I Must Acquire Power
The handwriting matched that of the prince?
Could someone have switched the letters?
Who had taken the letter? It was definitely….
Father took it.
A chill raced down her spine. An impossible suspicion had taken root.
Could it be Father?
No. That’s ridiculous. Get a grip.
Canna let out a small, dry laugh.
How could her father possibly have seen through her scheme? And even if he had, would he really have gone so far as to rewrite the letter in the prince’s hand just to frame her?
For what possible reason?
She simply laughed again. The sharp click of her heels echoed as she walked, until she suddenly caught her own reflection in a glass window. The scar on the nape of her neck stood out starkly against her skin.
“If this had truly been a trap I orchestrated, I would be the one throwing myself onto Councilor Izek’s blade. I am not a woman of such reckless courage.”
It wasn’t courage. She had simply fought like a cornered animal to survive.
Disguising the nutritional supplement as poison and sending it to Izek. Deliberately allowing herself to be caught, then thrusting her own throat toward his dagger. Every single step had been a desperate bid to stay alive.
“Let’s go home.”
It was finally over.
Canna sighed and pushed open the door of the courtroom.
Night had already fallen.
I’m so tired.
The crisis had passed. All she needed now was to return home and rest deeply. A short break, then she would begin again.
This entire ordeal had driven the truth home once more.
I must obtain power.
Only then could she survive in this brutal world.
I used to think that having just enough strength to avoid being ignored and live an ordinary life would be sufficient.
But she had been wrong. That level of power could never protect her from sudden storms.
Still, it’s not too late. If I lack power, I can simply cultivate it. After all, I have an excellent foundation. I am the eldest daughter of Addis and the mistress of Valentino.
She would build that power by any means necessary. That was how she would protect herself. Yet—
Where… am I supposed to go now?
Her feet stopped abruptly.
She wanted to go home and rest, but….
Where is my home?
Where exactly was she supposed to return to?
Addis? Valentino?
At that moment, a carriage drew to a halt before her. A man stepped down.
“……?”
Why was he here?
A man with hair the deep blue of an evening sky and striking purple eyes stood before her.
It was Raphael.
A sudden gust of wind whipped his black priestly robes violently. Raphael swept back his disheveled hair, brows furrowed.
“What are you doing?”
He spoke to her with cool detachment as she stood there frozen.
“Please get in, madam. I will escort you to your destination.”
“…Me?”
“Yes.”
“……”
Why?
Canna’s exhausted eyes turned toward him. She looked so drained she might collapse at any second.
Did Sylvien order this?
Would he really extend such kindness to the wife who had stabbed him in the back?
Impossible.
At this moment, he bore no responsibility or obligation to look after her. There was no reason for him to send a carriage on her behalf.
Perhaps he mistook her steady gaze for a glare. Raphael spoke again, slowly.
“I am well aware that the Duchess finds my presence displeasing, but the hour is late.”
“……”
“It is dangerous to travel alone. Please, get in.”
When she still made no move, Raphael let out a sigh as though he had anticipated exactly this.
“This carriage was sent by Count Debor.”
Ah. Only then did her mind sharpen again.
Count Debor.
Of course he would feel grateful to her. In his eyes, she had saved his sailors from poisoning. At least, that was the misunderstanding he held.
It seemed Raphael was not only close to Sylvien but to Count Debor as well.
“I see.”
Canna finally answered.
“Please convey my thanks to him.”
She offered Raphael a faint smile, then walked past him.
Once inside the carriage, she spoke to the driver.
“To the Addis Duchy.”
Lilienne felt utterly hollow.
Crescent, you pathetic fool.
It had already been a week since Crescent’s left wrist was severed.
And every single day, he drowned himself in drink.
“No one! No one protects me!”
Even now he was at it—roaring drunkenly at the top of his lungs. He was thrashing so violently that he hadn’t even noticed Lilienne’s arrival.
“Damn it, why won’t anyone believe me! I didn’t do it!”
The bottle shattered as he hurled it. Glass shards sprayed across the floor.
“This is a conspiracy! Your Majesty! Father! Why won’t you believe me? I never ordered any poisoning! This is a frame-up!”
Crescent broke into loud sobs.
“I’ll kill them all! Every last one of them! Canna—Canna Valentino! I’ll kill her for sure!”
After a long, frenzied outburst, Crescent finally collapsed onto the floor. He had passed out.
Pathetic. All he knows how to do is blame everyone else.
Lilienne stared down at him with icy contempt.
Why not just execute him? Why keep him alive?
The one silver lining was that Crescent would soon depart for a provincial city under the guise of recuperation.
Recuperation. It was nothing short of exile.
Good riddance. A Crescent with a severed hand would only become a blemish on her and Brother Argon.
If only he had died, there would be no future complications.
Lilienne’s footsteps halted sharply as she walked down the corridor. The Empress was approaching from the opposite direction.
Huh?
But the Empress was not alone.
Besides the usual maids trailing behind her, she walked beside a golden-haired woman who bore a striking resemblance to her. Could it be…?
Sister Amelia?
“How insolent.”
The Empress had closed the distance and spoke with cutting authority.
“As expected of Prince Crescent’s full sister—the princess is equally ignorant of imperial etiquette.”
“I-I apologize. I was momentarily—”
“Yes. Given what has become of your brother, it is understandable to be distracted. I shall overlook it.”
The Empress smiled with motherly grace, yet her eyes brimmed with open disdain.
“How is the prince’s condition?”
“He is asleep at the moment.”
“I hear he spends his days drinking and tormenting the palace staff. Tsk. He never changes.”
Lowly blood will tell. The boy has no capacity to learn. The Empress added the remark under her breath.
“Come, Amelia. Let us continue.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Lilienne watched their retreating backs in silence.
Have they reconciled?
Rumors had reached her that the princess’s skin disease was slowly improving. Perhaps that was why the once-hostile relationship between mother and daughter now appeared almost harmonious.
Though she still wears the veil, so it’s difficult to judge.
The last time Lilienne had seen Amelia years ago, her face had been grotesquely disfigured, like a rotting corpse.
It was common knowledge that Canna Valentino had taken over her treatment. There were whispers that her condition was gradually improving, but…
Could it really be possible? A disease so many master physicians failed to cure?
Lilienne prayed the illness would never heal. If possible, that it would torment Amelia forever.
Amelia Isaberg. The Empress’s daughter, backed by the powerful Mercy family. If such a woman stepped into high society…
My own position would become precarious.
There had been a time when she dreamed of Argon ascending the throne, making her the emperor’s sister.
A foolish, empty dream.
Argon had never desired the crown.
Once, when she had pressed him on why he showed no interest in becoming emperor, he had simply smiled and answered:
She could not comprehend it at all.
What in the world could possibly be more thrilling than standing at the very pinnacle of power?
Yet foolish Argon simply didn’t see it.
He had always spent far more time outside the imperial palace than within it.
Which means I must carve out my own path to survival.
Lilienne’s mother, Concubine Teresa, had once been a dancer. In other words, half of Lilienne’s blood was common.
Only the Emperor’s fervent love allowed them to maintain their current influence.
Even after Father is gone, to preserve this power…
Marriage was the only answer.
Without wedding the most powerful man possible, only decline awaited her.
It must be Duke Valentino.
Addis. Valentino. Mercy.
Only those three houses held power comparable to the imperial family.
There is no other option.