TDSWM Chapter 59

Chapter 59

“The seed of the Empire’s downfall.”

For the sake of the Empire’s survival, the cursed archduke’s son, Theodore, had to die.
The nobles’ petitions for his death amused Emperor Hereis.

Gerald was exceptional.
Since his teens, he had followed the old war hero Julius into the Demon Realm, winning countless victories.
He was the Empire’s hope, its hero.

Perhaps that was when it began—when Hereis, though fifteen years older, started resenting Gerald.

Before inheriting the throne upon his father Guillaume’s death, Hereis had always been crown prince.
The eternal crown prince.

It was suffocating. He couldn’t achieve anything. He couldn’t build a legacy.

The constant comparisons bred an inferiority complex. For some, that kind of complex becomes motivation.
For others, it becomes the seed of self-destruction.

To Hereis, Gerald was like a dark storm cloud obscuring the sun.

How dare he block the imperial radiance, how dare he bring refreshing rain to the cracked, withered hearts of the starving people—how arrogant, how presumptuous.

He couldn’t stand it. Gerald surpassed him both in bloodline and in service to the Empire.
Even the kingdoms remembered Gerald more than him.

So he began to suspect that his succession to the throne was delayed because of that brat, fifteen years his junior.

And when his own young heirs kept dying prematurely, he accused Gerald of plotting to steal the throne.

Thus, upon ascending to the throne at the late age of forty, Hereis’s first act was to remove Gerald.

But he failed. Gerald’s power and influence were too solid, too strong.
That miscalculation nearly cost Hereis his own crown.

And then, Gerald’s one fatal weakness appeared.

Theodore, cursed by Jang.
The boy destined to destroy the Empire upon reaching twenty.

Of course he had to be killed.

But even that wasn’t easy. Gerald himself had punished the blasphemer who cursed his son.
And Gerald was the people’s hero.

Theodore became a tragic medal of honor.

The people’s hope that Gerald would lift his son’s curse formed a wall protecting him.

So Gerald gladly shut himself away in the library of Caricas estate, declaring that if he could not break the curse, he would kill his son with his own hands.

Hereis actually felt relieved.

As long as Gerald locked himself in his study, he could no longer outshine him with greater achievements. And Theodore was the perfect chain to keep Gerald restrained.

So Hereis let down his guard.

But then… what?

Gerald wanted to take part in the “Demon Realm Victory Memorial Subjugation Campaign”?

Was he planning to steal the spotlight again?
Hereis would never allow it.

Until innocence is proven, guilt stands.

“You sought my throne. Now, lose your son, and soon, your wife. Go mad—or die.”

Hereis’s lips curled upward, and he even laughed until tears spilled from his eyes.

At that moment—

“Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager Bodrina asks you to step out for a moment.”

“What for?”

“The Archduke, his wife, and the young lord have come to offer wedding greetings.”

“…!”

Hereis’s signature jerked across the imperial document before him, ink smearing the page.

* * *

Inside the reception room of Bedrian Palace in the Imperial Court.

“What is all this?”

Empress Dowager Bodrina stared in surprise at the unfamiliar wrapped desserts and bottled drinks before turning to the archducal couple.

Sinclair, shy, bowed her head—but she didn’t miss the sparkle in Alfred’s eyes. The sight made her smile softly.

“The Archduchess stayed up all night preparing these,” Gerald explained warmly. “She wished to offer a proper greeting, since this is her first time at the palace.”

Though it was unbecoming for a noble to prepare food, the fact that Sinclair had made it herself to honor the Empress Dowager spoke of sincerity.

Gerald’s eyes on his wife were dripping with pink hearts, and his voice was as sweet and gentle as spring blossoms.

Hereis lounged in the master’s chair at the far end, legs crossed, leaning back, watching this unfamiliar Gerald with amusement.

“Sophia.”

At Sinclair’s command, Sophia distributed glass-like bottles—each the length and thickness of an adult’s forearm—to the Empress Dowager, the Emperor, the Empress, and the Crown Prince.

“…?”

All looked curiously at the bottles. Sinclair took a small portion of tiramisu and placed it inside.

“Please add just a tiny bit of food before eating—and wait a moment.”

“…!”

Hereis’s brow twitched as he lifted the beaker. The liquid inside whirled violently, and a moment later, a green flame flared up with a bang.

“If the light turns red, it means poison. You should discard it immediately.”

“How convenient. And portable, too.”

Bodrina praised it, but Hereis tilted his chin arrogantly, holding the bottle between two fingers as if mocking Gerald.

“Archduke, is not magic forbidden in the Empire?”

“It is, Your Majesty.”

“Then why bring this here, of all places? Do you mean to rebel?”

He threw the poison tester at Gerald. The reception hall froze. All eyes turned to the beaker.

But before it struck Gerald, Sinclair’s graceful arm shot out and caught it midair.

Gasps filled the room. She held the beaker in one hand, placed her other hand over her heart, and bowed respectfully.

“Forgive the disturbance, Your Majesty. But this is not magic—it is science.”

“What?”

Hereis sneered, lips curling as he glared at the bold Archduchess. Sinclair elegantly twisted open the base of the beaker, revealing tiny gears.

“These are what created the whirlpool. They run on magically-processed stones already permitted by the Empire. But if Your Majesty wishes, it can also be operated manually by hand.”

“…!”

“And the liquid inside is merely a reagent that detects toxins in food by color change.”

Of course, it couldn’t perfectly identify alkaloids, peptides, carbohydrates, and countless other poisons.

But in an Empire still steeped in superstition and magic, symbolism mattered more than precision.

This much was enough to deter the Emperor, who was always searching for an excuse to eliminate Theodore.

Sinclair had bullied Sophia and the researchers to cobble it together in just a few days before this trip to the palace.

Now she handed the device back to Sophia and calmly returned to her seat.

“How did you come to know of this?”

“I studied books on herbs and poisons. And perhaps you’ve heard—there was an unfortunate incident with the young lord recently.”

“Ah, the food poisoning incident?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Bodrina confirmed, and Sinclair continued carefully:

“A precious nanny’s life was lost overnight. So I wished to be more cautious. If this device displeased His Majesty, I apologize. But as a mother, it was only born from my desire to protect my child. I beg your generosity.”

She looked straight at the Emperor as she bowed. Hereis clenched his teeth.

Treason.

This was no different from the words of a rebellious marquis.

No spies could be planted in the Archduke’s household—it was sealed land under demonic wards.

That was why he had married off his daughter as a hostage, to destroy the Archduke’s family from within.

And yet here the very woman sat, declaring she would protect the boy.

“How wise. The Archduke must be relieved.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It is all thanks to Your Imperial Grace,” Gerald quickly added, deflecting all credit back to the Emperor who had given him his wife.

“Yes indeed. Our Emperor has done his brotherly duty. Crown Prince, treat the young lord like your own brother. In a house with so few heirs, the two of you will find great strength in each other.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Alfred replied politely, his round, plump face brightening with a small smile. Sinclair’s lips curved upward.

How sweet her Alfred was, even as a child.

But then Gerald’s voice swept away her gentle feelings like a cold gust of wind:

“Since our house is also lacking in heirs, the Archduchess and I shall form a knightly order once we’ve had enough children. Please wait a little longer.”

‘What the—has this man lost his mind? Who said anything about bearing countless children?!’

Sinclair gaped at Gerald, only for him to clasp her hand tightly. To onlookers, they seemed the very picture of a loving couple.

“The Archduchess was frail since childhood. She will need to work hard to meet your expectations, Archduke,” came the Empress Kennith’s cold, emotionless remark from across the table. She had been quietly sipping tea, face like a mask of ice.

A challenge?

Sinclair, unwilling to back down, answered with dignity:

“Surely founding a knightly order does not only mean bearing children of my own flesh. It means working together to build up the Archduke’s house.”

Bodrina regarded Sinclair anew. She wasn’t just clever—she carried herself with true ambition befitting an Archduchess.

‘Michael… why did you hide such a treasure and only send her now to the Archduke’s house?’

The Empress Dowager sipped the lemon soda Sinclair had brought and nearly jumped.

This refreshing, sparkling taste was just like the girl herself—bright, sharp, and lively.

How refreshing, flowing down the throat.

Ah, what a waste. With proper guidance, she could have…

Her eyes shifted to the Emperor, who sat sulking, face twisted as if chewing bitter pickles.

If only he had raised this girl himself.

Bodrina set down her glass and looked back at Sinclair.

“You called this Lemon Tak-sswa? Quite refreshing and sweet.”

“I’m honored.”

“Young lord, is this your first time at the palace?” she asked Theodore, who sat sulking beside Alfred.

“No, Grandmother. I camed once before, for the Crown Prince’s birthday.”

“Ah, so you did. Then come often with the Archduchess from now on.”

“I refuse.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because everyone only looks at my stepmother. She is too busy greeting them all to see me.”

Was that so?

The atmosphere grew awkward, everyone lowering their eyes to their teacups.

The young lord was said to be stubborn, but had the Archduchess truly won his heart in less than a month of marriage?

Bodrina decided to test him.

“Ho. Is that so? Then perhaps you, too, are always looking only at your stepmother?”

“Yes.”

In truth, Theodore’s anger wasn’t only from being ignored.

Sinclair had been glancing at the Crown Prince rather than at him.

He was furious.

He still hadn’t recovered from the sting of Gerald stealing a march on him earlier, so he grew even more anxious.

Finally, squirming and turning his head aside, he declared loudly:

“I, Theodore von Zeyer, will make my stepmother the Archduchess consort when I grow up!”

Clatter.

Sinclair dropped her meringue onto the table.

‘That brat… is this his revenge for what happened at the pillar earlier?’

Gerald pressed his lips into a thin line, smiling like a doting father as he glared at Theodore.

Sinclair, on the other hand, sat frozen, mouth agape.