Chapter 229

               

Nellusion bared his teeth in a grin.

“She really doesn’t spare her own body.”

His impression of Megara was simple.

A woman who could only feel satisfied when she was above others. She knew how to manipulate those around her to achieve that, but in the end, her greed always made her lose even the small prize she had originally held.

She was one of the closest people to Abelus now, and since she had nowhere else to attach herself, Nellusion thought she was perfect to use. He extended a hand for that reason alone—but he hadn’t expected her to go this far.

She actually ate poison? She couldn’t have just pretended?

It was fortunate. A blade works best when it is sharp enough to cut anything. For a while, Megara would be able to stir the court considerably.

“Your Excellency.”

Nellusion snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his subordinate’s voice.

“Come in.”

The subordinate entered, bowed, and handed him a newspaper.

“What is this?”

“There’s a serialized novel in this issue that has become quite the sensation these past few days. I intended to summarize it later because I thought it was just trivial fiction, but once I heard the content, I realized it’s something Your Excellency should be aware of.”

“A novel?”

The literacy rate in the Bistor Empire was low, but wealthy cities like the capital still published various newspapers—some resorting to absurd, sensational material just to outpace their rivals.

Nellusion had never been interested in novels. To him, serialized fiction used to sell copies was low-class drivel. So why would he need to know about something like this?

He flipped to the serialized section.

‘Crown Prince in the Dark’—clearly mocking Princess Camille.
‘Should the Next Crown Princess Greet the Mistress First?’—openly mocking Megara.

And then his eyes froze on a page filled with dense text, broken only by a cheap illustration.

The title: “Betrayal.”
A dozen or so episodes had already been published. The setting was the Age of the Evil Dragon, with monsters appearing from the opening paragraphs. And the protagonist was—

A girl with violet Jeweled Eyes.

Nellusion’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the text swiftly.

After finishing, he spoke.

“Investigate the author and the entire newspaper. In detail. They wouldn’t dare choose this subject matter without someone behind them.”

“Yes, Your Excellency. If there is any content that could insult the Imperial Family or the Elandria family, I will report it immediately.”

The subordinate assumed the issue was family honor being tarnished by sensational fiction. But Nellusion wasn’t shocked the way his subordinate expected. If anything—

He was intrigued.

Nerys.

Did you know the family’s secret?
Did you know—how?

The fact that he could sense her presence—this woman he could only meet by traveling over a week by carriage—here, in a newspaper…

Did you arrange something?

Not just the writer—perhaps even the newspaper owner. Nerys’s influence could be reaching far. She wouldn’t act from such a distance without multiple intermediaries.

What she had buried was a spark. One that could drive the Imperial Family mad with just a little push.

Not yet.

He couldn’t respond rashly. He had to investigate thoroughly.

Nellusion sank deep into thought.

❖ ❖ ❖

“The writers are doing a good job, aren’t they?”

The stars glittered in the night sky.

Cledwyn asked while watching Nerys read a letter with admiration in her eyes. She was beautiful with her hair pinned neatly, but he liked her most like this—wearing soft white loungewear, hair loose around her shoulders.

Especially here, in the bedroom decorated entirely for her, sitting in the chair prepared specifically for her.

A chair is a qualification.
The qualification to have one’s name etched into great achievements accomplished by the smartest woman in the world.

Like the throne prepared for an Emperor.

Cledwyn wanted her to have exactly that—not despite her past, but because of it.

Fools.

She was perfect even without Jeweled Eyes. To overlook her worth, to waste her brilliance for something as petty as ambition…

Nerys answered without lifting her eyes.

“Yes. Newspaper readership is high these days. But it’s doing better than I expected.”

In her previous life, there had been brilliant writers who went unnoticed for years simply because they had no platform—until they became famous through newspaper serials.

Remembering them, Nerys had summoned several. And commissioned them.

To write as a novel the stories she had reconstructed from the ruin’s illusions.

They worked in a writing room at White Swan Castle. Cledwyn’s men carried the manuscripts to the capital, delivered them to the Moriér Trading Company, and Joan had them printed under the title “Betrayal” in a newspaper she quietly supported.

So far, it was a success. People loved stories about Jeweled Eyes. And after all, hadn’t a girl with nowhere to go—Nerys Truydd—suddenly married a powerful duke and become Grand Duchess?

A protagonist with violet Jeweled Eyes guaranteed popularity. And the Age of the Evil Dragon was still the most beloved setting.

But Nerys didn’t want the truth of the past to remain simply as “interesting fiction.”

To reveal the truth one day, she needed testimony.

A witness whose words people would trust.

Cledwyn peered down at the letter she was reading.

[Dear Nerys.]

…Even the greeting made the sender obvious. He understood what she was about to say.

“Did the Pope find something?”

“He sent me a harvest.”

Nerys scoffed.

“To summarize: the first Pope served as a chaplain in Bistor’s army. There were other chaplains, but this one was special—because he was the first and loudest to proclaim Bistor as a warrior chosen by God.”

“So that’s how Bistor was made into a warrior?”

“It seems he did some impressive deeds too. Regardless, this man followed Bistor and kept daily war records. And according to those records—yes, the illusions we saw in the Evil Dragon’s Lair were all true. There’s no room for misinterpretation.”

The first Pope’s notes, copied and sent by Renus, were frighteningly detailed—so detailed that many of the achievements attributed to Bistor had clearly been stolen from the other two warriors.

“Bistor had giant blood, but claimed he was human. That worked out. But the other two warriors were too obviously different. Pheros was famously of High Elf descent. And Elandria… had purple eyes.”

“Why is that significant?”

“They say only descendants of demons can have purple eyes. And while elves were admired, demons were objects of hatred. So Elandria was despised from childhood. Still, she stubbornly saved people—and maybe that’s why she could befriend the dragon. Unbound by race.”

A traitor who killed his comrades and took their glory.

Nerys no longer felt anger over something six centuries old.

She simply felt satisfaction.

Because she finally had a weapon.

“It’s good that the story is popular. The more effective the tool, the better. If people internalize this story, then when it’s revealed as the truth, they’ll know instinctively who to condemn and who to mourn.”

For people who crave moral clarity, a cause becomes true power.

Just like the causes attached to all the violence she endured—from classmates, from the Elandria family, from the Imperial Family.

And in diplomacy?

Originally, no country would hesitate to help the Imperial Family crush Maindulante.

The Imperial Family had ties everywhere. They used the legitimacy of the three warriors to stir patriotic fervor and mobilize soldiers. Maindulante, whose culture was barely known even within its own country, could never compare.

But that didn’t mean foreign rulers were happy to help them.

Which king would willingly sacrifice his people and treasury for another empire’s ambitions?

If the people themselves provided their monarchs with excuses not to support the Bistor Imperial Family, that would be Maindulante’s greatest advantage.

Nerys leaned her head against her husband as he combed his fingers through her hair.

She murmured,

“You know, according to Ren-sunbae’s findings… Elandria is a given name, not a surname. Same with the other two warriors.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. But very few people had surnames back then, right?”

“That’s true. But interestingly, these three did.”

She smiled faintly.

Pheros, a noble High Elf descendant, used his lineage as his surname.
Elandria, wandering alone, created a surname to share with another girl in the same situation.

Bistor pretended the warriors’ names were surnames and passed them down. Why? The truth was lost, but Nerys suspected it was because “Elandria” was clearly a woman’s name—unsuitable for a male Duke.

Bistor also had a surname: Terwin—a word meaning wildcat in a lost tongue.

“Pheros’s surname was Maindulus. Perhaps the woman he showed in the illusion—or her descendants—escaped here. Since Bistor went south to enjoy luxury, they came north instead.”

“And instead of using the surname fully, only ‘Main’ remained. Over time, the region became known as the land of Main—Maindulante.”

“That’s my guess. And Elandria’s surname was Gonestrude.”

A grand name.
Maybe the girl who inherited Ja’an after Elandria’s death became Nerys’s ancestor.
Over generations, the surname would have naturally changed.

“I always wondered why I inherited Ja’an when my mother wasn’t a descendant of the real Elandria. After seeing the illusion, and now this… it makes sense.”

And now she understood who the sleeping dragon had truly been calling for.
Who he had truly longed for.

Nerys wrapped her arms tightly around her husband.

She was relieved—grateful—that nothing she had came from the Elandria family.

“My beloved wife.”

Cledwyn stroked her hair and whispered. Nerys smiled and answered softly,

“My beloved husband. What is it?”

“There’s no doubt everything you do is remarkable, but… I’m a little lonely right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re talking about things another man told you, even while I’m right here. I’m always thinking of you.”

Nerys’s cheeks warmed. His gaze traced her golden lashes and flushed cheeks—slow, deliberate, teasing.

“So you’re saying I don’t think of you enough?”

“As you’ve just demonstrated.”

“Come here.”

Nerys released her hold around him and lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck as he instinctively leaned down.

“If we go to bed together, we’ll see whether I think of you enough.” (T/N : NERYSSSSSSS?!!?! IS THAT YOU?!? )

Mustering her courage, she gave him a shy, seductive smile. Cledwyn brushed her lips with a breath that trembled between a sigh and a groan.

There was no teasing left in his voice.

“How exactly will you show me?”

Nerys couldn’t speak. His gray eyes held only her.

A predator’s gaze—dangerous, consuming.

It felt as though he held her by the throat—but instead of fear, there was only desire.

She wanted to burn. Until not even a handful of ash remained.

Seeing herself reflected as something irresistible in her husband’s eyes, Nerys smiled—deeply pleased.

“It’s too much to say out loud.”

Cledwyn lifted her effortlessly.

Following his wife’s invitation, the man soon received his answer—and was thoroughly satisfied.