Chapter 124
On the balcony overlooking the garden, Mahanas tapped the table with restless fingers.
The moment he arrived in Reden, just as Ophelia had demanded—just as he had promised—he handed over two southern islands and granted her a title.
But the money still hadn’t arrived. Not only had the money failed to come, there hadn’t even been a reply. Even now, reminder letters sent by Eguelbamot’s Second Prince were piling up one by one.
If he’d known it would turn out like this, he should’ve just handed that girl over to the Second Prince. Mahanas rubbed his now fully healed jaw as he thought bitterly. He still couldn’t accept that the duke had done something so savage to him. Every time they’d met, the man had acted perfectly normal—so had it all been an act?
Or perhaps he’d simply fallen for Ophelia’s whispering lies.
By now, Mahanas no longer believed his sister was innocent. He had educated her strictly so she wouldn’t be tainted by anything improper, yet perhaps women were all like that to begin with. How else could a sister who’d never even held a man’s hand seduce her husband the moment she slipped out of his sight?
“Bring me some tea.”
The attendant hurried to obey. Just as before, Mahanas took a sip of the deep red brew and waited for his anger to subside. Tea made from dalihua had both invigorating and calming effects.
But no matter how long he waited, the boiling rage inside him refused to settle.
At last, frowning deeply, he turned to the attendant.
“Did you brew this properly?”
“Yes, yes. Just as always.”
“Then why is it like this?”
Mahanas looked down into the teacup. The color was still the same deep red he remembered. The aroma, too, was unchanged.
And yet, something was different. Normally, even if his mood had been foul, drinking this tea would lift his spirits and fill his body with energy. Today, it did nothing.
And it wasn’t just today. Lately, Mahanas had felt that the quality of the tea had declined.
When it was brought by Eguelbamot’s Second Prince, it hadn’t been like this. But ever since Crown Prince Orien had sent a new agent, the tea no longer tasted the same.
Maintaining ties with Crown Prince Orien was important, but he couldn’t tolerate a drop in quality. He’d have to write a letter. As he glared into the teacup with that thought—
he realized how noisy it was outside.
“Why is it so loud out—”
Before he could finish, the door flew open. He didn’t even have time to get angry at the rudeness before a frantic voice rang out.
“Your Highness! A riot has broken out!”
“There’s been a riot in Reden.”
When Salode said that, Ophelia thought: So it’s finally happening.
There had been a riot in Reden in her previous life as well. And this time, she had deliberately driven out the refugees and spread rumors slandering Mahanas—so it was only natural that it would come sooner.
Pressing a hand to her throbbing head, aching from chronic lack of sleep, she replied,
“Make sure the refugees and the rioters can’t cross the canal. Keep it tightly controlled.”
“Yes.”
Salode hesitated for a moment, then spoke again.
“If you wish to offer support, please feel free to say so.”
“No. I have no intention of offering any support.”
If anything, she felt like stripping Reden bare of everything it had.
But Salode seemed to think she was holding back because she didn’t feel comfortable with him. Given that he didn’t know exactly how she felt about her homeland, it was understandable—but Ophelia had no intention of explaining herself.
Ever since Staret had been executed, Ophelia had been keeping a certain distance from him.
Staret had claimed that he’d been captured by Chesa’s forces. Of course, since it had been Gilrod who handed the pirate over, she knew it was highly likely an impersonation.
Still, even if she understood it rationally, she couldn’t shake the what if.
The moment rumors spread in the capital that Staret was inside the castle, Salode had dragged him straight to the execution grounds. When Ophelia had told him to wait, he’d pressed her by handing over Idren’s letter.
She knew it had all been for Idren’s sake alone. But trusting Salode was a separate matter.
When they captured the spy who had been hiding in Galisa at Salode’s order, Ophelia handed him over not to the troops originally stationed in the castle, but to the Second Army—personally assigned to her by Idren. The royal guard seemed too closely tied to Salode.
Even then, the Second Army ultimately fell under Hazel, who was connected to Chesa—but Hazel was constantly at her side, so there was no chance he could interfere with the prisoner.
And that wasn’t the only action born of distrust.
Ophelia never told Salode that the man who had captured Staret bore Chesa’s insignia. The interrogation of the Galisa spy wasn’t finished yet. She figured it wouldn’t be too late to reveal that fact after Idren returned—or once she was certain the spy had no connection to Chesa.
After watching her quietly for a moment, Salode bowed his head.
“I will do as you command.”
Though Ophelia knew he was looking at her with conflicted eyes, she didn’t respond. She remained seated in silence until Chesa’s heir withdrew.
It wasn’t long before someone came from Reden.
The high-ranking officials closest to Mahanas and Dares were faces Ophelia recognized as well.
Standing beside her, Ophelia looked down at those who had once busied themselves currying favor with her brother.
“What brings you all the way out here?”
It wasn’t a question born of ignorance. She herself had granted them permission to enter Edegrun in the first place.
No matter how corrupt they were, they had enough sense to understand the situation. The Reden officials exchanged awkward glances. Ophelia regarded them with an indifferent gaze.
In her previous life, they had lost their lands by her hand—after a failed investment in red pigment.
“If you have nothing to say, then take your leave.”
She raised her hand as if to summon guards. That was when the officials dropped to their knees all at once.
One of them bowed deeply and began to plead.
“Your Highness, please show mercy. A riot has broken out in Reden.”
“Yes, please, listen to us,” others chimed in. Ophelia let out a derisive snort at the men prostrate before her.
“As far as I know, the riot broke out because the people were starving and finally rose up.”
“……”
“Anyone would think I was the one who starved them.”
Even in her previous life, she had never directly exploited the people of Reden. There’d been no need—those beneath her had squeezed the populace dry on their own.
Then one of the men lifted his head.
“The situation in Reden is extremely dire. Your only brother, Prince Mahanas, and King Dares are unable to leave the palace.”
“So?”
Whether her father and brother were trapped and died there was of no concern to her. If anything, if they died on the spot, Reden would fall straight into her hands—hardly a bad outcome.
The official seemed flustered by her cold reaction. Blinking, he said,
“Your Highness knows how your brother raised you, does he not? Please, show mercy!”
Why was it that no matter how many please and we beg you were added, it always sounded like a demand?
Ophelia thought of how many of those kneeling before her had sided with Mahanas years ago when the Lakmata family had requested a reduction in tax rates.
No matter how she searched her memory, there were none.
Before the heaviness in her head worsened, she stopped reminiscing.
“Yes, my dear brother loved me so much he even killed my fiancé.”
“That was because the man laid hands on a member of the royal family first.”
“He stepped in to shield his betrothed from an assault, and his reward was execution. Isn’t that rather cruel?”
As she spoke, Ophelia couldn’t help but recall the young man who had died. The memory of his execution had completely dominated her nights as of late.
Compared to that, Mahanas had lived far too comfortably.
She spoke again to those beneath her.
“If execution is the price for protecting one’s betrothed, then a riot seems cheap as the price of exploitation.”
With a gesture, Ophelia summoned the royal guards who had been standing back. She had no intention of listening to them any further.
“Go back and tell my brother this: if he wants to save his life, he is to bring me the Tears of Mebasa.”
“B-But, Your Highness, that holy relic belongs solely to the king—”
“Fool. Do you still not understand what I’m saying?”
The royal guards seized the officials and hauled them to their feet. Ophelia addressed the officials—so foolish they resembled Mahanas himself.
“Go. Tell the Prince of Reden this: until he brings me the throne of Reden itself, he should not expect any aid from Aglante.”
