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Chapter 56
“Coronation?”
“Yes. It’s going to be grand. Now that Marquis Damien is dead from that carriage accident, there’s no reason to delay any longer.”
“Kyaa!”
Fashina jumped into Derrick’s arms. He caught her lightly and flashed a bright smile.
“Wait. But what if the missing Erne returns? What happens then?”
While rubbing her cheek against Derrick’s chest, Fashina suddenly remembered Erne and narrowed her eyes in a venomous glare. The Queen was gone, Marquis Damien was gone—everything in her way had been removed—yet Erne still existed.
Derrick chuckled like a boy at her concern and handed her that morning’s newspaper.
“What’s this?”
“They found a body in the Bramen Forest. A woman’s body.”
“What does that have to do with Erne?”
“Fashina, a royal police officer sent me a telegram this morning. The newspaper says they haven’t identified the body yet, but the royal office already concluded their investigation. Cause of death: drowning. The woman was none other than the missing Princess Erne!”
“What?!”
Fashina gasped and snatched the paper open again.
“It’s still top secret for now, but the royal office will be releasing an official article soon, declaring Princess Erne dead. My father’s already bought off several people there.”
“Kyaaa! That’s perfect! If Erne’s dead, then the throne is yours, Derrick!”
“And the queen’s seat is yours.”
Fashina clung to Derrick’s neck, hopping with excitement. She had thought things had gotten messy when Marquis Damien was released—especially after the Douglas family pressured the court and the judge they had bribed betrayed House Babylon.
But heaven must be on my side!
Otherwise, what were the odds that Marquis Damien would die in a carriage accident on his way back home? Without her lifting a finger, he was gone, and Derrick could proceed straight to the coronation. And now even Erne—who could have been a headache if she reappeared—was dead.
Everything was unfolding exactly as Derrick and Fashina had hoped.
“Still… are you sure the dead woman is really Erne?”
“Don’t worry. I saw the body myself early this morning.”
“It really was Erne?”
“Yes. She was bloated and unsightly, but I’m certain it was her. Remember the necklace I gave her?”
“Of course! I designed it myself and had it custom-made.”
“She was wearing it. You know as well as I do—it’s the only one of its kind in the world.”
At his words, Fashina’s last trace of doubt melted away, and she beamed.
So that wench is dead. What a weight off my chest!
She was genuinely elated. She’d already paid a guild to track Erne down with the intent to kill her—yet by sheer luck, she had died on her own.
Erne, dying is the best thing you’ve ever done.
The darker her gaze grew, the louder Derrick’s booming laughter rang out.
At that moment, they truly believed God was on their side.
＊＊＊
“The world’s going to hell.”
“My lord, it really does seem Babylon is about to swallow Nesheld. Shouldn’t you do something?”
“Look at those Babylon people strutting around. I can’t stand the sight of them. Does the Nesheld royal family have no legitimacy left?”
People clicked their tongues as they watched the lavish coronation. The nation was in decline inside and out, yet these people were indulging in such pomp for a new monarch. The older nobles scoffed, but even they had no means to stop Babylon, who held all the real power.
So they could only stand and watch as Babylon claimed the throne.
“Derrick Babylon, as the late fiancée of the deceased Princess Erne Nopia Nesheld, you are hereby granted the right to act as regent of House Nopia and as proxy ruler of the Nesheld royal family.”
The Pope himself was reading the royal declaration at the sacred ceremony.
“So that’s why Babylon’s been pouring money into the temple under the guise of donations all this time.”
“They weren’t being pious—it was all an investment in their future. Tsk.”
Everyone criticized Babylon for their selfishness. Some were just bitter that their own house wasn’t the one ascending the throne. But no one spoke up; no one wanted to make enemies of the future power center.
“Is there any objection?”
Pope Michael, having finished his recitation, asked the final ceremonial question—whether anyone opposed granting Derrick Babylon the right to rule Nesheld and the title of king. The hall remained silent.
Satisfied with the quiet, Michael allowed himself a sly smile and was about to move on.
“If there’s no objection, then let Derrick Babylon—”
“Wait.”
A firm, low voice sliced through Michael’s words.
From among the silent, attentive crowd, a man in a long cloak strode forward.
Everyone recognized him at once.
The Duke of Douglas!
The only man who could truly stand against Babylon’s current dominance.
The nobles’ faces brightened as if they’d just spotted a lifeline.
“My apologies for interrupting, but the royal line has not yet ended.”
“What do you mean, Duke Douglas?”
The Pope’s face showed open alarm. Babylon had assured him that Douglas’s movements were quiet—that he had taken neither side and would not oppose the coronation.
But now here he was, declaring his stance in the most dramatic way possible.
Michael might have been greedy, but he had no desire to openly cross the Duke of Douglas.
When he asked with a sweating brow, the Duke turned toward the entrance.
“Please, come forward… Your Majesty.”
Windsard’s words sent shockwaves through the hall.
“Your Majesty? Are you saying the queen is still alive?!”
Heads whipped around as people tried to confirm the claim, and then they saw her—slowly walking forward from where Windsard had been looking.
“Princess Erne? Are you saying the princess is alive?!”
It wasn’t only the crowd who was stunned. The louder the murmuring grew, the paler Derrick’s face became where he knelt before Pope Michael, ready to receive the crown.
“E-Erne?!”
Windsard seemed to savor their reactions, his smile growing as he addressed the astonished audience with a voice brimming with force.
“When a rightful heir to the royal line still lives, how can Babylon—who has no legitimacy—become ruler of Nesheld? It’s unacceptable. Don’t you agree, Your Holiness?”
“Is… is that truly Princess Erne?”
“No.”
The hem of her snow-white gown was dusted with fine silver powder, her gait full of elegance and dignity. She had an undeniable queenly aura that commanded the room. No one could take their eyes off her.
Sensing their curiosity, Windsard raised his voice.
“This is Ash Nopia Nesheld, the late Princess Erne’s twin sister—Her Majesty the Queen.”
Gasps echoed through the hall. Some rubbed their eyes in disbelief; one man even fainted with foam at the mouth.
Ash—once Erne—basked in their reactions as she passed Pope Michael and finally reached her destination: the throne, seat of kings.
She sat down as if it had always been hers, sweeping her gaze over the hall before speaking.
“A pleasure to meet you all.”
“This… this is impossible…”
Derrick’s mutter drifted up from below, but Ash ignored him. She had been waiting for this day.
The crowd had gone silent the moment she sat down. Feeling all eyes on her, she resolved to complete the scene she had rehearsed in her mind countless times.
“I am Ash Nopia Nesheld, elder sister of the late Princess Erne.”
Thud! The words struck Derrick Babylon like boulders crashing onto his head.
Ash, half amused at the dramatic effect, pointed to the crown in Michael’s hands.
“So that crown belongs to me. This seat is mine. Any objections?”
The mere revelation that the dead princess had a twin sister was enough to shock them.
But no one answered. Windsard swept his gaze over the nobles like a drawn blade.
“If you value your lives, you will keep any objections to yourselves.”
A frightened hiccup came from one of the nobles nearest to him.
Not only was the existence of a twin princess shocking—so was the fact that she was backed by the Duke of Douglas.
The sharp-eyed, seasoned Marquis of Firenze was the first to react.
“Long live Her Majesty! Long live Ash Nopia Nesheld, our Queen!”
The rest quickly followed, flattening themselves to the floor in displays of respect and fealty.
Seeing them kneel before Ash, Windsard slowly withdrew his killing intent.
“Hm?”
Even Pope Michael, not wanting to make an enemy of Douglas, pledged his loyalty to Ash. Only one man remained standing with a dazed look.
That bastard…
Windsard’s next wave of menace was directed at Derrick Babylon.
Still staring in shock at the woman on the throne who was the spitting image of Erne, Derrick felt that familiar killing intent and turned—only to flinch violently.
There was the Duke of Douglas, glaring at him with a murderous face.
Damn it!!!
Knowing things had gone completely sideways, Derrick nevertheless dropped to his knees before Ash, twin sister to Erne.
The reason was simple—he had just locked eyes with Windsard, who was drawing a finger across his own neck in a silent promise:
Kneel now, or I’ll take your head off.
