Rumble—

Thunder rumbled in the distance after a jagged bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. Soon, a downpour drowned out all other sounds, leaving the world eerily quiet beneath the noise.

Inside, the room was warm and elegant, its furnishings arranged with care. Yet a vivid green dress lay crumpled on the soft carpet, and strands of silver hair were scattered around in disarray.

Crash.

A blinding flash filled his vision, followed by the slow, dreadful spread of crimson across the fabric. Was it wine spilled from an overturned glass? Or was it something far worse; something emanating from the mouths of the fallen?

The air was thick and heavy with a strange scent. The sweet scent of figs mingled with the metallic tang of blood, forming a foul perfume that made every hair on his body stand on end.

His half-open silver eyes still gleamed faintly, but held no warmth. Cedric was bound to the chair and could only emit a silent cry that echoed endlessly through his throat.

‘Mother!’

“Mmph—! Mmmph!”

His muffled cries should have been louder than the thunder outside, but all that escaped were strangled gasps through the cloth over his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. But this is something that must be done.”

The voice came from behind him, it was a woman’s voice. Cedric thrashed against the ropes binding him to the chair, but the figure that stepped into view moved with almost graceful calmness. Shimmering platinum hair cascaded over her shoulders.

Cedric’s eyes widened. In Shisha’s white hand, a small butter knife gleamed short and dull, the kind used for spreading soft cream or jam. It was hardly fit for violence; yet, in the hands of someone standing over a fallen victim, it became a weapon.

“Mmmph! Mmmph—!”

The cloth covering his mouth had become so saturated with moisture that it could no longer contain it. Shisha’s gaze lingered on the terrified boy, taking in his trembling body and wide eyes, before she drew in a breath and pulled a hard face.

Bang—!

As she approached the Empress’s body, a bolt of lightning split the air behind her. A blinding flash of light illuminated her, as though she were being punished by the gods, yet she did not even blink.

She crouched down and crawled the last few steps towards the fallen woman. Then, just as the lightning flared again, she lifted the knife high above her head with both hands.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was designed to cut through butter, not flesh. It tore through layer upon layer of fabric and skin, and deeper still, piercing organs for which it was never intended. With each desperate swing, the dull blade sank repeatedly into the body, which was already almost motionless.

Cedric couldn’t even close his eyes. He saw everything. The Empress’s half-open silver eyes remained unblinking, their lustre fading until only emptiness remained.

A choked sound escaped Cedric’s throat, a broken whimper too small to carry his grief.

The murderer who had slain his mother showed not a trace of remorse before the young prince. Shisha wiped the blood spattered across her face with her sleeve, then turned towards him.

“The most important part is done. I’ve prepared for so long… and now my duty is finally complete.”

‘Duty?’

Cedric could only stare, dazed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Then the woman smiled and began to weep herself.

“…Thank the Goddess. Truly… thank Her.”

“…”

“Those children can now go to Her pure and cleansed.”

“…”

“Your Highness, this is all thanks to you.”

“…”

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would never have had the courage to do this.” I would have been too afraid and too weak to face my sin alone. I suppose I always needed someone nearby to stop me from falling apart.”

Still trembling and unable to move, Cedric didn’t even flinch when Shisha knelt before him. Her blood-stained hands rested on his knees. Bound and frozen, he could only glare down at her with wide, terrified, tear-streaked eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Ah, because of this witch, is that it? Well, I understand. She was your only mother, after all.”

“…”

“Your mother… your only mother. How troublesome. I wish you hadn’t said that.”

Shisha lifted her head and met his gaze. Her eyes had lost all focus, as though her mind were elsewhere. She began to mutter softly to herself, uttering meaningless words. Then, using the same blood-smeared knife that had killed Inès, she pressed its dull edge against Cedric’s throat. It wasn’t sharp enough to cut on contact, but Cedric’s face drained of color, turning an ashen grey.

‘No… I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

He was only nine years old. He was a child who had just witnessed the m*rder of his mother by the woman he trusted most. It was a miracle he hadn’t fainted yet.

Cedric’s breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. Shisha looked down at him with what seemed like genuine pity and whispered.

“If you scream, I’ll have to kill you, Your Highness. I don’t want to. I don’t want to hurt you or make you eat that pie. Truly, I don’t.”

With careful hands, she removed the soaked cloth gagging him. Cedric’s trembling lips parted, but no sound came out.

‘The pie.’

He begged his mother to try the fig pie, holding the fork out to her himself. What happened next? What happened next? The moments flashed through his mind again and again.

His eyes flicked to the knife that was still poised at his neck. His lips moved faintly.

“Why… why…”

His voice broke into a dry sob.

“Oh, what am I to do…? I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

Shisha’s apology sounded painfully sincere. She looked as though she truly regretted hurting him, which only made Cedric’s stomach twist in revulsion.

Having known him for so long, she could read his emotions instantly. A shadow crossed her face, and she murmured in a voice almost too quiet to hear.

“I love you, Your Highness. I cherish you. But I also loved my children just as deeply. They deserved to go to Heaven and be embraced by the Goddess. Yet, because of my sins…”

“…”

“The only way to atone for my sins was to kill the witch who defied the Goddess. Only by destroying her could I free my children’s souls from the stain of my wrongdoing. There was no other way.”

It was madness. Utter madness.

Only then did Cedric realize that the woman who had cared for him for years, singing him lullabies and feeding him by hand, had lost her mind long ago. He should have noticed the recent fervor, her unsettling prayers, and the strange words she had whispered in secret.

But she had always hidden that side of herself when others were around. It was only when they were alone that she spoke of such things, and naive and trusting as he was, he had let it pass.

“My original role was to pierce you as well, Your Highness.”

“A—ah…”

Her voice quivered and she tightened her grip on the knife. Cedric froze when he felt the dull pressure of the blade against his skin.

“But I’ll give you a choice. You were born of heretical blood, so by right, you deserve to be punished. And yet…You always spoke of her, of the Princess of Callithea. You said you wanted to be with her, didn’t you?”

“W–what… what are you talking about?”

“Why are you trembling so, Your Highness? Don’t be afraid. I believe you’ll make the right choice.”

She held the knife in one hand and reached out with the other to stroke his hair. Her tone was soft, almost tender. Cedric’s stomach churned. He wanted to recoil, to vomit and to push her hand away.”

“Just say one thing. Will you marry the Princess of Callithea?”

The princess? Anita? Marriage?

What did any of that matter now? Cedric wanted to scream, to shout until his throat tore open. What did any of it mean? What kind of monster asks that while standing over my mother’s body?

“Hurry. You will, won’t you?”

When Cedric responded with only a hateful glare, the smile disappeared from her face. Her expression became solemn and almost sacred, as though she were a priest delivering a divine revelation.

“She is your destined match, Your Highness. You knew it the moment you met her, didn’t you? That’s why you smiled so brightly then.”

“…”

“There isn’t much time. The Goddess has already given Her answer. So, will you accept Her will? Or will you wash away your impurity with death, as this witch did?”

The lifeless body of Inés lay beside them.

Shisha glanced down at her with cold eyes and nudged the Empress’s shoulder with her foot. Even this slight touch caused a fresh trickle of blood to spill across the floor and soak into the fabric beneath.

“You’ll keep your promise, won’t you, Your Highness? You’ll marry the Princess of Callithea.”

Cedric trembled violently, his mind recoiling at the inhuman horror before him. Rage, disbelief, and terror swirled inside him, but above all else, he was consumed by the primal fear of death.

He said nothing. That silence was the only defiance he had left.

But Shisha had no intention of waiting any longer.

“Now speak clearly. You’ll be her mate, won’t you? Say it.”

The knife at his throat tightened, cutting off his air supply. If she pressed any harder, it would cut him. Terrified, Cedric could not keep his gaze steady. Shisha drove her words into his ear insistently, as if she were on the verge of a seizure.

“Choose, Your Highness.”

“Ugh….”

“Hurry.”

He could bear it no longer. He wanted, above all, to escape this terror. Cedric’s mind broke; faced with his mother’s corpse and the woman who had murdered her, he gave in.

“Hu—yes. I—I’ll do it. I will.”

It was humiliating and powerless. He hated himself for it. The child’s limbs went limp and only sobs came.

“That’s good. That’s truly good.”

With the child utterly broken, Shisha smiled as if elated. To her, Cedric was another child she’d raised and loved, precious as the ones she had lost.

“You did well. The Goddess will forgive you now that you’ve been bathed in blood and repented.”

For this reason, she could not allow the witch to live. As the child grew up, he became tainted by his mother, the witch and her heretical beliefs, and he began to drift away from his devotion to the Goddess.

This pained Shisha, but she went ahead with the plan. Fortune had smiled upon her: Cedric longed for the Princess of Callithea, the Goddess’s embodiment. Having seen this, she took it as a blessing.

“Now, Your Highness, since you have vowed to atone let us pray together.”

Shisha clasped Cedric’s hand while the knife still rested against the child’s throat.

“Pray…? For what? For—what?”

“You must offer a prayer of thanks to the Goddess. Thank her for enabling you to defeat the witch. Because of that, your sins will be forgiven.”

Although the boy mumbled as if he were not fully present, Shisha could not hide her excitement. Having completed her mission and saved the child she loved, she was overwhelmed with joy.

“Repeat after me: “O Goddess, we give thanks. I am grateful that you allowed me to rid the world of that sinful, filthy witch by my hand…”

Holding the child’s trembling hand, she guided him like a puppet, closing her eyes to begin the prayer, words of thanks for Ines’s death and Cedric’s supposed salvation.

Cedric, the child who had lost his mother at the hands of his nanny was forced to listen to, and repeat, that blasphemous prayer for over ten minutes. To most, ten minutes might seem brief, even fleeting.

But to Cedric, those ten minutes stretched endlessly longer than ten years, longer than a hundred. Each second carved itself into him like an eternity.