Chapter 798
Acorella checked her pocket watch and gave a subtle nod to the mage. Quite some time had passed, yet the Emperor still showed no sign of leaving the minister’s office. The mage, catching her glance, shrugged his shoulders in response.
Creak.
“Your Majesty?”
Finally, Acorella opened the door and peeked inside. The Emperor, seated beside Ian with his head bowed, slowly turned around. His complexion looked grim.
“Are you all right?”
“…What is it?”
“Oh, it’s just that it’s already afternoon.”
“You should be attending to your duties. You can’t stay here all day.” Acorella blinked and forced a small smile. Given the atmosphere, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he’d decided to abandon all affairs and remain here.
“Has it really gotten that late?”
Jin let out a soft sigh, tidied Ian’s blanket, and stood up. Yet, his gaze lingered on Ian before he finally gave Acorella an order.
“Acorella, regarding Ian’s condition—though it’s a matter of magic, ultimately, magic resides within the human body. I will send the Imperial Palace physicians. Provide them with the rare medicinal herbs they need; have them assist him.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
“And you all—”
“Yes?”
Jin put on his jacket and added,
“You should accompany them. His strength is already waning; dealing with the Eastern mages has only made things harder.”
Then, tapping Acorella’s cheek, Jin noticed a small scratch there.
If anything, the Eastern mages had suffered more in this ordeal, but Acorella smiled brightly and nodded.
“Thank you. The kids will be glad.”
“…Just hold on a little longer. I know how hard this has been.”
Both mentally and physically.
Since the war, the palace had been in turmoil, and proper recognition had been delayed. Now that the full story of the Hwan incident was revealed, as long as Ian recovered, everything should return to normal.
“Yes, well, we’re fine, but Ian is still in a bad way.”
“I understand.”
Jin patted Acorella’s shoulder with a smile and left the office. Acorella bowed slightly, checked Ian’s condition once more, and then stepped out.
Creak.
As the room fell silent, Ian’s breathing slowed.
His eyelids fluttered open slightly—but that was all. He couldn’t even move a finger, only taking in his surroundings.
“……”
It felt as if every muscle in his body had been shredded. If he didn’t focus on breathing, he might not even be able to draw air. Instinctively, the boy closed his eyes again and soon slipped into a deep sleep.
“Prime Minister, why did you leave before me?”
Jin, back in the office, sat at his desk and asked. He had thought the Prime Minister had left on urgent business, but it turned out he had been waiting there all along.
The Prime Minister bowed his head with difficulty in response.
“Prime Minister?”
“I apologize, Your Majesty.”
“For what? Leaving early?”
Why the sudden change? Jin smiled and rolled up his sleeves. The morning’s work had piled up due to the commotion with the mages. But now that the Eastern mages were captured, he could finally work in peace. Just as Jin dipped his pen in ink—
“The Eastern mages came to see me.”
Jin froze, lifting his head. A drop of ink fell from the pen.
“What do you mean?”
“They didn’t meet me in person, but sent a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Yes. Here it is.”
The Prime Minister handed over the letter along with a single strand of white tiger fur.
Jin was taken aback but composed himself and read it. Though it contained some falsehoods, most of it matched the report Melania had given: questioning Ian’s true identity. Jin frowned, dismissing it outright.
“Do you believe this?”
The Eastern mages had already confessed. Their attack on the Foreign Minister was meant to trouble Ian. This letter was surely part of the same scheme.
“There was information about the white tiger’s fur in the central archives. Fragmentary, but it existed. In the country of a man named Hohun, they worship a thousand-year-old white tiger as their clan head. It’s a spiritual beast with mysterious powers.”
“So that’s why you went to the Magic Department first?”
Jin recalled the Prime Minister arriving there ahead of him and stood up. This was not a matter to be discussed sitting down.
“I apologize.”
“So?”
“Did you use it? Without even reaching the Magic Department?”
The Prime Minister fell silent, bowing even lower.
“Your Majesty, I do not believe Minister Ian is a monster.”
“But you used it. Recklessly.”
“Still, it’s certain he harbors secrets.”
“Prime Minister, you made a mistake.”
“From the start, it was so. Recall the countless suspicions raised about Minister Ian. This is clear evidence. It would be wise to investigate him.”
Jin’s face hardened as he took the white tiger’s fur and, without hesitation, burned it in the candle flame. Along with the letter from the Eastern mages.
Whoosh!
In an instant, it turned to ash. Jin sat back down, averting his gaze from the Prime Minister.
“I can guess why you didn’t inform the Magic Department, but that decision was clearly wrong. Prime Minister, you have erred.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Confine yourself. Until further orders, you are not to step outside your residence.”
Jin’s cold glare pressed down on the Prime Minister. The man clasped his dry hands nervously and added cautiously,
“Your Majesty, I entered the palace at nineteen and have served three Emperors.”
Jin knew this well. The Prime Minister had been part of Bariel’s history. He sighed and crossed his arms, curious to hear what was coming.
“As you know, both previous Emperors died betrayed by those they trusted.”
Jin’s father, the former Emperor, had fallen victim to his own son’s schemes and was fatally wounded by the palace guard captain. Though preserved by freezing magic for a time, his death was ultimately caused by those closest to him.
“Were the former Emperors any different from Your Majesty?”
Not really. The depth of their hearts may have varied, but fundamentally, they were the same. His father cherished Marib and Gale, and like Jin, trusted the palace guard, turning his back on them.
“And before that?”
He was poisoned by a beloved woman. When he was pushed out of the succession, a concubine and prince fearing for their lives orchestrated the tragedy. In response, Jin’s father, the rightful heir, wiped out the opposing faction.
Blood had always stained Bariel’s palace history. The death of an Emperor was never caused by distant wars, but by conflicts with those closest to him.
“There is no one left, Your Majesty.”
Truly, no one remained.
Jin was the sole survivor of the royal family. What did that mean? It meant that those harboring rebellion had no better opportunity. They only needed to remove Jin.
“Prime Minister.”
“I apologize. Though I have seen the full story, I still hope Your Majesty will seize this as an opportunity.”
Waiting for the opponent to slip up was not always the best strategy. One needed the power to manipulate the situation—to cut, to bind, and turn it to one’s advantage.
With the Eastern mages stirring up a small commotion, this could be the chance to create a bigger splash.
“…May I ask one thing?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Did my father do the same?”
Jin had heard of the poisoning incident involving the concubine.
But he had many doubts. Given her power and gains, assassinating the Emperor was an enormous risk. In fact, it led to her downfall—a miscalculation, perhaps. But—
‘What if my father was also seizing an opportunity?’
The Prime Minister understood the question’s intent and bowed his head. There was nothing more to add about the past. He bowed deeply once more in apology.
“I accept my confinement. Your Majesty, I am sorry.”
The Prime Minister carefully turned and left the office.
At the same moment, Jin let out a heavy sigh, pressing his eyes with his fingers to calm his tangled thoughts. As a man, he had no choice but to trust someone—but that trust often led to death. What, then, was the meaning of being Emperor?
“Damn it!”
Thud. Jin slammed a file down roughly, cursing aloud. It was the first time he had spoken so bluntly. Glancing out the window, he saw the Prime Minister’s carriage leaving the palace.
Whooosh!
Meanwhile, Grimold, the Prime Minister, took in the view outside the carriage as it headed home. Though confined for now, once the Minister of Magic awoke, no one could predict what would happen next. Perhaps he might never return.
“Prime Minister, we’ve arrived…”
“What is it?”
“There’s a carriage waiting in front of the residence.”
“A carriage?”
Who could it be? His daughter? As Grimold stepped down and moved inside, someone hurriedly got out of the unfamiliar carriage and rushed toward him.
“Honorable Prime Minister!”
“You! What rudeness is this?”
“Wait, please! Aren’t you the Prime Minister? It’s you, right?”
The servants stepped in, blocking his path and grabbing him by the collar, shaking him roughly. It wasn’t unusual—these kinds of scenes happened from time to time. Strangers showing up out of nowhere, claiming to be distant relatives or victims of the new policy, making a fuss.
As Grimold turned his body to head inside the mansion, the man desperately lunged forward, shouting.
“The Eastern Mage!”
“…!”
“I met them! Hey, let go of me! I’m Marco, I run the intelligence office! If you hear me out, you won’t regret it, seriously! Hey, I said let go!”
“Wait a moment.”
The Prime Minister motioned lightly, signaling the servants to hold back. Marco shook off their rough grip, straightened his jacket with a smug grin, and lifted his chin.
“You met the Eastern Mage?”
“Yes. Not long ago, they came to buy information from my office. And I heard something really interesting. Probably not the place to talk about it here, though. Mind if I come inside? We could have a cup of tea or something.”
The servants scowled at Marco’s cocky attitude. He looked like the kind of guy who’d been scraping by in the slums—bad news all around.
They all glanced at Grimold, urging him to send the man away quickly. But he simply nodded and gestured for them to let him in.
“To the parlor.”
“Master!”
“Ha, smart people get straight to the point. Show him in, everyone.”
“Damn it!” Marco slapped the servants on the shoulders and practically ran into the mansion, excited. The butler, looking a bit exasperated, led him inside. The Prime Minister settled onto the sofa and made a request.
“Bring some tea. Penilcotton.”
“Right away.”
A bluish flower petal tea. The Prime Minister avoided it due to allergies, so within the mansion it was a kind of code…
“Prepare the guest.”
Something to handle things quietly.
“Understood, Master.”
If things went south, they’d deal with it discreetly inside the mansion.
Watching Marco curiously as he looked around in wonder, the Prime Minister finally asked in a low voice.
“So, what was this interesting story you heard?”