Chapter 136

Chapter 136: The Owner of the Golden Goose (5)

“…Listen.”

More than anyone, I knew the Second Consort had commissioned the organization to carry out assassinations.

I shook my head firmly.

“I want other information, excluding anything related to the organization.”

“Hmmm, in that case.”

Somnia narrowed her brows and licked her lips.

“There’s one piece of information that’d be a shame to give away for free.”

She hesitated for a moment, then, as if deciding to be generous, slapped her palm with her fan.

“Fine. I’ll take a bit of a loss to commemorate the return of the Reaper I thought was dead.”

Somnia stretched her mouth into a long smile.

“Do you know that the Second Consort’s original marriage partner wasn’t the Emperor?”

Damn. I’m not a fan of that kind of mess.

I frowned as I looked at Somnia.

“Once, there was a rumor that the Marquis of Radcliffe’s daughter had a man she truly loved.”

Rumors are sometimes more accurate than the truth.

Somnia bared her teeth with a grin like a mischievous clown.

“Aren’t you curious what the most foolish mistake a pair of young lovers with a fate that can’t be fulfilled could make?”

***

‘Could it really be true?’

On my way out of the Golden Goose’s base.

I swung up onto my horse with a fairly heavy bag slung over my shoulder.

Inside the bag were assorted magical tools and gold coins.

Since we were joining hands anyway, they were bribes I’d squeezed out of Somnia in advance. No, bribes I was going to receive.

Splash, splash.

Rain was falling on the streets.

I urged the horse forward slowly.

The hood I’d pulled down low gradually soaked through.

“About twenty years ago, the reason Cavelius III, who had nothing, could ascend to the throne was, in truth, thanks to the Marquis of Radcliffe.”

Somnia’s words echoed in my ears.

“People say the Emperor, who has neither blood nor tears, slaughtered his brothers and sisters on his own and took the throne. But what are the odds the youngest prince could ascend without anyone’s help?”

It was a kind of transaction.

Cavelius III agreeing to accept an Empress from House Radcliffe.

“Second Consort Helena was originally destined to become Empress. But she got swept up in a strange scandal at just the wrong time, so she had no choice but to become the Second Consort.”

They said the marquis’s daughter, who wasn’t even married, was blinded by love and brought an unrelated man into her bedchamber, or that she lost her chastity before even holding the wedding with the Emperor.

With all kinds of gossip swirling, even the Marquis of Radcliffe couldn’t push his way through.

In the end, Helena Radcliffe became not the Empress, but the Second Consort.

‘And the Second Consort gave birth to the Second Prince, Lloyd, in less than a year after marrying the Emperor.’

The birth of a prince was something you should celebrate.

But it was said Cavelius III’s reaction at the time was lukewarm.

“The Emperor suspected it too. Whether Prince Lloyd was truly his blood.”

If not, why would the Emperor go so far as to send a written request to the Holy Kingdom, asking them to prove that he and Lloyd were father and son?

But after judgment by holy power, Lloyd was indeed the Emperor’s child.

It was something proclaimed in the Holy Emperor’s name.

“After that, there were no more whispers about Lloyd’s lineage. Even the Emperor, though cold to the Second Consort, started treating the Second Prince quite warmly.”

People were weaker toward their children than their spouses.

Affection for someone with your blood mixed in was always different.

“But Kyla, no, Rachel.”

Somnia said lazily, fanning herself.

“Can you trust the Holy Emperor’s certification absolutely?”

No. Absolutely not.

I knew the current Holy Emperor well.

Timing-wise, the Holy Emperor who verified that Lloyd was the Emperor’s biological son was that bastard I know very well. The old man who’s still sitting in the Holy Emperor’s seat even now, doing nothing but eating and living off it.

‘The Holy Kingdom, House Radcliffe.’

Those mercenary bastards I saw at the Grand Temple definitely said they were taking commissions from both the Holy Kingdom and House Radcliffe at the same time.

‘Yeah, it really does seem like the two are connected.’

Then since when were they connected?

For what reason did they get tangled up together?

I still couldn’t grasp it.

“Hey, Rachel. You said you’re going to make the Third Prince the Emperor, right?”

I pictured Somnia’s smiling face.

She pointed at me with the tips of her brilliantly decorated nails.

“Then you’ll have to show the Emperor clearly. That the Third Prince has the backbone to smash House Radcliffe to pieces.”

It was more than convincing.

In the first place, the reason the Emperor wants to seat the First Prince on the throne is because House Crowner stands firmly behind him as support.

‘Because House Crowner is the only great noble family at present that can stand against House Radcliffe.’

By that logic, it was true Edwin had nothing.

No matter how many talented people I brought him, the power to support them ultimately comes from the recognition of those born noble.

‘But he’s only just now been acknowledged by the Emperor as a prince.’

There was far too little time for him to win the favor of other nobles as well.

‘Well, we can handle that little by little.’

I stopped my horse for a moment.

Because I remembered what Somnia said last.

“And this is just something I think I should tell you.”

What came next was downright shocking.

“The Breath of the Angel is gone.”

“…What?”

“Literally. The organization was wiped out.”

It didn’t make sense to me.

Didn’t I run into someone in the imperial hunting grounds not long ago who called himself the Breath of the Angel?

‘That back-alley information broker old man did say it was impossible to track them.’

I never would’ve dreamed it was because the Breath of the Angel as an organization had disappeared.

“Maybe about three months after you died? It vanished all of a sudden, without a trace.”

She said that around then, the number of assassins sneaking into the Golden Goose also dropped noticeably.

At the same time, Ian’s trail vanished as well.

“Is he… dead?”

I asked just in case, though there was no way Ian would be dead.

But Somnia only gave a vague answer.

“I don’t know. He disappeared like he doesn’t exist in this world.”

Disappeared. Why?

When he killed me like that, I thought he did it to accomplish something grand.

‘What on earth did you want, Ian?’

I still haven’t even realized why you killed me.

And now I have to figure out why you suddenly vanished too.

‘Back then and now, the thing that makes me happiest, and the thing that hurts me most….’

I looked up at the sky and let out a bitter laugh.

‘It’s all you.’

As if to wash away my unsettled feelings, the rain grew heavier.

I took a breath and tugged on the reins.

It seemed I should leave quickly before the weather got any worse.

Because the distance from here to the Prince’s Palace was considerable.

***

Creeeak, jingle.

With the sound of old hinges, a clear bell rang.

Leaving the noisy thunder behind, I stepped into the inn.

‘So it comes to this.’

I planned to go straight to the Prince’s Palace, but the weather was bad.

If it were only rain, fine, but the wind was blowing hard too, and the road was dangerous.

At times like this, it seemed better to spend a night at an inn instead.

“Heh, you should’ve seen that bitch’s face.”

“I’m telling you, back in the day, how many Great Wolves I took down on my own….”

Maybe because it was a shabby inn between villages. Or maybe because the weather was especially bad today. The inn was packed with guys with rough manners and vicious-looking faces.

‘This isn’t a place worth staying long. I should leave as soon as the rain lets up.’

The moment I came in, I took small sips of the warmed liquor I’d ordered.

Thanks to the hood pulled low, no one seemed to realize I was a woman.

That worked in my favor.

Creeeak, jingle.

Maybe there were a lot of people in the same predicament as me, because the customers never let up.

Just then, the door opened and three men in pitch-black hoods appeared.

The inn, which had been loud enough to burst your eardrums only a moment ago, quieted down a little.

It even seemed like everyone was watching the newcomers’ faces.

“What should we order?”

“Something strong. We’ve got a long road ahead.”

They ordered alcohol, then gathered at an empty table in a corner.

After ordering, they carried on their conversation without using their voices.

‘Wait, those guys….’

Why did I only notice now?

From their attire and their presence, they were well-trained assassins.

I softened my presence even more and stole glances at their mouths.

‘This won’t do.’

One of the men moved his lips.

‘The guardian is the type who can pull some pretty clever tricks. If we don’t find the prophet like this, it’s our side that gets cornered.’

Guardian? Prophet?

More troublesome words.

I stared hard, thinking about what those unfamiliar terms could mean.

Then a word I shouldn’t be reading slipped from another man’s lips.

‘We have to find the prophet before anyone else.’

The man’s lips moved with a grave expression.

‘The angel is furious, so we should hurry and breathe the breath into them.’

I forgot even how to breathe as I gripped my cup.

According to the myths described in the Holy Kingdom of Rion’s scriptures, if an angel breathes its breath into someone fated to die, the soul leaves, and the dead can finally receive eternal rest.

In other words, on this continent, there was a belief that angels were the beings who brought death to humans.

‘The Breath of the Angel.’

Someone once said it was far too lyrical for the name of an assassin group.

But it was just one of those plain names borrowed from stories.

And the members of the Breath of the Angel often called their leader, the captain, ‘Angel,’ in other words, ‘the angel.’ When I was alive, I, too, was often called by that alias, “Angel.”

‘Is it just a coincidence?’

My hands, wrapped around the cup, trembled in tiny shakes.

‘What the hell is going on?’

I’d just heard Somnia say the Breath of the Angel was gone, and I was on my way back.

Yet those men were talking about the Breath of the Angel as if it were nothing.

The kind of talk only someone belonging to the Breath of the Angel could speak.