You Said You Wanted Us to Break Up - Chapter 102

“Your Majesty, Duke Rowen has arrived.”

When the Chief Chamberlain announced this, Beatrice was looking up at the ceiling mural of the audience chamber.

The mural, painstakingly painted by the most skilled artist of the era, depicted the origin of the ancient magic protecting the entire chamber. Its name was as magnificent as the work itself: The Fairy’s Blessing.

True to its name, the ceiling of the audience chamber was filled with blessings, protecting those of the Litherin bloodline standing beneath it from all forms of death.

Under that very ceiling, Beatrice had dragged her father down and killed him. It hadn’t been difficult. Luring a beast required nothing more than the proper bait.

‘Sister! Sister! Save me!’

After momentarily picturing the final moments of the brother whose throat she had cut with her own hands, Beatrice called out toward the exterior.

“Let him in!”

Not long after, the sound of silver-wrapped ebony striking the floor at regular intervals could be heard. It was the sound of Iswen Rowen approaching.

Beatrice lowered her head. Her pale blue gaze moved from the ceiling mural to the man standing below the dais.

“It has been a long time, Duke.”

“Have you been well, Your Majesty?”

Despite suffering a physical disability—which was considered the greatest flaw in Southern high society—Iswen Rowen remained as upright as ever.

Beatrice looked at the man’s handsome face, now clouded with a cold sense of antipathy.

She had expected this since the moment she summoned him to the palace, but it seemed the new Duke of the South intended to harbor a grudge over the fact that his youngest sister had drunk the Emperor’s tea.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes as she scanned the man’s expression and spoke.

“Do not look at me with such a face. How was I to know the lady would be so utterly ignorant?”

She had believed that Iella Rowen would at least know the significance of the tea offered by the Emperor.

Iswen’s furrowed brow showed no sign of relaxing. Beatrice leaned back against her throne.

“The Rowen family was always far too interested in the affairs of the Imperial House. Considering the past, surely even you must understand why I doubted the lady?”

Capren Rowen had interfered excessively in the internal affairs of the Imperial family. The late emperor’s final years were essentially spent repeating words fed to him by that man and believing thoughts whispered into his ear.

Iella Rowen was that man’s daughter. Naturally, she had to undergo a process of verification. In the past, Iswen and Demian had already passed their respective tests in their own ways.

Therefore, the emperor’s tea was a trial she ought to have been able to handle, yet the man’s golden gaze remained cold.

Iswen, staring fixedly at the reigning emperor, finally spoke.

“As Your Majesty says, the previous generation of Rowens haunted the Imperial Palace, but the generations have changed now.”

“……”

“Since the generations have changed, many things have transformed. As Your Majesty is also one who has ushered in a new era, I trust you understand that the surrounding environment must provide support to maintain that change.”

In other words, he was saying that if she did not provide the appropriate environment, he would change his stance.

It was a bold statement to make in an imperial palace where the scent of blood spilled during her ascension had not yet faded. He was suggesting that if something similar happened again, he could withdraw his support for the Imperial House at any time.

Beatrice tilted her chin up slightly.

“You are truly arrogant.”

“……”

“I do not mean that in a bad way. I happen to like the sort of people who keep their necks stiff and heads high even while walking through a gutter.”

Am I not one of them as well? The woman added inwardly before letting out a bright laugh.

“Self-love is the foundation of patriotism. If a person cannot love themselves, they are bound to be incapable of loving anything at all.”

Her pale blue gaze slowly swept down him, coming to a halt at one specific spot.

“That is why I find you fascinating every time I see you.”

Beatrice stared pointedly at his hand, which was covered by a silk glove.

“How can you love another so much when you have dragged yourself down to such a wretched bottom?”

Southern high society worshiped physical beauty and believed that a flawless body was the very mark of nobility.

By those standards, the Iswen Rowen from before his leg was disabled could truly have been called the most quintessential aristocrat.

But look at him now.

While others believed the young Duke of the South had suffered an unfortunate accident, Beatrice knew that he had foreseen his own disability. On the day of the rebellion, as the man walked limping out of the flames, his face had shown no trace of confusion or despair.

And there were only two things that the man standing below the dais would protect, even knowing his own honor would be tarnished: his kin.

Beatrice tilted her head to the side.

“Is love truly such a wondrously losing game?”

The man did not answer. Since it was not a question she had asked expecting a response in the first place, Beatrice did not mind.

Deciding to end the bit of wordplay, she straightened her posture.

“You said that the environment must provide support to maintain change. However, I still cannot fully trust the Rowens.”

To be precise, she constantly doubted the death of Capren Rowen.

When Iswen Rowen threw aside his sword and strangled his father, Beatrice had watched Capren struggle. Iswen might not have known, but the sword sprawled on the floor was well within reach of the twitching fingertips of the dying man.

Yet, when Iswen Rowen walked away from his father’s corpse afterward, there wasn’t a single stab wound on his body.

Since there was no way Capren Rowen would have simply allowed his son to kill him, he must have been up to something.

“I am not doubting your loyalty. But was your father not a truly cunning man?”

“……”

“So, prove to me that this ‘change’ is absolute. I mean for you to bring me evidence that your father is undeniably dead.”

She looked down at the man below the dais and smiled faintly.

“If you do that, I shall not touch the new Count of Resebel again.”

The young Duke Rowen soon departed the audience chamber. Just as when he had entered, the sound of metal clashing against the marble floor echoed behind him.

In the space Duke Rowen had vacated, another man quickly walked in.

“Your Majesty.”

Beatrice, who had been staring at the spot where Iswen Rowen had stood, turned her head.

“Ah, Chancellor.”

A man, somewhat young and delicately handsome for one holding the position of the nation’s Chancellor, approached her.

“Elema.”

At the mention of his name, the man moved toward the throne and sat at the emperor’s feet. Looking up at the sun of all people in a posture more befitting a favored concubine than a court minister, Elema spoke.

“The new Rowen is an arrogant man.”

Beatrice stroked the head of the man leaning against her knees as she replayed the previous conversation in her mind.

The demand to bring evidence that Capren Rowen was dead was pure stubbornness. She had demanded the impossible, knowing full well what she was doing.

Now that he had received the order, Iswen would surely kill Capren if he had survived; and if he hadn’t, he would investigate until he found confirmation of his death.

It didn’t matter even if no confirmation was found at the end of the investigation. What mattered was the process of constant verification.

Naturally, Iswen had not agreed to her words immediately.

“The body was burned.”

“I am aware of that fact as well.”

The Imperial villa where the final battle took place had suffered a massive fire.

“But even if burned, do the bones not remain?”

“……”

“If you must, bring me the skull. I am a generous woman, so I count it as a corpse even if no flesh remains on it.”

“……”

“Of course, you yourself must be able to prove that the skull belongs to Capren Rowen.”

Despite knowing that she was demanding the impossible, Iswen Rowen did not waver until the very end. He did not beg her to rescind the order.

His posture remained upright, to a degree that could be called arrogant.

Finishing her recollection, Beatrice nodded readily.

“You are right.”

“……”

“But it is better to leave that man as he is.”

“May I ask the reason?”

“He spent his entire life holding his breath, waiting for the chance to kill his father. You and I both know that is no easy feat, do we not?”

In fact, she had faced numerous risks of failure before finally ascending the throne. Iswen Rowen must have endured a similar experience.

Now, they had both achieved their respective goals. And that success was proof of exactly how much they were willing to endure for the sake of what they desired.

Beatrice spoke.

“If I clumsily provoke a dog that has already bitten through its master’s throat, my own throat will be next.”

The young Chancellor, still sitting at her feet, replied.

“He is a dangerous element.”

“No.”

Beatrice shook her head.

“One whose desires are certain is not dangerous.”

When a person’s wishes are clear, the method of handling them is also clear. Controlling a person’s leash begins with taking those wishes hostage and manipulating them.

“In that sense, Iswen Rowen can be considered the safest man in the capital.”

“Because his desires are crystal clear.”

Beatrice added in a low voice, her lips curling into a smile once more. Of course, having clear aspirations did not necessarily mean they would be easy to achieve.

***

Demian, having entered Iswen’s office, widened his eyes when he saw me slowly standing up from beside the desk.

“Iella?”

His single remaining golden eye wavered slightly. Watching the man stride toward me, only one thought crossed my mind: I’m doomed.

Stretching out his long legs, Demian quickly reached the back of the desk where I was standing and spoke.

“What are you doing here?”

“……”

“Where is Brother?”

When I didn’t answer, Demian glanced around the room. Eventually, his partial gaze landed on the drawer that wasn’t quite shut.

He lowered his voice slightly and asked.

“Did you go through Brother’s desk?”