Previously
The narrative reveals Elda's history of corruption and her deep-seated grudge against Irenia and Delfina, leading her to stalk Irenia out of the palace. As Irenia reaches the pond, she experiences a psychic breakthrough identifying Mercedes Arontsho as the mastermind behind the murders of the other girls.
My movements slowed to a crawl. I could no longer draw breath. A numbing chill crept up from the tips of my fingers. How horrifying. Ah, what a truly terrible torment it was. How agonizing it was to live, to breathe.
Facing death—a scene I had lived through time and again in my dreams—fear was entirely absent; it felt strangely familiar instead. For I knew that in just a little while, I would be freed from this pain and find solace. That truth brought me a peculiar peace.
Gradually, old memories came drifting back, like a tapestry of my life unfurling before my eyes. The day I took my very first steps; the moment my eyes met Annariza’s and she smiled; the first festival I ever witnessed; the songs we sang together. Her back as she turned away, the helpless tears she shed, the fierce gaze that urged me to stay alive even as coughing blood drained her strength… Every fleeting memory returned.
I was so cold. I wanted to wrap my arms around myself against the violent shivers, but I could not muster the strength to move a single finger.
Annariza had never once embraced me. She had never even allowed me to call her “Mother.” She always told me to live strong. To rise again whenever I fell, and never let myself be broken. She insisted that was the only way I ought to live.
These… were my memories. Old recollections faded to the brink of oblivion. Perhaps they were simply too painful, too cold, forcing me to bury them in the deepest recesses of my mind.
I knew then that the end had truly drawn near. This moment… had finally found me.
My memories, once so vividly colored, began to fray at the edges, bleeding away like smudged pigments.
The cold was unbearable. The frigid water leeched every ounce of warmth from my flesh. Perhaps if it went on like this…
“Caesar… if only…”
How I wished I could have seen you one last time. But my fading consciousness sank quietly into a dark morass, as though yielding to a deep, unbroken slumber.
Slowly, I began to sink into the deep waters…
In the drawing room of the Emerald Palace, a tall man stood entirely alone, unaccompanied by any attendants. He wore a dark, hooded cloak, its deep shadow cloaking his face in obscurity.
He was the early visitor who had come seeking Caesar—Richard, the High Teacher.
He stood gazing at a portrait hanging upon the wall: an official depiction of the previous Emperor and his consort.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and Caesar entered the room accompanied by Delfina. The moment Caesar caught sight of him, he bounded forward in delight to greet him.
“Richard!”
Richard turned to receive him, asking gently:
“Have you been keeping well?”
“Yes.”
Richard remained silent for a long moment, folding his arms and blinking repeatedly before murmuring in admiration:
“This is…”
Approaching Caesar, he began to examine him closely, focusing his attention on his left hand. He turned it over repeatedly, scrutinizing it with profound interest.
“Incredible.”
“Huh?”
“Since when has it been like this?”
“Since when?”
Caesar tilted his head in curiosity.
“I cannot say for certain just yet, but your condition has improved markedly since our last meeting.”
“Ah…”
It was difficult to tell whether Caesar truly grasped what was being said. Noting the prince’s drifting attention, Richard gently raised a hand and placed it upon his forehead.
“Very well, I shall conduct the examination as usual.”
A faint glow emanated from his palm—a manifestation of his magical prowess. After examining him for a time, Richard murmured with quiet wonder:
“…The curse has stabilized.”
“Curse?”
Caesar tilted his head to the side. Richard offered a faint smile as he checked once more, but the findings remained identical.
Though Caesar had not fully regained his lucidity, his disposition was far more serene and stable than during the prior visit. Plainly, the symptoms that had been worsening so relentlessly were beginning to recede.
At this, Richard could not help but ask:
“What happened in my absence?”
Caesar offered no reply, merely blinking his eyes. Richard had not expected a coherent answer from him in any case.
After all, the curse of the Winged Dragon was not something one recovered from easily. Even so, Caesar’s condition was remarkably well. It defied understanding; what had transpired could only be described as a miracle.
Though Richard was hardly given to optimism, he viewed the development with immense favor. There had to have been an outside intervention of some sort.
“Traces of magic…”
Faint though the impression was, he sensed an aura of magic clinging to Caesar. It bore the hallmark of a exceedingly peculiar sorcery. Every wizard leaves behind a distinct resonance that can be traced, and certain forms of magic allow one to discern the caster’s identity through these reverberations.
And Richard knew of someone who wielded such magic—the remnants of an ancient sorcery.
Suddenly, Caesar sprang to his feet.
“What is the matter?”
– …
He gave no answer. His brow knit fiercely, and a guttural, beast-like growl tore from his throat, as though he sensed impending danger.
Indeed, Richard felt a surge of energy poised to erupt. He could not tell what it was, yet he knew with certainty that something had just occurred.
“What is happening…?”
Before he could slip his wand from his sleeve, a mote of golden light flared before Caesar. It began no larger than a bean before swelling to the size of a grown man’s fist, then swiftly coalesced into a distinct form.
Richard’s eyes narrowed.
“A chick?!”
What appeared was a tiny chick covered in golden plumage. A chick, manifesting in such a manner?!
His brow furrowed deeply. Since when had Caesar taken to summoning magical familiars?
“When did you summon this creature?”
The moment it manifested, the chick began flapping its little wings, as though desperate to convey something of grave importance.
“Pyak! Pyak! Pyak, pyak!”
The chick was incapable of speech, its magical proficiency still exceedingly modest. Yet Caesar appeared to comprehend it perfectly; he nodded repeatedly in recognition, his eyes flashing.
In truth, even before Abr appeared, Caesar had already sensed that Irenia was in mortal peril.
“Grrr…”
His primal instincts took hold. He could no longer hear nor see anything around him, as though submerged in another world entirely. His gaze swept the room before locking onto the window.
“Your Highness, this is the third floor—”
Before Richard could finish his sentence, the iron-barred window shattered in two, shards of glass detonating against the stone wall in a violent explosion. Richard recoiled in alarm.
When he collected himself, he found himself utterly alone in the drawing room. What had once been a window was now a gaping ruin.
He rushed to the ledge and peered down, but Caesar was nowhere to be seen.
Early that morning, Giovinetta called upon the Moonstone Palace for an audience with Empress Cornelia.
“Greetings, Small Empress.”
They met within the Empress’s private glass greenhouse, where Cornelia invited her young guest to take tea.
“So this is Your Majesty’s celebrated conservatory… I had heard it was magnificent, yet it is far lovelier than I ever imagined.”
Giovinetta looked about, thoroughly captivated by her surroundings. Exquisite blossoms whose names she did not know and birds of wondrous plumage filled the space with visual enchantment.
Cultivating such rare flora must have demanded immense wealth… She truly was an empress in every sense of the word. Yet Cornelia merely murmured in a languid drawl:
“It is the sole diversion in an otherwise tedious palace life… a trifling hobby, nothing more.”
At that moment, the Empress’s maid entered pushing a tea cart and began pouring the beverage. The fragrant aroma of choice tea leaves hailing from the Southern Continent drifted through the air.
Cornelia rested her chin upon her palm, her gaze lingering on Giovinetta. For some reason, the younger woman seemed ill at ease, as though unsure of where to look.
“You see? You resemble your brother immensely…”
Rage flared within Giovinetta, yet she dared not show it before the Empress, offering only a wan smile in response. Cornelia, meanwhile, continued speaking without paying her reaction the slightest heed.
“Youth is a lovely thing, is it not? Have you seen your sister?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I have met with the First Prince as well.”
“Is that so?”
The mere thought of Irenia sent fury churning through Giovinetta once more. She struggled to keep her composure, her lips nearly trembling with suppressed resentment.
The Empress had already received a report concerning their encounter at the Emerald Palace, including the tension that had flared between the two sisters. Naturally, she was well aware that their relationship was far from harmonious.
It was for this very reason that the Empress sought to deliberately provoke the girl. Following a drawn-out silence, she finally spoke:
“Did you know? I made a wager of sorts with your sister.”
“A wager, you say?”
“Indeed. Your sister proved to be… remarkably bold.”
Empress Cornelia then began recounting the conversation that had transpired between herself and Irenia, taking considerable liberties with the telling. She spoke of Irenia’s claim that she would turn the First Prince into a “human,” and even her brazen audacity in standing against the Empress.
It exceeded Giovinetta’s wildest expectations. That insolent girl was throwing her weight around and stirring up trouble here as well. Yet deep down, Giovinetta felt a secret thrill, replying serenely:
“Your Majesty, I beg you to forgive my sister’s insolence.”
At this, Empress Cornelia wore an indolent smile and said:
“You are certainly far wiser than she. As Empress, it behoved me to maintain my dignity, so I could hardly rein in such a reckless creature. After all, I must constantly contend with unending attempts to undermine my authority.”
FADE OUT