The Emperor Keillusa, gazing down at Marin who had bowed her head so low her face could not be seen, exchanged looks with the Empress. The couple locked eyes as if conversing silently, then, after a moment, both gave a small nod at the same time.

“I’ve heard you well. Though you submitted a written accusation, it must have been difficult to speak up in this setting. Even so, for speaking honestly and bravely before us all, I, the Emperor, offer my gratitude to you, Marin.”

“No, Your Majesty. I believed it was something I must do, so it wasn’t difficult at all.”

“I also understand the feelings you hold for your younger brother who passed away. The doubts you've raised and the circumstantial evidence you presented are logical and valid. Therefore, the scope of the current investigation shall be expanded.”

Marin’s head snapped up. Emperor Keillusa placed his hand on the scripture and continued without pause.

“The death of the herbalist Maiki. And the death of the Second Prince of House Apeto, Lenore Shan Apeto. Both cases will be re-investigated from the beginning. This is an imperial decree declared in the Room of Truth with my hand upon the scripture, witnessed before God.”

Following that, the Empress placed her hand likewise and repeated the same proclamation. Watching the two of them exude such authority, Yuder thought:

“The bloodstained pouch of mushrooms I discovered will soon make its righteous debut.”

Back when /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ he had first met Marin, Yuder had found a pouch of bloodstained Doodulem mushrooms at the shelter used by herbalists, where he’d endured an unexpected heat. It was the only and definitive piece of evidence left by the deceased Maiki—something Kishiar was still secretly safeguarding. In other words, it was a card that could be presented at any time. Yet the Emperor hadn’t requested its submission today. Marin, too, remained firmly within the role of an accuser and witness.

The way they acted, as if teaching the clueless nobles step by step what was happening and what to expect, made the Emperor’s true intentions feel palpable.

“He’s suffocatingly thorough.”

Each card plays to its greatest effect depending on when it’s revealed. Few people know exactly when to play the card they hold. Fewer still have the patience to wait for that perfect moment, even if they do know.

But Emperor Keillusa was one of those rare combatants who possessed such patience.

In truth, if the physical evidence had been submitted here and now, Kachian could’ve objected by questioning how it was discovered, derailing the focus entirely. However, now that Marin had stepped forward as witness and whistleblower, and the investigation into Maiki’s death had been officially reopened by imperial decree, the pouch could be submitted at any time during the investigation as legally obtained evidence—without drawing suspicion.

With just a single postponement of revealing the evidence, the Emperor had gained all of that.

Kachian would soon learn, in court, that the disgrace he suffered today in the Room of Truth was only the beginning.

“Indeed... His Majesty and my brother fight very differently.”

Yuder now understood why Kishiar had so often said things like, “If it were me, I’d do this, but His Majesty probably sees it differently.” One couldn’t say which method was better or worse—but Yuder liked the Emperor’s way quite a lot.

This was the man Emperor Keillusa had become after regaining his time.

Kachian let out a scream no one could hear.

With a face distorted in anguish, the Crown Prince screamed in silence, while Marin trembled slightly in the shoulders, wearing an expression completely opposite to his. She bowed once more to the Emperor and Empress.

“...Thank you. Thank you, Your Majesties!”

Barely containing her elation and emotion, Marin proudly stepped back. The Emperor raised a hand, signaling for the magic binding the Crown Prince’s chair to be lifted. As the knight removed the suppression, a tearing scream burst forth.

“...I am innocent! I said I’m innocent!”

Though Kachian’s cry of innocence was pitiful and laughable, it strangely felt sincere. His eyes, full of rage and injustice, showed not a trace of guilt or fear at having his misdeeds exposed.

Realizing he’d regained his voice, Kachian looked around with bulging eyes and shouted:

“It’s all fabricated! I don’t know that commoner, or the drawing! Aren’t you afraid of what will happen when everyone hears about this violent act against the Crown Prince? Even if I am not Your Majesty’s biological child, how could you harbor such hatred and cruelty against me!”

“......”

Following his desperate wail, he deliberately changed his tone to one of sorrow and wounded innocence.

“Was I truly that detestable to you? When Your Majesty abandoned the Empire under the excuse of illness, who was it that governed in your stead and held the people’s hands? Though I was scorned and denied proper instruction, I never once voiced resentment! Surely you now seek to humiliate me in this way to install that Duke of Peleta in my place as Crown Prince!”

Now openly showing hatred toward the Emperor, Empress, and Kishiar, Kachian shouted at full volume, eyes wide with fury.

“Do not think I’ll stay quiet! I will resist! As the legitimate Crown Prince of this Empire, I will prove my rightful position! Allow me to meet with Duke Diaka!”

At last, Emperor Keillusa, who had watched silently as if deaf to it all, turned his head slightly. His gaze landed on Kironne da Diaka.

“The Crown Prince has made his request. Lord Kironne of House Diaka. What is the current state of the Duke?”

Until now, Kironne had only been unofficially referred to as “the young lord,” and had never received a formal affirmation of succession from his father. But in this moment, the Emperor had addressed him as “Lord Kironne.”

Everyone present was shaken to their core by the new implication.

“The First Son of House Diaka... has he sided with the Emperor...?”

“Then what of the Duke himself...!”

Kironne, who had until now completely ignored Kachian’s pleas, finally opened his mouth. His tone was soft, yet tinged with faint regret, and he wore a gentle smile.

“His Grace the Duke... has yet to awaken. He lost a great deal of blood due to a grievous injury. Though ten healing specialists are tending to him, we do not know when he might regain consciousness.”

“...What?”

Kachian’s eyes widened. Only now did it seem to dawn on him that the Duke’s absence today might not be for the reasons he had expected.

“The Duke... was injured? When? How...! And why was I not informed of this until now?”

As Kachian shouted in a voice trembling with shock, behind him, Yuder observed Kiole bowing his head in gloomy silence. The nobles, upon seeing Kiole bite his lip in grief, looked even more confused than before.

“I see. That is unfortunate. Should you need any support, do not hesitate to ask.”

“I am honored, Your Majesty. I regret that, due to the Duke’s condition, I cannot fulfill the Crown Prince’s request.”

Their exchange, as if they had never once been at odds.

With a face utterly composed, the Emperor spoke again.

“That aside, I assume you heard the whistleblower’s statement just now. Lord Kironne of House Diaka—were you aware of where and how the Crown Prince spent his time before claiming his position?”

How he answered this would determine the stance of House Diaka moving forward. All held their breath, eyes fixed on Kironne.

Lowering his gaze as if savoring the moment, Kironne slowly inhaled. His expression remained composed in a noble’s way, but Yuder could see it clearly—deep, revolting satisfaction.

He was enraptured by the taste of power that had finally touched him.

After a moment, Kironne shook his head without so much as glancing at the Crown Prince.

“I swear before God that I heard of it for the first time today. Frankly speaking, I too was deeply shocked and disappointed by His Highness the Crown Prince’s conduct here. There is no one in this room more ashamed than I, the young lord of House Diaka.”