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Chapter 17:
The Poisoned Cup
—
There was no doubt that a difficult question was about to be asked. Even though Celia had been released from prison, she still couldn’t shake the charge of regicide.
Dietrich could read the Empress’s mind, but if he stepped in now, it would only make the situation worse.
As soon as things calmed down, the Empress would undoubtedly try to imprison Celia again, fabricating crimes if necessary. The Empress Dietrich knew was fully capable of that.
So then, how would Celia get out of this? With the order of expulsion already given, staying here would only earn Dietrich more of the Empress’s wrath.
“…As Your Majesty commands, I will step out for a moment.”
Just before leaving the room, Dietrich looked back at Celia. She had already lifted her head and straightened her back proudly.
With a sharp click, the door closed. In the room now remained only the Empress, her handmaidens, and Celia.
“I said it would be just the two of us, but meeting a regicide one-on-one is risky, after all.”
The Empress gave Celia a benevolent smile.
“You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
The Empress did not believe the public rumors that Celia had been framed. Letting her out temporarily had only been a way to pacify the angry crowd. Celia was, in every way, a thorn in her side.
It would have been better if Celia had died along with the Emperor.
If only Dietrich’s knight had taken care of her during the Emperor’s funeral—things wouldn’t have reached this point.
The Empress had even turned a blind eye when the knight tried to act, promising no punishment no matter what he did to Celia. But in the end, Celia had neither been violated nor killed.
And now, because she lived, she caused trouble.
The Empress hid her dark thoughts behind a gentle smile.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Celia replied obediently.
The Empress spoke again.
“It must be uncomfortable to stand. Please, sit on the sofa across from me.”
Celia did as she was told.
“Would you care for some refreshments?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. I heard Your Majesty had something to speak with me about.”
The Empress’s eyes darkened. She had intended to poison the refreshments. Not with fast-acting poisons, but with toxins that would take days to manifest—of which she had plenty in storage.
But there was no rule saying poison could only be in the food.
The Empress looked down into her tea and smiled faintly.
“I recently imported a rare tea from the Eastern Continent. The flavor is rich, and the taste is exquisite.”
“……”
“I’ll grant you the honor of tasting it.”
Celia felt a chill. The Empress, calling her a criminal, was strangely eager to offer her things. The intent behind it was far from pure.
She had declined once, but a second refusal could bring consequences.
“Then, thank you. I’ll gratefully accept.”
“Of course. Bring out the flower tea, the freshest one we have.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
A maid soon returned with a tray holding a teapot and two teacups. Celia quietly watched as the tea was poured.
Delicate yellow flowers floated in the tea, steam rising gently.
“Here, drink.”
Celia glanced between her cup and the Empress’s. At first glance, they seemed the same. But upon closer inspection, her tea was a noticeably darker shade.
‘I saw them pour from the same pot… Was there some kind of trick in the teapot?’
Having lived under constant threat at the Viscount’s estate, Celia was extremely sensitive to such things.
Anyone else might have drunk it without a second thought.
“Your Majesty, aren’t you drinking?”
The Empress smiled, eyes narrowing—but the threat in her gaze was unmistakable. She wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“Surely you’re not suspecting I put something in the tea?”
Such overt hostility. Celia kept a pleasant expression and replied playfully.
“Of course not, Your Majesty. I’ve just never seen such a beautiful tea before. It almost feels too lovely to drink.”
She held the cup delicately. The Empress watched her intently.
“I’ve heard the Brillion Viscount’s estate is overflowing with wealth. So much that the storage rooms are bursting.”
It sounded innocent, but the real message was biting: With all that wealth, how come you’ve never tasted a proper cup of tea?
Celia knew this kind of backhanded speech well. Gabriel, who shared no blood with her, had often spoken to her the same way.
“That may be the family’s fortune, but it’s not mine.”
A deliberately vague answer.
“Aren’t you part of the Brillion family? Even if only by adoption.”
Celia bowed her head instead of replying, her hand trembling slightly around the cup. The Empress took in the sight.
“I suppose you have your reasons. But you’re a criminal now—you must tell me everything, with nothing held back.”
“…How could I lie to Your Majesty?”
“Then let me ask you one thing. Did you really assassinate His Majesty the Emperor?”
Celia met the Empress’s eyes. She clearly already believed it, yet still asked. A cruel game.
“Yes, I did.”
The Empress, startled by the blunt answer, twirled her teacup.
“Did you just admit to killing the Emperor?”
“At this point, how could I lie to Your Majesty?”
“…There wasn’t someone behind it? You did it alone?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Men outside the palace would faint if they heard this. They were so sure you’d been framed.”
Celia now grasped the state of things. At the Viscount’s house, men had always praised her as noble and pure, treating her like something sacred.
But beneath that admiration was always desire.
Every man who claimed to have fallen in love at first sight would look at her with lust. Whispering sweet nothings, promising they were different from other men.
But when given the chance, they always tried something.
They claimed to love her. But if they truly loved her, shouldn’t they protect her instead?
Just as her father, the king, had once protected her. Just as she had once cared for her parrot, Popo.
She remembered the day a renowned high priest visited her, supposedly to meet her.
He had used donations from the faithful just to see her—and he didn’t bother hiding his lecherous gaze.
When left alone, he made advances. Before using her ability to read minds, Celia had asked what he was thinking.
His answer had been absurd.
He wanted to take her virginity, thinking she’d remember him forever for it.
He wondered what kind of expression the “angel of Brillion” would make if defiled, and even if she hated him afterward, he’d find that beautiful too.
He admitted it was sinful, but if he sincerely repented to God afterward, the sin would be forgiven—and he would live forever in her memory.
Celia recalled his face vaguely, unable to even remember his name. A faint smile crossed her lips—brief and mist-like.
“I was framed. But their words aren’t the truth.”
Even the Empress struggled to follow this logic.
“You say you were framed but also admit to the murder. Now you’re saying what they said isn’t true. What part of what you’re saying is true?”
“I was forced into the Emperor’s chamber by my family. That’s how I was framed. But I did kill the Emperor—to protect myself. So yes, I did it.”
Such a calm confession. Was she lying, thinking the Empress a fool? Or was it the truth?
Whatever the case, I won’t stand for her staying by Dietrich’s side.
Instead of showing her thoughts, the Empress calmly sipped her tea.
Then, once again, she offered Celia a cup.
“Now, drink before the tea gets cold. We can continue talking afterward.”
“…”
The Empress had taken a sip herself and was now encouraging her. Celia had no excuse to refuse again.
As she brought the cup to her lips, she noticed the Empress’s lips curve ever so slightly in satisfaction.
Then—crash!
Celia “accidentally” dropped the cup, shattering it on the floor.
“!”
The Empress’s eyes flashed with rage.
“I have committed a grave offense. I broke the tea Your Majesty offered me…!”
Before the Empress could speak, Celia dropped to the floor, bowing deeply.
The Empress glared at her as though she could devour her whole.
“It’s fine. Get up. We’ll bring another cup.”
She ordered a maid to fetch a new one.
“You won’t make the same mistake again, I trust? Especially with tea I pour myself.”
This time, she poured the tea with her own hands. The teapot had two compartments—one for poisoned tea, one safe. The trick lay in the handle. Touching the blunt part dispensed the poison; avoiding it released the harmless tea.
It had been a gift from Illeon.
Once Celia took the new cup, the Empress smiled, victorious.
“Drink. Surely you don’t think I’d poison it, do you?”
—
There was no way out now. She had to drink.
Just as Celia raised the cup to her lips, a voice called out from beyond the door.
“Mother, it’s me.”
