Chapter 63: Sinister Intentions

Before her sat Netin Ril Temeris, the very one who had caused today’s uproar—so Sillian could not freely indulge in her delight.

“Miss Netin.”

“Y-yes, Lady Turnita.”

Their relationship was plain to see: Sillian called Netin’s name with ease, while Netin could not bring herself to speak to Sillian as an equal.

Having stirred up such serious trouble, Netin now trembled like a mouse before a cat, sitting stiff and nervous.

Sillian cast her a sidelong glance—her complexion pale as death, as though she might bite her tongue and perish on the spot—then held the note over the candle flame and let it burn to ash.

With a voice heavy with concern, she murmured:

“They say the empress has a high fever. They think her consciousness won’t return until it breaks. What are we to do…”

“Wh-what should I do?”

“But don’t worry too much. It was an accident, wasn’t it? It’s not as if you pushed her on purpose.”

Clasping Netin’s trembling hands, Sillian met her eyes.

“Yes? O-of course. I’d never do it on purpose. It was an accident. An accident, yes, an accident.”

Knowing better than anyone it hadn’t been an accident, Netin clung to Sillian’s words as if they were a lifeline, nodding and repeating them over and over to bury the truth.

“The fact that His Majesty has yet to summon you might mean he intends to let this incident pass. Since it was an accident.”

“Y-yes, an accident. Still, since it happened because of me, I should at least offer Her Majesty an apology…”

Sillian emphasized again and again that it had been an accident, all while wrapping her arm around Netin’s shrinking shoulders to pat them gently.

“Of course. Accident or not, a mistake is still a mistake. But I do wonder if Her Majesty will see it that way.”

“What?!”

The hand that had been patting her delicate shoulder stilled, only to tighten its grip instead.

The firm pressure made Netin swallow hard, her lips trembling.

“The truth is, this court isn’t exactly favorable toward Her Majesty. I only worry she might… misunderstand.”

“It was—oh… i-it really was a mistake. An accident, I swear.”

The moment the word ‘misunderstand’ slipped in, Netin remembered the instant before the empress fell into the water.

‘Our eyes met.’

The golden gaze—so vivid, so piercing—that she had forgotten in her panic now blazed back in memory.

It had been only a fleeting moment, but she was sure: she and the empress had locked eyes.

‘What if she says I did it on purpose… oh gods, what was I thinking.’

Her heart pounded wildly, fearing Elana might have realized her intent.

She tried to steady her breath, but the frantic hammering in her chest refused to calm, only growing louder.

Watching the color drain further from Netin’s face, Sillian wore the perfect mask of kindness while slyly fanning her anxiety.

“Of course we know the truth. But given the circumstances, who knows how Her Majesty might have taken it? Still, misunderstandings can be cleared up. Surely she wouldn’t condemn an innocent girl. She did seem like a gentle soul.”

“B-but… even if she’s on shaky ground, Her Majesty’s words still carry weight. If she says it was intentional, clearing my name won’t be easy.”

If only it truly had been a mistake.

But no matter how she tried to bury it, the truth wouldn’t stay hidden.

Her fear clung tight, shaking her worse than before until her face crumpled into near-tears.

“There may be some trouble, but there were many witnesses. If the worst comes, we’ll help you. Still, whether to misunderstand or to forgive—well, that depends on her waking first…”

Sillian dabbed Netin’s tear-brimmed eyes with a soft handkerchief, her lips drawn down in a sympathetic frown.

Yet her tone carried an ambiguous edge: was she worried the empress might never wake, or quietly wishing she wouldn’t?

“Y-yes. Ha… ha. True. Nothing can happen until she wakes up.”

“And if she does not, then so be it. She’ll go down as the most short-lived empress, perishing in the most absurd of accidents. What a pity.”

Sillian gave a bitter smile, her clear eyes free of malice.

Netin stared at the faintly curving corners of her lips, then nodded and tightened her grip on the hands they shared.

‘The shortest-lived empress… if she never wakes, then what does it matter that our eyes met? Yes, if she doesn’t wake… ah! Then there will be a new empress…’

Turning her head as the thought struck her, she found Sillian’s gaze waiting, as though anticipating it.

The almond-shaped eyes curved sweetly, folding into a graceful smile.

“Anyway, don’t worry too much. Nothing will happen. Whether Her Majesty wakes or not, nothing will change. What can anyone do about an accident born of misfortune?”

A smile masked as kindness spread across Sillian’s face, thoroughly crafting herself as a good-hearted soul while soothing Netin.

Looking at that elegant, composed countenance, Netin forced her lips upward too, even as her body trembled.

***

“Oh? Paraide. Are you heading to the dispensary as well?”

On his way to the apothecary, Paraide came across his junior physician, Redin.

Redin was from the County of Temeris.

Bright since childhood, he had earned the count’s patronage and become a physician.

Thanks to studying without ever worrying about money, he grew into a man of unfailing cheer, with exceptional sociability that allowed him to get along with everyone.

Smiling warmly, Redin nodded toward Paraide.

“Yes. I heard some new medicines came in for research.”

“How goes your research?”

“Oh, the same as always. Ha ha. And you, Paraide? Are you coming from the palace annex?”

He gave an awkward smile, glancing toward the direction Paraide had come from, and added in a worried tone:

“It’s been a full day since Her Majesty collapsed, hasn’t it? Is there any sign of improvement?”

“Not really…”

Paraide’s expression hardened as he shook his head.

He had thought it would be enough to treat a cold and be done with it.

He had never imagined matters would turn out like this.

‘When will the chief return?’

It was galling enough that he had to tend to the Princess of Cliphes after she was brought in as empress—but now, with things deteriorating so seriously, the whole situation felt even more disagreeable to him.

“Really? Still no change? Ah, you must be exhausted.”

Sensing his senior’s mood, Redin quickly pushed open the apothecary door, stepping aside so Paraide could enter first.

Paraide gave a slight bow of acknowledgment in thanks for the courtesy.

As he followed him inside, Redin began rummaging through the newly delivered bundles of medicinal supplies, muttering under his breath.

“Why won’t she recover when we’re tending to her with such devotion? Does she have any idea with what heart we’re looking after her? Hah.”

“Hm?”

Paraide, deep in thought over altering the prescription since Elana’s fever showed no sign of breaking, looked up at Redin.

His junior’s lips were twisted in discontent, and Paraide frowned faintly as he studied him.

“I only say this because it’s just the two of us, but I can’t stand the Princess of Cliphes. I heard it was she who blocked our medical team nine years ago. If not for her, Princess Ribella would never have died like that.”

So casually, Redin pressed against the raw, festering knot in Paraide’s heart.

At that sharp prod, Paraide couldn’t say a word.

He only looked down at the prescription in his hands, something hot rising up inside him.

Not missing the shift in his senior’s expression, Redin feigned innocence and added lightly,

“To think she receives your treatment, Paraide. That we should have to nurse such an enemy—it’s outrageous. Why must we bow and scrape to that woman?”

Paraide’s hand clenched tightly over the prescription lying on the desk.

The paper crumpled with a rustling cry.

‘So it wasn’t just me. I’m not the only one who thinks this way. To have to treat the woman who stole away our princess…!’

Hearing his colleague voice the same dark thoughts, even Paraide’s carefully restrained heart wavered.

The unworthy notions—so unbecoming of a physician—swelled monstrously.

Just knowing he wasn’t alone in such disloyal thoughts gave them a dangerous justification, and his long-nursed resentment grew heavier still.

His junior was right.

Paraide could no longer see why he should examine and prepare medicine for the Princess of Cliphes.

‘She drove Princess Ribella to such a senseless death, and yet she dares enjoy the comforts of our medicine as if nothing happened. The gall.’

The fury he had tried so hard to suppress boiled up, so fierce it made his vision swim.

The flood of emotion crashed against him, ready to burst free at last.