Chapter 145
She tried jabbing him with her elbow, but all that did was hurt her instead.
Yasamin, grinning so wide it seemed his mouth might split, spoke excitedly, words tumbling out in quick succession.
“Saiya. Hui. Seimin. Yamin. Shasei. Leiran… What do you think? Which one do you like?”
“If it’s a girl, I like Shasei. If it’s a boy, Seimin.”
“I hope we have twins. That way, we can use both names. Ah, but then it’ll be hard on you. I wish I could be the one to get pregnant instead. Is there no such spell?”
He certainly had a talent for saying the most absurd things in the most endearing way.
Yasamin’s son, Seimin. Siren’s daughter, Shasei.
How perfectly they suited each other.
Mulling over the names a few more times, she stroked her stomach with satisfaction.
She didn’t know if a precious life would ever take root within her, but still—she hoped for it.
‘That way, the bloodline of the mythological-era beast race would continue.’
Whether Seimin would come first, or Shasei. Whether they would have two sons, or two daughters—none of it was certain yet. But for now, Siren decided to allow herself to dream.
A dream called family.
The preparations for the trap progressed smoothly.
Under Yasamin’s secret orders, the warriors split into groups, with some pretending to be gradually falling ill. Slowly but surely, the illusion of a spreading disease took hold within the castle.
Of course, it was all an act. There were some awkward moments, but since many of the Wilkeron people couldn’t even properly understand the southern language, they weren’t likely to catch on.
“It seems the poison is finally taking full effect. There are barely any people moving about within the castle.”
“The guards are changing shifts more frequently as well. They may be trying to avoid suspicion, but they have no idea we’re watching.”
“If we strike now, victory is ours. We must mobilize the entire army!”
The nobles, having received reports of the castle’s increasingly unstable atmosphere, once again gathered at the Brienne estate, savoring their secret delight.
A count uncorked a fine 50-year-old vintage, inhaling its deep aroma with his eyes closed.
They had been exceedingly careful, verifying time and again to ensure that their enemies hadn’t caught on.
Not only had they planted spies, but even the nobles themselves had deliberately loitered around the castle, observing.
They had eavesdropped on purpose, sent servants to unlikely places—such as the kitchens and latrines, where aristocrats rarely ventured. Their efforts confirmed that people had indeed fallen ill after drinking the poisoned water.
“This is good. Tomorrow evening’s banquet seems to be our best chance.”
“I agree.”
“We should begin making the necessary preparations.”
At Count Brienne’s words, everyone raised their glasses, their eyes gleaming with malice. A round of dull toasts and the sound of wine being sipped filled the air, while the count let his imagination run wild.
He pictured a crown resting upon his head.
‘I did give my daughter a vial of poison to slip into the king’s or queen’s cup, but…’
The warriors of the south were troublesome, but in truth, the greatest obstacle was the king and queen’s strange powers.
They had made a pact with demons, fallen into corruption, and wielded incomprehensible magic.
If something went wrong, there was a chance of facing a counterattack. But a rebellion without risk wasn’t a rebellion at all.
‘My heart is racing.’
Every possible preparation had been made. Now, there was truly not much time left…!
“Count, you must come outside for a moment.”
“What is it? I told you not to let anyone in. Butler.”
At the sudden summons, Count Brienne frowned.
Had it not been his loyal butler who had served the family for many years, he would have been furious.
Why was he interrupting this glorious moment?
“What is it?”
Sensing his butler’s unease, he stepped out to find the man looking truly flustered and troubled. As the count raised an eyebrow, the butler bowed apologetically and whispered in a hushed voice, lowering himself to match the short-statured Count Brienne.
“My lady has returned. However… she is saying strange things. That she has succeeded….”
“What?”
“She keeps laughing as if she has lost her mind. Should I call a doctor?”
“Where is she? Where is Nicoletta now?”
Succeeded?
That’s impossible. It can’t be.
But what if it were true?
Wouldn’t that mean they could storm the palace not tomorrow, but today—right now?
Perhaps it was the wine, but his heart was beating faster. The crown. The vision of that radiant crown resting upon his head made his pulse feel as if it would burst.
“Nicoletta! My daughter.”
“Ahahaha! Father! It’s Father!”
“Yes, yes! Did you succeed? You’re just pretending to be mad, aren’t you?”
“Fatherrrr! Kyahaha!”
Rushing into the drawing room, he found his daughter—truly—not in her right mind.
She was laughing, yet tears streamed down her face. Her hair was a mess, and her unwashed skin gleamed with oil. Her clothes, which she hadn’t changed in days, were wrinkled and emitted an unpleasant odor.
Frankly, even as her father, he didn’t want to get too close, but his eyes were drawn to the handful of black hair clutched tightly in Nicoletta’s grip.
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