A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 260: Dance with Empress (3)

Epherene held onto Deculein’s back in the corridor of the old mansion, squeezing her eyes shut as she gripped his waist. Strange whispers came from the darkness—words she couldn’t understand, like murmured chants. Then, something cold brushed her neck—like a ghost’s fingers slipping by in the dark.

“Hhhhhhhhhh…!” Epherene murmured, her body trembling.

However, as he walked through the corridor, Deculein remained composed, with not a shadow of fear in his eyes.

Thud— Thud—

“Are w-we almost there, Professor? I f-feel like my heart’s g-going to explode,” Epherene asked, her voice shaking as she followed Deculein, frightened even by the sound of his footsteps.

Thud—

At that moment, Deculein stopped, and Epherene thought they had finally arrived, only for another voice to come from the corridor.

“Professor,” said Knight Yulie.

Epherene flinched and opened her eyes.

“The sun has slipped behind the clouds. Is everything well?”

“All is well. But what are you doing here?” Deculein inquired.

“I am on the night’s watch.”

Epherene saw Yulie standing there, a torch in her hand, but she couldn’t tell if it was really Yulie or a ghost wearing her face.

“I imagined that many might still be outside, unable to return to their rooms, with the sun setting so suddenly,” Yulie added.

“Have you seen the signatures on the registration form?” Deculein inquired, tilting his chin and gesturing behind him.

Yulie remained silent.

I’ll take that silence as a yes, Deculein thought.

“Your father’s name was among them. I understand now why Her Majesty spared Zeit the summons, as he would have brought the old mansion crashing down around him. It’s fortunate that it was you instead—so calm.”

“… Please, I ask that you speak no more of my family, or of my house,” Yulie replied, lowering her head.

“You take her,” Deculein said, placing Epherene’s wrist into Yulie’s hand.

“Umm, sorry?” Epherene muttered.

“Yes, Professor,” Yulie replied, accepting Epherene’s hand without another word.

“P-Professor, where are you going?” Epherene asked, blinking up at Deculein from within Yulie’s arms.

“There is a soul I need to find.”

“A soul?” Yulie asked, her expression unmoving.

“Indeed, the souls who died in the Imperial Palace—or whose grudges against it burn unquenched—remain here in this old mansion as ghosts. Souls who cannot accept their own deaths, who have words left for the living, who, though dead, cannot die,” Deculein replied, handing Yulie a book—the one given him by Sophien.

Then Deculein added, “Veron isn’t here, nor is Rockfell, as neither possessed the mental strength to remain—vermin, both of them.”

At that moment, Yulie clenched her teeth, and Epherene observed the tension between them.

“Please go,” Yulie said.

“I ask that you take care of my protégé,” Deculein said.

“I ask that you take care of my protégé.”

Those words struck Epherene straight to the heart, stealing the breath from her lungs for a moment.

“Yes, Professor,” Yulie replied, nodding.

“Oh—Professor, let me come with you—”

“This way,” Yulie said.

“Ohh…”

Yulie dragged Epherene along, and Deculein turned back the way he had come, his silhouette soon lost in the darkness.

“… Protégé,” Epherene muttered, her voice barely a whisper from within Yulie’s arms.

Epherene’s fear had faded, and for some reason, her cheeks felt hot, her heart pounding in her chest for reasons she couldn’t name.

***

I walked through the corridor until I found myself somewhere inside the old mansion, but where that was, I couldn’t say. However, following the instincts of the Iron Man, I walked step by step toward the place where the soul I sought awaited, continuing until I arrived—somewhere.

“… So this is where you’ve been,” I said.

Above me, the chandelier swayed overhead, and in the middle of a floor slick with blood, a woman sat alone at a tea table, sipping her tea—as if she had been waiting for me, leaving a seat open just for me.

“Your Majesty, the former Empress.”

The former Empress—known to the world as having been murdered by Rohakan—raised her eyes to meet mine, blood still welling from her throat, and the suffocating death seeped beneath me.

“Please, have a seat, Professor Deculein,” the former Empress replied, as if her invitation had been waiting in familiarity for a long time.

I nodded and walked toward her.

“It’s been a while, or have we never met before?”

Have we ever met before? I thought.

The former Empress’s greeting was strange and uncertain, but I offered no response and sat down.

“Did Sophien send you to find me?”

I remained silent.

“Or did she not?”

I looked at her in silence, and the former Empress let out a hushed laugh.

“… Sophien,” the former Empress muttered, her eyes dimmed as if the name stirred distant memories. “The monster I gave birth to.”

Crack—!

At that moment, the former Empress’s neck snapped at an impossible angle, her gaze locked onto mine, with blood welling beneath her bloodshot eyes, streaming down like weeping wounds.

“It was that monster who killed me, not Rohakan—but that child… she killed me, her own mother.”

I remained silent.

“She is a monster.”

I listened in silence as the former Empress called her own child a monster, showing no reaction, letting no emotion cross my face.

“Professor Deculein, why do you think I remain here, though I died so long ago? Because I resent the child and cannot forgive the one who killed me? Or because I loathe the child?” the former Empress asked, shaking her head with a bitter smile.

Then the former Empress added, “No, it’s because of Sophien. Sophien must die. That child is a calamity that will destroy this world. Here—she must never be allowed to leave.”

“… Is that so?”

“These are not lies. You, too, must believe my words.”

I looked at the former Empress in silence.

“Even long ago, when I was alive, every time I looked at that child, I felt something unnatural about her, as if perfection had been crafted into her being. Don’t you find it strange that she’s too perfect? Isn’t she?”

Sophien’s appearance seemed the work of a master’s chisel in perfect proportion, born of the imperial bloodline and gifted with a talent that could reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship, magic, governance, scholarship, the military, and the throne—an immaculate and complete human being.

“Could such perfection ever be called human?” the Empress asked, offering me the teacup.

Shhh—

The former Empress poured black tea with elegant grace, but what filled the cup was blood, its iron scent blooming in the air.

“No, never. How could such a child be called human?” the Empress said, answering herself, as if she carried their weight. “For if perfection itself existed in human form—flawless and complete…”

Bang—!

At that moment, the door I had entered slammed shut, and the blood in the teacup swelled upward.

“Then he would stand apart from humanity, and they would call him a God.”

God was a presence that the Altar had always searched for.

“Is that so?” I replied, a slight smile rising on my face.

“Do you believe me?” the former Empress asked, watching me closely.

“No, I do not disbelieve you, nor do I believe you. I regard it only as the statement of Your Majesty, the former Empress.”

To be called perfect—and yet, in my eyes, Sophien bore too many flaws, too many missing, too many broken, and because I saw them, I couldn’t believe what the former Empress had said, nor could I doubt her.

“Then you would still serve Sophien, though it means the end of all things?” the former Empress said, her voice breaking like glass, with tears of blood burning in her eyes. “I am on the side of humankind. If you do not believe me, then the world will not survive!”

“… I understand. At least now, I’ve learned one thing for certain,” I replied, shaking my head as I straightened my clothes and rose from my seat. “The soul Her Majesty seeks is not yours, Your Majesty, the former Empress.”

Fwooooooosh—!

With a thunderous crash, the window shattered, and blood flooded in, rushing like a wild tide that swallowed everything in its path.

“Then who is Sophien looking for? If it’s not the one she killed with her own hands—her own mother—then who? Who else could it be?” the former Empress asked, her voice trembling with rage.

“The soul that shared memories with Her Majesty,” I replied, my words brief.

***

In Yulie’s room, on a cold night when darkness pressed in like fear from the window, Epherene sat at the edge of the bed.

“Have some rest,” Yulie said, preparing once again to leave the room.

“Are you leaving again?” Epherene asked, her expression slightly tense.

“Yes—someone out there may still be lost in the mansion. I have the map, and as a knight, it is not my place to hide,” Yulie replied, tightening her grip on the map and torch as if they were weapons.

“I heard everything,” Epherene said, the words slipping from her lips.

Yulie’s steps came to a stop.

“I heard that it was Knight Yulie who filed the special petition—something to do with the Professor.”

Then Yulie turned and silently looked at Epherene.

“I know—it’s impossible to have a real conversation with the Professor. No matter how hard you try, if he doesn’t want to say something, he never does. Always keeping things hidden. But…” Epherene said with a sigh. “The Professor still loves you, Knight Yulie.”

In the awkward silence, with a hush floating like fine dust between them, Epherene looked away from Yulie, her legs swinging beneath her.

“It may be that love is what led us to this point,” Yulie muttered in a low voice.

Love. Because of that love, Yulie’s body withered, unable to live long. Because of that love, Veron and Rockfell died. Because of that love, her dreams were lost—all because of the love that Deculein held.

“… I’ll take my leave now.”

“Is it true?” Epherene asked.

As Yulie reached for the door, Epherene stopped her one last time, and Yulie stood, her hand gripping the doorknob.

“Is it really true that the Professor killed one of your subordinates, Knight Yulie?”

At Epherene’s heartfelt question, Yulie hesitated, thinking for a moment in silence.

However…

“Yes, he killed my subordinate. I submitted the petition to understand the reason,” Yulie replied with a sigh, then stepped out of the room, as if unwilling to say more.

Creeeeak—

Thud.

“… Sigh.”

As the door clicked shut, Epherene let out a sigh and fell back onto the bed, her eyes on the ceiling, before her fingers slipped into her inner pocket to pull out the card she had.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Epherene muttered.

Yulie von Deya-Freyden

The name of the one I’m supposed to protect—how does it make sense to ask a mage to guard a knight, especially someone as strong as Knight Yulie, when I can barely stand my own ground? Epherne thought.

Clink—

At that moment, a mana stone slipped from Epherene’s pocket—a gift from Sylvia—and she watched it silently for a moment before pushing herself upright.

“… It’s not the proper thing to do.”

If I put myself in their shoes—someone opening my gift, even trying it out before me? I’d be so mad.

“… And I know it’s a bit early for this.”

This is the mana stone Sylvia said to give to Yulie—if Deculein’s ever in danger and just stands there doing nothing.

“… Wait a second—it is dangerous right now.”

Now that I think about it… yeah. One wrong step in a special petition, and you’re basically done for.

“Umm…Ughhhhhhhh…”

With her arms crossed, Epherene was caught between morality and courtesy—and in the end…

“No choice, then. Let’s open it,” Epherene muttered.

With her decision made, Epherene poured mana into the mana stone.

Tsssssssssss…

A hazy video surfaced before her eyes, scattering like grains of sand—it was Berhert, from long ago, and the truth of that day, witnessed by Sylvia herself and recorded in the mana stone, began to flash before Epherene’s vision.

***

At noon the following day, in the square of the old mansion.

“More participants than I expected,” Sophien said from the throne, glancing over the list of people on the bulletin board with a faint chuckle.

Before the bulletin board, filled with the signatures of the dead, the vassals nodded in silence, their faces tight with fear simmering beneath their eyes.

“Very well. It makes no difference to me. As it is now noon, I hereby open the Empress’s hearing,” Sophien said, resting her chin on her hand as she drew the petition from the inner pocket of her dragon robe. “Attend. The accused named in this special petition is…”

For a long breath, Sophien held her silence, her eyes sweeping the grand hall where Louina, Adrienne, Ihelm, Maho, and many other vassals and nobles waited in tense anticipation of the Empress’s words—but the one she searched for was nowhere to be seen.

“… Deculein von Grahan-Yukline.”

A murmur spread through the square as people turned to search—but Deculein, the one at the center of the crime, was nowhere to be found, and neither was his protégé, Epherene, anywhere in the grand hall.

“Deculein isn’t here? I see his signature is clearly on the participants list,” Empress Sophien said, frowning in rare displeasure.

Nothing can proceed without Deculein here, Sophien thought.

“… Could it be that he has turned his back on his duty and fled from facing judgment?” Gawain replied.

“Flee? That man?” Sophien said, her brow furrowing.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The evidence we hold to present is indisputable—”

“Silence. That man would sooner die than flee,” Sophien interrupted, sweeping through the evidence Yulie and Gawain had presented. “Regardless, the Empress’s special hearing proceeds—with or without Deculein. All it means is that his absence leaves no voice to stand in opposition.”

“Hmph,” the Empress murmured, tipping her chin toward Isaac and Yulie. “Speak your reasons. What convinced you that Deculein was guilty of these charges? Why did you submit this petition to me?”

As Sophien finished speaking, Isaac and Yulie, their faces unreadable, stepped toward the podium…

Bang—!

The gate to the square burst open, and the gravity of the moment shattered in an instant.

“Your Majesty! There’s an urgent situation!” shouted one of the knights, stumbling in, drenched in blood. “We must get you out of here at once—aaaghhh!”

The knight’s chest was pierced by a blade, and behind him, robed assailants rushed forward in silence, their blades sweeping wide through the air, mana seething with murderous intent spilling around them.

They were the Altar, and Sophien sat in silence, her eyes steady upon them, her composure untouched by even the faintest ripple. Of course, it was as she had always known.

“It’s an enemy’s sudden attack! Protect Her Majesty at all costs!”

Yulie and the knights unsheathed their swords and charged into battle. Beyond, the sky darkened once more, storm clouds devouring the sun, scattering lightning and rain as the old mansion drowned beneath a rising tide of shadow.

“Hmph, damned fools,” Sophien muttered, her lips curling as she watched the storm of steel and blood erupt in the square.

Cling—! Clang—!

Blades crashed together with a violent collision, sparks leaping like splattered blood. But magic had no place here—if destructive spells collided, the explosion would leave nothing but death for them all.

“Hmph, could the timing be any worse—”

“Your Majesty.”

Suddenly, from the deepening shadows of the square, a figure appeared in view.

Thud— Thud—

A man walked through the fractured shadows of the battlefield, daring to step all the way to the Empress’s throne.

“Deculein?” Sophien said, her eyes narrowing, a frown creasing her brow.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied.

“What has delayed you until now?”

“I beg Your Majesty’s pardon. It has been a long while since I stood in your presence.”

“… A long while?”

Sophien tilted her head in puzzlement, but then last night returned to her—the uncertain request she had made to Deculein, a hope she hadn’t expected, one she had never even believed would take shape.

… Could it be, Sophien thought.

“Please come with me, Your Majesty. It is not safe here,” Deculein said, taking the Empress’s arm and helping her to her feet.

Deculein took hold of Sophien, leading her through the pandemonium of steel and gunfire, all while explaining the nature of his existence.

“It feels as though an entire century has passed since we last met.”

At that moment, Sophien’s expression went blank, her eyes briefly vacant at Deculein’s words.

“I am the Professor from the mirror, Your Majesty.”

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