Chapter 35
I Am No Longer a Man Condemned to Die.
Six months earlier, when Ruan first awoke from his coma, Tablo and Cassel sat by his bedside, both wearing grave expressions.
“What nonsense is this? Dying just like that? Did I deliver the message wrong somehow?” Tablo’s eyes widened, his tone incredulous. “Ruan, your curse is completely broken. Do you understand? That means you’re not dying anymore.”
But Ruan, newly risen from unconsciousness, spoke as though from another world.
“Tablo, calm yourself first. Cassel—tell us what’s going on.”
Cassel inclined his head. “Since the day His Grace collapsed at the bookstore, the Crown Prince’s movements have become… suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Tablo echoed.
“Yes. The Crown Prince seems intent on striking during Prince Harmon’s wedding, the one to be held two days from now.”
“During the wedding? You’re saying he means to kill His Highness? That can’t be true.”
Ruan tried to rise from his bed but staggered, and Cassel quickly caught him by the arm.
“I think the Crown Prince views my collapse as an opportunity.”
“But if all had gone according to plan, you would have died within the month anyway. Why would the Crown Prince rush now?”
To this, Ruan gave his answer. “Because right now I don’t have the strength to stop him. Which is why… the wedding must be delayed.”
“Delayed?” Tablo’s voice rose. “And how exactly would you manage that? Don’t tell me—are you saying you mean to die for it?”
Ruan managed a strained smile. “Exactly. As you know, I am the Empire’s hero. If I were to die now, the wedding would surely be postponed. Five days of mourning for my funeral, followed by two weeks of national grief… that would give me more than enough time to recover my strength.”
Tablo frowned, rubbing at his temple.
“Something doesn’t add up. Foolish as he is, your brother never dared go so far as to openly kill another royal. Why suddenly now? And why directly, rather than from the shadows?”
Ruan’s gaze darkened. “Because His Majesty assigned the investigation of the recent murders of young women in the capital to Prince Harmon. And besides…” A bitter smile touched his lips. “…I may have struck a nerve with my brother recently.”
At that moment, Prince Harmon himself entered.
Tablo and Cassel scrambled to their feet, but Harmon raised a hand to stop them.
“No need for ceremony here. My apologies, Ruan. When I saw my brother raise his sword against your wife, I lost my temper and provoked him further.”
“It’s nothing, Your Highness. Truthfully, I was prepared to end matters swiftly regardless.” Ruan’s eyes hardened. “And now that I am no longer fated to die, I must finish this for her sake. The Crown Prince must be dealt with.”
His fist clenched at the memory of Daimond daring to speak of Mercian as if she were a mistress to be taken.
“So tell me, Ruan,” Harmon asked, “what exactly is it you intend?”
Ruan’s eyes flicked to Cassel.
Cassel drew a pouch from within his coat and spilled several gold coins into Harmon and Tablo’s hands.
“What’s this?”
“Coins received by the surviving women—from the very men who abducted them,” Cassel explained. “I investigated discreetly. These coins are of a special mint, produced solely by the Imperial Bank for the Empress herself.”
“For Her Majesty alone?” Harmon’s brows furrowed.
“Yes. They are issued monthly for her personal use. But it seems the Crown Prince has taken them… and handed them to those women.”
“Then… it truly was my brother behind it all?” Harmon exhaled, heavy with grief. He had hoped—hoped desperately—that Daimond was not responsible.
“There is more,” Cassel said grimly.
Harmon looked down at the object Cassel now held out.
A silver button, engraved with the crest of the Imperial Family.
A button forged for only one man: the Crown Prince.
“This…?”
“You recognize it, Your Highness.”
“Why is this in your possession?”
Cassel tucked it back into the pouch. “It was clutched in the hand of the last victim. Likely torn loose as she struggled when the Crown Prince struck her.”
“Surely… surely all this cannot be my brother’s doing?”
“You may not wish to believe it, Your Highness,” Cassel said quietly. “But alongside the button, she held a scrap of his clothing as well.”
Ruan’s voice was steady. “So, with this evidence, how do you mean to proceed? Do you plan to reveal the truth now?”
Harmon’s question hung heavy in the room.
Ruan drew a strained breath before answering.
“Not yet. It isn’t time. Yes, the coins are indeed the Empress’s, but we have no proof the Crown Prince himself used them. As for the button and the torn cloth—if he denies it, they mean nothing.”
“Then what exactly do you intend?” Harmon pressed.
“Thanks to Your Highness’s provocation, the Crown Prince must be seething. I intend to give him the very justification he needs to act—to make him believe he must eliminate you.”
Harmon’s brows drew together. “Do you truly think it right to go so far as to strip my brother of his birthright?”
“I understand Your Highness’s hesitation,” Ruan said softly. “But if the Crown Prince ascends the throne as he is now, the Empire will not survive half a year. And once it becomes known that I am no longer fated to die, he will stop at nothing to see you destroyed. That much is certain.”
At Ruan’s words, Tablo lowered his head respectfully toward Harmon.
“Your Highness, I must agree. The deeds of the Crown Prince are unworthy of one destined to be Emperor. And if it is proven beyond doubt that he is behind the murders, he cannot remain Crown Prince in any case. Unless you act now, as Ruan says, even your life will be forfeit.”
Harmon fell silent.
He had never once aspired to the throne.
Yet Daimond’s relentless hostility toward him had long since gone beyond reason.
And though Harmon’s heart resisted the thought, the truth in their words gnawed at him: Daimond would indeed kill him, if only to bury his crimes.
“So then, Ruan—what is your plan?” Harmon asked at last.
Ruan’s breath came ragged, his body still frail, but his eyes gleamed with grim resolve.
“The Crown Prince believes me incapacitated, unable to rise from this bed. To him, this makes Your Highness’s wedding the perfect chance to strike. The problem is that in my current state, I cannot protect you. That is why… I must die.”
Harmon’s eyes narrowed. “Die? But Tablo told me your curse has been lifted. How can you speak of death?”
“Everyone—save those present here—still believes my condition stems not from a curse but from poison. If word spreads that my collapse hastened the spread of that poison, no one will question it should I die tomorrow.”
Harmon nodded slowly. “Very well. Suppose you do die. What then? My wedding is only days away.”
Ruan allowed himself a faint, weary smile.
“Even so, I remain the Empire’s hero. By law, my funeral will last five days, followed by two weeks of national mourning. The wedding will be postponed without question. That time will allow me to regain my strength. And for the Crown Prince, my death will seem to open the way—to give him the perfect chance to eliminate you once and for all. But he will find I have left him… a small gift.”
“A gift?” Harmon’s voice was wary. “What gift could that be?”
“You will know soon enough.”
There was a gleam of certainty in Ruan’s eyes, the conviction of a man who believed in the trap he had set.
Harmon studied him for a long moment before speaking.
“So. What you are saying, Ruan, is that by your death… you create opportunity for us all.”
“Yes.”
“…Very well.” Harmon exhaled, resolve hardening. “Then tell me—what must I do?”
And there, Ruan began to unfold his plan.
“Very well, then. Let’s prepare as you’ve planned. Take care of yourself, and I’ll take my leave now.”
With those words, Harmon stepped out, and Cassel gathered the evidence before leaving Ruan’s chamber as well.
“When do you plan to tell your wife?”
Tablo asked as he carefully helped Ruan lie back down on the bed.
“What? That I’m going to die? Why would I tell her that? In just a few days she’ll find out on her own. There’s no need to plunge her into grief before it comes.”
Ruan’s breathing was still ragged, his voice faint with exhaustion.
“The Crown Prince knows I’m too weak to stand. To him, this must look like the perfect chance to strike at His Highness the Prince. That’s why he chose the wedding as his moment. The problem is, in this state, I can’t protect His Highness myself. That is why I have to die.”
Only a few days ago her cheeks had been soft and full, glowing with health.
Now they had all but vanished, leaving Mercian pale and gaunt upon the bed.
The sight twisted a sharp pain in Ruan’s chest.
“I’m sorry, my love. I never wished to deceive you… but the situation has left me no choice.”
For a long moment, he simply watched her sleeping face bathed in the glow of the moonlight.
Then, quietly, he rose and drew the blanket up over her shoulders.
“Mmh…”
At his touch, Mercian stirred, brushing his hand away as she rolled over.
Ruan’s expression darkened instantly.
On her pale forearm, stark against the white skin, was a deep, ugly bruise.
What is this?
Could it be… from that day?
The memory came back to him with cruel clarity—Daimond’s hand clamped mercilessly around her arm at the bookshop, refusing to let her go.
A cold, murderous fury swept across Ruan’s face.
The Crown Prince—how dare he?
It wasn’t enough that he would spew such filth, claiming to make my wife his mistress.
He dared to leave marks on her body as well?
Do not worry, my love.
Whatever pain you’ve suffered, I’ll repay that man tenfold—no, a hundredfold.
Carefully, so she would not catch cold, he tucked her bruised arm back beneath the blanket, pulling the cover all the way up to her neck.
Then he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before slipping silently out of the room.
Two days later.
As planned with Tablo, Ruan began to cough blood, making it appear to all the world that the poison in his body had returned.
Every time Mercian’s stricken eyes met his—eyes brimming with fear, sorrow, and helpless devotion—he felt the truth burn on his tongue.
He wanted to tell her so badly.
Yet he could not.
And the silence was a torment, scorching his heart.
…
…
…
“So this is the medicine?”
Ruan, face wan and gaunt from his staged illness, asked the question in a strained voice as he accepted the small vial from Tablo.
Cassel, standing at his side, nodded firmly.
“Yes, my lord. According to the elder, once you take it, your heart will cease beating for five full days—you will be indistinguishable from the dead. On the fifth day, when I administer the antidote, you will awaken.”
“Five days exactly? You’re certain? There’s no risk that he won’t wake again?”
Tablo’s voice wavered with concern.
No matter how miraculous the draught, Ruan’s body was far from well.
The thought of permanent sleep gnawed at him.
“The elder prepared the dose precisely for your condition. He assured me it will not fail.”
“Five days…” Ruan murmured. “That will be long enough. They’ll place me in the family crypt. When the mourning rites are done, I can emerge. Good. Then tonight—I shall die.”
He accepted the vial from Cassel, determination hardening in his gaze.
***
Bang!!
The door flew open with a deafening crash.
“I knew it! From the moment you started coughing blood, something reeked of deceit. And here you sit—upright, perfectly lucid, plotting who knows what! On death’s door, were you? Lies! Tell me, Ruan—what treachery are you weaving?”
Olivia stood in the doorway, her voice sharp as a blade.
