Chapter 239
The mad duke
After recovering the imperial descendant, the Emperor had poured immense effort into constructing the detached palace. He had eagerly awaited the day his granddaughter would use the palace after giving birth.
But once the construction was finally complete, it became the resting place of a dead woman.
Everyone who attended the funeral held at the detached palace that day whispered about the unusual proceedings.
“Why is it not being officiated at the capital temple…? Even for a royal funeral, shouldn’t it go there first?”
“Apparently things with the High Priest aren’t so great right now…”
“Ahh.”
Though it had been by imperial decree, the imperial descendant had failed to receive protection in the safe zone during the hunting festival because of the temple’s negligence.
And with rumors that one of the rebels had ties to the capital temple, its reputation had plummeted.
However, once the funeral began, all such complicated political entanglements were pushed to the back of everyone’s mind.
The dazzling early summer sunlight was so bright that it only made the tragedy more prominent.
The Emperor, forgetting his usual dignity, wept openly, while Riegel presided over the ceremony with a profoundly somber expression.
But public attention was drawn less to the Emperor’s tears and more toward the deceased’s husband. Izar stood nearest to the casket, alongside the imperial family.
“How tragic…”
And no wonder—wasn’t this the very union between the miraculously returned imperial descendant and the hero that had once been so widely celebrated?
Of course, many who had once claimed “the Duke is entering a disadvantageous match” were among those who had offered blessings, but people had long since forgotten their own hypocrisy.
Unbothered by the murmurs around him, Izar only stared blankly down at the casket.
Lavishly adorned with white gemstones, it was extravagant to an almost absurd degree—just like the Emperor’s taste.
And inside, it was completely empty.
Naturally so, since there were no remains.
“……”
His golden eyes stared down at the white flowers that filled the coffin in place of a body.
In the empire, when a funeral was held without remains, it was customary to place cherished belongings of the deceased inside instead.
But there was nothing left behind by Freesia. Nothing she had treasured.
So putting anything else in would’ve been a lie. Just like this entire funeral.
“…Ha.”
A twisted smile curled on Izar’s lips.
Ridiculous.
All of this was just so ridiculous… this farcical, lie-ridden funeral.
His wife wasn’t even dead—so why was any of this necessary? Even just last night, he had dreamt again of Freesia with another man.
The first person to realize what Izar was about to do was Riegel.
Seeing Izar raise his arm, Riegel shouted, reaching toward him.
“Duke! Stop, immediately—!”
Izar raised the ceremonial sword at his waist.
Though it was dull, meant for formality, the force of his strike dealt a heavy blow to the coffin.
“Duke!”
Riegel cried out, and even the Emperor, supported by his attendants, shakily raised a trembling finger.
“Th-that madman…!”
The granddaughter’s husband—accused of madness—shattered the empty coffin.
No matter how sturdy the oak, Izar’s strength split it with a jagged crack, leaving it mangled and broken.
The white petals inside were scattered into the air by the impact and quickly sank to the floor.
The shocked members of the Duke’s house rushed toward him in alarm.
“M-Milord!”
“We understand your grief, however—!”
They cried out in panic, pleading with him to come to his senses, but to Izar, their voices were nothing more than noise.
The coffin was empty from the start, so why were they all making such a fuss…?
Stepping over the crushed white flowers, Izar spoke in a sharp, blazing voice.
“Freesia is alive.”
He looked straight at Riegel and smiled. Or, at least, he tried to smile.
“She is not dead.”
“……”
Riegel closed his eyes at Izar’s open defiance.
But when he opened them again, he answered more firmly than ever.
“She is dead, Duke Izar. It’s time you accept reality.”
And from that day on, Freesia was officially declared deceased.
With the imperial household ceasing its search, only the Duke’s household remained.
But with their numbers reduced, scouring the entire empire like before was no longer feasible.
Even so, Izar couldn’t give up.
“If she still hasn’t appeared by now…”
He had always assumed Freesia must be depending on someone else.
‘She must’ve taken the money from selling the Griffias Plains.’
In the worst-case scenario, Freesia might’ve fallen out with Van Dike and ended up completely alone.
With that thought, he turned his attention to places where discarded women might drift.
Brothels, orphanages, streets where humans were bought and sold, places where those too poor to afford holy power were left to die.
Even morgues where bodies were stored for organ extraction…
The con artists who brought women saying “She’s the imperial descendant with lost memory” were, if anything, the least malicious.
At least those lowlifes had the decency to dress up a healthy woman.
But in the depths of this ruin, even that minimal decency was absent.
Outwardly, he remained impassive, but every time he made inspections, he clenched his fists so tightly the bones in his hands stood out.
It can’t be you.
There was a report of a honey-blonde woman dragged into a brothel in a delirious state.
Her eyes had gone blind, so her eye color couldn’t be confirmed. Izar had to check her appearance himself.
Please, don’t let it be you.
Another report came of a dead woman found with honey-blonde hair and pale green eyes.
He wanted to order his attendants to extract blood from the corpse for verification.
But, as always, the thought of what if held him back.
What if the spell failed? What if the fools under him were too stupid to recognize Freesia properly…?
And so, because of that distrust, Izar confirmed the corpse himself.
And from then on, he personally verified countless dead women.
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