“What are you thinking?”
There was no sympathy in the calm question. Only profound confusion.
Richard could not fathom the other man’s intentions.
What he was thinking.
Why he had done it.
Or what he might be plotting.
“.......”
Vilmar silently regarded him.
Blood stained the skin beneath his eyes.
His collar hung in tatters from the torture.
He looked so wretched that it was a wonder he remained alive.
And yet—his eyes still shone with undiminished sharpness and clarity.
“...You already know perfectly well why I stole the Empress’s body, don’t you?”
“You know that isn’t what I’m asking.”
Richard shook his head.
“Why... did you give me the Empress’s body when you knew it would lead to your death?”
That was what he understood least.
Vilmar had devised his plans with painstaking precision, bided his time, and sought revenge against the Emperor.
Yet he had willingly surrendered the one thing that was effectively his lifeline.
“.......”
Vilmar remained silent for a moment.
A faint smile slowly spread across his lips.
“...You inspired me in many ways.”
“......What?”
Richard’s brow twitched at the unexpected answer.
Vilmar quietly lowered his gaze, then slowly raised it again.
His bound wrists pulled against the iron chains with a clatter.
“That day. The way you confessed to the Crown Prince.”
“.......”
“That moment when you were honest with him—despite knowing you would be twisted, mocked, and rejected.”
His voice was so quiet that every word rang distinctly through the silence of the cell.
“Watching you merely made me... want to do the same.”
“......?”
Richard’s brow furrowed.
“I merely... wanted to love as well.”
“What does that....”
The words were difficult to understand.
After a long silence, Richard spoke.
“......Are you saying you regret stealing Her Majesty the Empress’s body?”
“.......”
Vilmar said nothing.
He merely smiled.
What in the world is he thinking...?
Even the next day, Richard continued to mull over Vilmar’s words.
Had he come to regret his twisted love at this late stage?
Was that why he had returned the Empress’s body?
That day. The way you confessed to the Crown Prince.
Those words refused to leave his mind.
“.......”
He couldn’t understand.
That cold, merciless, calculating man.
A man who had always seemed capable of seeing through everything—why would he....
I merely... wanted to love as well.
Richard chewed at his lip as his fingertips tapped against the chair.
...He still couldn’t understand.
“I hear the verdict will be delivered soon.”
“They say he stole Her Majesty the Empress’s body and plotted treason....”
“This is the end of House Cesica.”
The crowd’s whispers scattered like grains of sand.
Amid them, Richard sat quietly without saying a word.
The trial, which had begun early that morning, was already drawing to a close.
The list of the Duke’s crimes seemed endless, and there was an overwhelming abundance of both evidence and testimony.
And yet—
Vilmar had not refuted a single charge.
He had merely listened to everything in silence.
He appeared calm.
Almost detached.
Did he truly feel guilty?
Or... was he still hiding something to the very end?
“Guilty. Death.”
“The prisoner Vilmar Cesica shall be executed by guillotine.”
When the final judgment was delivered, faint gasps rippled through the crowd.
Despite receiving a death sentence, Vilmar did not waver in the slightest.
Slowly, very slowly, he raised his head.
“Your Majesty.”
His voice rang low but clear through the silence.
Emperor Laios’s watchful gaze stilled for a moment.
Then, with a single look, he granted permission.
“May I... say just one thing?”
The prisoner’s final words.
The atmosphere throughout the square changed in an instant.
No one laughed. No one dared draw a deep breath.
Vilmar slowly opened his mouth.
“...Your Majesty. I had eyes for only one person.”
Richard looked down at him with a complicated expression.
...The Duke loved the Empress.
That was why he had harbored such resentment toward the Emperor and gone so far as to steal the Empress’s body.
“That person shone more brightly than anyone and was more perfect than anyone. Whenever I beheld that brilliance, I found myself seized by the urge... to destroy it.”
Vilmar continued.
“You ask why?”
He smiled.
It was a twisted, desperate, and strangely tender smile.
“Because I wanted someone so radiant to look at me, even if only once.”
The moment those words spread through the square, murmurs erupted among the crowd.
The Emperor showed no reaction.
“.......”
Richard narrowed his eyes.
The Empress... had probably never truly looked at the Duke.
She had even broken off her engagement to him because she had eyes only for the Emperor.
But.......
Something was strange.
An ominous sensation crept over him.
As though he had overlooked something....
Does the Duke.......
Richard’s gaze wavered subtly.
Really love the Empress?
......Why was he spouting nothing but trite platitudes?
“And so I stole Her Majesty the Empress’s body, disrupted everything around Your Majesty, and threw this Empire... into chaos.”
“Vilmar Cesica.”
Laios raised an eyebrow.
“I already know that story. You call these your final words, yet all you do is spout tedious nonsense.”
“.......”
Vilmar smiled brilliantly.
So brilliantly that it was frightening.
“Your Majesty. You appear to be laboring under one misconception.”
He slowly lowered his eyelids.
“I never loved Her Majesty the Empress.”
A silence so profound that breathing itself seemed to cease.
Before everyone watching, Vilmar declared clearly,
“The one I loved... was you, Your Majesty.”
Love resembles hatred.
Vilmar Cesica’s love had never been romantic.
How can His Highness the Crown Prince be so perfect...?
He will surely become a wise and benevolent ruler.
Praise echoed from every direction.
Let us break off our engagement. I intend to marry His Highness the Crown Prince.
His betrothed’s betrayal.
That day, when nothing had gone his way.
That day, when he had been submerged in darkness so complete he could not see even an inch ahead.
“Are you all right, young lord?”
The sight of Laios extending a hand to him,
the goodness in his face as he showed genuine concern,
shone so brilliantly
that Vilmar wanted to swallow that light whole.
“.......”
They truly make a perfect couple.
The two of them will surely lead the Empire to greatness.
Their wedding.
Beneath the warm sunlight, spring blossoms drifted like snowflakes.
Even the clear, smiling sky seemed to bless them.
That day.
Elika was smiling.
Laios looked happy as well.
.......
Within that scene, filled with blessings and jubilation, love and vows,
Vilmar alone
had gone cold.
......Why?
An icy emotion seethed deep within his chest.
He wanted to drag that woman—
Elika—down at once and smash her into the ground.
The sight of Laios’s happy smile disgusted him even more.
It was strange.
Vilmar undoubtedly hated Laios.
That foolish, hypocritical, idiotic man.
He had seized power without spilling a single drop of blood,
yet was always preaching of justice and ideals.
That was why.
Why Vilmar had lingered at his side as though they were friends,
why he had kept him company—
all of it
had been so that, given the opportunity, he could stab Laios in the back.
He had been certain of that.
Yet his heart thudded heavily.
His insides burned, hot and acrid.
His vision spun,
and it felt as though the world itself were twisting.
......Ah.
He understood.
He hated Laios le Regnantia.
He hated him so much it drove him mad,
and at some point, he had ceased to see anything else.
It irritated him when someone else stood beside Laios,
and he hated seeing Laios smile at anyone but him.
Then this was—
Yes. It was love.
Love resembles hatred.
Hatred obsesses, destroys, and seeks to erase.
Love does the same.
Vilmar hated Laios,
and perhaps even more deeply than that—
he loved him.
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