The sensation of death.
Irene felt it creeping through her body. The constriction of blood flow and oxygen, the sense of suffocation pressing down her chest, and for a fleeting moment, she felt as though her soul had slipped free.
No.
Not just felt like.
She was near death.
“Huukh!”
A jolt snapped her awake, as if she had been pulled from the edge of a bottomless abyss.
“….”
Her blurred vision slowly sharpened, revealing the sight of several maids surrounding her with shock evident in their frozen expressions.
Astrid, who had been tending to her the entire time, looked pale. Beside her stood Olivia, whose expression wracked with worry.
The familiar surroundings clicked in Irene’s mind.
“….”
She was lying in her childhood bedroom within the Imperial Palace.
“Sister!” Astrid exclaimed, rushing closer.
“Lady Irene! Are you feeling better?!” Olivia asked, her tone laced with worry.
But Irene’s mind was somewhere else. Before losing consciousness, she had already begun assessing the situation.
Just who?
Who would have the gall to attempt an Imperial assassination?
The chefs? The servants? The guides? The noblewomen?
It took her a minute to process.
No, it was none of them.
It wasn’t so simple. It had to be someone with access. Someone who could operate under suspicion. Someone who had influence over the planning of the day’s events.
The woman who had ties to customs—import businesses involving ships and yachts. The woman whose husband had ensured that the final event of the day would happen according to her tastes.
The woman handpicked by a man Irene considered little better than a psychopath.
Olivia Heinrich.
Veins popped on Irene’s forehead. A surge of fury overtook her weakened body.
“Y-You bitch!” she roared.
Without a second thought, Irene lunged at Olivia, her hands wrapped around the latter’s slender neck.
“Wha—!”
Olivia gasped, stunned and unable to resist as Irene pinned her against the nearby bedpost.
“S-Sister?!” Astrid cried out in shock, scrambling forward to pull Irene off.
“Lady Irene!” one of the maids pleaded, hesitating to intervene too forcefully.
But Irene’s vision was red.
“It was you, wasn’t it?!” she hissed, her grip tightening as Olivia clawed weakly at her hands.
“W—What?!” Olivia gasped out between strangled breaths, her eyes wide in terror. “What are y—you, talking abou—?!”
The commotion inside the Imperial Palace grew louder as Olivia struggled. Maids and attendants scrambled at the door.
Irene’s eyes burned with a fury that could set the entire palace aflame.
“Who else would marry that son of a bitch but a psycho herself!” Irene screamed.
Olivia’s face began to pale rapidly, her skin shade of purple as she gasped for air, desperately pleading for her life.
Astrid used her magnetism in a desperate attempt to separate them apart. But Irene’s grip was absurdly strong, as if her sheer will alone could crush Olivia’s throat.
“It was you—you Heinrich bitch! It was your people who owned that ship and set everything up!” Irene snarled, her grip tightening.
Astrid increased the force until she saw a thin line of blood trickled down from Irene’s nose.
Panicked, Astrid immediately cut off her magic. Instead, she rushed forward and grabbed the back of Irene’s dress, trying to physically pull her away before things escalated beyond repair.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Footsteps echoed down the corridor as knights rushed toward the commotion. They skidded to a halt at the doorway, shocked by the sight that met them. One knight attempted to step inside, only to be frozen in place by a single glare from Irene.
“If any of you so much as set foot inside this room,” Irene hissed, “I’ll personally have you all branded as traitors to the Crown!”
“…!”
The knights stiffened, swallowing hard, and dared not move an inch further.
“Sister!” Astrid cried, still pulling at her.
“Let go of me, Astrid!” Irene snarled, wrenching herself away. Her bloodshot eyes were wild with rage. “Take my side! I’m certain it was this woman! She plotted it with Franz!”
Olivia gasped for breath, her body trembling as she tried to speak through her bruised throat. “I… I don’t even know what you’re talking about…!”
Astrid, trembling, positioned herself between Irene and Olivia, holding her arms out protectively. “Sister, listen to yourself! Please! Think for a second!”
“Think?!” Irene spat. “The only mistake I made was not thinking earlier! Look where that got me!”
At that moment.
“Don’t cross the line.”
A calm voice. A hand on her shoulder.
Irene turned, ready to tear into whoever dared to stop her, only to freeze when she met a pair of amethyst eyes staring at her coldly.
“….”
Standing there, having seemingly appeared out of thin air, was Vanitas. And beside him was none other than Franz.
“….”
Sensing the tension in the atmosphere, Irene’s fingers loosened against Olivia’s bruised throat.
The moment her grip faltered, the maids rushed forward, pulling Olivia away and tending to the coughing woman.
* * *
“Shit.”
Vanitas cursed inwardly.
He was certain Irene would survive the poisoning. That had never been the real concern.
The real problem was the aftermath.
Irene, for all her cunning and intellect, was also a prisoner of her own extreme temper. Heightened emotions could cloud the best of judgments, and Irene was no exception.
It was because of that volatility that Vanitas, Franz, and the rest of the noblemen had immediately abandoned the establishment and rushed to the Imperial Palace the moment news reached them.
When Irene’s rage peaked, there was no one who could stop her. Not Astrid, the maids, the knights, not even Zia.
No one, except an accomplice.
Someone she trusted enough to listen to.
Vanitas exhaled softly as he rushed to the room with Franz. They could see several knights standing by the doorframe, just watching.
It didn’t take long for them to figure out why.
Screams tore through the palace walls, seemingly coming from Irene.
“Aish…!” Vanitas muttered under his breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
He glanced sideways at Franz from the corner of his eye. Together, they quickly surveyed the scene inside.
“….”
“….”
Franz’s face twisted into horror, and he turned sharply to the knights.
“I better not see any of your faces tomorrow or I’ll have each and every one of you beheaded!” he screamed.
Without waiting for a reply, he strode into the room and attempted to draw the sword from his waist, ready to cut Irene down if necessary.
But before he could move further, Vanitas stepped forward and stopped him, catching his arm mid-draw.
“I’ll handle this,” Vanitas said calmly.
“Ah?”
Vanitas simply brushed past him and entered the room with no hesitation. Franz’s eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold.
Vanitas had insisted on accompanying him earlier, and Franz had allowed it, given that Astrid was present.
But this….
“P-Professor!”
“Vanitas….” Irene rasped.
Franz’s sword slowly lowered. He tried his best to hold back his lips from pulling into a grin.
This was the confirmation.
Vanitas Astrea had ties to Irene Barielle Aetherion.
“Heh….”
And Franz had set-up the situation quite nicely.
* * *
“Are you fucking brain damaged?!” Vanitas roared. “How could you just stand there and watch Her Highness Irene shoot herself in the leg?!”
“I….”
Zia stammered, unable to form a coherent excuse. She had infiltrated the palace disguised as a maid, but when all hell broke loose, it felt like all gears had frozen.
She had never seen Princess Irene so furious before, and in that moment, she felt certain that even Irene would have abandoned or killed her if she had tried to intervene.
“Where the fuck is your rationality in a time like this?!” Vanitas shouted, his fury palpable. “Just how fucking incompetent are you?!”
“I… I apologize….” Zia managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Apologize?!” Vanitas barked. “This could’ve been the end of it! Irene could’ve lost her head. Do you even understand what that would mean for you?!”
“….”
It meant Zia would lose everything right alongside Irene.
“Tsk.”
Clicking his tongue in disgust, Vanitas turned away sharply.
By now, Franz was managing the aftermath and was tending to his traumatized fiancée, Olivia, who could hardly believe Irene had tried to strangle her. Olivia had demanded that consequences be dealt.
But Vanitas quickly appeased the situation, arguing that Irene’s suspicions weren’t entirely baseless. After all, the final event of the bachelorette itinerary, the yacht party, had been set up and arranged by none other than Olivia Heinrich herself.
Investigations were now underway. The kitchen staff, the servants, and everyone present on the yacht had been placed under suspicion for attempted assassination.
Astrid, who had treated Irene’s poisoning, later confirmed that the toxin was Cantarella.
According to the intelligence reports, the poison hadn’t been in the food or drink, but smeared on the armrest of the very seat Irene had occupied.
——Professor!
Just as Vanitas was stepping out the palace gates, heading toward his car where Evan, his personal butler, was waiting, a voice called out to him.
He turned and found Astrid running toward him, slightly breathless.
“Astrid?” he raised a brow.
“I… didn’t know you were close to my sister.”
“Is that what’s important right now?”
“Ah, no. I was just curious. It’s because of my mother, right?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“…I see.”
Silence lingered awkwardly between them for a moment.
“Is that all?” Vanitas asked.
“Ah—no. Uhm…” Astrid fumbled.
All of a sudden, she bowed her head.
“Thank you… for stopping my sister. Who knows what would’ve happened if she had killed Olivia right then and there.”
Vanitas stared at her for a moment before he said, “Raise your head. You’re not the one who should be apologizing. You did nothing wrong.”
“Ah….”
Astrid seemed at a loss for words.
“You did good today,” Vanitas added. “If it weren’t for you, things would have turned out very differently.”
“…Yes,” Astrid said softly, visibly bashful.
It was true. Astrid had been the one who had recognized the symptoms, identified the poison, and administered the counter-agent in time. If not for her, Irene would have died before the yacht even reached the harbor.
“…It’s thanks to your lectures that I finished my medical studies so quickly,” Astrid admitted quietly.
“….?”
“Because your classes were so easy to understand, my grades stayed up. I didn’t have to take extra courses or get distracted. I was able to pursue my medical degree properly.”
“….Is that so?”
“So, in a way… you saved my sister, too. Thank you, Professor.”
Vanitas blinked, dumbfounded.
What the hell was this woman even saying?
While he was aware he had subtly guided her onto a better direction, wasn’t it a bit of a stretch to say she finished medical school faster because of his lectures?
“It was your own abilities that saved your sister. I don’t know why you’re thanking me. I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
Astrid chuckled softly, and silence stretched between them again.
“If that’s all, I’ll be going. My headache is killing me,” Vanitas muttered as he pulled open the car door.
Just before he slipped inside, Astrid called out again with a bright smile, “Good night, Vanitas.”
He paused, then smirked lightly.
“Mhm. Make sure you’re on time tomorrow.”
But even her bright, sincere smile did little to appease his mood.
“Aish—ssibal!”
The moment Vanitas returned home, he headed straight for his office. He slammed the door behind him, threw down his coat, and kicked over a chair. Usually, when he was truly frustrated, he muttered curses in his mother tongue without even realizing it.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Nobody fucking listens!”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Why doesn’t anyone listen?!”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“What do I have to do—”
Thwack!
“To make—”
Thwack!
“People—”
Thwack!
“Fucking listen to me—?!”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
After an episode, he finally collapsed into the chair behind his desk, running a hand through his hair, trying to soothe the burning rage rising within him.
His breaths were shallow, and his eyes burned with frustration.
He had warned Irene to control her temper again and again. But today, she had been recklessly impulsive.
Had Olivia died by Irene’s hands, everything they had painstakingly built would have collapsed.
And even worse than that….
“Fuck!” Vanitas kicked the desk hard enough to shove it forward with a screech.
He had played right into Franz’s hands.
Now, Franz was fully aware of his connection with Irene far earlier than Vanitas had intended.
Irene’s image, which had been slowly recovering among the nobility, had now been irrevocably tarnished.
Talk of her tyranny and ill temper would spread through the Empire like wildfire.
And once someone’s reputation was poisoned, Aetherion’s system would methodically isolate them in the game of politics.
In short, even if Franz had failed to kill Irene tonight, he had still achieved what he wanted.
He had killed two birds with one stone.
A complete loss.
“These motherless fuck—”