majesty. Because you would need me. Don’t, don’t you?”

“Even if that were true.”

How dare you make demands.

Without knowing your place.

“That smile of yours is a problem.”

Although the message from her teacher that had come through Sirak had included the reason why the third subject of the Oracle was needed.

‘The curse will be interpreted with the power of a special individual carrying the blood of the ancient demonic lineage as its axis.’

Theodore’s inhuman frame, the fact that not a single muscle had wasted away despite being a broken-down mage who had not trained once, everyone had already suspected it was due to a nonhuman bloodline.

But no one had known it would be the bloodline of the demon realm, a place now passed down only in legend.