Chapter 70
Chapter 70. Don’t Forget, Empress
Balak rose from the bed and headed straight for the bathroom.
After washing his soiled body, his gaze fell upon the woman who had not yet awakened.
Priestess Asha.
She had been his target since he received the list of priestesses participating in the festival.
Two meetings. He willingly used everything he had to catch Asha’s attention. His looks, his wealth, and the footprints of a life full of freedom.
He knew that the life he had lived would appear attractive to Asha, who came from the back alleys.
A time that was hard but free from law and order, and now, tied to the temple.
Although Asha was someone who knew her present was far better than her past, it wasn’t difficult for him, a merchant more skilled in rhetoric than anyone, to plant a longing for lost freedom in her heart.
Clear skies, cool sea breeze. A life where one could love God and move freely without suffocating regulations.
He gifted Asha the most beautiful and glittering packaging of the life he had walked.
This was the result. Admiration turned into interest, and soon into love.
He poured all of his golden time into Asha over two weeks.
Whispering in her ear that he was the one who could take her into the freedom he belonged to.
He was willing to pay the price for daring to desecrate one who served God. He thought a life that burned itself for love wasn’t so bad.
Finally, on the night he spent with Asha, his mind was filled only with thoughts of a woman with beautiful platinum blonde hair and blue eyes that he simply couldn’t help but stare at.
He did feel sorry. The only reason he had chosen Asha was because she was a priestess at the temple where Sefitiana was.
He had made up his mind to definitely carry it out when he gathered information about her.
Investigating her background wasn’t difficult. Except for the unusual detail of her being briefly protected by the Castallo ducal family, information about her past from the back alleys belonged to the category that could be bought quite cheaply.
However, contrary to his expectations, the price of Asha, whom he thought would be unremarkable, was by no means small.
‘Tsk tsk. I had hoped never to hear of it again, but I didn’t expect to hear that name like this…’
The old man from the back alleys who sold the information made a meaningful remark and suggested to him.
‘Information about that child before she entered the temple is cheap, but information after that comes at a very high price. What will you do?’
Although there couldn’t be anything so great about the daily routines of priestesses going round in circles, he paid for all the information to leave no possibility of failure.
‘A drug that makes people appear dead…’
And apparently, that drug was now in the hands of the Castallo duke’s daughter.
Although it was unexpected and unusual information, it wasn’t very useful to him who only needed to know where Sefitiana was buried.
Not until last night, when Asha whispered to him her sin that she couldn’t even confess to God.
‘The young lady might not know. She was the last person to enter that suspicious prayer room before it was completely closed off, after hearing the information I gave her.’
Lady Eurene had visited the temple to look for Sefitiana. It seemed she had definitely learned something, but Asha didn’t dare to ask.
Secretly visiting the temple to find Sefitiana, and then buying such a dangerous drug through Asha afterwards?
Whether Sefitiana was there or not, Lady Eurene must have found out something there.
Balak pulled out a cigar from inside the coat hanging on the wall.
Whoo—
Hazy smoke filled the room.
No matter how clean clothes one wears and lives in the temple, it seems impossible to completely erase the past, as Asha didn’t wake up, seemingly accustomed to this strong scent.
Grinding the end of the half-burnt cigar in the ashtray, he put on his coat.
The information he could extract from Asha was exhausted.
As he left the lodging to approach Eurene Castallo next, his subordinate delivered news from the imperial palace.
Balak’s expression hardened upon hearing the news.
“Her Majesty the Empress has collapsed?”
Lady Vinea collapsed after drinking Arpanium tea. The very tea he had personally delivered to her.
Although it was natural that she had requested it from him, if he had known she would use it on herself, he would never have handed it over.
It hadn’t been long since she regained her memories after being found, and it was unknown what aftereffects there might be, so how could he dare to give her such a dangerous thing?
“Why on earth…”
He couldn’t guess her purpose. Is there someone near her whom she wants to forget, even temporarily, by taking the drug? Who could it be?
Ah.
Balak suddenly lifted his head at the face that came to mind.
‘The Emperor.’
The man who had blatantly displayed an unfathomable possessiveness towards her in front of him.
How many people could there be that an Empress, sitting in a position where she could remove anyone bothersome at will, couldn’t deal with?
“What on earth did he do to you, to go to such lengths…”
Wasn’t he a scoundrel who kissed her without any respect or courtesy for the Empress, shamelessly in front of others? He might have done even more shocking things to Lady Vinea.
Balak ran his hand through his hair, his head boiling with rising anger. As his red hair passed through his fingers, the scratch on his forehead was briefly revealed.
‘I really can’t leave you there alone.’
No matter what threat from the Emperor, he wanted to protect Lady Vinea from him. He wanted to occupy her side.
He recalled that day on the terrace, which he had mulled over countless times.
‘I want to be by Lady Vinea’s side. Please tell me how.’
‘There’s no such way. His Majesty won’t leave you alone.’
‘I can protect myself at least.’
‘No, you won’t be able to.’
What if she was pushing him away out of concern for his safety? If that problem could be solved and he could remain by her side. If he could heal that pain and fear—
Balak ordered his subordinate.
“Find out the location of the Castallo duke’s daughter.”
* * *
Faint light entered through the curtains that half-covered the view of the sky with moderate clouds.
Beneath the fluttering long eyelashes, brilliant blue eyes were revealed.
Vinea, who had risen with a stiff body, went to the window and pulled back the curtains.
Only then did bright light fill her bedroom. As she opened the terrace door, the cool breeze blowing from outside changed the stuffy air inside the room.
As she felt the wind on her cheeks between her swaying platinum blonde hair, Vinea turned at the presence she felt behind her.
Somewhat haggard-looking gray eyes took her in.
Just as Vinea’s lips were about to move, Tatar, who had approached her first, slowly examined her face without a word.
Hair gently undulating in the wind, slender neck, arms and legs visible outside the light negligee draped over her body, bare feet in slippers.
Then his gaze, rising back up, focused on Vinea’s blue eyes.
What is he trying to read, looking at me so persistently? Vinea met his eyes without a word.
Tatar slowly raised his hand. As if touching a fragile piece of art that might break at any moment, or as if something terrible would happen if his hand touched her.
His hand pressed firmly on Vinea’s lips, neck, and between her collarbone and chest.
What is he trying to confirm by doing this? Vinea’s calm gaze looked up at him with a small question.
“…Empress.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed greatly as if he had swallowed a thorn.
After a silence that was by no means short, his lips parted.
“Do you remember which regression this life is?”
Vinea’s gaze fell from his eyes. The blue eyes, slightly lowered, seemed lost in thought for a moment before looking up at him again.
It felt like an eternity to him, though it was only a few seconds.
Vinea answered.
“I don’t understand what you mean, Your Majesty. Regression?”
Ah, how cruel can my Empress be.
In a way more terrible than he had prepared for, with unspeakable ruthlessness, she throws him into the abyss.
How is there not even a grain of sympathy in the touch that pushes his back into that deep pit?
Empress. Vinea. My world.
Black despair settled in his eyes.
Unlike his lips that curved into a small arc, his eyes closed painfully.
A single tear rolled down his left cheek.
“I dare not call you a coward. At least I can’t.”
His heart falls. To a deeper bottom, to a deeper despair. It was a tragedy brought on by his sin of daring to break her wings, his arrogance, his greed.
He knows that when this life ends, the Empress’s memories will return. Because the regression will still not end.
But does everything become alright when the memories return?
No. The her he knows will drink the tea again. Even if she dies and wakes up again, until his stubbornness finally breaks.
But Tatar couldn’t spit out the answer Vinea wanted.
He hates the fear that her world might expand. He hates the sight of her falling while chasing futile hope, and yet the sight of her standing up again.
You as me, me as you. He wished that our world could be wholly ours alone.
He tightly embraced Vinea’s body.
Burying his face in her soft platinum blonde hair, he whispered in her ear as if confessing to God.
“Don’t forget, Empress. When I endure this hell, you must willingly fall to me.”
