Chapter 78
Cyrone stared at Elia with relentless eyes. Her scalp ached as if her hair was being pulled out, and her limbs trembled. Especially, the terrifying aura right before her eyes made tears stream down uncontrollably.
“Who exactly are you? Where is Cyrone… ugh.”
Suddenly, a heart-wrenching pain struck Elia. Clutching her chest from the agony she had never felt before, she glared at Cyrone. The man before her was Cyrone, yet he was not Cyrone. All her senses told her so.
“Ahh!”
Cyrone forcefully grabbed Elia’s hair, tilting her head back toward himself. In front of her tear-streaked face were Cyrone’s crimson eyes. Quietly, he whispered:
“…Elia.”
His voice was sweet, like a soft confession of love. Surprisingly gentle for this hellish place heavy with the stench of blood.
“No one will ever disturb us again.”
At that moment, Cyrone gave a strange, faint smile.
* * *
“Sir! Even now, we must inform the temple and offer the lady to the altar!”
Camille shouted at Nielsen in a flustered voice. But Nielsen, still gazing out the window, gave no response.
“Where will you find Raphael’s holy sword immediately? Even if found, with the saint gone, no one can wield its power. This is our only option!”
Camille urged, but Nielsen grew more silent. Frustrated, Camille paced restlessly inside the room.
There were only two ways to save Cyrone’s soul.
Either offer Elia, whose fate was twisted by the devil’s power, as a sacrifice at the Daigana temple altar. Or find Raphael’s holy sword and unlock its power. But the latter was nearly impossible now.
“If you won’t act, I will inform the temple myself.”
“Stop.”
Camille turned to leave but was stopped by Nielsen. Meeting her resentful gaze, Nielsen said firmly:
“Get a grip. This is not the time to act recklessly.”
His cold eyes reprimanded Camille. She let out a dry laugh, dumbfounded by his words.
“So you’re saying we should just stand by and do nothing?”
Frowning, Nielsen asked in frustration:
“Have you considered what will happen after we inform the temple of this?”
“We’ll offer the lady as a sacrifice at the altar, and then retrieve His Highness’s soul!”
“And then?”
“…What?”
Camille looked at Nielsen with eyes that clearly asked, “What do you mean by that?” Nielsen sighed briefly before answering.
“After you offer the lady to the temple and retrieve His Highness’s soul, what then?”
“Well…”
Camille couldn’t finish her sentence and swallowed hard. Maybe everything would return to how it was before? She thought vaguely so, but Nielsen shook his head coldly.
“The temple will not recognize His Highness as the ruler of the empire.”
“…!”
It was painfully obvious. The temple would never acknowledge Cyrone, whose soul had been possessed by the devil, as the sovereign. According to the temple’s scriptures, Cyrone would be stripped of the Edelward family name and condemned to a lifetime in prison or exile to the continent’s farthest reaches.
“You know better than anyone how His Highness has held onto that position.”
When Nielsen asked that, Camille slowly gathered her thoughts and wiped her face repeatedly. Nielsen turned back to the window and spoke calmly.
“The current Emperor has lived his entire life under the shadow of the former Crown Prince, constantly tormented by the loyal nobles. His Highness must not bear such a burden.”
Nielsen didn’t want any blemishes to remain on Cyrone’s path to becoming Emperor. He understood better than anyone how hard it is to wear a crown without strength or legitimacy.
“His Highness will surely return. Until then…”
Nielsen muttered to himself as if making a vow. Outside, the world was already drenched in the golden hues of autumn. The seasons passed relentlessly.
* * *
“How could he even think of touching the temple?”
“I’m afraid we might all be dragged into a war at this rate.”
“It’s already been a year since His Highness started acting like this. He seems like a completely different person.”
Ignoring the chatter of the palace maids, Nielsen walked through the corridor. His mind grew increasingly troubled as he neared the door.
“Your Highness, it’s Nielsen.”
He knocked lightly, but there was no response from inside. He hesitated but gently opened the door. A sharp, pungent smell hit his nostrils.
“Ahem.”
Nielsen lowered his gaze at the scene before him. He had come with urgent news, but he couldn’t find where to look. Elia was sitting between Cyrone’s thighs, pulling up her half-off clothes.
Over the past year, she had lost so much weight that her face was pale even from afar.
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