Episode 76

Chapter 76. Why Would I Have a Reason to Kill You?

A night painted with hazy moonlight.

At the far end of the palace’s rear garden.

Jerome, whom I encountered at the late emperor’s mausoleum, looked entirely different from usual.

His once-radiant platinum hair was dulled to a pallid shade,

And the proud, flawless face that tolerated not even a hint of imperfection now held only a deep sorrow.

“Helena. Just as you were.”

There was a faint trace of alcohol in his voice.

Empty bottles lay scattered around him.

The scent alone made it clear.

This was strong liquor. Quite a lot of it, too.

Yet, he didn’t seem drunk at all.

Or maybe… he was completely drunk.

The way he smiled at me—gently, almost humanly—was enough to tell me something was off.

It was clear he’d come undone…

And yet, somehow, he looked heartbreakingly vulnerable.

So much so that I was left speechless.

That weary smile made my chest ache.

Drunk under the moonlight, he was… overwhelming in many ways.

What is he thinking right now?

After silently studying me, he gave a faint, hollow chuckle.

“Didn’t think you’d come here.”

“…Was it that surprising?”

He nodded, then shook his head as if correcting himself.

“No. Somehow, I thought you might.”

His eyes were languid as he continued.

“The woman you are now… I thought she just might.”

“…”

“Not saying anything? That’s not like you. What’s wrong? Are you unsettled by the way I look right now?”

Instead of answering, I shook my head.

At my response, Jerome murmured softly.

“You really… have changed.”

His smile deepened.

“So, what nonsense are you here to spout today?”

“Have I ever said anything nonsensical?”

“You have. Often, lately.”

He gave a short reply, eyes locked onto me.

“You’ve changed. You weren’t like this before. What changed you?”

“…”

That’s what I want to ask you.

The way he reacted when I said I wouldn’t harass the concubine—he told me not to do anything stupid.

He would publicly cast me aside but show me a strange calmness when we were alone.

He even picked me up when I collapsed in court.

There were so many things like that.

All of them left me deeply confused.

“You said strange things to her.”

Her. I knew exactly who he meant.

Fay must have already come to him.

In the original story, she sought Jerome out—so it seems she did again this time.

But one thing was very different.

“She asked if it was true that you asked me for a divorce.”

“And how did you respond?”

“What do you think I said?”

“…”

Did he find it amusing?

He let out a low chuckle.

Even that felt like a dangerous kind of charm—perhaps an illusion cast by the moonlight.

His laughter told me all I needed to know.

He probably claimed the Empress made ridiculous demands in exchange for a divorce—or denied it altogether.

To be honest, I didn’t even care about his answer. What I really wanted to know was something else.

“Where is she now… the concubine?”

“She left. After hearing my answer, she sighed in relief and went back.”

I frowned.

That was what had changed.

Fay wasn’t supposed to leave.

She was supposed to stay here. To listen to his pain, and spend the entire night by his side.

But now, she had done something completely different.

And the reason was clear.

Because of me.

It was my fault.

Because I’d said something strange to her.

No—because I didn’t stop her in the first place.

And yet…

Even though the flow of the original story had been broken, I didn’t feel anxious.

Strangely, I felt at peace.

As though something that had been wrong was now being put right.

But still…

I looked at Jerome.

Seeing him like this—so alone—tugged at something inside me.

Don’t get the wrong idea.

It’s not because I have feelings for him, or because I care.

It’s because one event during the Founding Festival will shape his future actions dramatically.

“You still haven’t told me why you came. What is it? Here to badmouth the concubine?”

“It sounds like you want me to.”

“Yeah. I wish you would.”

Jerome gave a bitter smile.

He refilled his empty glass.

“Whatever it is, I want to be alone tonight. Save it for another time.”

Why does it feel like he’s crying?

This treasure-hunting event began 25 years ago, during the reign of the previous emperor. It was a small tradition, meant only for one person. A gift for the crown prince, Jerome.

His dry voice sounded like a wail.

Unfortunately, the late emperor suffered from madness for many years. In the end, his condition was so severe he didn’t even recognize his own family. Yet somehow, he never forgot the gift meant for his son.

His barren eyes, without a single tear, carried unbearable sorrow.

That day too, the crown prince searched for his gift. He scoured the palace until dawn. But when he finally gave up and went to see his father—the emperor was dead. A sword driven through his chest. Jerome’s sword.

Unspoken grief and longing splintered into brittle sorrow.

Since then, every year, Jerome has opened the palace to nobles and citizens. “Come and find the treasure,” he says. But the truth is, the treasure he wants to find is his father’s gift. A gift he could never find alone. A memory, a fragment of his father. Something he hopes others might find in his place.

Every year.

Since becoming emperor.

During the Founding Festival, save for essential duties, Jerome would drink in solitude.

No one knew why. Not even Fay.

It had taken her a long time to learn his heartbreaking secret.

And now… maybe she would never know.

After hesitating, I finally spoke.

“I know your pain. But I also have something I need to say—tonight.”

“You know my pain?”

Jerome rose to his feet.

He strode toward me, and the look in his eyes was like a sharpened blade.

It wasn’t the usual cold detachment he showed me.

It felt more like the wounded defiance of a cornered beast.

Before I realized it, he was right in front of me, growling like an animal.

“I don’t know what you came here for, but let me warn you. Tonight is not the night to test me.”

It wasn’t just a threat.

His red eyes, glowing beneath the moonlight, looked feral.

Predatory.

His breath fell against my forehead, then down my nose, brushing past my chin and grazing the delicate skin of my neck.

I turned my head and shrank back instinctively.

His breath lingered around me, like a predator circling its prey.

“Once again—I want to be alone tonight.”

His voice, regaining some restraint, drifted to me.

I heard his footsteps pulling away.

I turned to him and said,

“There are people who want to kill me.”

“……!”

He stopped.

And stood there in silence for a long moment.

Maybe he couldn’t believe what I’d said.

Maybe he was about to mock me, say I was trying to get his attention with nonsense.

That was how the Jerome I remembered from the original story would have reacted.

But…

“Who are they?”

He believed me.

He tilted his head slightly, and his gaze was so chilling, I struggled to hold it.

“I don’t know. Maybe you won’t believe me, but I overheard them. I heard them talking about it.”

“You heard them?”

“I was trapped in a closet by accident and… just happened to…”

I couldn’t finish.

Because Jerome suddenly grabbed me—and we both fell to the ground.

It wasn’t a violent fall. In fact, his strong arms caught me mid-fall.

“What the hell…!”

He loomed over me, shouting in a voice filled with fury.

“What did you do? Why would someone want to kill you?”

He looked truly furious.

His voice was rough, trembling with anger—so unlike his usual composed self.

“I thought… it was you.”

“Me?”

His eyes widened at my words.

It was the last thing he expected.

Then, he let out a cold laugh.

“Why would I have a reason to kill you?”

His head tilted as he whispered, his hot breath crawling over me once again.

The heat, the fear, it was too much—I squirmed beneath him.

But his grip on my arms was ironclad.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Doing? You think I’m doing something I shouldn’t be doing… to my own wife?”

“Get a hold of yourself. I’m not the one you love. Don’t forget the innocent woman you actually care for.”

“The innocent woman? Ah, right. That’s what everyone thinks. But you know the truth, don’t you?”

His voice was low, strained.

“How long I’ve been holding back… How much I’ve endured. I can’t anymore…”

His searing instinct burned through him like molten lava.

The fire in his eyes looked unstoppable.

Overwhelming.

I felt like I would be consumed whole.

Panicked, I shouted the only word I could think of—

“Treasure!”

He froze.

The tidal wave of desire halted in an instant.

“I know where the treasure is—the one you’ve been searching for.”

“……!”

The main palace, in a small room at the very top.

I led Jerome there.

“You mean it’s here?”

“That’s right.”

Not long ago, the area had been full of people, but thanks to Leonard, it was now under strict control.

Thank you for granting my request, Leonard.

“You’re telling me the treasure I’m looking for is in here?”

Jerome glanced around the room with a scoff.

“Do you even know what this place is?”

“It’s the secret room you used to sneak into when you were young.”

“You know it well. Then you must also know how thoroughly I searched it.”

“Of course. Probably dozens of times, right?”

“And yet you’re saying the treasure is here?”

I didn’t respond; instead, I looked around the room.

A low bookshelf.

A dusty piano.

Worn-out dolls and wooden toy swords and shields.

It felt more like an attic meant for a child than a secret chamber.

Just as it had been described in the book.

But for some reason, it all seemed oddly familiar.

“There’s a piano. Do you know how to play?”

“Of course I do.”

“Would you play something? Just one piece?”

Jerome glared at me in silence.

“You promised to help me find the treasure.”

“Just humor me and play one song.”

After shooting me a look like he could devour me, he sat at the piano.

The instrument was small, far too cramped for an adult to play comfortably.

He didn’t even bother to dust it off as he placed his hands on the keys.

“Ah! I almost forgot. You don’t need to play anything grand for me.”

His eyes narrowed, full of irritation.

I smiled back at him, unbothered.

“Can you play the first song you ever learned?”

Jerome’s neatly defined brow furrowed.

Something about his stiff posture made me want to laugh—strange, considering I used to find it terrifying.

After a brief hesitation, he began to play, clearly displeased.

It was a very simple melody.

The kind of song a child just learning piano might practice.

A repetitive tune made with just a few keys.

His straight fingers moved lazily across the keyboard, disinterested and slow, yet somehow, under the moonlight streaming through the window, that indifference transformed into something picture-perfect.

It was a sight so beautiful it made me almost envious.

I stepped in rhythm with his playing.

First, third, fifth. Then back to the first…

Like the keys of the piano, the wooden floorboards stretched before me. I stepped carefully, one by one.

The room had been abandoned so long that the floor creaked beneath every step.

This was the first song he’d ever learned on the piano.

Taught to him by his father, the late Emperor.

A melody laced with their shared memories.

A song he had never touched again after the brutal death of his father.

No—he had avoided the piano altogether ever since.

So I walked to the music, like a dance, or a quiet stroll.

And when his performance finally came to an end, my walk too, reached its destination.

Clunk!

A rusty spring sounded from somewhere in the floor.

Jerome’s eyes widened in disbelief at the noise.

“No way…”

I gave him a look.

“Aren’t you going to see what it is?”

Jerome rose to his feet.

His steps toward the source of the sound were so slow and cautious it was almost frustrating to watch.

I observed him calmly.

He examined the floor.

Soon, a section of it unlocked and swung open.

“…!”

His body jolted like he’d been struck by lightning.

And then—for a very long time—he simply stood there, staring.

I understood his silence.

He had been searching for this gift for so long.

And for something that dear, time was needed.

Eventually, Jerome lifted a small box from the floor.

It was a worn music box.

The final gift his father had left behind: a small, battered, scarred music box, worn down by many hands over the years.

He turned the winding key, and the melody began to play.

The very same tune Jerome had just performed.

A lullaby.

Simple but endlessly warm, like a gentle hand stroking the heart.

A song once played when night fell.

A melody shared instead of words, meant to lull the young crown prince to sleep.

Though madness had eventually robbed him of even his family, this memory alone had clung to him, lasting to the very end.

“Why do you… how do you have this…?”

“I stumbled upon it when I visited this place once before.”

“By chance?”

Jerome lifted one brow.

His gaze was full of conflicting emotions.

Even if you look at me like that, I won’t tell you.

I can’t exactly say I read about it in a book.

“Yes. By chance. I really did find it by chance.”

“…!”

Jerome’s crimson eyes trembled, on the verge of collapse—fragile, like they could shatter at any moment.