Chapter 54
Proof
“Huh?”
“No, that’s ridiculous…”
“…”
It seemed the knights were even more shocked than Lescal. But it wasn’t true. In Lescal’s case, he had no room to even show his shock.
“…That’s impossible.”
Lescal finally spoke in a very small voice after a long pause.
Lacilia had expected as much. Promising to do anything for her as long as she didn’t love another man meant he was telling her not to leave him — not the other way around.
“If it becomes clear that I’m not Your Majesty’s mate, then I ask that you grant me a divorce.”
Even with the mark gone, the Emperor still believed she was his mate. The mark no longer had any meaning now.
The moment that belief broke would be the moment she died.
The divorce was her safety measure for that time.
If the divorce could be carried out before he killed her, then perhaps she could leave safely without either of them being hurt. She might even be able to avoid the death that God had shown her.
“If you are my mate… then there would be no need for a divorce, would there?” Lescal asked.
The answer didn’t matter either way. After all, she wasn’t his mate.
“If I am Your Majesty’s mate, then there’s no reason to divorce.”
“Even if you end up never loving me? You mean you wouldn’t demand a divorce even then?”
The answer to that question was the same.
The question itself was wrong to begin with.
If she truly were his mate, then she would come to love him.
“Yes. I’ll do that.”
“Good.”
Lescal stepped forward in a stride. His golden eyes, framed by lashes damp with blood, gleamed so close she could almost feel them.
“I’ll do that. Gladly.”
“…Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Lacilia replied, instinctively drawing her shoulders back.
The sudden closeness was unsettling enough, but what truly unnerved her was the change in his gaze.
Moments ago, his eyes had been filled with pain; now, they looked as if they might break into a joyful dance.
The change was far too quick, and it was disorienting.
“Now then.”
Lescal reached out and pulled Lacilia into his arms. In such a thin and flimsy outfit, the embrace felt completely different — she could vividly feel the solid frame of the Emperor beneath that single rustling layer of fabric that barely counted as clothing.
“Your Majesty, this is uncomfortable.”
“Just bear with it for a moment. I’ll show you.”
“…Show me what?”
“Proof that you are my mate.”
“…?”
Rustle — the sound of fabric brushing against bare skin teased her ears. Swish — he pushed her hair over her nape, and the soft sound of his lips coming close to her ear followed.
Every tickling sensation turned into an unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
Holding her breath, Lacilia endured the strange sensations running through her. She had no idea what he meant by proof.
“Is it ready?”
Lescal’s question was not to her, but to Liyan.
“Yes, Your Majesty. All done.”
At that, Lescal released her, withdrawing the arms that had been wrapped around her, and held his hand out before her.
“Do you recognize it?”
“This is…”
It was impossible not to recognize it.
The hand that had been in the midst of transforming was now completely normal. Startled, Lacilia looked up at his face.
It was the same — the traces of scales were gone, and the Emperor’s dazzling features were restored in their full glory.
“You mean… this is because of me?”
“That’s right.”
“Couldn’t it just be that enough time passed for it to return to normal? Even in Blue Moon, given enough time—”
“It’s never come back this quickly. And I don’t feel the overwhelming pain I usually do.”
“…”
“It’s because of you. Because you are here with me.”
Confusion clouded her thoughts.
How could I possibly be the real one? I have no connection to the Empire. I’m only the Prophet of Delarta. Then why…
If she had no connection at all, why had she seen a future tied to the Emperor? Why had she been revived in the Empress’s body only to be killed by him?
As she stood there, unable to find her bearings, Lescal pressed his lips to her forehead.
“If you can’t believe it yet, then keep watching. The proof that you are my mate will be overflowing.”
“…”
Lacilia couldn’t bring herself to deny it outright.
The trial was postponed indefinitely.
She returned to the palace still dressed in her trial robes. Because she was barefoot, Lescal insisted on carrying her himself. If not, then she must at least wear his shoes.
If the Emperor were to walk barefoot beside her while she dragged shoes far too big for her feet, someone might one day write a memoir titled Things You’ll Never Forget About the Imperial Palace.
In the end, they compromised — the Imperial Guard would run ahead and fetch her shoes while they traveled by carriage.
It was only natural that security around the Empress’s Palace doubled. The entire palace was sealed with impenetrable wards and tracking magic circles. The Mage Guild could look forward to a very generous research budget next year.
“Agh, what was that?”
Reclined sideways in a broad single-seat sofa, sipping wine, Malick clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Damn it.”
Clang!
The pewter goblet of wine clattered to the floor, splashing everywhere.
When a high priest hesitated, staring at the wine staining his shoes, Malick flicked his wrist.
“Urgh!”
The high priest grabbed at his foot and collapsed backward. The other priests froze, holding their breath.
They didn’t know exactly what had happened — but they knew for certain that Saint Malick had done it. His ability far surpassed any divine power they had seen before.
Compared to ordinary divine power, which could at most help others, Malick’s ability had no limits.
The most terrifying part was his power to seize human consciousness.
Just meeting Malick’s gaze could strip a person of their will, driving them to give their lives to fulfill his desires.
If Malick were not bound by spatial restrictions, he would already be the new god of the continent.
He could not leave this warded space in the heart of the temple. Whether that was fortunate or unfortunate, the priests couldn’t say.
The only thing they knew for sure was that opposing Malick meant death.
“…Hah. If my body were in top form, it wouldn’t have stopped at a twisted ankle.”
Malick made a bitter face as if he’d eaten something foul.
“Enough noise. Get that one out of here. And you—keep talking. What did the Imperial family say?”
“They’ve declared they will exercise their right to refuse trial.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? The indictment’s worthless now?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of nonsense is that? We went through all that trouble to make a witness out of thin air, and the Imperial family can just refuse?!”
“It is… simply the law. We even circulated the indictment among the nobility to pressure the Imperial family, but it seems useless. They say the Emperor is more resolute than expected.”
“Hah, spineless bastard. The mark’s gone and he’s still like that? Isn’t he curious at all?”
“I couldn’t say, Your Holiness…”
Malick twitched his lips and flicked his wrist.
The pewter goblet rolled back to him as if nothing had happened, refilled with fresh wine.
After a gulp, Malick wiped his reddened lips and continued.
“Are you sure about what the duke said? The Emperor hasn’t checked the mark since the engagement ceremony, right? Don’t tell me he’s fine with having only seen it once back then?”
“Lord Piellion swore that the Emperor and Empress have had no proper contact. The Empress even said she’d rather be deposed than have the Emperor discover the mark was gone.”
“And yet the Emperor is shielding her?”
“That appears to be the case, Your Holiness.”
“But why?”
“That… we do not know…”
“…Annoying.”
Malick hurled the goblet again, sprawling sideways on the sofa as he flicked his nails into the air.
“Why cling to a fake like that? …Don’t tell me she’s real? No, she’s a fake — I swapped her out myself… Wait. Could she have been switched without me knowing?”
He sprang up and beckoned to the priests.
“Go find me some light-footed men. Strong, young ones — it’s a long trip.”
The priests looked puzzled.
“A long trip… where, Your Holiness?”
“Delarta.”
“Delarta…?”
Most of them had never even heard the name of that small, isolated kingdom.
“It’s out there. Priests can travel anywhere on the continent regardless of permits, right? Then go. Find the woman who looks exactly like the Empress and see how she’s living.”
“Exactly… like her, you say?”
“Yes. Why so many questions?”
“Understood. But even in a small place, finding someone by appearance alone will be extremely difficult, Your Holiness.”
“You talk too much. Where’s the best place to hide someone?”
“…Pardon?”
“Where am I hiding right now?”
That seemed to mean they should search the temples in Delarta.
“…As you command.”
Orders had to be obeyed one way or another, but it was often impossible to guess Malick’s real motives.
Even this trial had been baffling.
They understood he wanted to drag the Imperial family and the Empress down, but they hadn’t expected him to expose the temple so recklessly. The high priests were constantly anxious the Emperor might hold the temple responsible for the Imperial court tailor’s scandal.
But however uncomfortable the Emperor might be, Malick — entrenched in their very home — was far more dangerous. With a flick of his wrist, he could snap their necks.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
Malick rolled his shoulders, twisting his neck. The sound that came from his bones was far too grotesque for a human.
“Something interesting will be happening in the capital soon. Spread some rumors.”
“What kind of rumors, Your Holiness?”
“That the Empress is a fake and the Emperor’s gone mad… Actually, maybe exaggerate a little. Say he’s lost his mind and will burn the Empire to the ground. You can even say it’s a divine prophecy.”
“If it’s a prophecy, the temple will bear too much responsibility, Your Holiness…”
“What?”
Malick’s eyes gleamed.
The priests stumbled back in fear.
“Talking about responsibility? Cowards.”
He snapped his fingers.
Crack — the wall of the warded chamber began to crumble.
“Soon, you won’t have the leisure to say crap like that. Just do as I say. The Imperial family will be too much of a mess to blame anyone.”
“A-as you command…”
One wall collapsed completely.
Light streamed in from outside, illuminating Malick’s back.
“Ah…!”
“What in the—”
The priests gasped, rubbing their eyes in disbelief.
In the light, it looked as if enormous black wings had sprouted from his back. They were not feathered like a bird’s, but skeletal and membranous like a bat’s.
Had the sunlight struck him head-on, they would have seen the horns protruding from his forehead.
The exact likeness of the demons described in the oldest records of the continent’s early days.
