Chapter 56
Stagnation
Clatter!
The carriage came to a halt.
“We’ve arrived at the Duke of Pielion’s estate, Your Majesty the Empress.”
Of all times, it had to be when it was time to step down from the carriage.
“Your Majesty the Empress.”
When Rasilia remained silent, gripping the hem of her dress tightly, Dekan cast her a glance.
“……”
His gaze was like clear water reflecting her face—almost as if telling her not to avoid it, but to face it.
Face who she was, and what she wanted. Stop hiding and look straight at it.
“May we open the door, Your Majesty the Empress?”
From outside the carriage, one of the Imperial Guards called. Before answering, Rasilia quickly addressed Dekan.
“I have one question.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“When you suggested I might long for Dellarta—was that your own guess, or was it His Majesty’s will?”
“Nothing I say could ever precede or oppose His Majesty’s will.”
“Then you mean it was His Majesty’s will?”
“That is correct.”
That was all she needed to know.
The Emperor suspected she might not truly be the Empress of Carthagena—yet still believed she was his true mate.
The Empress of Carthagena bore the mark. But after her marriage, the mark gradually faded… and right after the spell to restore it was cast, I awoke in the Empress’s body.
Did that really mean she was the true mate from the beginning?
Perhaps the spell hadn’t returned the mark to the Empress of Carthagena, but to the true mate instead.
Rasilia remembered the whispers of the birds she’d heard the moment she opened her eyes.
—It’s the real one. The real one has come.
—Then that one will come too.
If that “real one” was her… and “that one” referred to Pipi, the king of birds…
One by one, the absurd pieces were fitting together into proof.
I need to check the mark.
If her suspicion was right, the mark that had supposedly been fading would have returned.
The Emperor didn’t seem to care whether she bore it or not, but from Rasilia’s standpoint, the mark was the answer to who she truly was.
“Then I understand His Majesty’s will as well.”
She gave a slight nod, then spoke toward the outside.
“Open the door.”
“Yes, Your Majesty the Empress.”
Click.
The carriage door swung open, revealing the Duke of Pielion’s estate.
It had been praised as the most beautiful building in the capital outside the Imperial Palace—yet now, it gave off none of that feeling.
It was a lavish, empty, gigantic tomb.
An enormous number of servants had gathered to greet Rasilia, but there was no warmth in their welcome.
The mansion felt heavy and gloomy.
“Please don’t get too close, Your Majesty the Empress.”
Once shown to the Duke’s bedchamber, Rasilia dismissed everyone except Dekan.
If the Duke had been robbed of part of his consciousness like the Imperial tailor had, there was no need to risk anyone else being dragged in.
With only the Duke lying in bed like a corpse with open eyes, Dekan quickly murmured an incantation over Rasilia. He said it was a protective spell.
“His eyes are bloodshot… worse than the Imperial tailor’s.”
Rasilia examined him.
“The Imperial tailor’s condition worsened over time. In the end, they said his eyes melted away.”
“Oh dear…”
Rasilia frowned.
“The young Duke of Pielion said the Duke changed after visiting the temple. That means the culprit is there.”
“I see no other answer. There’s something inside that temple daring to harm the Imperial family.”
The Duke stared blankly at the ceiling, drooling from one corner of his mouth.
It was a wretched sight.
As long as whatever power could do this to a healthy man remained out there, it would keep happening.
“Can’t we summon a priest with healing powers?”
“Healing didn’t work on the Imperial tailor at all. That must be because it isn’t a naturally occurring illness.”
Her face tightened involuntarily.
“You mean an affliction caused by some power that is neither magic nor sorcery.”
“Exactly. Just as magic, sorcery, and divine power cannot interfere with one another, the same applies to this power.”
Somehow, it sounded as if the Duke’s condition was her responsibility.
Rasilia looked at him with pity.
“If the Duke hadn’t gone to the temple… this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Are you blaming yourself?”
“Perhaps.”
Dekan studied her expression carefully before speaking.
“Do you recall what I told you before?”
“What about?”
“I once asked how you restored Sir Sigrace and Lady Shryden, whose wills had been stolen by this power.”
“I said I had no idea.”
“Yes. But do you still think so?”
“You believe I have the ability to heal the Duke?”
“Yes. Otherwise, there’s no explanation for why Sir Sigrace and Lady Shryden recovered.”
“……”
Rasilia fell silent in thought.
She remembered the moment those two had reacted to her voice. She had never thought of it as a special ability she possessed.
But lately, so many things she had believed with certainty were beginning to waver.
And not long ago, she had a dream—an odd dream of inheriting part of a demon’s power.
Right after that dream, she had been able to see Yvette’s thoughts. At the time, she dismissed it as imagination—but later, she saw into the young Duke of Pielion’s mind as well.
Twice could not be a coincidence.
“You believe this because you think I am His Majesty’s mate? Did the first mate have such an ability?”
She asked, and Dekan slowly shook his head.
“No. There are many tales about the first mate, but few certain facts. That they were a great sorcerer, and that they were protected by the phoenix—that much is agreed upon. However—”
“However?”
“There are several records stating that lies never worked on the first mate. There is no mention of controlling minds, but some said it felt as if they could read thoughts.”
“I see.”
It was certain now.
The dream she had was about the demon and the first mate.
In the dream, she had felt as if she was the mate. She didn’t know why, but such a vivid impression suggested she was connected to the mate somehow.
Suddenly, she felt a heat rising below her waist.
Could it be… the mark has returned?
She couldn’t see it, but she had a feeling it had.
She clenched her hand and shut her eyes tightly.
It was strange.
It still seemed more reasonable that she had nothing to do with the Empire or the Emperor’s mate—yet everything around her screamed otherwise.
Even her dreams were saying so.
Since returning in the Empress’s body, Rasilia hadn’t had prophetic dreams. What she saw now were events from a distant past.
Could she still call herself a prophet?
The prophet of Dellarta had been stabbed to death by the Dreamkeeper’s blade, and the person she was now was an entirely different being.
Perhaps the thread of souls that guided the dead through the Land of the Departed had become tangled only in her case—so tangled that she had yet to find her way, mistaking herself for a prophet.
Rasilia opened her eyes.
If she had lost her way, she needed to find it again.
And perhaps finding the meaning of each thing happening to her now would be the clue she needed.
“The ability to read minds came from the demons. It’s transferred along with the binding of blood.”
“…Your Majesty the Empress?”
Dekan looked surprised—he hadn’t expected her to say that.
“How do you know this? If I don’t know it, then it must not be in the records…”
“I’ve unintentionally read people’s thoughts. Twice.”
“Twice…”
“It’s too clear to dismiss as coincidence, but too faint to call a true power. That’s why I can’t be certain that it was my power that brought those two back.”
Dekan understood what she was getting at.
“So it’s something that happened recently, and you’re saying you’re confused because you don’t fully understand it.”
“You’re right. I’m overwhelmed by the things happening to me. I don’t know what they mean. The same goes for this power—I can’t be sure it’s truly mine, and I don’t know how to use it.”
Dekan’s calm, waterlike eyes seemed to understand her confusion.
He pointed to the Duke lying in bed.
“Then try it on the Duke. At the very least, you’ll know the result.”
“That’s undeniable logic.”
Rasilia nodded and stepped closer to the Duke.
Just as she had with the other two, she took hold of his shoulders and gazed into his clouded eyes.
How did I do it then…?
She must have been desperate—desperate for them to return to normal, for everyone to be safe.
“Whatever is gripping your mind, release it with your own hands. I want you to come back.”
Her voice changed—like it was resonating in her head, or flowing up from her heart.
Low, but spreading far like a gentle wave.
“Ah…”
Dekan let out a small murmur of wonder as he watched her.
“Uh… uuuhhh! Urrghhh!”
The Duke suddenly thrashed his hands wildly, convulsing.
“Your Majesty the Empress!”
Dekan rushed forward, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her away from him.
“Uhh—! …Uaghh…! Kahhk!”
Twisting violently, the Duke vomited thick, blackened blood.
“Duke of Pielion!”
With a heavy thud, the Duke collapsed back into bed and closed his eyes of his own accord.
The blankets were stained with blood, yet strangely, his face looked peaceful. He no longer drooled mindlessly.
Dekan pressed a hand to his neck to check his temperature and pulse.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, but we should still call for a physician.”
“Yes, that would be best. Then… the Duke is now…”
“To me, he seems greatly improved. I sense no foreign aura from him now. We can’t be certain until he wakes, but even this much is enough to say that the demon’s power has been transferred to you, Your Majesty the Empress.”
“That’s… no, wait.”
Something dawned on Rasilia, and she held up a hand toward Dekan.
“What is it, Your Majesty the Empress?”
“If this really is the demon’s power…”
Her face went pale.
Perhaps this was an even bigger problem than whether she was truly the mate.
“Wouldn’t that mean whoever in the temple took the minds of the Imperial tailor and the Duke of Pielion… also possesses the demon’s power?”
“…Good heavens!”
