The death of Empress Ines was both tragic and senseless. Having survived countless assassination attempts and never yielding to anyone’s will, she was poisoned by her own child and then struck down by a blade.

The mastermind behind these horrifying acts was Shisha Yullente, the crown prince’s long-time nanny. She had cared for the young prince with unwavering devotion for years, earning the deep trust of the empress and emperor.

It was because of this trust that the Empress never questioned the small fig pie said to have been lovingly handmade by her son and his nanny, which they presented to her as a birthday gift.

The layers of protection surrounding the empress crumbled in the face of a mother’s affection, creating a fatal opening in that fleeting moment. After all, what mother could doubt a child offering her a pie and smiling innocently as they urged her to take a bite?

“Take her away! Do whatever it takes to uncover the one behind this!”

The wicked woman who used a child to m*rder the empress never planned to escape. The poison she chose was instantaneous, and to ensure the success of her crime, she stabbed the empress several times in quick succession. She made no effort to flee. Instead, clutching the blood-soaked weapon, she pressed it to the young prince’s neck and began to pray with feverish devotion.

“From the moment I entered the palace, it was by the goddess’s will. I was given a mission: to kill that witch. In return, my sins would be forgiven.”

Shisha Yullente, the woman who had poisoned the empress, spoke with chilling composure when she was brought to the interrogation chamber. Even before any force could be used, she confessed everything in vivid, unwavering detail once a priest was present, rendering t*rture unnecessary.

Her scheme had begun eight years earlier, on the day she entered the palace. After being forced into a loveless marriage and suffering years of ab*se, she was cast out along with her children. Desperate and in despair, she turned to the faith of the goddess Asteria, clinging to it with fanatical devotion.

Yet the goddess’s mercy never reached her. Her two frail children died within a week of each other and, consumed by grief, she was easily swayed.

A temple attendant whispered that the goddess’s grace was fading because the world’s faith was weakening, and that a serpent in human form lurked at the heart of this blasphemy, hidden within the royal palace.

“The serpent’s forked tongue deceives the emperor, and its venom blinds him. This is your chance. The time has come to save your children, who cannot ascend to the heavens because they are bound to this earth.”

Those who blamed Empress Ines were fanatically certain that the decline of Asteria’s influence was her doing. They believed — unyieldingly — that the empress, who had become a symbol for political unbelievers, had bewitched the emperor and turned against the goddess. The most violent and bitter of these zealots saw Shisha’s uncommon beauty and twisted devotion as an opportunity. They molded her — noble-born and striking — into a palace servant, tasked with seducing the Emperor and sowing dissension between sovereign and consort.

“You say there are no children, yet your milk has come in. You might be upset to hear that, but I quite like it. I wouldn’t want to take a mother away from her child.”

“…I count it an honor.”

“I would originally have nursed him myself, but circumstances prevented that. However, I disliked the idea of hiring an uneducated nanny and then you appeared. Isn’t it absurd to impose a hierarchy on what is best for the child?”

Then things went awry. Shisha had once saved the Empress from drowning by chance, which is why she was chosen — not by the Emperor, but by the Empress and later by the Crown Prince. Those who brought her into the palace rejoiced, convinced that a goddess had sent them aid.

“You must free the Emperor from the witch’s deceit. To open his clouded eyes, you must use any means necessary.”

As the prince’s nanny, Shisha saw the emperor frequently, yet he barely noticed the woman who cared for his son. She waited for an opportunity to fulfil her purpose, time and again. However, not long after she joined the palace staff, the emperor committed adultery and felt great guilt for his actions. From then on, he could not bring himself to look at any woman but the empress.

Time passed swiftly after that. Shisha remained within the palace walls, deaf to the summons of those who had sent her. Those who had sent her outside the palace began to suspect that she had abandoned their cause. Yet despite their doubts, Shisha never forgot her mission. If her lost children — denied the goddess’s mercy because of their mother’s sins — were ever to reach the heavens, she could not fail.

And yet, the young crown prince began to trouble her heart. Over time, she came to think of Cedric as her own son. Her mission, nurtured for so long in hatred and despair, was repeatedly delayed by something she had never expected to experience: love.

“I don’t care about that.”

It was Cedric’s change that finally stirred the wavering Shisha. The young prince, who had once clung to her for comfort whenever the Empress was away, had started imitating his mother’s every move at some point. Seeing this, Shisha resolved to guide him back onto the path she believed to be righteous, even if it meant risking her own life.

For years, she had maintained the guise of a mild and dutiful follower of Asteria, hiding her true fervor. However, when she began teaching Cedric, her deep devotion sometimes slipped through, drawing wary glances from those around her.

Then came the words that sealed her fate: “She’s the only mother I have.”

That simple phrase struck her like a blade. To Shisha, it meant that the ‘witch’ had already corrupted the child’s heart. She could no longer stand by and watch the woman she believed to be a defier of the goddess destroy the souls of her two lost children and Cedric, too.

“She’s of the witch’s blood. So is the crown prince. You know it. The goddess has chosen another prince for Laxion.”

If the witch’s poison killed him, she would need to finish him off herself, as the goddess had already chosen another prince for Laxion. Shisha believed there was still a chance for Cedric.

“The only mother.” Mother. How could anyone call that witch ‘mother’ instead of her? The fury boiling inside her felt like a summons from the goddess herself.

She forced the poison into the witch’s mouth, using Cedric as the instrument of the crime. To Shisha, this was the perfect completion of her mission. By taking part in the witch’s m*rder, she was convinced that even if she died, the child she left behind — Cedric — would one day ascend to heaven.

“She is the destined mate for Your Highness. You knew it too, didn’t you? When you first looked into her eyes, you must have smiled like that.”

Perhaps the goddess, fearing corruption, had not fully realized her destined partner. When Shisha saw the Princess of Callithea — a girl she had known before — she immediately recognized what the goddess might look like in human form: perfect, radiant and worthy.

Everything had fallen perfectly into place according to the will of the goddess. Overcome with rapture, Shisha plunged the blade into the nearly lifeless body of the Empress again and again. She noted with faint surprise that the witch’s blood was red like anyone else’s, but what did that matter now? The goddess’s plan had been fulfilled.

“Now, let us pray together.”

Even as soldiers seized her by the hair and dragged her away, she continued to pray, her face radiant with joy. After all, only one end remained for her. Fear had no place in her heart; if anything, she welcomed what lay ahead.

Screams and cries echoed through the halls.

“We have no connection! That woman acted alone! Aaah! Please, save me—!”

“K*ll me instead! Please—kill me!”

But Shisha felt nothing. All she needed to do was ascend to heaven, where her two children were waiting for her. Peace — at last, peace. Unlike others who wailed under t*rture, she smiled at the prospect of that long-awaited peace. Soon she would stand before the goddess herself.

As she prayed, she begged that a fragment of her spirit might reside in the soul of the princess — the living incarnation of the goddess. If that prayer were answered…

‘Even if the goddess proves difficult, I will dwell within the soul of the princess, who will become His Highness’s mate. I will remain with her for a very long time.’

··· ✦ ···

Shisha Yullente was dragged to the scaffold to be executed for poisoning the empress. The executioner’s blade fell cleanly, an outcome made possible because Empress Ines had abolished barbaric punishments such as burning, dismemberment, and slow hanging.

Emperor Charles had briefly considered dulling the blade to make her death more painful, but ultimately refrained from doing so. He felt that to do so would have been to betray his wife’s principles.

Shisha and the zealots who had conspired in the shadows were executed. Yet the full truth behind Empress Ines’s death was carefully buried.

Officially, she was declared to have been poisoned by a fanatic from Callithea. This had to be concealed because the investigation found evidence implicating Cedric, the empress’s son and heir.

Cedric was innocent, of course, no matter what anyone might whisper. He was just a child, a pawn manipulated by a madwoman. In truth, he was the most tragic victim of all.

However, even the slightest connection to the empress’s m*rder could taint him forever. If the people came to believe that he had killed his own mother, knowingly or not, they might brand him as either cursed or insane. Such a stigma would be hard to shake off, and Laxion’s history had seen more than one heir destroyed by far less.

Moreover, the political balance in Laxion had shifted sharply against the crown prince. Although the emperor would do everything in his power to protect his son, the political faction that had once been held together by Empress Inés had crumbled, leaving her allies vulnerable and scattered. In such times, enemies moved quickly, rivals struck hard and without mercy. Emperor Charles could not bear the thought of his young son becoming their next target.

“Father…”

Cedric understood his father’s struggle. Still weakened by grief, he could not even stand at his mother’s funeral. The boy trembled at the mere sight of Asteria’s emblem, it sent him into seizures. Yet, despite his suffering, he sought out the one person who could truly understand him: his father, who shared his sorrow.

“Your Grace!”

“Isn’t it only right that the full truth be proclaimed? Yet you order only that the sentence be carried out.”

“…Try laying a finger on Cedric, and see what happens.”

But on the very day that the attendants were ordered away, Cedric confronted another dreadful truth. The estrangement of his parents prior to his mother’s death, his father’s absence from her bedside and the murmuring courtiers all pointed to the same unbearable reality.

“To harm the young crown prince, such treachery has never crossed my mind, Your Majesty. I only speak out of concern as your servant.”

“…”

“If the same thing were to happen as with His Highness Ji-an, the dethroned prince, he too faced a similar situation. He fell into madness from the shock, lost his right to succession, and was eventually executed for the crimes he became embroiled in.”

“……”

“Her Majesty often said it herself, didn’t she? That above all else, the nation must come first. No matter how noble one’s birth, no one may act against the law or the interests of the realm. She said that if someone’s suffering ever became so severe that it endangered others or the country itself, they must be removed swiftly and without mercy.”

“What is it you want? What could you hope to gain, speaking such insolence to me?”

“…How could a servant like me ever want anything of Your Majesty?”

“……”

“I only beg that you honor the promise you broke long ago.”

“……”

“Everyone knows of Gerard. Whatever people may say, that boy—no, that man—is Your Majesty’s son.”

“……”

Your Majesty’s son. The meaning was clear. Cedric’s hand, which had been raised to knock, slowly dropped. Through the narrow crack of the door, his pale face peered in.

“I have only one wish.”

“……”

“Have pity on my daughter and on him. He has never once spoken the word father aloud.”

“……”

“But it is time he had a rightful father. If Your Majesty would only show that mercy, I would do anything—for you, and for this nation.”

“……”

“Then no one would dare whisper that the crown prince was involved in that dreadful affair. He would remain merely a pitiable boy who lost his mother to the hands of a fanatic.”

Six months after Empress Ines was laid to rest in the royal mausoleum, a new empress arrived at the palace. Rumor had it that she was pregnant with an heir, though the child was actually only two years younger than Cedric.

Upon learning of his previously unknown half-brother, Cedric withdrew into silence, even in his father’s presence. Rather than expressing his feelings, he directed his anger towards the followers of the goddess, whose numbers had increased since his mother’s death. Everything connected to that faith filled him with loathing. For years, even the sight of a sacred emblem was enough to turn his stomach.

“Will you marry the Princess of Callithea?”

Above all, what he found most unbearable was the Princess of Callithea herself,  the very person whom the zealots who had murdered his mother had glorified. He had once thought her beautiful. Now, the mere thought of her made him want to tear her apart.

His hatred, now fixed on a clear target, grew with each passing day. Over time, Cedric learned how to hide it. But the more he concealed it, the deeper that festering resentment rotted within him.

“…After today, it’s clear—Her Highness the Princess of Callithea seems quite taken with His Highness the Crown Prince. I hear she still writes to you regularly?”

“And what of it? He never even looks at her.”

“Well, the Crown Prince shudders at the mention of Callithea or the Asterian faith… Yet strangely enough, today he seems willing to play along.”

“He is merely attending the coronation as a guest. If it’s for the good of the realm, His Highness will do whatever is necessary. He just wears a thicker mask than most. Remarkable, isn’t it? Despite his youth, more and more people gather around him every day, even with the Empress and Marquis Sez in uproar.”

So when the Empress Dowager of Callithea ended her regency and the newly crowned emperor came of age, Cedric found himself unable to stomach a single bite during the coronation banquet, a ceremony that celebrated the new “guardian of the goddess.”

It took all his strength just to maintain a composed face.

“Um… Cedric, hello.”

“……”

“It’s been so… so long, hasn’t it?”

And then she appeared: the Princess of Callithea, who was hailed as an incarnation of the goddess herself. She was the very woman glorified by the fanatics who had murdered Cedric’s mother. Cedric nearly broke.

The thought that she had been watching him throughout the ceremony turned his stomach, and he was filled with absolute disgust when she finally approached him.

“Ah. Your Highness, the Princess. It’s truly been a long time.”

“Oh?”

If Callithea not been using the coronation as an excuse to set in motion a different scheme to sow the seeds of the downfall he knew would one day come, he would not have spoken to her at all. At that time, however, Callithea was still too powerful; it was too early to act. So, although he was cold, Cedric did not ignore her greeting.

“First of all, congratulations to His Majesty on his ascension to the throne.”

“Thank you… truly.”

The look of disappointment in his blue eyes was almost satisfying. If it hadn’t been for the faint, twisted smile that followed, she might have turned and left, feeling humiliated. But Cedric endured it. He forced a thin smile and even danced with her once. After that, he made sure their paths would never cross again.

“Your Highness, the Crown Prince… may I ask just one question?”

“……”

“Did you… happen to receive the letters I sent you?”

Even after everything that had happened, she had the nerve to chase after him again. She was so persistent that he almost cursed aloud. But how had he felt when they finally came face to face?

“Ah… I have heard about the letters Your Highness sent.”

“……”

“However, my position in Laxion makes it difficult. Given where I stand, it would be improper to exchange correspondence freely with a royal of another nation.”

It was almost laughable how she tried to take his flimsy excuse at face value. The way she lowered her head and murmured, “I see. Then I must have troubled you,” was pitiful and nearly amused him.

She said something more, but Cedric no longer wanted to be in the same room as the Princess of Callithea.

After exchanging a cool, courteous farewell, he turned his back on Callithea and walked away. He could feel her gaze burning into him, but he never once looked back.

How many times did he retch on the ship home? His attendants assumed it was seasickness, a reasonable assumption, given that he had seemed perfectly fine before departure and fussed over his health.

Several years passed after his return to Laxion. Then, one day, his father, who had once tried to persuade him, appeared again — this time not with a plea, but with something far worse: an agreement that was little short of coercion.

“Cedric. The marriage with the Princess has been decided. It is a promise, one you must honor without question. Even your mother wished for it. The alliance to be forged through your union…”

There was no escaping the circumstances. What expression did he wear when he finally accepted them? Cedric couldn’t remember the face that had stared back at him from the broken mirror.

One thing he knew for certain was that this marriage would end in tragedy.

He was going to make sure of it, whatever it took.