A Mad Lady’s Confession - Chapter 77

That hair color wasn’t particularly rare within the empire. The woman who had been having a secret tryst with the crown prince here only moments earlier had the same color hair.

Extravagant nobles treated wigs like ordinary accessories and frequently changed them. The colors and styles of the masked guests’ hair in the banquet hall were as vivid and splendid as peacocks. Pink hair couldn’t be called a feature unique to Eleanor Brynhill.

Even so, he couldn’t pretend not to notice that every piece of information he’d found, like scraps of fallen cookies, flowed in the same direction. He couldn’t help considering the possibility waiting at the end.

“When we told her she would be marrying you, she accepted. Perhaps she was the one who used you.”

What if she’d approached Matthias to gain access to the crown prince?

What if Eleanor Brynhill hadn’t loved him, but still loved the crown prince? What if she felt both love and hatred for Klaus?

“Matthias.”

The voice calling him scattered his thoughts like fragments. Matthias raised his eyes toward Klaus, who was watching his reaction. Klaus cleared his throat before speaking with considerable seriousness.

“I admit I lived recklessly around two and a half years ago…. Honestly, I was a complete bastard.”

Matthias spent no more than one season each year in the capital. Yet even he’d heard of the crown prince’s debauchery, so Klaus’s self-reflection was probably not excessive.

“Women too… yes, I enjoyed as many as I wanted. But I swear that Brynhill wasn’t among the women I met. I understand what you’re suspecting now. No, honestly, I don’t know why I should be suspected of that after all this time, but I have absolutely nothing to do with that woman Eleanor, the duchess.”

“….”

“I don’t know the woman named Del either. She was merely some incident from that time. I’ve never even met her. It seems she knows me, but damn it, I didn’t do anything! Why does everyone keep interrogating me? How dare they, when they know who I am!”

Klaus’s powdered face flushed red.

“Is having a little fun such a terrible crime? I’m the crown prince! I’m the ruler of this empire, so what does it matter what I do?”

His ragged breathing plainly revealed his emotional agitation. Clammy beads of cold sweat formed across Klaus’s forehead.

Matthias stood motionless, watching him like the surface of a tranquil lake, before slowly speaking, “Remember that this was your final opportunity to tell the truth, Klaus.”

Matthias turned away.

Instead of returning to the banquet hall where the loud music was playing, he stepped onto the terrace off the corridor.

He drew a deep breath, but it brought him no relief. He reached inside his coat out of habit and took out the silver flask. Opening the cap, he tipped it into his mouth, and bitter liquor traveled down his throat.

It was a thoroughly ungentlemanly habit. An attitude utterly unlike Matthias Nielsen. How was he any different from an alcoholic steeped in drink?

Each time he climbed over one wall, another awaited him. As though trapped in a maze with no possible escape, he couldn’t find the exit called Eleanor.

The woman had left him on her own two feet, and that at least told him she hadn’t been harmed against her will. She was capable of protecting herself, and the misfortunes involving her that haunted his nightmares probably weren’t part of her reality.

Even so, his heart burned. There were words he needed to say to the woman, and he feared they might never meet again before he could tell her. When that woman might have used you, Matthias.

“…Where are you?”

He released the familiar, unanswered question into the night wind. If God existed, he hoped God would tell him tonight.

For the first time in his dull, tedious, uninteresting life, he thought of something with desperate longing.

The banquet was the height of splendor. As though the masks over their faces also concealed their shame, the people called Römern’s great nobles forgot their dignity and manners and laughed, chatted, and danced vulgarly.

Expensive food overflowed on every table, while desserts lavishly covered in butter and chocolate fell to the floor and were crushed beneath their shoes.

The atmosphere of the banquet intensified further when the crown prince appeared.

Klaus entered wearing a white lion mask embroidered with gold thread and attire so dazzlingly extravagant that even with his face covered, it was impossible not to recognize him.

Alicia sat in a chair on the raised platform, watching the spectacle with displeasure. She’d remained this long only to see how pathetic he would make himself look, but she’d reached her limit.

There was no one who could restrain the crown prince.

Alicia thought of the emperor, whose vigor had uncharacteristically declined.

When she considered where Klaus’s irresponsible and pathetic blood came from, she irreverently thought of their father at once.

She’d been disappointed in him far more often than she’d respected him, and there was little tender affection between father and daughter. Even so, at this moment, she wished the emperor were here.

Whatever else might be said, the emperor possessed a sense of dignity. He alone could put a stop to this hellish party.

Alicia was chewing hard on her lower lip and had just begun to rise abruptly from her seat when Klaus stepped onto the small stage prepared in the middle of the banquet hall. The lively music stopped at once, and the murmuring noise gradually subsided. As though he’d been waiting for that moment, Klaus opened his mouth.

“My empire, my people!”

His gaze behind the mask was unbearably arrogant as it swept over those assembled, his voice ringing powerfully through the hall. The way he casually described himself as the master of the empire and its people carried the swelling pride of a man who was already emperor.

“May the rule of von Bernstorff reign over this land blessed by Saint Orsetia.”

At Klaus’s words, all the nobles respectfully bent their knees and curtsied. After a brief pause, he continued, “A great ruler must have subjects worthy of him. This land has been governed in peace and prosperity because of you, who possess restraint and loyalty, diligence and wisdom.”

What in the world was he trying to say? Alicia snorted at the grandiose introduction.

“Yet peace must always be tested by evil.”

At his resolute tone, tension briefly filled the banquet hall.

“As everyone here knows, there were seditious groups who sought to overthrow this land protected by von Bernstorff and by you, its wise people. Those who demand rights without working. Those who abandon their own duties and covet only the emperor’s grace. Those who regard law and order as troublesome shackles.”

Everyone present knew he was referring to the Catalman uprising.

“Those who flow through the empire’s body like rotten blood.”

The people of Catalman had been brutally suppressed by the Imperial Army’s force. Considering that they too were citizens of this country, it had been an extremely cruel and unjust response. Yet the imperial family behaved as though such treatment were only natural.

That isn’t right. Alicia bit hard into her lower lip.

“But because God loves Römern, He has allowed our land to return to its rightful state. A great emperor and wise subjects who reflect him like a mirror. You.”

As though to lighten the solemn atmosphere, Klaus changed his tone and continued, “And so today, I intend to grant you a privilege.”

The audience, already highly excited by the crown prince’s words, stirred with anticipation.

“The privilege of delivering punishment as proud citizens of Römern.”

When he finished speaking, a door opened at the far end of the banquet hall. Imperial soldiers entered and dragged several people onto a small stage set against one wall. Four men were hauled up and arranged in a row.

Their clothes were torn and tattered, and shackles bound their bare feet. Their hands were tied behind them and connected by a long rope, while cloth sacks covered their heads.

“Look upon the faces of the traitors with your own eyes. And….”

Attendants carrying baskets circulated among the masked nobles. Everyone reached inside and took something in hand.

At Klaus’s signal, the imperial soldiers simultaneously removed the cloth sacks from the prisoners’ heads.

Alicia shot to her feet. Her brow furrowed on its own. Apparently, she wasn’t alone in feeling it, because a quiet murmur passed among the nobles as they stared at the young men onstage.

The people of Catalman, whom Klaus had called traitors to the empire, stagnant and rotten blood, criminals who had to be torn out and who would be punished today, resembled someone.

A tall man with dazzling blond hair.

Klaus continued with mockery in his voice, “Now, as proud citizens of the empire, deliver their punishment. The punishment God has placed in your hands.”

The masked guests lowered their eyes to the stones they held.

A low groan escaped Alicia as she witnessed the beginning of a new hatred.