MEBD 14

Chapter 14

Secrets and Lies (6)

Before her regression, the final moment Berenice had shared with Kaiden had not been a pleasant one.

She had already let go of her attachment to life, but her goal—to achieve something through death—remained firm.

If she were to die at Kaiden’s hands, there was a high chance that she would fail to reach that goal. Her vision had narrowed so much that she had no room to observe her surroundings.

‘His crimson eyes were so intense that I couldn’t take in anything else…’

That was why, even now, she still hadn’t realized that Kaiden, at that time, had looked like a man on the verge of death.

“If he was truly poisoned—and it was the same poison that had been used on the Crown Prince…”

The reason she had to kill the Second Prince, ten years after the Crown Prince’s death.

Berenice placed the journal on her lap and began retracing the events that had taken place before she chose death.

To clear her brother’s and her family’s name—and to stay one step ahead in case she needed to hide—she had always kept her ears open for news from the Imperial Palace and the Blaze County.

Some might scoff and ask what kind of useful information a fugitive could possibly get her hands on, but if they had known the ability of her “friend,” her former ally, they would have been astonished.

‘The Blaze family took the marquisate in our place, the Empress Dowager died, and the Third Prince announced his marriage to the Saintess… Around that time, the Emperor designated his heir.’

That was about five months before the day she had put on her burial shroud.

Berenice hastily picked up the journal again and began flipping through the pages.

She checked the time when the Crown Prince first showed symptoms of poisoning and the time when he had supposedly chosen death.

Three months.

The official cause of death was a fall, but if he hadn’t taken his own life, he could’ve survived a few more months.

‘I don’t know what kind of poison it was, but since he didn’t die immediately after showing symptoms, it must’ve been a type that slowly ate away at the body.’

And for such a poison to kill a royal who had built up immunity to toxins since childhood—it had to be incredibly strong.

If that same, slow-acting yet deadly poison had been used on Kaiden as well…

‘Then the Emperor’s sudden decision to name the Third Prince as his successor after leaving the position vacant for ten years makes sense.’

Many believed the Emperor had done so because the Third Prince’s power, strengthened through his union with the Saintess, had grown too great to ignore.

But Berenice—and her “friend”—thought differently.

The Emperor was the strongest ruler in generations. He had no reason to fear the temple.

So the real reason he named the Third Prince as heir had long puzzled them—until now.

If the other princes were doomed to die, leaving only one heir… then the Emperor had had no choice.

“I never thought I’d learn it this way.”

It was still speculation, but Berenice believed her reasoning was sound.

“Who could have used the poison?”

Recalling the names that had flashed through her mind when she first found Kaiden injured in the forest, she thought of one person above all others.

But she quickly shook her head, erasing that face from her mind.

Her suspicion was strong—but there was no proof.

If she began to fixate on one suspect now, she might start bending every clue to fit that conclusion—and in doing so, risk missing the real culprit.

‘I’ll just keep it as one of several possibilities.’

She forced herself to clear her mind, banishing the spiraling thoughts, and picked up the journal again.

The magical artifact “Lampfire” had only a little light left.

The glow had dimmed significantly since she’d first activated it. With a sidelong glance at the weakening artifact, Berenice turned to the next page of the journal.

…There are too many eyes in the capital. Gathering information alone has its limits. The “White Crows” are competent, but I cannot rely on them forever…

Bledin had disappeared one day, without warning.

At first, Berenice had thought he simply needed time to grieve after the Crown Prince’s death.

But reading the journal made it clear—he had vanished on purpose, with a goal in mind.

‘His entries are getting shorter.’

After leaving the capital, his writing became increasingly hurried and brief, filled with tension and urgency.

Mentions of the “White Crows,” mysterious pursuers, and unfamiliar place names appeared again and again.

Where had he gone? What had he been chasing?

When Berenice reached the final entry, she realized something that made her heart stop.

‘Brother… you came here!’

She should have realized it the moment she found the journal.

Bledin had always kept with him the gifts his beloved younger siblings had given him, even if he couldn’t write every day.

And ever since he had been formally knighted, he had never once returned to the family estate.

So how could his journal be found in the lord’s mansion—in the drawer beside the bed, no less?

During the search for her missing brother, she had never heard that the eldest son of Wiltierra had stopped by the estate.

There was only one explanation.

‘He left it here on purpose, without anyone knowing.’

Realizing that, Berenice quickly flipped through the blank pages after the last entry.

If Bledin had intentionally left the journal behind, it couldn’t possibly end there.

There had to be more.

And she was right.

If someone finds this journal… I pray that it will be Father. But if my beloved twins find it first, please—do not read further. Bring it to Father.

At the very end of the journal was a letter—Bledin’s final message.

It wasn’t long, but it explained what he had been doing, what he had planned to do, and what he had discovered.

It also spoke of the evidence he had found, and the person he was convinced was behind it all.

But he hadn’t clearly written who that person was—or what the evidence consisted of.

…There are those relentlessly tracking the traces I’ve left behind. That must mean what I’ve found truly is evidence…

There was no need to guess why he hadn’t written more—he had already explained.

He had anticipated that someone other than his family might discover the journal first.

Apparently, he hadn’t encrypted that section with a magic cipher.

…His Highness’s death was a tragedy born of someone’s vile scheme. If I can expose the truth, I will gladly give my life. But I do not wish for Wiltierra—or our family—to be placed in danger because of it.

Bledin had written as though he were certain he would die before achieving his goal.

He asked their father to handle what would come after his death.

Please deliver this journal and my “Joy and Pride” to the White Crows. And forget everything you’ve read before this. After mourning my death briefly, I hope you’ll live long, peaceful, and happy lives together as a family. I beg you. I’m sorry, Father.

That was impossible.

And Bledin must have known that too.

He knew their father would never forget—so he had pressed his pen hard when writing that final “I’m sorry,” leaving the ink dark and thick.

Berenice traced those ink-stained letters with her fingertips and finally threw off the blanket covering her.

Something heavy pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Panting, she clutched at her chest, then climbed down from the bed and yanked open the thick curtains.

The cold dawn air rushed in, cooling her suffocating lungs.

‘Brother, Father didn’t forget. Not then—and not now. So… I won’t show him this.’

It was the first time she had ever disobeyed her brother’s wish.

She thought she heard his voice somewhere, reproaching her for it—but she ignored it and gazed eastward, where the sky was beginning to brighten.

Just as Bledin had once done, she too was making her choice to protect her family.

And she believed he would understand, in the end.

Berenice stood by the window until the rising sun cast its light upon her face.

She quietly went over what she needed to do next—step by step, carefully.

There would be no second chance. She had to stay calm and avoid rushing into mistakes.

Turning away from the light, she looked toward the long shadow stretching across the floor.

At its end, Bledin’s sword gleamed faintly in the morning sun.