Chapter 136
“Well then, now that you have all seen the false king and the monstrous princess with your own eyes, I trust your resolve is firm.”
Suppressing his trembling, Count Brienne spoke in a relatively calm tone.
Countless nobles turned their gazes toward him.
Savoring the attention, he continued speaking slowly, as if he were already a ruler.
“Each house should have stored water in flasks. I trust you have prepared ample amounts. It may be inconvenient, but endure it—it will be of no consequence once the rain comes.”
Ah, is this what it feels like to sit upon the throne?
At his words, everyone nodded in understanding. It was truly a gratifying sight.
“The poison—there is enough, I assume? Can it be trusted?”
At that moment, someone interjected, unwilling to let Count Brienne seize too much power.
“Do not worry. They will die without even realizing what happened.”
The king’s return would surely be celebrated with a feast. Bread would be baked, and meat would be roasted.
And with what water would they knead the dough and wash the food?
“We will introduce just enough poison daily—not enough for instant death. This poison only takes effect when accumulated. By the third day of the banquet….”
“They will die?”
“Indeed. A deadly poison, yet not one that kills immediately. That is the unique nature of this toxin.”
Until a certain threshold accumulates within the body, it only induces fatigue.
But once that threshold is exceeded, blood will pour from all seven orifices, and death will follow instantly.
Eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth—all will stream with blood as they perish.
This poison, meticulously developed by the Brienne family over many years to eliminate their enemies, was called “Tomb.”
“Then, from midnight tonight—the ‘Tomb’ plan begins.”
Count Brienne declared solemnly.
His demeanor was that of a man marching into war.
On a night when the owl cried.
Unlike the southern regions, the climate here was slightly cooler, so the fireplace was filled to the brim with firewood.
As the logs crackled and burned, Siren slowly wandered through the dust-laden bookshelves, searching for a book.
A book that had once contained stories about Aquafuran. Where had it been?
‘I think it was a book I wrote during my second reincarnation. I’m not certain, but if I read it again now, more memories might return.’
She had hidden it somewhere around here.
What had once been within reach of a child’s hands now required her to bend down as an adult. Siren set down the lamp she was holding and carefully examined the books on the shelf.
In truth, about thirty percent of her reason for coming to Wilkeron had been this book. She had wanted to read it again.
It was so old that it might have been placed there by someone at least a hundred years ago, its cover crumbling to dust at the slightest touch. And then… the loose pages.
“Ah, found it.”
Siren, rummaging behind a thick tome, first pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. As she carefully unfolded it, a few lines of text emerged in the dim light.
Then, in this tragic tale, what became of the beast that once guarded the little goddess of water?
The beast that lost the very thing it was meant to protect, never to recover it again…
Did the king truly set the forest ablaze only to stop the <Infected>?
The very words that had struck her so deeply when she first read them, leaving her to ponder them for a long time, remained exactly as they were.
Siren traced the lines with her fingertips, closing her eyes tightly.
The chaos in her mind settled into an astonishing calm.
As she followed the thread of memory, it was not ‘Siren’ who responded—it was ‘Aquafuran.’
The seed planted deep within her soul. The stem and leaves sprouting from it. Each node held a memory.
A memory she had forgotten.
‘Ah, I see.’
Before long, she realized it.
She had written this book during her second reincarnation—before she had forgotten she was Aquafuran. Back then, she had been the librarian of this vast royal palace.
‘That’s why I was able to write the book and hide it where no one would find it.’
Indeed.
‘But… this loose page wasn’t written by my second self. It was written by my fourth self, after reading the book my second self had left behind.’
Her fourth self had forgotten the cycle of reincarnation. She had forgotten that she was, in truth, a god.
She had been born into an ordinary noble family and had befriended a princess. That was how she had gained access to the royal library.
They had called her an eccentric young lady who loved books—until she fell ill and died young.
‘Ah, my memories are returning. Even my fifth self….’
Had she, at that time, known love?
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