“Sir Astaroth. There was a spectator watching you die. But if that spectator were to get hurt, would you show them mercy?”

Jeremia pondered for a moment. She thought of the knights who had tried to offer her to the Emperor when her stomach was pierced. The cold eyes of the bystander looking down at her. Jeremia, too, would turn a blind eye without hesitation if they were hurt.

“So, it is only natural that I do not treat Sir Muzeta.”

It was an obvious statement, yet it felt incredibly strange. Was there ever a time when Sir Muzeta ignored Tenebrei getting hurt? A princess was someone for whom holy water was brought even for a small scratch from a blade of grass.

“Are you saying Sir Muzeta watched Lady Tenebrei get hurt?”

“Funny, right? Yes. He watched me.”

However, Tenebrei affirmed this absurd situation.

“When that damn Father took me to the dungeon and whipped me, he was always laughing behind my back. How much he must have enjoyed watching the gloomy princess being beaten to death. My fingernails were being pulled out, my back was being torn apart! Yet, beside the Crown Prince, he acted like some loyal knight, pretending to be so faithful as if he would even sacrifice his life for the imperial family!”

Jeremia thought Tenebrei was spouting nonsense. There was no way Sir Muzeta would do that, and above all, there was no way Father would have whipped Tenebrei.

She must be suffering from delusions, having gone mad enough to kill her only twin sister and steal her identity. Just as Bishop Marik did to Henna, he must have brainwashed Tenebrei. That had to be it.

Tenebrei began to scratch her neck nervously, digging in her nails. Perhaps she had no sensation, for her neck quickly turned red and eventually began to bleed. Was this why Bishop Marik told her not to pay attention to Tenebrei’s injuries?

“Lady Tenebrei.”

When Jeremia called her name, Tenebrei finally came to her senses. She was startled to see the red blood under her fingernails.

“This, this shouldn’t happen. Jeremia doesn’t have such ugly habits.”

Tenebrei ran straight to the drawer and opened it. Inside were dozens of bottles of holy water. Since Jeremia hadn’t put them there when she was the true mistress of the room, Tenebrei must have prepared them afterward.

Tenebrei wiped her neck with holy water and began to scrub her hands vigorously. Only after checking the mirror several times did she return to her senses. It was like watching a patient with obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Jeremia felt strange watching Tenebrei, who was half-mad.

She had killed her biological father and twin sister, and even snatched that position. Moreover, with Bishop Marik, who supposedly held the Emperor in his palm, as her backer, the throne would be hers if she only bypassed Oratorio.

Jeremia thought Tenebrei would be living quite happily. So, she had been burning with a desire for revenge, but what was this miserable state?

Tenebrei’s abnormal symptoms did not end there.

When the maid brought tea, Tenebrei took one sip and threw the teacup, shattering it. The maid, knowing she had offended the princess, looked like she was about to die. Jeremia, fearing the maid might get caught in the crossfire, hurriedly sent her out. Fortunately, Tenebrei didn’t even glance at the maid.

“You know, I think someone poisoned my cup. Could it be Jeremia?”

‘How could I? I’m the one you killed.’

Jeremia swallowed the words she wanted to say.

“Isn’t Lady Jeremia already dead?”

Replying thus, Jeremia cleaned up the broken pieces. She had to clean it up herself since she had sent the maid away, but even that wasn’t smooth.

Drops of blood fell onto the floor and soaked into the carpet. Looking up, Tenebrei was holding a broken piece of porcelain in her hand, though Jeremia didn’t know when she had grabbed it.

“Right? Right? I know too. I saw the corpse, but sometimes it doesn’t feel real…. Everyone acts as if Jeremia is alive. Don’t they? Ah, right, right… I’m using Jeremia’s name, so that would be natural.”

Tenebrei rambled, gripping the broken teacup piece tightly. Her hand was covered in blood, but she didn’t seem to feel any pain. When Jeremia tried to stop her, she became angry instead. The wound grew deeper, so Jeremia forcibly took the piece away.

It shouldn’t have mattered to Jeremia whether Tenebrei was mad and self-harming or not, but for some reason, it was uncomfortable to watch.

In the end, Jeremia had no choice but to use another bottle of holy water to treat Tenebrei. Why was she treating the wounded hand of the twin sister who had not only betrayed her but driven her to death…. Jeremia considered her own situation pathetic. She decided to blame it on the sin of being stupidly deceived and helping to burn down the Rohanson mansion.

Tenebrei, while being treated quietly, called out to Jeremia.

“Sir Astaroth.”

“Yes… Lady Tenebrei.”

“Do you also think I’m crazy? So… is that why Bishop Marik is trying to abandon me because I’m mad?”

It was a very desolate attitude. It felt one-sided, but Tenebrei herself seemed to be aware of the strained relationship.

“Since there is another heir to the throne besides me, the Bishop wouldn’t care what happens to someone like me, would he?”

“Are you talking about Lord Oratorio?”

“No. Would he care about someone like Oratorio?”

Tenebrei replied, wrinkling her brow. Bishop Marik had said he would put Tenebrei on the throne, but it seemed he had already made moves against Oratorio.

“Oratorio has a scar on his face that can’t be fixed with holy water, so can he be shown outside? It would be cleaner to just kill him, but His Majesty the Emperor is trying hard to hide it.”

A scar on his face? If it couldn’t be healed with holy water, it was likely a wound inflicted by Azazel—that is, the one who killed Jeremia herself.

Jeremia clenched her fists, remembering the moment she was stabbed in the stomach by Azazel, whom she had trusted. Her heart pounded violently, as if it would burst out of her mouth. Jeremia tried to calm her anger and put on a composed expression.

“Would he dare to ascend the throne with his face ruined? It’s proof that he is a cursed being who does not receive the grace of the Sun God, so who would acknowledge him as Emperor?”

“What is the problem if Oratorio is in that state?”

What more is lacking after killing all your blood relatives? When Jeremia asked back, trying to maintain a calm voice, a sharp answer returned from Tenebrei.

“The Bishop brought the Prince.”

“The Prince…?”

“Yes. My uncle.”

Uncle? Jeremia couldn’t tell who Tenebrei was talking about. Hadn’t all of Jeremia’s elders died, starting with her father?

“Huh? Sir Astaroth, you don’t know?”

When Jeremia nodded, Tenebrei asked with sparkling eyes.

“I see? …Then do you want to go see him?”

Naturally, Jeremia couldn’t refuse. Even if her whereabouts were discovered by Bishop Marik later, finding out what was happening and who the suddenly appeared Prince was took precedence. It was even more concerning since Bishop Marik had brought him.

Jeremia followed Tenebrei. The place Tenebrei was heading to was the dungeon. She couldn’t understand why a person called an uncle, while being a Prince, was in the basement. Moreover, Tenebrei’s footsteps toward the prison were unwavering.

Jeremia only knew that there was a dungeon, but it was her first time knowing the location. Tenebrei would be in a similar situation, so she didn’t know how she found her way without getting lost. It couldn’t be true that she had been whipped in the prison Tenebrei mentioned.

Tenebrei, who familiarly slipped a gold coin to the guard, stopped at a place that wasn’t where ordinary prisoners were kept. It was a place where death row inmates who had committed serious crimes would be kept before they died.

“Say hello. He’s my uncle.”

Tenebrei introduced him, and Jeremia examined the inside of the cell. And she saw a familiar, a very familiar person, so she ended up calling his name without realizing it.

“Sir Gabriel?”

Jeremia was bewildered, unable to follow the situation. In the meantime, Gabriel, who recognized Jeremia, blinked. He had a gag in his mouth, so he greeted her with his eyes. Jeremia almost felt nauseous at Gabriel’s calm attitude.

Why is the person who returned with the Phararos Knights here?

She had clearly seen Gabriel boarding the carriage, supported by the Phararos Knights, when he returned to the temple with Bishop Marik. Bishop Marik had also said he just vented his anger and sent Gabriel back.

Since then, Bishop Marik’s subordinates had looked for Gabriel. At that time, Gabriel and the Phararos Knights were absent, so Jeremia thought they had hidden under the protection of Lady Rohanson.

So, she hadn’t expected to encounter Gabriel in the Imperial Palace out of the blue. And that too, in a state where he hadn’t even been properly treated.

“Why is the Paladin here?”

“I told you. He’s my uncle. Since he’s a Prince, isn’t it natural for him to be in the Imperial Castle?”

Besides, what was this talk about an uncle? Jeremia felt dizzy from the influx of information.

“Sir Gabriel is a Prince?”

“Yes. I was surprised at first, too. You must have heard the story of the youngest Prince who died unfortunately. My goodness, but Uncle was alive!”

Tenebrei laughed, mocking Gabriel without hiding her hostility, then suddenly stopped laughing and looked into the cell with murderous eyes.

“As you can see, he’s in a state like a fool who can’t even move properly because he’s tied up right now!”

“…Did Bishop Marik bring him?”

“He didn’t come himself. Since he’s a Prince, Sir Muzeta brought him personally. When was it…. Was it the day I heard the Rohanson mansion burned down?”

If Tenebrei’s words were true, Gabriel must have been kidnapped and imprisoned that very day. Jeremia gritted her teeth. It became clear that Bishop Marik was suspicious of and wary of Jeremia.

“Maybe the Bishop is planning to take out my uncle and use him if he decides I’ve gone completely mad and can’t be used as a pawn? Ah. If I kill him now, the Bishop won’t abandon me….”

The words that came out of the mouth of the devil who had already killed her biological father and sister didn’t sound like lies. It was truly fortunate that the iron bars were blocking the two.

Tenebrei didn’t notice Jeremia’s agitation and innocently brought her hand to her lips.

“Sir Astaroth. It’s a secret that I wanted to kill my uncle. It’s also a secret that I came to find Sir Gabriel. You know? You must never tell the Bishop. If, if you get caught…. I will be abandoned by the Bishop. Then I will return to a miserable state again….”

Tenebrei rambled on.

For Jeremia, it was something to welcome. It wouldn’t be good for Bishop Marik’s ears to know that she knew Gabriel’s whereabouts and the secrets involved. Bishop Marik had hidden Gabriel’s whereabouts from Jeremia. However, she didn’t know why Tenebrei, Bishop Marik’s subordinate, was telling her such secrets.

“What will you do if I report this to Bishop Marik?”

When Jeremia asked, Tenebrei smiled and answered.

“Report it? That won’t happen. You looked at me with pity, didn’t you?”

“…Me?”

“Did I mistake it? But, you treated my wounded hand…. If you didn’t feel sorry for me, why did you reach out instead of just watching my wounds?”

Jeremia couldn’t answer. As the reason she had stopped Tenebrei from self-harming, even while hating her, was spilled from the person herself, the feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge approached her transparently.

“So, I’m asking you. Sir Astaroth, you’re the Bishop’s escort, right? You know well that I’m in a position where I could be abandoned by the Bishop if I make a mistake, right…? So help me so the Bishop doesn’t abandon me. If the Bishop asks, you must tell him that I didn’t go mad. That I was perfectly fine.”

Jeremia was horrified that she had looked at Tenebrei with pity, but she had no choice but to nod. Perhaps among the many nonsensical things Tenebrei had spouted today, the fact that she had been whipped in the basement might be the truth, a thought that stuck stickily in her head.

“I will not tell Bishop Marik.”

Jeremia promised Tenebrei. Since the person she would confess what she had witnessed to was not the Bishop but Evangeline, she hadn’t promised a lie.

‘Does Lady Rohanson know that Sir Gabriel is imprisoned in the Imperial Palace dungeon?’

She might have heard that Gabriel was hurt, but she wouldn’t have been able to find out his whereabouts. Much less would she know that Gabriel wasn’t even receiving proper treatment and was being treated like a death row inmate. Jeremia let out a deep sigh.