Chapter 49

The glass window framed a sky dotted with stars, and the expensive brocade curtains hinted that, even if cast adrift, life here was far from inconvenient.

However, there were no servants in sight. Perhaps because of that, the entire space was eerily silent.

Nerys asked incredulously.

“Why are you scrutinizing your savior’s room like that?”

“Wondering if this is heaven.”

“This is Ren’s room.”

“You could be lying.”

“You really don’t trust people, do you? Would this place be heaven with me here?”

Nerys countered so confidently that it left Cledwyn speechless.

In truth, he had been speechless for quite some time. His investigation had declared this one clean—that she had been raised normally.

Just what kind of upbringing did she have for her to fool the crown prince’s closest aide and claim the former pope’s brother’s bedroom as if it were her own?

“How did you know I was there?”

“I didn’t. I just wanted to mess with Abelus and Nellusion, but then I found you instead. What happened?”

She spoke the prince’s name so casually that it was difficult to even rebuke her. Not that Cledwyn had any intention of doing so.

With a sigh, he answered.

“I was betrayed by someone I trusted.”

The word betrayal left his lips with a spark of fury in his gray eyes.

No matter how skilled he was, he was still a boy in his mid-teens. He might have tried to grow accustomed to treachery, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Nerys frowned.

“Was it Marquis Tipian?”

Marquis Tipian.

At the mention of that name, Cledwyn’s gaze, which had momentarily drifted to the ceiling, snapped back to Nerys. A razor-sharp silence fell.

The marquis had no connection to Nerys. His children didn’t attend the academy, and he was too high-ranked for a mere chance encounter. Cledwyn’s voice turned ice-cold.

“How do you know that?”

“You were feverish and muttering nonsense—saying you’d kill Hudis Tipian.”

That was a lie.

Nerys had deduced the culprit while Cledwyn had been unconscious, piecing together past memories and scattered clues.

Marquis Tipian controlled the passage between Maindulante and the rest of the empire. A wealthy grand noble himself, he had only grown more untouchable after marrying his daughter to the former Grand Duke of Maindulante.

In the end, his daughter had died young, and his son-in-law had long since passed by historical standards. But what did that matter? His grandson was now the Grand Duke of Maindulante.

In her previous life, Nerys had frequently seen the marquis in the imperial capital, cozying up to the imperial family. She had been the one to draw him into the Elandria faction, making him an ally of the ducal house.

Now that she thought about it, the Grand Duke of Maindulante rarely left the north. So why had his grandfather, the marquis, continued to linger in the capital?

In her past life, Nerys had assumed he was simply currying favor with those in power, trying to pick up greater opportunities in the capital rather than standing stiffly beside his rigid grandson.

But upon reflection, something else came to mind.

– “If you had done your job properly, we wouldn’t have this headache now.”

– “Who could have known the brat would be so resilient? You, of all people, shouldn’t have anything to say about this.”

Nerys vividly remembered Tipian and Joseph exchanging those words, blaming each other.

At the time, she hadn’t known what they were talking about. But, suspecting that her family might one day need leverage against the marquis, she had stored that conversation away in her memory.

Could it be related to what had happened earlier?

‘The brat.’ ‘A trusted person.’ ‘Betrayal.’ ‘Joseph has no room to talk.’

If the imperial family had decided to eliminate Maindulante’s sole heir and claim his inheritance, it wouldn’t be surprising if Marquis Tipian had sold out his grandson in exchange for a share of the spoils.

And Nellusion had helped Abelus along the way, looking to take credit for the coup?

It was a theory based on circumstantial evidence, with a fair bit of conjecture. But judging by Cledwyn’s reaction, she wasn’t wrong.

In this life, Nerys had interfered. But in her past life, why had Joseph failed to kill Cledwyn?

Cledwyn, believing Nerys’ words, let out a sigh. For the first time, she thought he looked human—someone like her, someone capable of despair, sorrow, and resentment.

“…There was something we were supposed to do together. At least, I thought we were. I assumed he wanted the same thing as me, but I guess not.”

At that, Cledwyn coughed several times, his throat parched. Nerys handed him a prepared cup of water and spoke coolly.

Whatever it was he had been trying to do, it didn’t matter right now.

“You said you’d make my wish come true, so you need to stay alive. If you stupidly drop dead here, I’ll chase you into the afterlife to demand what happened to our deal, so stay sharp.”

“…Cold.”

Cledwyn frowned as he swallowed the water, the pain making his expression tighten. But his remark wasn’t about the temperature of the drink.

Nerys scoffed. She had thought he was a smart man, but the fact that he had let Marquis Tipian live into the future after all this? He was a fool after all.

“You know how much I’ve entrusted to you? Anyway, which dormitory are you in? Ren needs to sleep too, so find an opportunity to head back. Your wounds were deep—your clothes were soaked in blood. Ren cleaned you up, changed your clothes, and treated you, so be sure to repay that favor.”

“Nagging.”

Cledwyn grumbled, but he didn’t outright refuse. His eyes darkened as he assessed his lingering pain.

It was widely known that the new pope, Omnitus III, was constantly scheming against his predecessor’s young brother. People assumed it was simply due to his excessive paranoia.

“At Least Cardinal-Level”

It had been a fatal wound, inflicted by an ambush of skilled fighters. Any ordinary doctor would have given up on treating it. And yet, after Ren’s care, all Cledwyn felt was a dull ache—an irritating discomfort rather than the pain of a near-death injury.

To be at this level before even graduating from the Theology Department… Omnitus III’s paranoia wasn’t entirely unfounded.

But Ren Fayel’s unexpected potential wasn’t what puzzled Cledwyn the most in this situation.

Nerys, seemingly indifferent to his thoughts, raised an eyebrow at him. The look on her face practically screamed, Why are you still lying there? Yet Cledwyn didn’t budge.

“I came here for class. There’s a supplementary lesson for exam prep. The other first-years are attending, so the teacher got special permission.”

– “Don’t swallow it. It’s not harmful, but it tastes awful.”

Blatant yet unwavering lies. A sharp remark, disguised as a joke to ease his pain.

Cledwyn had some understanding of how Nerys saw herself. The anger and sorrow she had let slip, coupled with the findings from his initial investigation into her, had made that clear.

‘I hate the me they ruined.’

At the start of her time at the academy, Cledwyn had ordered an inspection of Nerys’ room, checking for any traces of contact with suspicious factions.

The report had been peculiar.

Her room was excessively sparse.

Regardless of wealth, most people decorated their spaces with at least a flower, a pretty stone—something.

But her room had not a single personal belonging. As if she wanted to leave no trace of her presence behind.

As if she were screaming that even if she vanished from this world, no one would care.

A silent protest against everyone around her.

A declaration: You hate me? Well, don’t worry. I know better than anyone that I’m worthless.

Cledwyn had handled many subordinates with unique circumstances. Through his conversations with Nerys, he had come to understand more about her mindset than most.

That’s why he caught glimpses of the clues hidden between the lines.

That’s why he noticed—though she couldn’t see a single good thing in herself, she was, in reality, a kind person.

When he had heard her voice from the underbrush, he had already resigned himself to the idea that she might betray him.

Why wouldn’t she?

She was clever. She could have just whispered two words—in the bushes.

It would have been a minor favor for Abelus and Nellusion. And that little girl was more than capable of devising a way to make them pay for it later.

If she had handed over Cledwyn Maindulante’s corpse in exchange for their trust, she could have used that to her advantage even further.

And yet…

She had plucked an unappetizing weed—one he now recognized as a common herbal stimulant used by mercenaries to stay awake through the night—and shoved it into his mouth.

And with her frail frame, she had dragged him all the way here, risking every potential danger along the way.

Cledwyn’s subordinates were blindly loyal to him. But even among them, their relationship was one of mutual benefit.

This was the first time someone had helped him without asking for anything in return.

In a world where even his grandfather had betrayed him…

Unable to think about it any further, Cledwyn forced himself to sit up. His graceful movement earned him a cold remark from Nerys.

“You seem fine. Next time, bring a subordinate with healing abilities.”

—

By the time Nerys returned to her dormitory, dawn was just about to break.

The first-floor hall of the old communal dormitory was cramped enough to make its title feel like an exaggeration. A single window leading to the administration office, a tiny storage room, and a narrow, steep staircase filled the space.

The administration office, usually staffed, was empty—probably because it was too early.

Good.

The clothes Nerys had worn when she left earlier that evening were now half-soaked in blood.

She was wearing the outer cloak Cledwyn had lent her—originally, Ren had provided a coat when she first arrived at his dorm, but once Cledwyn returned to his own dormitory, he had noticed even that was stained with blood and had given her another one.

Even so, she couldn’t be sure what might peek through the gaps. Avoiding any situation where she’d have to explain herself was ideal.

After a night spent supporting someone far larger than herself—twice, at that—her small feet were nearly numb.

“At least it’s over.”

When she first realized just how badly Cledwyn Maindulante had been wounded—so much so that he couldn’t even properly hide—she had steeled herself to dispose of a corpse.

It wasn’t as though she had never read books on herbalism or medicine, but her knowledge was purely academic. She lacked the expertise to treat a severely injured person.

Fortunately, if nothing else, she had memorized every herb with awakening effects in her past life.

After being adopted into the Elandria family, she had been forced to master the manners of a noble lady at an unnatural pace while simultaneously studying politics to make herself useful.

Back then, she had chewed those herbs to stay awake through sleepless nights.

And it had been sheer luck that Ren had agreed to help without hesitation.

Nerys had ways to make him listen to her, but none of them would have been easy.

Truthfully, Ren had always been oddly attached to her. She wasn’t sure since when.

Creak, creak.

The sound of someone descending the stairs.

Nerys inwardly groaned and carefully concealed herself in the shadows beside the staircase.

Who was up before dawn, moving around unnecessarily?

Most likely someone who had sworn to study through the night for exams but, in reality, had accomplished very little.

The steps were heavy yet quick, climbing down the stairs at a steady rhythm.

Creak. Creak.

The dormitory’s well-worn stairs groaned underfoot.

But the students living in this building knew how to minimize that sound.

This noise was too loud.

A strange feeling crept up Nerys’ spine.

Instinctively, she decided to get a look at the idiot who was moving around at this hour.