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CHAPTER 71:………………….
What I Truly Desire
“Sooner or later, Arthur Cervantes is going to make a move.”
The moment Dietrich returned to his mansion, he ran a hand through his black hair and spoke.
“And Illeon as well.”
He looked down at Celiya with concern in his eyes.
But Celiya herself seemed utterly unbothered.
Perhaps because she had shared a kiss with Dietrich the previous night, her body was brimming with vitality.
Like parched earth drenched by a sudden downpour, like a wanderer finally finding an oasis after days without water—
When she kissed Dietrich, the body that had been battered and broken felt miraculously healed in an instant.
At this rate, even if I use my ability, I won’t be coughing blood anymore.
With that thought, Celiya released a breath of hyacinth fragrance.
The sweet scent bloomed from her, flooding the corridor where only the two of them stood.
Dietrich gripped her hand tightly.
“Don’t. Stop that.”
At his words, Celiya immediately retracted her power.
Before, even a brief use of her ability left her dizzy, as though her head were spinning.
But now, even after using it, she felt no pain at all.
“It’s fine now,” she said brightly, her eyes sparkling.
“My head doesn’t hurt anymore. I can use my power as much as I like.”
Her ability was formidable—by releasing the scent of hyacinth, she could paralyze all five senses of any man within range.
Until she withdrew it, her target would be unable to move, hear, or see.
“I just need to find a chance to be alone with Illeon, then use my ability and kill him.”
At her words, Dietrich’s eyes narrowed.
“Alone with him…?”
“Yes. And then stab him with a dagger. Just like the emperor who once died by my hand.”
“Celiya.”
His voice was low as he called her name.
“Is it Illeon’s death you want… or the fall of Abelon?”
Illeon’s death, and the empire’s destruction.
Celiya thought that perhaps the one would inevitably lead to the other.
Sensing her thoughts, Dietrich gently caressed her cheek—like he was touching something infinitely precious.
“If Illeon is killed, all the people of Abelon will rise up. The other dukes won’t sit idly by either.”
Celiya hesitated, then replied:
“But Illeon won’t leave us alone. Isn’t it better to strike first before he does?”
“Illeon has already prepared for everything that might happen after his death. In other words—killing him now won’t mean Abelon falls immediately.”
The thought that she could not kill Illeon at once frustrated her.
Her body had only just begun to heal, and yet if she couldn’t even wield her power, what was the point?
“Celiya. What is it you truly want? Whatever it is, I’ll follow your choice.”
Even now, he respected her.
Though he too had lost everything in a single day, endured countless humiliations in the enemy’s palace, and clawed his way to the post of Commander of the Imperial Knights—
“I…”
Her voice trailed off as she forced herself to think clearly.
If she killed Illeon, the one who had orchestrated her kingdom’s destruction, she might feel temporary relief. But Abelon’s lineage would persist, stubbornly.
Unlike her own kingdom, which had been completely erased from the map.
She hated this empire with every fiber of her being.
It had trampled her homeland to ruin.
In an instant, she had lost everything—her family, her kingdom, reduced to ashes.
All she had left was her broken body and a shredded heart.
When Abelon went so far as to annihilate their ally Inata as well, not a single person remained at her side.
She had been utterly alone.
She remembered silencing the senses of a carriage driver with her power, forcing her way into the baggage compartment to slip into Abelon.
Once inside, terrified of being recognized, she smeared mud across her face until it was unrecognizable.
Fortunately, no one remembered the forgotten princess of a dead kingdom.
Still, out of caution, she spent months scavenging scraps from back-alley trash bins.
Not knowing why her kingdom had to fall drove her to the edge of madness.
The cry of a knight forever rang in her ears:
—“His Majesty the Emperor has decreed—leave no survivors!”
Celiya burned for revenge against the emperor.
But as a beggar on the streets, she could not reach him.
Until, eventually, she caught the eye of Viscount Brillion, who adopted her as his daughter.
There, she was paraded out in public courtships—nothing but auctions in disguise.
—“To the highest bidder, I will grant the chance to speak with my beautiful daughter. Any man who would support such a lovely girl must have means, after all. I trust you understand the heart of a doting father.”
She endured every humiliation.
She smiled serenely, her lips twitching from the strain, her eyes curving sweetly.
Foolish men, bewitched by her beauty, swarmed like moths to flame.
They called her “the angel of Brillion,” “everyone’s first love.”
She despised it all.
She was no angel, no one’s first love.
She was a rotting, decaying human being.
To be desired against her will was revolting.
Men lusted after her, tried to violate her, and demanded her love.
It was not love.
It was violence, cloaked under the gilded word first love.
If not for her ability protecting her, she knew she would have lost her sanity.
So what if her life was cut short?
Better death than to suffer at the hands of Abelon’s men.
But before she died, she had to kill the one who had destroyed her kingdom.
So she staked her life, infiltrated the palace, and killed the emperor.
She thought it was finally over—she had even smiled in relief.
But that was not the end. It was only the beginning.
The emperor had been a puppet. The true destroyer of her homeland was Illeon.
—Apostle of the Serpent, I see you losing everything. Abelon shall burn, and your fate will meet ruin. Look—there are the people of Shan. Among them, the brightest one shall kill you. The Guardian of Light shall protect the light, but as you did to them, they shall strip you of everything.
Because of that single prophecy—
The father who once smiled at her lay with his head severed, and her people had been slaughtered.
“I want Abelon destroyed.”
Celiya’s eyes were calm, endlessly so, as she spoke.
“But I want Illeon dead as well.”
She wanted him stripped of everything he held dear.
She wanted him to feel the despair and loss she had felt—multiplied hundreds of times over.
“I want Abelon’s line severed completely.”
This foul empire, that once praised her as Brillion’s angel, only to brand her a witch and cry for her burning.
“I want this hateful Abelon to vanish from the map.”
She yearned for it to burn to ashes, vanish utterly, just as her kingdom had.
“And just as your own nation once did.”
Her green eyes shone sharply, vividly, with merciless clarity.
Dietrich met her blazing gaze.
Eyes honed to a razor’s edge—eyes that could cut through the veil of night.
Standing straight-backed, her face resolute, she spoke.
And Dietrich looked upon her with reverence.
He wanted to give her everything she desired.
Whether it was Abelon’s ruin, or the lives of all its people.
His lips parted slowly.
“If that is your wish.”
Celiya had chosen revenge, not despair.
Patiently enduring, she was determined to see the prophecy fulfilled to the end.
To Dietrich, she had never looked more radiant, more beloved.
“I’ll sever Abelon’s bloodline and destroy it completely.”
At his words, Celiya smiled brightly.
The next day, two imperial ministers were found dead in the palace gardens.
The victims: Marquis Taylor and Count Nathan, the hunting tournament’s victor.
Both had long stood at Illeon’s side, leaders among the ministers.
