Chapter 96
[“Step down from the throne. You’ll be the next king. That’s how it should be.”]
“Ha. So you’re begging for your life now? Just like the time you begged me to help you become king?”
“No. You can kill me if you wish.”
Claudio’s expression twisted. The same man who had always trembled in fear of death was now saying he would give up both his life and crown? For what?
Don’t tell me…
“In exchange,” the king continued, his voice weak, “please… spare Beatrice.”
“Ha!”
Claudio couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. Did the fool truly believe that giving up his throne and life would somehow absolve Beatrice’s crimes? That her sins could be washed away because of his sacrifice?
What was his crown worth to Claudio, who had never once desired it?
And then—the king uttered something even more absurd.
“You’ll have no choice but to accept Beatrice in the end…”
“…What did you just say?”
With trembling hands, the king pulled a document from his breast pocket—something he’d kept close, as if it were his most precious possession.
Claudio’s eyes narrowed the instant he read it.
“Under any circumstance, I vow to take Beatrice as my queen.”
Below those absurd words was the royal seal, stamped with the king’s ring.
“Beatrice feared you or the other nobles might abandon her,” the king stammered, as if to justify himself. “So I wrote this contract myself.”
Claudio’s gaze lingered on the date. It was just a few days before the ambush—before he was nearly killed.
Ha.
And in that moment, Claudio understood everything.
Why Beatrice had fed the king her lies.
To stand beside me.
The assassination attempt had gone too far—the hired killers had tried to finish him for real. But Beatrice herself had likely never meant for him to die. She had merely wanted him to overcome danger, to punish the treacherous king, and naturally ascend to the throne.
Once that happened, the king’s ring—his seal—would bind Claudio to the contract.
All of this, every cruel twist of fate, was orchestrated by Beatrice to fulfill her ambition.
Foolish king.
Claudio clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, looking down at the man groveling before him.
He thought of his parents—blind in their love, foolish in every decision they’d made. The king was no different.
To him, Beatrice must have been the world itself. Every word she spoke became truth in his ears.
Or perhaps he’d known she was lying all along, but had chosen to deceive himself—because he couldn’t bear the thought of being abandoned by her.
Whatever the reason, his choice was the worst imaginable.
***
“Your Grace! His Majesty is trying to pin everything on me!” Beatrice cried, her voice trembling. “I would never harm you, I swear it—!”
“Well, perhaps you only meant to leave a scar,” Claudio said coolly.
“Never! How could I mar such a beautiful body?”
Even as she lied effortlessly, that last part—oddly—rang true.
Claudio’s gaze hardened.
No matter her intention, she had set into motion a chain of events that nearly killed him. That was unforgivable.
And yet…
“When His Majesty first told me all this, I wanted to return the pain you gave me,” he said quietly. “But then I realized… I should thank you instead.”
Beatrice’s black eyes shimmered, desperate and hopeful.
Did he finally understand me?
“Because of you,” Claudio said, his voice calm and cutting, “I met Marsha.”
In an instant, Beatrice’s tearful, fragile expression curdled into something vicious.
“That woman again! You’re just saying that to make me jealous, aren’t you? I know the truth—no one understands you like I do!”
“Understand?”
Claudio let out a soft laugh.
“Yes, understand!” she cried, pressing a hand over her heart. “You hate love, romance, marriage—all because of your parents, don’t you? I understand that better than anyone! After my mother died, my father begged me for help since he couldn’t rely on my mother’s family anymore. I was disgusted. I couldn’t stand men ever since!”
Her breath came in ragged bursts as she continued.
“People say that woman understands you, but it’s just empty words! Only I understand you perfectly. Only I can live for you!”
Her voice rose to a near scream, thick with obsession and madness.
Claudio felt no pity—only disgust. Yet, for a fleeting moment, he almost saw himself in her.
If Marsha had never returned my feelings… would I have become like this? Would I have clung to her, insisting only I could heal her pain?
Perhaps.
But unlike Beatrice, he could see how grotesque that was.
“No matter how desperately you speak,” he said coldly, “you’re nothing but repulsive.”
Beatrice flinched.
“But even so… I—”
Claudio interrupted, his tone flat.
“Be grateful that you’re still alive. From now on, I expect you to conduct yourself properly—as a queen.”
Her tears stopped abruptly.
“You’re not taking the throne, are you?”
“No. The Marquis of West will.”
Claudio’s lips curved into a serene, deadly smile.
“And the contract sealed with the king’s ring… must, of course, be fulfilled.”
Beatrice’s face went white.
“But the Marquis of West—he’s married!”
“The Marchioness understands everything,” Claudio said simply. “She’s agreed to yield the queen’s position to you while remaining the Marchioness. I’m deeply grateful. Otherwise, I would’ve had no choice but to kill you.”
“Don’t joke like that!”
Beatrice’s voice cracked as she shook her head violently.
“The Marquis of West is ancient! You can’t—”
“Is he older than the Marquis of Hermes? I’ve lost track,” Claudio said absently.
“Your Grace!” Beatrice screamed. “Please! Don’t make me that old man’s wife! I’m beautiful, I deserve better than that monster!”
Her shrill protests drew the guards. Visd hurried in and restrained her.
“Please, my lady, you must calm yourself.”
“Let me go! How dare you touch me!”
Claudio merely watched her struggle with quiet contempt.
She’ll only be queen for a month.
In that time, the Marquis of Hermes would be exposed—his stolen wealth and secret dealings laid bare. Then Beatrice’s crimes would be revealed, and she would be stripped of her title. The entire House of Hermes would be annihilated.
Originally, Claudio had planned to tell her everything—to let her taste despair as she awaited ruin. But seeing her now, horrified at the thought of marrying an old man, he realized there was no need.
Let her rot in that hell.
He was about to leave when Beatrice screamed again, her voice echoing through the hall.
“Is this all because of that woman?! That worthless, ill-tempered girl who’s not even half as beautiful as I am?!”
Claudio turned his head slowly, his eyes sharp as a blade.
How dare this deranged woman speak of Marsha in front of me.
Visd broke into a cold sweat.
Surely, now—Claudio would snap.
But he didn’t.
Not because he wasn’t angry—he was furious—but because something in her words caught his attention.
“You speak,” he said quietly, “as if you’ve met her.”
“…”
Beatrice only glared, panting heavily.
“Have you?” he pressed.
“I haven’t.”
Claudio exhaled sharply. It was a useless question. She would never tell the truth.
Still, unease clawed at his chest.
If Beatrice had approached Marsha somehow—had whispered poison into her ears—then…
“I told you, I haven’t met her,” she said suddenly. Then her lips twisted into a chilling smile, like a mask used in a stage play. “And even if I had—what could I possibly do?”
Visd shuddered. Her sudden shift from rage to eerie amusement made his skin crawl.
Claudio ground his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to shake the truth out of her—to know what she’d done to Marsha. But she’d never confess. She’d only smirk, delighted by his anger.
I can’t waste time.
Without another word, Claudio turned and strode out.
“My lord! Where are you going?” Visd called after him, hurrying to follow.
“Bring Urian. We’re returning to Delua—immediately.”
“R-right now?”
Claudio didn’t answer. His pace quickened.
He needed to see her.
He needed to see Marsha’s face—only then could he breathe again.
