Chapter 201: ...have you ever harboured ill thoughts towards the Emperor

"I am also a victim of an unknown force’s wicked scheme."

The healers looked at their monitoring stone and once again confirmed the gem’s steady and calm blue rays.

True.

Alaric gripped his folded arms tighter. Julian was doing a good job. So far, they had not asked about any of the secrets Julian had been worried about, but it was too early to rejoice.

The healers exchanged glances and then looked up towards the dais, wondering whether to proceed when they had already gotten a testimony from Julian.

Just as the Emperor had said, there was a conspiracy, and Julian Von Astrea’s body had been used.

Whether or not he was involved in the conspiracy, whether or not he had given his body away to be used, that was what they wanted to find out. And right now, they knew he was innocent.

But Aurelian was not satisfied yet. He knew there was still something hidden... something he wanted from Julian Von Astrea.

He raised his hand, and from the thin veil, the healers saw the signal. They nodded at each other and decided to continue.

Julian, who wished that his performance had been bought, pursed his lips when he saw them nodding at each other.

It was not over yet.

"Julian Von Astrea, have you ever harboured ill thoughts towards the Emperor in your one week stay in the palace?"

Julian froze, and his eyes immediately shot up to the dais where Aurelian was grinning from behind the veil.

This madman.

He knew for a fact that Julian had been fed up and hated him due to the things he had done to him. And now, he was asking him to confess under the influence of the truth serum.

Julian could just say no, he had no Ill intent towards the Emperor despite the torture, but that felt too fake. The Emperor would know right away that the truth serum wasn’t in effect.

But then, if he spoke truthfully and said he hated the Emperor and wished him dead in the one week he stayed at the palace, it would bring grounds to suspect him of actually harbouring thoughts of treason.

What would he do?

"Julian Von Astrea," The healer called. "You have to answer the question. Your silence will only subject you to more suspicion."

Julian gripped the arm of the stone chair, his heart hammering.

"I..." Julian’s voice trailed off, his breath hitching.

He looked at the healers, then shifted his gaze toward Alaric. The Duke was a statue of tension, his hand hovering near his sword. Alaric knew the truth of that week; he knew the scars Julian carried.

Julian closed his eyes, leaning into the silver protection of the Elixir. He had to thread the needle. He had to be honest enough to be believable, but controlled enough to be safe.

"Every man has a shadow," Julian whispered, his voice cracking with a vulnerability that hushed the entire amphitheater. He opened his eyes, staring directly at the silhouette behind the silk veil. "In that week... when the walls felt like they were closing in and the weight of the Sun’s scrutiny felt like it would crush my very bones... yes. I felt resentment. I felt the bite of a man who did not understand why he was being unmade."

The hall was so silent you could hear the flicker of the magical torches. The healers peered at the monitoring stone. It pulsed a steady, unwavering blue.

True.

"But," Julian continued, his voice growing stronger, "resentment is not treason. To wish for a relief from pain and loneliness is not the same as wishing for the death of a Sovereign. I am only human, after all."

The stone remained blue. The Elixir had woven his genuine pain into a narrative of stoic endurance.

Aurelian’s silhouette shifted abruptly. The Emperor stood up, his hand visible as it parted the silk veil just enough for his golden eyes to pierce through the gloom. He looked frustrated—infuriated that even under the Sanctum’s most potent magic, Julian was slipping through his fingers.

"A clever answer," the lead healer muttered, glancing at the dais for further instruction.

But before the healer could speak again, a new voice cut through the air.

"Enough of his feelings," a high-ranking Marquis called out from the tiered seats. "Ask him about the ’Demon’s’ words! Ask him if the letters of the late Duchess were truly kept from the Grand Duke! If the prisoner knows the ’Truth,’ let the serum confirm the Emperor’s honor!"

The room turned into a powder keg. This was the question Aurelian dreaded—the one that would confirm his petty cruelty to the entire nobility.

The healer hesitated, his hand trembling as he held the sapphire ring to Julian’s temple. He looked to the Emperor, pleading for a sign to stop, but Alaric stepped forward, his voice a low rumble that shook the marble floor.

"Yes," Alaric hissed, his eyes locked on his brother. "Ask him. Let the Sanctum tell us if my brother is a thief of my late wife’s last words."

Julian felt a shiver in his blood. The ’real’ Julian had dropped the bomb; now Kim Jowoon had to decide if he would let it explode.

"Julian Von Astrea," the healer whispered, his voice barely audible. "The letters... Do you have knowledge of the Emperor withholding the Duchess’s correspondence to the Duke during the war seven years ago?"

Julian looked at Aurelian. He saw the Emperor’s jaw tighten. He saw the fear of exposure. And then, he felt the System pulse in the back of his mind—a faint, ghostly remnant of a notification.

> [CAUTION: TRUTH IS A DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD.]

Ah, a warning. This meant he could not speak lightly of the matter.

Caution. He had to be cautious. Every word could become a tight rope around his neck.

The silence that followed the Marquis’s demand was so heavy it felt like the marble ceiling might collapse under the weight of it. Every noble held their breath, their eyes darting between the trembling scholar and the shadowed dais.

Suddenly, the silk veil was ripped aside with a violent, snapping sound.

Aurelian stood at the edge of the dais, his golden robes catching the light like a dying star.

He looked down at the pit, his face slightly pale and troubled, his eyes burning with a mixture of regal fury and a raw, exposed vulnerability. He didn’t wait for the healer to repeat the question and didn’t wait for the Sanctum to pull the words from Julian’s throat either.

He acted how he saw fit.

"Enough!" Aurelian’s voice boomed, echoing with a command that shook the very glass in the chandeliers.

He stepped forward, his hand gripping the stone railing of the dais until his knuckles turned white. He ignored the nobility. He ignored the healers, and his gaze was locked entirely on Julian. Then, with a slow, agonizing turn of his head, they fell on Alaric.

"You want the truth?" Aurelian hissed, his voice dropping low and lethal, vibrating in every corner of the room. "You want to know if I kept the ink of a dead woman from my brother’s hands?"