#081. What a Terrible Person
The palace physician who had rushed over reported that Blanche had been poisoned.
The details still needed to be analyzed, but it seemed that the cup Blanche had been holding contained the poison. Fortunately, she hadn’t drunk much of it.
Blanche’s cup had toppled onto the grass, spilling most of its contents, but the remaining few drops were carefully taken to the laboratory for analysis. After all, knowing the exact nature of the poison was essential for proper treatment.
Since the poison’s identity was expected to be revealed soon, the physicians stabilized Blanche’s hemoptysis and convulsions before moving her to the infirmary. Treating her recklessly without knowing what poison was involved could have made her condition worse.
As for Melchizedek—he had been right beside Blanche when she collapsed and followed her to the infirmary.
Seeing the cold, expressionless face of the Grand Duke, the physicians quickly composed themselves.
“Until the test results come back, we will wait outside. Please call us if the princess’s condition changes.”
Melchizedek didn’t respond. The physicians and attendants withdrew, leaving only the two of them in the room. Melchizedek placed his hands over each other on his lap and looked at Blanche’s face.
Perhaps because of the blood she had coughed up, her face was pale. Her eyelids were closed, and the black eyes that always looked straight at him were hidden.
Even in her collapsed state, she maintained a composed posture—an image that reminded him of someone… more precisely, someone’s final moments.
Melchizedek unclasped his hands, which he had pressed together tightly to stop them from trembling. With no one to see, there was no reason to hide the shaking. He carefully lifted his trembling hands and placed them beneath Blanche’s nose. He felt a faint breath.
She was alive.
“Ha…”
A breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding rushed out. Melchizedek gasped, as if he had been strangled, burying his face between his knees.
“This situation now is different from back then,” he thought. Back then, she had died unnoticed, in a place where he could do nothing. But now, Blanche was alive, right beside him. The poison’s identity would soon be discovered, allowing the physicians to properly treat her.
It might take time for her to recover, but she would survive. She would not die.
Yet, despite this reasoning, Melchizedek could not fully relax.
“Who would dare poison your cup?”
Because Blanche was someone who could not be assassinated in such a situation.
In the Jin Empire, there was a saying: “If the dog of a prime minister dies, people come to offer condolences; if the prime minister dies, no one comes.”
In the Lertyle Empire, the prime ministers are the emperor and empress, and the dog is Melchizedek and Blanche.
Of course, there were many who would like Blanche to “disappear.” The position of Grand Duchess, the future empress, was desirable to anyone. Any noble family with children of Melchizedek’s age would probably dream of it. Even those who disliked Melchizedek might want to see him grieve over the disappearance of the child he adored. Some might also have been concerned about the excessive favor shown to a foreigner.
Blanche was a child protected by all three—Empress Dowager Rachia, Empress Liana, and Grand Duke Melchizedek.
But that was only part of the problem. Blanche became a Grand Duchess candidate because of the favor she received.
Would anyone dare kill Blanche in front of Liana and Melchizedek? They would immediately uncover the perpetrator, and that family would be destroyed. The Lertyle Empire’s royal authority was so strong that no matter how powerful the assassin’s family was, it wouldn’t matter.
So even those who disliked Blanche would have no reason to actually try to kill her.
Of course, the assassin might have misjudged. Perhaps they thought Blanche was a servant of a prime minister’s household, not a favored child, and assumed no one would care enough to investigate her death. Or perhaps they believed that with their family’s influence, the death of a future Grand Duchess could be concealed.
In that case, they might attempt an assassination. But counting on a 50/50 chance is hardly a proper assassination.
And there remained a crucial detail: Melchizedek’s cup and Blanche’s were identical. Only the two minors—Melchizedek and Blanche—were at that table. Two cups were prepared for them, each containing the same drink. The cups were returned on the same tray, and Melchizedek personally handed one to Blanche while keeping the other for himself.
This meant that the poisoned cup could have ended up with Melchizedek. Even a fool thinking Blanche’s death wouldn’t matter would not assume that Melchizedek could safely drink poison.
Hence:
“─Melch, are you alright?”
Lost in thought, Melchizedek flinched at the touch on his shoulder and looked up. Standing there was Berken, his face filled with concern.
“…Brother.”
“I’ll handle this here. Why don’t you return to the palace and rest a bit?”
Melchizedek stared into Berken’s eyes. There was nothing but worry in them. And in those eyes, Melchizedek realized the prime suspect behind the attempted assassination.
“It must have been me, huh?”
It had to be Melchizedek. On that tray, there had been four cups: two for the emperor and empress, and two for the Grand Duke and the future Grand Duchess. The emperor’s cups contained alcohol, the others a drink, each different in appearance.
The attendant handed the tray first to Liana, who took a cup. The remaining three cups went to Berken, who gave the two drink cups to Melchizedek. He handed one to Blanche and kept the other.
At that moment, only two people could have poisoned the cups without risking Melchizedek: Melchizedek and Blanche herself. If Melchizedek had poured poison, he could give one cup to Blanche and drink the other; if Blanche had done it herself, she could poison the cup she received.
Therefore, unless Blanche had attempted suicide, Melchizedek appeared to be the most likely culprit. Her value existed because she was Melchizedek’s partner, so if he had done it, he would not fear consequences, whether the attempt succeeded or failed.
Many at the gathering probably reached the same conclusion. Berken seemed to think so as well.
“Shall I tell you something surprising?”
The problem was this: Melchizedek had not poisoned the cup.
Looking Berken straight in the eyes, he said the truth:
“Not me.”
Berken’s eyes wavered at his words. A dry smile crossed Melchizedek’s lips. The suggestion to return to the palace made sense—if Melchizedek had wished for Blanche’s death, but the attempt failed because she hadn’t drunk everything, Berken would have been there to finish the job. Any excuse to delay treatment would have sufficed.
But Melchizedek did not wish for Blanche to die.
“…I see.”
Berken’s gaze steadied. Melchizedek said nothing further; Berken’s insight was enough. If Melchizedek did not wish Blanche dead, Berken would not touch her. She would receive proper treatment and survive.
“─I’ll finish tidying up here and come back.”
“Alright. I’ll stay with Blanche.”
Berken brushed Melchizedek’s hair once and left, leaving only Melchizedek and Blanche in the room.
Melchizedek faced the uncomfortable truth he had temporarily avoided:
“…The only person who could poison that cup without risking themselves was you, wasn’t it?”
Only Melchizedek and Blanche could have done it without risking Melchizedek. But he knew he was innocent, and it would have been nearly impossible to poison the cup unnoticed in the brief time he held it.
The only person who could confidently poison Blanche’s cup, while holding it during Berken’s speech, free from all eyes, was one person.
“What a terrible person.”
Faced again with overlapping visions, Melchizedek closed his eyes. The tremor that had stopped while speaking with Berken returned.
“Did you really have to go this far with me?”
A sorrowful voice echoed through the room. Tears fell from Melchizedek’s closed eyes.
When all impossible options are removed, only one possibility remains.
Blanche had poisoned the cup herself.
