Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 66

Eirik listened quietly. The Grand Duke exhaled another plume of purple smoke.

“You probably don’t understand. When you reach my age, you realize all humans are essentially the same,” the Grand Duke said.

“A moment ago, you spoke as if I were exceptional. Now, I’m just like anyone else?” Eirik questioned.

“After dealing with enough moths, even someone like you will grow disillusioned with humanity. No father, no friends, no one around,” the Grand Duke noted.

Eirik offered a wry smile.

“The last time I saw the Margrave was fifteen years ago. Has anything significant happened since then?”

“As a son, it’s delicate to speak of my father’s affairs. But neither do I wish to fabricate lies while making a request of Your Highness,” Eirik said.

“Why complicate things? Did he father four or five bastards?” the Grand Duke asked.

“Fortunately, I have no siblings,” Eirik replied.

“Killed them all?” the Grand Duke cackled, tilting his head back. “Everyone dies. People…”

Eirik didn’t interrupt the Grand Duke’s rambling. Understanding his intentions today was crucial, and a second chance might not come. So he waited patiently for the conversation to circle back.

“I like gardens,” the Grand Duke said.

Realizing it might be a while before they had a coherent discussion, Eirik reached for his water.

“Because no one’s ever died there,” the Grand Duke continued.

Eirik’s hand froze mid-air. Memories of his wife, who loved the garden, surfaced.

“I didn’t give you ten minutes out of spite. Do you think I wanted this?” the Grand Duke said, shaking his head slowly and mumbling.

“I can’t sit still anymore. Horrible memories keep resurfacing, no matter who I’m with or what I’m doing,” the Grand Duke said.

“……”

“Imagine I became king. What would I do? Rule?” the Grand Duke mused.

Then suddenly, he burst into a fit of nervous laughter. “Me, who can’t hold a proper conversation for more than ten minutes? Ha ha ha!”

Eirik quietly steadied his breath. His instincts told him that he needed to hear what the Grand Duke had to say. He waited for the laughter to subside before speaking slowly.

“Pardon me, Your Highness, but may I ask what happened to you?”

“Do you know about the Kielar assassination plot? It happened five years ago,” the Grand Duke replied, surprisingly willing to talk. Eirik’s eyes widened at the unexpected revelation.

“No one knows I was involved. I returned home two years after it happened,” the Grand Duke continued.

Indeed, no one knew exactly what the Grand Duke had experienced. There were only rampant speculations.

“Cladnier was busy with skirmishes against Sidate, and Crispin, well, he was a fool. He thought he could just manipulate the Captain of the Guards and pull off the plan,” the Grand Duke explained.

When Tilberg’s name came up, Eirik straightened his posture.

“We planned five attempts. The fourth assassin got as far as the king’s chambers. But then, Tilberg hit us from behind,” the Grand Duke revealed.

“The Captain of the Guards did?” Eirik asked, surprised.

“That traitorous scoundrel, I still don’t know what he was thinking. I never asked him,” the Grand Duke admitted.

Eirik held his breath momentarily. The familiar words and the peculiar intonation matched exactly what he had heard from her.

“They say he pretended to cooperate to uncover our side. But I don’t believe that. He was quite enthusiastic at first,” the Grand Duke continued.

“……”

Eirik remained silent, piecing the story together.

“I think he saw that things weren’t going well and pulled out abruptly. Anyway, as a reward, he—who was it again?” the Grand Duke mused.

It was clear who the Grand Duke was referring to.

“Are you speaking of Miesa?” Eirik clarified.

“Ah, yes. Your wife, I heard,” the Grand Duke acknowledged.

A faint smile spread across the Grand Duke’s face.

“The Lady of the Cladnier family, huh? How is she doing?” the Grand Duke asked.

Eirik’s face stiffened slightly, causing the Grand Duke to burst into laughter.

“Good to hear. Seeing that face of yours, she must mean something to you. The Cladniers wouldn’t lock people in cages, right? Anyway,” the Grand Duke rambled.

“That would never happen,” Eirik asserted.

“She must have been quite useful, more so than a pet dog. Naturally, the king rejected Tilberg’s request outright,” the Grand Duke explained.

The Grand Duke, having finished his cigarette, opened the box on the table and pulled out another. He lit it with the remnants of the previous one and continued speaking.

“Do you know how many ways there are for a person to die?” the Grand Duke asked.

“……”

“No, this time it’s a real question. Do you know?” the Grand Duke pressed.

Eirik watched the Grand Duke’s unsteady hand as it struggled to light the cigarette, then offered a measured response.

“Well, I’ve seen many fall meaninglessly on the battlefield,” Eirik replied.

“187.”

Grand Duke Hagail finally managed to light his cigarette, inhaling deeply before exhaling with his words. “If I’d had more people around me, Vermel could have experimented with even more methods.”

Eirik could hardly believe his ears.

“Those who followed and depended on me lost their lives in various ways. And I had to watch it all. Explosions, dismemberment, mutilation… that’s not all. Fire, water, impalement…” Grand Duke Hagail shook his head rapidly, as if trying to shake off the memories.

“Vermel treated me like a toy, mentally torturing me. Now, whenever I lift my head and open my eyes, I see the things that killed my people,” the Grand Duke continued.

Eirik felt a surge of anger rise within him.

“Vermel is no human,” he muttered.

“The central palace always reeked of blood. The screams of the dying never ceased. And there was always that girl,” the Grand Duke said.

Eirik felt his mind reel. “What… what are you talking about?” he asked.

“Your wife. She was fifteen at the time,” the Grand Duke replied. His hand shook so violently that he dropped his cigarette, but neither of them paid it any mind.

“She laughed, a cruel laugh, as she watched a woman carrying my child die.”

“……”

“Outwardly, she was just a mistress because I had to keep her from the king’s eyes, but if my rebellion had succeeded, she would have been queen. She was my first love from childhood,” the Grand Duke continued.

Eirik’s focus was entirely on what the Grand Duke was saying about Miesa.

“The number 172, which the courtier shouted with glee when my woman was dying, and your wife’s snarling, animal-like laugh, were all cursed.”

Eirik clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. The Grand Duke noticed and smirked.

“Later, when I heard about the king’s favorite method, I forgave Miesa. No, not forgave. She went through worse than I did.”

“Worse? What do you mean?” Eirik asked.

“The king’s favorite method was to release birds of prey to tear people apart,” the Grand Duke explained, speaking quickly as if driven by unseen nightmares.

“He lamented losing a bird that had tasted human flesh, saying it became useless,” the Grand Duke continued.

“What does this have to do with Miesa?” Eirik demanded, veins bulging on his forehead.

“That method was first used on the people of Celia Palace. Didn’t you know? Even now, that girl would have a fit if she saw a bird,” the Grand Duke said, laughing bitterly before hitting his head with his hands.

“They say she’s been there ever since, sitting in the same spot where she watch her mother and the maids of the Celia Palace die,” the Grand Duke added.

“Your Highness, wait—”

“Take good care of her. Make sure she’s fed.”

Grand Duke Hagail, speaking hastily, then slammed his head onto the table. He did this repeatedly, over and over.

“A child who ate animal feed. So pitiful—”

Struggling desperately to maintain his sanity, the Grand Duke eventually lost consciousness.