Chapter 122

Freyer, who arrived immediately after, rushed to me and checked my condition. As he spun me around like a top to inspect for injuries, I laughed and stopped him.

“Your Highness, I told you I’m fine!”

“We can’t be too sure. How about seeing a healer just in case?” Freyer asked, holding my arms and locking eyes with me.

“Your Highness! Look at this!”

I struck a pose, flexing my arms like a professional bodybuilder. Since I hadn’t been exercising lately, no actual muscles popped up, but surely this display of vigor would reassure him.

“The medicine must have been very effective. I feel perfectly normal.”

Freyer let out a long breath and wiped his face with his hands, his expression hardening momentarily in relief.

“That’s a relief, then. But we still can’t let our guard down.”

Soon after, Winnie and Sir Derek arrived. Winnie, too, rushed over to inspect me.

“My Lady! Are you truly alright?”

“Of course.”

I smiled and stole a glance at Freyer. He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar. He seemed a bit embarrassed now that he realized how frantic he had looked. Seeing that side of him made me giggle.

We needed to return to the manor quickly to assess the situation. I climbed into the carriage Freyer had prepared.

“To the manor, as fast as possible, please.”

Eventually, the carriage came to a halt. Before I could step out, Winnie pulled a black cloak from her bag and draped it over me. She whispered that since there were likely people looking for me, it was best to stay hidden.

As I stepped down, I lifted the edge of the hood covering my eyes and blinked. I turned toward Freyer, Winnie, and Sir Derek as they followed. I thought we were heading to the Baimery manor.

‘Where is this?’

This wasn’t the manor; it was a tavern located in a bustling district near the Merchant Guild’s headquarters—a place I had passed by occasionally when visiting the city. Did Winnie tell them I hadn’t eaten a single meal?

“If you brought me here because you thought I was hungry, I’m really okay.”

I turned to get back into the carriage, but Freyer caught my wrist.

“Right now, knights have the Baimery manor surrounded, waiting to seize you. We need to stay here and devise a plan to get Baron Percival out.”

So, he had avoided the manor on purpose. Freyer reached out his hand, gesturing for me to step away from the carriage.

I had been thinking narrowly. If I went back to the manor, nothing would change—my father wasn’t there anyway. My agitated emotions began to settle, replaced by cold reason. I had to think logically and judge the situation clearly. Finding a way to rescue my father was the absolute priority.

“I’m sorry for not telling you the destination beforehand, My Lady.”

Winnie approached and took my arm as I stood there in silence. I looked at her, my eyes sharp with focus.

“I’m actually glad we didn’t go to the manor.”

I walked toward the tavern and pushed the door open.

Creeeeak—

As the door swung wide and hit the wall, a low voice drifted out.

“Well, will you finally come in? The evening rush will start soon.”

Jaybil was leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

***

Ivailo shook his head with a grimace as he recalled the events of the morning.

The Empress had brought in a royal designer, insisting he be fitted for his wedding attire. They had ignored his disgruntled expression, draping various fabrics over his body. His mother was preparing for the wedding with more joy than anyone. Was saving the Emperor truly that fulfilling for her, while her own son’s blood was turning cold with stress?

“Who does she think she’s helping? Me, marrying Nazlee Idarand?”

If he went through with this marriage, he would spend the rest of his life as his mother’s puppet. His grand dream of holding the continent in his palm would vanish.

“How do I break Duke Idarand’s hypnosis?”

He had heard that his mother had sought help from the Master of the Northern Magic Tower. He just needed the Master to cooperate with him instead. Ivailo’s brow furrowed as he watched the Magic Tower Master set down a teacup with a clink.

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you that,” the Master replied.

“Are we not in the same boat?”

“Our goals are different, Your Highness. Wouldn’t it be more accurate to call this a temporary alliance for mutual benefit?”

“You know that without me, your plans have no chance of succeeding.”

“Is that a threat?”

Despite Ivailo’s overbearing tone, the Master remained unfazed, idly fiddling with the teacup.

“You look as if you’d like to take my head right now.”

“It would be in your best interest to spit out the method before I actually separate your head from your body.”

“Oh, how terrifying.”

The words were mocking, and the Master’s half-closed, sleepy eyes suggested he wasn’t frightened in the least. Ivailo’s stiff movements betrayed his mounting fury. The Master set the cup down and curled his lips into a smile.

“Then kill her.”

“Kill her?”

“If the caster of the hypnosis dies, the binding is broken.”

“Are you casually telling me to kill my mother?”

“I am simply answering your question on how to break the hypnosis.”

The Magic Tower Master shrugged, his eyes flashing with a sudden sharpness.

“By the way, what happened to Lilithia Baimery?”

The veins in Ivailo’s fist bulged. He pressed his temples as if a headache were coming on.

“That man, Percival… he dared to reject my proposal?”

A day had passed since he went to hear Percival’s answer, and the response he received had only fueled his rage.

“I cannot sell my daughter’s happiness to cover for my own failings as a father.”

“I will make you regret those words, Baron Percival.”

Despite the threat, Percival had remained silent. Ivailo had planned to find Lilithia first and use her to blackmail her father, but he couldn’t track her current location. It was because of Princess Scarlet of the Pearching Kingdom. As the head of a massive information guild, she had blocked all internal leaks.

If he couldn’t get his hands on Lilithia Baimery, it could lead to significant problems. At this rate, he would become a puppet Emperor, dancing in the palms of the Empress and Duke Idarand.

The Master’s next words chilled Ivailo’s mind.

“Should a man who intends to rule the continent be swayed this easily?”

“You’re right.”

His goal was the continent. He couldn’t let a small stumbling block shake him like this. Ivailo suppressed his volcanic anger and began to think rapidly.

“Even if her tracks are hidden, she will show herself before her father dies.”

Ivailo let out a wide, almost manic grin. With eyes full of predatory delight, he leaned back in his chair and stared into the empty air.

“There’s no need to rush. In the end, she’s just a mouse in a trap.”

Ivailo pressed the call bell on his desk. In an instant, his secretary rushed in, drenched in a cold sweat.

“Y-you called for me, Your Highness?”

Seeing the Magic Tower Master leisurely sipping tea, the secretary quickly looked down and spoke in a trembling voice.

“Move up Percival’s execution date.”

“Pardon…?”

The execution had been set for two weeks away. Ivailo glared at the secretary with such intensity it felt like he was piercing through him. Terrified, the secretary answered immediately.

“I-I will move the execution date forward.”

“It will be a public execution. Announce it to the nobility and the citizens of the Empire immediately.”

The secretary opened his mouth as if to protest, but under Ivailo’s sharp, dagger-like gaze, he shut it and nodded vigorously.

“I shall carry out your orders!”

As the secretary hurried out, the Magic Tower Master watched his retreating back with a peculiar look.

“That man… is he trustworthy?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The secretary.”

A scoff escaped Ivailo’s lips.

“It’s not that I trust him. I am the only one who can save him, so he is the one who has to trust me.”

Ivailo moved his long fingers as if conducting an invisible orchestra in the air, then slowly closed his hand into a fist, as if throttling a prey’s neck.

“Because I hold his life in my hands.”

“Hmm.”

The Master’s inscrutable black eyes watched the hand. He considered adding a comment but simply shrugged instead. He rose from his seat, straightened his clothes, and spoke.

“When you catch Lilithia Baimery, please let me know.”

As the Master left the room, he muttered to himself the words he had withheld from Ivailo.

“Rather than holding the lifeline… cutting it completely seems like the better method.”

In the secretary’s eyes, the Magic Tower Master had seen the budding sprouts of a deadly poison.