Zenna. 

 

At the name of the vanished people that had long been forgotten, Khankundra’s eyes widened greatly.

 

“No… way… Back then, all of Zenna’s royal family was said to have died…”

 

“The family members you personally tortured to steal their power met that fate. For no crime at all, solely because they refused to give their blood ability to you!”

 

“Ugh…!”

 

Hissin reached through the iron bars and seized Khankundra by the collar. 

 

Red burns formed on the arm that touched the bars, but a body consumed by rage could not even feel the searing pain.

 

“T-then… how did you…”

 

“How did I survive, you ask?”

 

Hissin twisted his lips into a sneer.

 

“The ‘true master of the Holy Grail’ that you so desperately wanted to hide—she was the one who brought me to this day.”

 

“…”

 

“The woman in whose presence divine power first manifested right before my eyes.”

 

At those words, not only Khankundra but even Mindhu looked at Hissin in shock. 

 

They were already surprised that he knew Dahlia was the true master of divine power, but to hear that he had been present at the very moment her divine power awakened.

 

Just how much did this monstrous man know about the secrets the Baran Empire’s imperial palace had hidden?

 

“What exactly… do you know…”

 

“It seems there are still more facts I ought to know.”

 

Fear of their secrets being exposed flickered in the eyes of both Khankundra and Mindhu. 

 

Hissin threw—rather than released—the leather-bag-thin body of Khankundra.

 

“The pain we felt twelve years ago… I will slowly carve it into you all, one by one. The resentment of my family who died innocently at your hands, and…”

 

Hissin clenched his fist tightly and spoke in a suppressed voice.

 

“…until every last tear of that woman you so carelessly trampled upon has been repaid.”

 

At a nod from Hissin, Mohron’s soldiers approached and dragged Khankundra and Mindhu away. 

 

Mindhu, suddenly seized, thrashed wildly.

 

“I don’t know anything! It’s true, I just did whatever the Emperor told me to do!”

 

“That’s unfortunate.”

 

Hissin bent at the waist and placed his hand on the completely hairless head of Mindhu.

 

“I want to know what’s inside here the most.”

 

“Let go of me! I said I don’t know anything! Let go, I said!!”

 

Despite his desperate resistance, Mindhu was helplessly dragged away by the soldiers.

 

Next came Khankundra, who seemed quite shocked; he was muttering to himself with a dazed, vacant expression.

 

“Take him away.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Hissin watched with cold eyes as Khankundra and Mindhu were dragged far off toward the torture chamber.

 

He had no intention of letting it end easily. 

 

Their crimes were so deep and heavy that even the price of their lives felt too light. He planned to carve pain into them again and again until the words “just kill me” came out of their mouths on their own.

 

‘Even so… do you really think your resentment and sorrow will be erased?’

 

The faces of his departed family flashed before his eyes one after another.

 

Even though he had stubbornly recalled and re-recalled them for so long to keep them from fading, their faces had begun to blur little by little. 

 

And behind those fading images appeared the face of a woman, vivid as if drawn in ink.

 

Dahlia. Baran Dahlia. You who dared to save my life so recklessly while carrying that cursed surname.

 

You who make me stubbornly cling to this body that bristles thorns toward me—unable to forgive, unable to hate, and yet unable to ever let go completely.

 

This desire, darker than poison, where exactly will it take the two of us in the end?

 

“Even if that end is truly hell… I still won’t be able to let you go.”

 

My body has already been engraved with you for far too long. 

 

Something far more tenacious than the blind blood of Zenna binds me to you. I want to escape, yet I cannot escape; I want to let go, yet I cannot even release you.

 

Even knowing that crossing the line will eventually lead to being cut away, I will still climb over the wall like a vine stretching toward you, determined to entwine you.

 

Even if it suffocates you until your breath stops—die in my arms instead.

 

Because I, too, am slowly sinking into you, dying little by little.

 

💫

 

Several days had already passed since arriving in Mohron. 

 

Yet Dahlia spent every waking moment crying until exhaustion pulled her into a faint sleep, only to wake again and repeat the cycle of weeping until she collapsed once more.

 

Her eyes, crusted over with layers of dried tears, were so swollen they burned, and her lips, untouched by even a sip of water, were parched and cracked. Her body, having taken in no food, was so drained of strength that she could barely twitch a finger.

 

Even so, Dahlia refused to touch a single bite of the food Hovan brought her. 

 

Once, when Hovan tried to force some into her mouth, she flung his arm away and overturned the tray he had painstakingly carried in.

 

She hurled accusations at him—how ridiculous she must have looked all those years while he hid his true identity as a spy and deceived her—-how satisfying it must feel now to see her, the moment she escaped confinement in the palace, reduced to a prisoner.

 

Then, suddenly, a terrifying thought would flash across her mind and torment her even more.

 

“Tell me… was your kingdom also destroyed because of Baran?”

 

Hovan gave no answer to Dahlia’s question. He simply stared silently into empty space for a while before quietly cleaning up the food she had spilled.

 

That silence was a clearer reply than any number of words.

 

Dahlia wailed even more bitterly, and Hovan left the room after placing only a single teapot beside her. 

 

It was the fig tea she used to serve him often back in the princess’s palace.

 

Unable to bring herself to touch that tea, Dahlia cried until she lost consciousness, repeating the same pattern for days.

 

All the while, Hissin did not visit even once. 

 

Perhaps he wanted to watch her slowly wither and die from resentment, suspicion, guilt, and self-loathing.

 

She waited for him even though not a shadow of him appeared; she cursed him; or sometimes she simply remembered him without end—and thus Dahlia endured the time that refused to flow.

 

Today, too, Dahlia fainted and lost consciousness, then barely opened her eyes again. She lay on the bed in a daze, staring blankly into empty space.

 

In this deep underground place where neither sunlight nor moonlight could reach—like a subterranean prison—she couldn’t even tell whether it was day or night. 

 

The only faint indication that time was passing was the automatic sand hourglass that changed color according to day and night.

 

It felt as though a whole month had gone by, yet perhaps only three or four days had actually passed. She had spent every moment either crying or collapsing from exhaustion, with no chance to even gauge the passage of time.

 

‘I don’t think I ever cried this much even when those hideous red spots covered my entire body…’

 

No—now that she thought back, she couldn’t remember ever crying like this in her entire life. 

 

Even in her ignorant childhood, the imperial palace had always been strict, and after her divine power awakened, she had been confined to the princess’s palace ever since.

 

Whenever she so much as displeased him, the Crown Prince would throw her into the underground prison and drain her blood, so she had been forced to live as quietly as the dead.

 

And now here she was—unable to pull herself together, spending days and nights in endless tears.

 

The sin of bearing the name Baran must truly be deep and heavy indeed.

 

Fresh tears welled up once more in eyes she had thought were completely dried out, and Dahlia closed them tightly. Her head felt as though it would split open. 

 

If she cried any more, she might lose consciousness again.

 

Knock knock—

 

At that moment, there came the soft sound of someone knocking quietly on the door. It seemed Hovan had brought food again.

 

Dahlia turned her body and curled up tightly. 

 

Just like with Hissin, feelings of resentment and guilt were so chaotically tangled toward Hovan that she lacked the courage to face him.

 

Even without any response, Hovan opened the door and stepped inside. He approached the curled-up Dahlia and set the food down beside her.

 

“Please get up, Your Highness.”

 

Despite Hovan’s call, Dahlia didn’t move a muscle. She had no desire to eat, and her body wasn’t in any condition to accept anything anyway.

 

“You haven’t eaten anything for ten days already.”

 

Hovan spoke in a scolding tone. 

 

The Hovan who had always treated Dahlia with gentle, soft-spoken kindness now maintained an openly cold attitude ever since the truth had come to light.

 

Even so, Hovan came to see Dahlia at the appointed time every single day without fail, bringing food. 

 

He would wait until the soup had gone completely cold in case she might finally give in to hunger today, and when she refused, he would struggle to at least force a single sip of water down her throat.

 

Whenever Dahlia stared at the spoon for a long time—even if it was just the dull one—he would notice her dark thoughts and, as if in resignation, quietly take the tray away.

 

It didn’t seem to be purely out of obedience to Hissin’s orders, Hovan himself appeared to be concerned for her. 

 

Whether that concern stemmed from a venomous desire to make her suffer an even greater punishment, or from feelings that had inevitably built up over long years, she couldn’t tell.

 

“Whether you want to eat or not, you have no choice. In any case, your body won’t die so easily—so only Your Highness will be the one in pain.”

 

To still call the princess of a ruined country “Your Highness.”

 

A twisted feeling rose in Dahlia, and she let out a mocking scoff.

 

“You know perfectly well that I’m not immortal.”

 

“…”

 

“If I keep refusing to eat anything like this… I’ll eventually die. Wouldn’t that be a good thing for all of you who hate Baran so much?”

 

Dahlia swallowed back the tears that surged hotly once more and buried her face in the pillow.

 

She had just begun to think that maybe, this time, he would finally give up and leave—when that moment came.