Chapter 39: The Fallen Prince (4)

After that, it was a nightmare.

The place he was taken to was a large dance hall.

The contrast of familiar white marble and a crimson carpet stretched before him, and gathered there were numerous academy students and teachers.

He was made to sit in a sturdy velvet-covered chair, and for some reason, a large table and empty silver plates were placed in front of him.

Though it was daytime, the curtains were drawn, and the glow of magic stones illuminated the room brilliantly, creating an eerie atmosphere.

Among the students were Kishtarial of the Lattiche ducal house, as well as Count Domitrius’s heir, Mikhailis, and his sister Jibril.

They glanced at Lucas with cold, detached eyes.

Beside the duke stood his butler and another young attendant.

Lucas recognized him—the man Renaria had once spoken to.

He had an intellectual, refined appearance with glasses, his hair always neatly arranged, giving him a flawless impression.

Though he usually attended Kishtarial, when the head of the house was present, he prioritized him instead.

His slightly lowered violet eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts.

When Lucas tried to flee once, he was swiftly caught by that attendant and forced back into the chair.

His movements were light—clearly not those of an ordinary servant.

“What shall we do?”

“Cutting his tendons would be quickest, but he is still a prince. Restrain him.”

“As you wish.”

After that, the duke once again thrust forward slips of paper with names written on them.

Among the many names lined up was also the name of the girl Lucas loved.

“No,” he refused again and again, but the duke did not listen.

No matter how much he pleaded for mercy, the duke paid him no heed.

After some time of this exchange, the duke let out a sigh.

“Then let us draw lots. This will not progress otherwise.”

A box filled with slips of paper was brought.

Lucas was forced to put his hand inside and draw several.

He had no intention of drawing any, but when he struggled, some slips fell—that was deemed sufficient.

The attendant picked them up and handed them to the duke.

After confirming them, the duke returned them, and they were read aloud one by one.

He was immediately urged to draw again, but he refused.

At his reaction, the duke frowned slightly.

“Then we shall proceed with the executions first. We must be quick.

—After all, if that lonely child wakes up alone in an unfamiliar room, she will feel uneasy.”

The first half was spoken casually, but the latter was said in a deeply gentle voice tinged with a sigh.

Only those nearby—Lucas, the butler, and the attendant—likely caught it.

The names called were the servants and knights dispatched from the royal palace for Lucas, along with several nobles close to Renaria.

All of them had been involved in the incident.

Brought before the duke and Lucas, they wore expressions of despair, apologizing and begging for their lives.

But the duke did not listen.

With a single swing, he severed their heads.

Some tried to flee, but after only a few steps, their heads parted from their bodies.

A vast amount of blood stained the crimson carpet even darker.

“Oh… I forgot to read out their crimes,” the duke murmured absentmindedly.

At some point, a transparent magic sword had appeared in his hand.

That must have been what he used.

It resembled a thin, delicate rapier—so fragile it seemed it might snap with a single swing—yet it shimmered faintly, almost dreamlike.

It was a beautiful weapon, impossible to imagine as something that had taken countless lives.

The young nobles who witnessed the headless corpses gasped softly, some fainting outright.

Those close to the victims began to sob, unable to even raise their voices.

Instinctively, they suppressed all sound, terrified that drawing attention would bring the Demon Duke’s gaze upon them.

The lifeless bodies lay still.

The severed heads had fallen so quickly that their expressions still bore only terror and despair.

The attendant approached quietly, lifting each head in turn and placing them on the silver plates before Lucas.

That was what the plates had been for.

The eyes remained open, unfocused and empty.

Each head was carefully arranged to face Lucas.

It was as if their hollow gazes accused him—you are the cause.

“N-no… no, that’s not it… it’s not my fault…”

“Then whose fault is it, Prince Lucas?

You were the one who believed a young girl’s words without verifying them, who ordered the investigation of Albeltiina for the sake of condemnation, who instructed the knights, and who carried it out.

Ah, or was it the baron’s daughter who incited you? That would make things simpler.

So this is what your ‘true love’ amounts to.

You cast aside Lady Almandine, to whom you were engaged for nearly a decade, dragged countless nobles into this, and caused immense trouble and worry for His Majesty—all for this.”

The duke pierced the softest part of Lucas’s heart.

His body trembled, his thoughts rejected reality.

He clutched his head, clawing at his carefully groomed blond hair, scratching his own cheeks and temples until red lines appeared.

The light faded from his pale green eyes.

He did not want to accept it—but the brutal reality lay before him.

“And this,” the duke said, pointing,

“is the result.”

Tap.

He pointed at a corpse’s forehead.

It was one of Lucas’s guards—a man who had served him and the royal family for over ten years.

A second son of a count, recently married, his wife carrying their long-awaited child.

Now, his head rolled sideways, falling from the plate onto the table, then onto the cloth, and finally to the floor.

The students nearby turned pale at the sight.

A suppressed wave of horror rippled through the room.

The duke watched all of it with indifference.

Then, as if remembering something, he nudged a small boy behind the attendant forward with his shoe.

The boy had black hair and slightly dark skin of foreign origin.

His face was bruised, as though he had been beaten several times.

Though bound, his mouth was not gagged—but he made no attempt to speak.

“While we’re at it, let’s dispose of this one as well. A guard who proves useless at times like this is unnecessary.”

“…If I may, Your Grace.”

“What is it?”

“Should we perhaps consult the young lady first? She seemed rather fond of this one.”

“This incompetent?”

“Yes. I know it is presumptuous. But would you truly wish to see her crying later because we disposed of him without asking?”

“…I cannot understand it. Would disposing of this useless one truly sadden Albel?”

“Most likely. The possibility is quite high.”

For the first time, the duke showed genuine displeasure, then a troubled expression.

He sighed deeply and prodded the boy’s abdomen with his foot.

The boy finally grimaced in pain and let out a faint groan.

The duke glanced at his adopted son, who nodded, prompting an even deeper sigh.

“I truly cannot understand that child’s tastes. Why does she favor incompetents? You included, as well as Kishtarial and Mikhailis… I cannot see what she finds appealing. They are slightly better than fools, perhaps, but still useless dolls who cannot even protect properly—and yet greedy.

She was not the type to grow attached to toys before…

Well, Albel as she is now is still adorable, so it cannot be helped.”

The duke spoke as though exasperated, yet his expression was unmistakably gentle and affectionate.

It was obvious whom he was thinking of.

Lucas did not hear any of it.

Only the butler and attendant nearby caught those murmured words.

Though they maintained composed expressions, both inwardly shared the same thought—how had such an angel as Albeltiina been born from this cold-blooded Demon Duke?

Since the kidnapping, among the servants, the phrase “the young lady is an angel” had become a shared truth.

Innocent, pure, and unaware—

a girl dozing within the distorted garden the duke had created.

Recently, she had begun trying to step outside it, but for now, the duke indulged her gently.

If she truly tried to leave, he would likely cut the feathers from her wings, take away her shoes, and bind her with the lives of those she loved.

Such was the madness bordering on love that defined Grail von Lattiche.

At that moment, the duke’s brow twitched slightly.

He moved away from Lucas and positioned himself directly facing the entrance.

Soon after, light footsteps approached—quick, hurried, like those of a youth or a woman.

The servants who recognized them lifted their heads in shock.

“—Father!!”

A beautiful girl in a soft rose-colored dress burst into the hall, her face filled with urgency.

Renaria was charming, and Jibril was beautiful—but this girl surpassed even them.

A beauty so overwhelming it seemed almost unreal stood there, on the verge of tears.

A breath of awe escaped not only Lucas but others as well.

The oppressive air of terror was overwritten by her mere presence.

Only a few faces twisted in displeasure—Lucas did not notice.

After that, it became Albeltiina’s stage alone.

At the pleading of his sorrowful daughter, the Demon Duke relented.

So easily that it was astonishing—after ignoring countless pleas before.

The servant boy he had been about to discard was spared under the condition of “re-education,” and the cleanup was left to his adopted sons as he departed with his beloved daughter.

Just moments ago, he had refused to spare anyone—yet now everything unfolded according to Albeltiina’s wishes.

The duke who had radiated overwhelming terror transformed completely the moment he saw her.

With a melting smile and gentle voice, he approached her and granted her request.

Rather than displeased, he seemed deeply satisfied by her relieved smile.

When leaving the academy, he was said to be in an exceptionally good mood.

The rumored grotesque appearance of Albeltiina von Lattiche was the complete opposite of reality.

Her beauty was breathtaking, yet unlike the duke’s, it was delicate and graceful.

Without her glasses, her face was dazzling—resembling the famed beauty Sistina herself.

Though her romantic pink dress revealed little skin, her figure was undeniably feminine.

She persuaded her father with ease and left swiftly with him.

Their bond appeared close—

the duke holding her affectionately, the girl leaning into him.

Though not alike, their overwhelming beauty together made them resemble lovers of different ages rather than father and daughter.

The rumors of his obsessive love were true—

and she accepted that intense affection as if it were natural.

Despite knowing how terrifying her father was, many young nobles found themselves captivated by her at first sight.

Afterward, Lucas was summoned directly by the king and placed under house arrest.

Leold, who had failed to stop the incident, received the same punishment, though far lighter.

Though once hailed as a crown prince candidate, Lucas was confined to the noble prison.

For a time, he remained in a daze, unable to shake off the terror.

But gradually, he came to understand what he had done—and turned pale for many reasons.

The king declared that while his succession rights would not be entirely revoked, he would be demoted to the lowest rank—beneath even Elmedia.

Though few had died, many nobles lost titles, lands, or positions.

The only reason Lucas retained even a sliver of succession rights was that the direct royal line had only three members left.

The official decision would come after graduation—or earlier if he were expelled.

At best, he would become a one-generation noble.

At worst, he might remain confined for life.

His only visitor was his mother, Matherlyn.

One day, Leold came in disguise.

He reported that Renaria had been secretly replaced with a lookalike in prison.

The real Renaria was free.

Lucas had protected her.

If he abandoned her, she would be in the greatest danger.

Leold, however, looked troubled—her words had been too malicious, and some called for her execution.

Yet despite everything, Lucas felt something strange.

His feelings for her… were fading.

When he finally saw her again, she greeted him with her usual cheerful smile, pressing close to him.

But instead of warmth, he felt emptiness.

“By the way, Lord Grail was so handsome, wasn’t he?

But it’s pitiful… he must be deceived by that Albeltiina!

She’s really good at tricking people!”

At those words, Lucas felt his heart grow cold.

The very woman she mocked had saved him.

Without her intervention, the purge would have continued—and even Lucas might not have survived.

Why did Renaria hate Albeltiina so much?

And why did the terrifying duke cherish her so deeply?

Why could she laugh so lightly after witnessing that execution?

The dissonance in her words felt unsettling—not only to Lucas, but to Leold as well.

“Then I should apologize!

Lucas, could you arrange a meeting with Lord Grail?”

Her innocent smile, once so charming, now seemed frightening.

“Renaria, you should address him properly—as Duke Lattiche,” Lucas said.

“Lucas, don’t say things like Vivian!” she pouted.

Only now did Lucas realize—

Vivian had been right all along.

As Renaria continued speaking, something inside him creaked ominously, like something breaking.

After she left in frustration, Lucas sat alone.

What had he been seeing all this time?

The dream he had believed to be happiness had ended—

and what remained was only hell.