ISMFB 19

CHAPTER 19

“I should have said she was ugly without hesitation.”

But the face that resurfaced in his mind couldn’t be insulted, even as an empty lie.

“Right. That couldn’t be.”

As if she’d expected that answer, a faint smile tugged at the Empress’s lips.

It was a smile Maximilian had never seen before—one he hadn’t anticipated.

“The Young Lord of Brimstone has returned alive.”

Then, as if she’d never smiled at all, the Empress spoke with a tone full of disapproval.

“Don’t tell me… he won a battle against the barbarians in Pellig?”

“Yes. Unbelievable as it may be, the victory was thanks to the Young Lord of Brimstone’s cleverness.”

“…”

“He’s resolved a long-standing headache flawlessly. Naturally, the imperial family should host a banquet in his honor.”

Maximilian realized then why the Empress had suddenly brought up the Young Lord of Brimstone’s return.

“The princess can’t hide in her father’s shadow forever. She’ll attend the banquet too.”

“No way…”

“Dance the first dance with her.”

“Mother!”

Bang!

Unable to hold back, Maximilian slammed the table.

“Do you really like Lady Obell that much? Why do you keep trying to force me to marry a woman who’s nothing special?”

“And why not? There’s no reason not to like her.”

Despite his rebellion, the Empress didn’t blink. Maximilian clenched his fist tightly.

“I am the sole heir to the imperial throne. No one can deny that I will succeed it.”

“…”

“I don’t need Obell’s influence. In fact, Obell would benefit from me.”

“That’s even better. It means she’ll owe you.”

“What are you saying?”

“It means you’ll be the one holding the leash.”

Realizing the Empress’s sinister intent, Maximilian fell silent.

“With Obell under your thumb, they’ll be obedient to you. You can mold her however you wish. Isn’t that ideal?”

“…”

“Your ascension to the throne is a given. And discussing the inevitable is meaningless, Maximilian. You need to look beyond that.”

Unlike the shaken Maximilian, the Empress spoke with unwavering clarity.

“It’d be best to have one son and one daughter. More children only stir up conflict over succession and become a nuisance.”

In the Empress’s mind, Maximilian’s life had already been mapped out—to the very end.

A plan audacious enough to be called perfect.

“You’ll be able to do it, won’t you?”

At that moment, the first thing that came to Maximilian’s mind was Linaria—shyly stepping back the moment he opened his eyes.

“She wasn’t all that bad looking. If I subdue her as Mother says, she might turn out well.”

He imagined standing beside Linaria, now his wife, each holding a child.

But he paused, struggling to picture the child’s face.

“Even if the child takes after her, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

If a child who looked like her called him “Daddy,” he’d likely never look away.

Contrary to the Empress’s plan, having more children didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Four or five, perhaps.

Maximilian swallowed hard.

It felt like her breath still lingered on his cheek.

“She doesn’t like me.”

Maximilian referenced not his own feelings—but Linaria’s.

Even that was enough for the Empress to realize her son had taken a liking to Linaria.

“Even better. Mutual love is rare from the start.”

“Like you and Father?”

“Something like that.”

The Empress’s expression briefly darkened—but the change was fleeting. Her face returned to its porcelain mask.

“People don’t marry for love. They marry out of necessity. Don’t concern yourself with such trivial matters.”

She reached for Maximilian.

Long fingers stained at the tips with green paint cupped his face.

They were chillingly cold.

“Maximilian. My son.”

A faint scent of oil clung to her fingertips.

Maximilian instinctively furrowed his brow.

“You were born destined to be remembered as the emperor with the strongest imperial power in the empire’s history.”

“…”

“To realize that destiny, I—and our family—will give you unwavering support. Do you understand?”

“…Yes, Mother.”

Though their intentions differed, the future they envisioned was the same.

Nodding, Maximilian imagined a harmonious home with Linaria.

***

“I’m asking how many times you’ve returned from the future.”

Silence fell after Magnus’s question.

Linaria gripped the bed sheet tightly, her eyes trembling as she stared at him—desperately trying to hide her panic.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tower Master.”

She had already betrayed her nervousness, but she intended to deny it to the end.

“To say I died and woke up in the past… Anyone would think I’ve lost my mind.”

The Tower Master was only fishing. She couldn’t take the bait.

“How many times have you returned? Such a thing isn’t even possible. Not even once, let alone multiple times…”

“So this is your first time.”

“No, I—”

Linaria tried to argue, but Magnus already seemed to have pieced everything together and let out a quiet sigh.

“No need to lie anymore. I think I get the gist of your situation.”

“Tower Master.”

“Drink this and get some rest. You look terrible. If you saw yourself in a mirror, you’d pass out.”

He handed her a cup of water with a careless gesture.

But instead of drinking it, Linaria stared hard at Magnus.

It was a stubborn gaze.

“Ha! Do you think I’ll spill everything just because you glare at me like that? As long as you’re sick like this, I won’t say a word—not even for a fortune.”

No matter how many lives Linaria had lived, she couldn’t win against a two-hundred-year-old man.

She knew that better than anyone, so her eyebrows drooped naturally.

Seeing how clearly discouraged she was made Magnus uneasy.

“Tch. It’s not for your sake, but I’ll give you a riddle to solve. Get it right, and I’ll tell you everything. How many divine beasts have formed contracts with humans?”

It was too easy a question.

Like the sun rising in the east, she answered without hesitation.

“Six.”

“Wrong. As punishment, drink it.”

Now Magnus was on the receiving end of Linaria’s look of disbelief.

But he didn’t flinch.

“Punishment.”

Reluctantly, Linaria accepted the cup. A thick green liquid sloshed inside.

“What is this? Medicine?”

Gulp, gulp.

She drank it all in one go, but it definitely wasn’t a sweet juice.

With a bitter taste—perhaps from herbs—her face twisted into a grimace.

“Here, eat this too.”

Magnus, watching her, pulled something from his pocket and handed it over.

“That’s yours, Tower Master.”

It was a madeleine.

Apparently, something she’d given him before. She tried to refuse—it felt wrong to take back what she’d given.

“I’ve got tons of those. Don’t worry.”

Well, of course—she was the one who gave them to him.

His so-called “punishment” being that bitter liquid didn’t make her feel particularly generous.

“This is part of the punishment too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Nom nom.

In the end, Linaria reluctantly ate the madeleine and started to question Magnus’s intent.

“You lied just to shut me up, didn’t you? If you count the five ducal families and the imperial divine beast, that makes six.”

“I’m no con man. What would I gain by lying to you about this?”

Still, there were only six divine beasts contracted with humans. That had never changed.

“The answer is seven.”

“I’ve never heard of a seventh divine beast.”

Water, fire, wind, earth, darkness, and light.

What else could there be?

“Time.”

“…”

Linaria slowly turned her head, hiding her shock.

And looked at Magnus—very slowly.

“You know it too. You must’ve used that divine beast’s power.”

“A dull joke. I’m a failure who never formed a contract with a divine beast.”

Flick!

A small but sharp flick struck her forehead before she could even finish her sentence.

Linaria grabbed her forehead in silent agony.

“Don’t say such awful things, even as a joke.”

The pain brought tears to her eyes.

Seeing her about to cry, Magnus cleared his throat awkwardly and added:

“If someone says that to you again, tell me right away.”

“And what would you do?”

“What else? They’ll have a lump on their forehead bigger than yours.”

His gentle tone felt unfamiliar. Whether intentional or not, it eased her tension.

“So don’t say you’re a failure.”

It sounded like encouragement, but the meaning behind his words was clear.

“The Tower Master is certain I’m contracted with the seventh divine beast—one that governs time. And that I’ve used that power to go back in time.”

Considering the terrible future she had lived through, it was a plausible theory.

But there was one fatal flaw.

“I don’t have a contractor.”

“That’s because of your father.”

“My father?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Healing him would be simple.”

Only then did she sense something odd. A supposedly incurable illness that no doctor could treat.

And yet the Tower Master said the cure was simple. That meant either he was incredibly skilled—or…

“My father wasn’t actually ill?”

Maybe it wasn’t a disease at all.

“You’re not completely clueless, at least. Doing something as insane as erasing a contractor’s existence—it’s no wonder his body fell apart.”

“…”

“If he stops that madness, he’ll recover.”