Chapter 53
The thunder receded, but the rain showed no sign of stopping.
It was now late night. The sky was entirely filled with rain clouds, making it darker than usual, like pitch black. There could be no better time than this to secretly dispose of a body.
Maeve calmly made a plan to grant Prince Declan’s final wish. She needed to go into his room and check again before morning. If he was truly dead, she would quietly load his corpse onto a carriage or cart before people woke up.
She would explain to the elder and the villagers that Prince Declan’s change of mind caused them to depart immediately. Colm would be puzzled but would follow without complaint. When they were far outside the village, she would inform Colm of Prince Declan’s death. Then, she would take the cart, baggage, and one horse needed for the rest of the journey as compensation.
She would part ways with Colm right there. It was none of her business whether he returned to the castle or not. She would load Prince Declan’s corpse onto the cart and continue on her journey. Once she arrived at a place difficult for even a glance, let alone human footsteps, to reach, she would bury Prince Declan’s body there.
She had to handle it so that, as he wished, he would not be carelessly exhumed and subjected to the indignity of taxidermy.
Maeve thought that far, then reviewed the plan while tossing dry firewood into the dying fire of the fireplace.
The situation had become more annoying and troublesome than expected. It was ironic that, despite the effort she took the previous day to chase after him and save him, Prince Declan was now about to die in a remote place from illness less than a day later. Given this, the effort to rescue and revive him was truly rendered meaningless.
…Ah, but how could this feeling of futility compare to Prince Declan’s own?
Maeve pitied him. Although her circumstances were different, it was quite pitiful that he was suddenly cast out and forced to wander. Every time she saw his naïve, innocent demeanor, and his continued inability to grasp the situation, she recalled herself when she had just escaped Sorten and was wandering.
It was purely that level of duty and goodwill that had compelled her to save him. And she was just as willing to retrieve his body.
‘He was the most beautiful and unusual person I’ve met in the past few years, anyway.’
She tried to brush aside the thought of Prince Declan’s corpse-like face with this sentiment. What good would it do to intervene further?
She could save him…
“…Eve.”
Crackling, the flame in the fireplace consumed the recently tossed log. Before long, it would burn black and turn to ashes, and the flame would subside, protesting that she should throw more logs in if she didn’t want to see it die.
How was this different from her saving him? She could save Prince Declan’s life by injecting magical power into the scale, temporarily quenching its thirst. However, before long, the scale would inevitably suck not just Prince Declan’s meager magical power but also his life force. Just as she had witnessed earlier.
How had he even managed to survive this long with that gluttonous thing attached to his body?
Ah, but the moment that question arose, Maeve suddenly guessed at something even more unsettling. Prince Declan himself said his seizures had worsened. What if, because Maeve unknowingly flowed magical power into Prince Declan before, the scale now desired that much, or even more, magical power?
Maeve had experienced a similar situation before. The Archmage, who initially reassured her with “just a little bit,” became frantic to use her as a power source to maintain his youth, as that was not enough.
“I will ensure you live a life without ever getting your hands dirty. Everyone will serve you like a princess. It’s a luxury no one can dream of, isn’t it? Think about how ecstatic it would be to live like a princess here in Sorten, not some other barbaric nation.”
Though it was only a hypothetical, there was no guarantee that the seemingly naive Prince Declan wouldn’t turn monstrous like Fergus.
Of course, since he was just an ordinary human with a somewhat unique constitution, unlike with Fergus, she could simply beat him down if needed.
…It is ridiculous that she keeps having these thoughts. Doesn’t it already look like she wants to save Prince Declan? Doesn’t it look like she is trying to convince herself by rationalizing that ‘it’s different this time’?
“Let him die. How long will he live even if you save him? It’s an unconscionable thing to do to the scale itself. Just let him die naturally.”
Some woman she met once explained the law of nature to her rather heartlessly.
“Why did you save me? Because of it, you were driven out too.”
“There is no ‘why,’ Maeve. I was simply there, and I could save you, so I did.”
An old man she met once told her this.
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