Chapter 149 : The Silk Was Poison, and So Was the Truth
❖ Chapter 149 ❖
— The Serpent’s Whisper, the Fire in Silk —
“What did you just say?”
Old Mrs. Russell slowly lifted her gaze to meet Edward’s eyes, her chin instinctively drawing back. A vein pulsed angrily on his forehead.
“You truly believe Johannes married a commoner… for love?”
It was a statement meant to diminish her — to belittle not just her beliefs, but her very judgment. And perhaps… he succeeded.
She hadn’t considered it beyond that.
“I hear they have nothing. I even heard he was an orphan.”
Naive. The accusation wasn’t subtle. There was no point in minding Johannes or his wife — not if one viewed the world as Edward did.
Because from childhood, Edward Windsor had always compared himself to Johannes. Every action, every achievement, every breath.
It’s difficult to imagine others being anything else… when you are that way yourself.
Old Mrs. Russell clenched her frail hands, forcing herself to silence the flicker of regret that curled in her chest and to face the truth knocking at her door.
“Johannes Schulz is a man who cherishes his family above all else. He’d rather shatter himself than cause a dent in anyone else.”
“…….”
“And yet one day, that very man wed a common woman… claiming he was ‘in love.’ I found it peculiar. It didn’t make sense. I knew — something was hidden.”
A dry, fragile breath escaped her lips.
Her intuition whispered. Perhaps it was more than a whisper — perhaps it screamed. Edith Prim… she must be connected to him.
A secret of birth… of blood.
There are few truths in this world more devastating than that.
Perhaps that’s why her pulse pounded like a war drum and her hands felt clammy. Her breath caught in her throat, and her knees wobbled like paper in wind.
She grasped her numb hand and asked, voice barely above a whisper:
“…Are you suggesting that the Duchess is connected to me? That she is, say, your granddaughter?”
The words sounded alien, even as they escaped her mouth. She gritted her teeth, her complexion ghostly.
Though she had braced herself, her reply was brief — stripped to the bone.
“No. That was merely… my first thought.”
“First thought…?”
“I didn’t think much of it when I learned she was Isaac Prim’s daughter. Or Max Russell’s. It didn’t matter much then.”
“…….”
“But someone I trust… told me something different.”
Edward’s lips curled ever so slightly. Not a smile, but a mark of satisfaction — as if holding a loaded deck.
Old Mrs. Russell’s brows furrowed at his cold, bitter amusement. And then, without warning, he dropped the dagger:
“Isaac Prim’s daughter was switched just before her wedding.”
A lie.
A ridiculous, fragile lie that could fall apart at the gentlest touch of truth.
But Old Mrs. Russell had no strength left for discernment.
Because the only question that now burned through her heart was — Is Isaac Prim truly Max Russell? And is he even alive?
To her, Edith Prim… didn’t exist.
The battle of information had begun — and against the likes of Marquis Russell, how long could she last?
Edward sharpened his tone, slicing through the fog that clouded her mind.
“If you doubt me, investigate it yourself. No one knows the real Edith Prim’s whereabouts anymore. That’s why I pressured Johannes. That’s why you, madam, must discipline these insolent fools.”
Her eyes trembled — not a little, but violently, like a willow caught in a storm.
Edward’s mouth straightened into a blade.
“I believe it is time we joined hands, you and I. Don’t you agree?”
Yet no cruel revelation, no venomous deceit, disturbed me as deeply as the sight of the man before me.
Because it was undoubtedly Edward Windsor.
He approached slowly, with a gait that slithered more than stepped — like a serpent reveling in its prey’s paralysis.
“No matter what deal Johannes made with you to play Edith Prim, it doesn’t change the fact that lies are sins.”
“…….”
“Oh, but perhaps you never learned that — you didn’t have parents, after all.”
His voice oozed poison. Then, without ceremony, his frigid hand landed upon my shoulder.
“Even now, Duchess, you look breathtaking in that gown.”
He turned from me and addressed Old Mrs. Russell with feigned sorrow.
“Don’t worry, my lady. This charming woman will coax the truth from my lips soon enough.”
The old woman offered no answer — only the hoarse sound of her breath revealed her presence.
She was drowning in her fury, consumed so completely that the world around her had vanished.
“All you need to do, Old Mrs. Russell,” Edward said sweetly, “is testify… properly.”
Testify?
My eyes widened. The word felt… familiar.
A cruel déjà vu.
And then it dawned on me.
Edward… was paving the road to my execution again — using Old Mrs. Russell as the scapegoat.
To prevent the repetition of a hellish end, I had to wrench her from this spiral of lies. I had to show her — truly show her — that I was her granddaughter, and that Edward Windsor was the man who murdered her son.
‘But… can I?’
A wave of dizziness crashed over me. My ears screamed with a piercing tinnitus.
The sensation — uncanny, vile — slithered down my spine.
Only those who have lived through it would recognize it.
At first, I had mistaken it as simple fatigue. But now…
‘There’s no doubt. This is how the poison begins its cruel march through the body.’
I felt it — my blood growing hot, rushing unnaturally fast.
‘Why now?’
In the past… I had only fallen ill after spending days at the Marquis’ estate.
And this scene — this moment — I didn’t remember.
I looked at Edward, who was still smiling.
‘Did I change the future by altering the past?’
Perhaps… just perhaps… every step I took shifted the path beneath me.
But my breath was growing shorter. My throat burned. My chest ached.
An unbearable itch crawled beneath my skin. I glanced at my hand — red rashes blossomed like cursed flowers.
‘It can’t be…’
And just like that, I understood.
‘The poison… was in my dress.’
But I hadn’t worn this gown consistently. It had even been washed at the Marquis’ residence many times.
Then… was the very cotton laced with poison? The fabric itself cursed from its origin?
Just like the Eden Blanc… nourished with death.
Old Mrs. Russell was panting, panic consuming her. She swallowed Edward’s lies whole, without flinching.
Meanwhile, my vision darkened. My knees buckled.
If I fainted here…
Taang!
“KAAAH!”
A thunderous gunshot tore through the air, followed by a scream — Edward’s.
Blood spattered across the floor in grotesque arcs. He collapsed, clutching his leg as crimson surged from the wound.
And through my blurring vision, I saw him.
A figure bathed in the low, flickering light.
Golden hair, like a crown of sunlight. And eyes — piercing, glacial blue.
My breath caught.
It was Johannes.
Beyond the writhing Edward, Johannes stood — his expression like ice sculpted by vengeance.
He turned the chamber of his revolver once more and declared coldly:
“Edward Windsor, you are under arrest — suspected in the Mussen serial murders.”
