Chapter 94: Chapter 94

Julian blankly surveyed his surroundings.

Cruello, standing nearby. The shredded remains of plants. Me, just standing there. The Crown Prince, arms crossed.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips.

"What a goddamn nightmare..."

So he thought it was a dream too.

For the first time, I felt a sliver of kinship with Julian.

"What exactly is going on here, Viscount Minerva?"

The Crown Prince, who had been subtly sidelined the whole time, finally became the center of attention.

After much waiting, the exposition was about to begin.

Of course, Julian—who never bowed to authority—was about to resist, but getting him to talk was simple.

Cruello took a hostage.

"If you keep your mouth shut, this whole incident will be classified as an assassination attempt on the Crown Prince. And unfortunately for you, the person who sent you here happens to be..."

He let his words trail off deliberately, then glanced toward his sword.

Daedire Crimson. A clear message.

Julian glared at him murderously for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh.

It was convenient, but honestly, ridiculous.

Was this friendship? Love? Whatever it was, why was it making a mess of my heroic tale?

If he cared so much for someone, he should have lived properly from the start.

"...What do you want?"

"Let’s keep this simple. No dragging things out. That magic circle engraved on your body—whose work is it?"

"I don’t know. Every time we met, they were covered head to toe in anti-recognition artifacts. They called themselves the Fourth Elder."

I could almost hear a bell ringing in my head. A strangely unpleasant sensation.

"Even the church members I questioned barely knew of their existence."

"I don’t care if you know their identity or not—just tell us everything you can."

Julian hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"They first approached me back at the academy."

I already had a bad feeling.

This was going to be a long story.

"They said they could help me surpass my limits. In return, I just had to take care of a few minor tasks."

"At first, it was simple things. But the deeper I got into the church’s secrets, the greater the demands became. And then..."

Julian hesitated before finishing.

"This magic circle—it was my punishment for failure."

And with that, the real story began.

It hadn’t been that long ago.

Julian had been marked with the magic circle around the time I returned from Whistle.

The Fourth Elder had summoned him after a long period of silence.

Robes over priestly garments, a goat mask, layers of anti-recognition magic artifacts.

As always, they were completely covered.

Julian sat as instructed, but the Elder merely hummed a tune while flipping through papers, not even taking a seat across from him.

A long time passed before they finally spoke.

"Did you hear? Ares failed in Whistle. That’s his third time now—such a shame."

The casual remark made Julian’s shoulders tense.

The Elder set their documents down on the table and leisurely approached the sofa.

"Even the Second Elder is about to step in. You know how it is—when the underlings fail, their superiors have to clean up the mess. Haha, though in this case, the underling lost his head, so there wasn’t much choice."

They suddenly reached out, grabbing Julian’s chin.

Tilting his face this way and that, as if appraising him.

Julian clenched his fists in humiliation.

"Our Julian looks so healthy, doesn’t he? I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve failed."

"Relax. What, you think we’d just throw away the precious heir to House Minerva? You’re supposed to be helping us, after all."

Even though the mask covered their face, Julian felt their lips curling into a sinister smile.

The Elder let go of him with a careless flick of the wrist and finally took a seat across from him.

Even after such treatment, Julian couldn’t afford to show any discomfort.

They called him the future Marquess of Minerva like it was an honor, but he knew exactly how worthless that title was to them.

When he was younger, he had scoffed at the idea that even the Emperor was wary of White Desert.

But it hadn’t been an exaggeration.

The entire empire was beneath White Desert—more precisely, beneath the Elder Council.

If he resisted, it wouldn’t just be his life at risk.

It would be his entire family.

How was such absolute control even possible?

Why, with such power, did the Elders still serve under a ruler?

Julian didn’t understand.

But reality didn’t require his understanding.

All he could do was bow his head and comply.

"You’ve done everything we asked, but it would be unfair not to punish failure, wouldn’t it?"

Even when they ordered him to engrave a magic circle on his body—so they could kill him whenever they pleased—he hadn’t refused.

No, he couldn’t refuse.

The humiliation still burned, but Julian had long since mastered the art of self-justification.

They could take my life whenever they wanted anyway—so what difference did it make?

Besides, he could erase the magic circle himself if he consumed the Beatitudo the Elder provided.

But wasn’t everyone ?

Bowing before those with power, keeping their heads down to survive?

In a way, he was lucky—at least he had something to gain from playing along.

If he repeated that thought often enough, maybe he could believe it.

"No problem. Happens to the best of us. I lose focus when I’m nervous too."

The Elder let out a short laugh and personally poured Julian a glass of wine.

The liquid trickled into the cup—an oddly tense sound.

"But this is inconvenient. No matter how cooperative you are, I can’t just overlook incompetent failure."

"You understand, don’t you? The Black Serpent isn’t some friendly social club. If you’re given an important role and you fail, there have to be consequences. But I did bring you in, so I can’t be too harsh, either. What a dilemma."

The Elder suddenly spoke as if struck by inspiration.

"Actually, I just thought of the perfect punishment—something that looks severe but doesn’t really hurt you."

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"What... do you mean?"

"If you die, let me borrow your body."

"Excuse me? What...?"

"Your body. That talented flesh of yours."

Greed seeped thickly from the man’s interest in Julian.

The unexpected words sent a cold sweat trickling down Julian’s spine.

His heart pounded violently, warning him of the danger.

But a beast already speared through the throat had no means to escape.

"What’s with the dumb look? It’s not like you didn’t know we were a necromancer sect. Even if you don’t believe in our doctrine, as a key figure in the church, you should contribute to the conquest of death in some way."

The fragmented words pieced together into one conclusion.

He was being forced to serve as a slave even in death.

An insult beyond belief.

Had he heard this before he had been broken into submission—before he had adjusted to this man’s rule—he might have attacked him on the spot.

But after years of being whittled into obedience, Julian, once again—

"You’ll comply, won’t you?"

—nodded at that ominous voice.

The man’s laughter dug mercilessly into his ears.

Julian, his face gone pale, thought to himself,

Once I’m dead, it doesn’t matter what happens.

As long as I don’t die now... then something ...

Julian’s story ended there.

Hearing it from his perspective almost made him seem like a pitiful victim.

But I wasn’t buying it.

He never repented while committing his misdeeds, only started wavering when he was in danger.

"So, the magic circle on your body—it was a spell to reanimate corpses?"

"Yes. I was told it was engraved in advance. I didn’t know it could activate while I was still alive, though."

He looked down at himself with an odd expression.

With the black mana completely gone, he seemed relieved, as if a weight had been lifted.

Meanwhile, I was annoyed—I had just done him a favor.

"I wasn’t aware the Black Serpent still had proper necromancers. I thought they died out long ago."

The Crown Prince’s voice carried a hint of anger.

That’s what I had thought too, at least until I came across certain books—back when I was Amy.

Controlling corpses as puppets was no simple feat.

There were very few who could engrave magic circles with such precision, and even fewer who could supply mana to maintain them.

And no matter how painstakingly they crafted the undead, divine power rendered them absurdly weak.

With no way to infiltrate the temple, an army that could be wiped out by a handful of priests was just an outdated strategy.

Yet the Elder who recruited Julian still resorted to this method.

Perhaps it was because they believed the Age of Darkness was approaching.

Just like it did in Fate.

"So, do you have any clues about this Elder? Aside from them being the Fourth?"

Julian was many things, but blindly obedient wasn’t one of them.

He had definitely investigated.

Tried to find something—anything—to flip the situation.

Just like he had recorded his conversation with Hans on a vision sphere.

"I have two suspects."

He slowly began laying out his reasoning.

After extracting all the information from Julian, we let him go.

The chain fragment was still intact, so we could track him down whenever necessary.

For now, imprisoning him would only tip off the Fourth Elder.

That left three of us standing in the ruined greenhouse.

The Crown Prince sat in the least-damaged chair, lost in thought.

After a brief pause, she looked at me and spoke.

"Was it you who destroyed the church’s headquarters?"

"If by ‘church’ you mean the Black Serpent, then yes."

"I see. That explains why they accused you of being Nigellia’s successor."

She let out a short laugh and ran a hand through her hair.

"The more I think about it, the stranger it seems. Why would they go to such lengths over a mere marriage proposal? I thought it was just factional infighting within the Elder Council, but they were actually trying to undermine your position."

"It would’ve turned the current temple against me in one move."

"Then I assume the fact that you used divine power in my presence won’t cause any problems?"

"Of course not. If anything..."

The Crown Prince trailed off, pulling a cigar from her coat.

She glanced at me as if asking for permission.

Cruello, however, shook his head.

"It smells, Your Highness."

"...I was under the impression you smoked."

"Cruello, you smoke?"

"No, Your Highness must be mistaken."

With a reluctant sigh, she put the cigar away.

"Honestly, watching Viscount Minerva, I had no right to judge. The imperial family has also been leashed by the Elder Council, following their will."

"But I believe it’s time for that to end. I’ll be blunt—"

"I want you to help me."