Lunaria, within the territory of the Askalon Empire.
It had once been the capital of the prosperous Kingdom of Philip, but now it belonged to the empire.
The Kingdom of Philip had incurred the empire's wrath and met its destruction.
Under imperial decree, Lunaria had been turned into barren wasteland and left abandoned to this day.
The founding emperor had declared the history etched upon the land unclean, designating it a place where no one could live.
Yet after hundreds of years, in this forsaken imperial territory, people had no choice but to eke out a secret existence.
Inside a ruined cathedral.
Beneath the statue of a headless goddess lay a hidden secret.
Lifting the threadbare carpet revealed wooden planks that, when slid aside, exposed a staircase.
Descending slowly into the dim light below led to a vast hall filled with people.
The worshippers offered prayers toward the stone statue of the evil dragon at the center of the hall.
Directly before the statue stood an elderly bishop extolling the greatness of Nidhogg.
Watching the scene from a distance was a woman shrouded in pitch-black darkness.
Her appearance, her thoughts, her very identity—all were unknowable.
Meanwhile, a priest bearing the embroidery of a black dragon approached from behind her and knelt on one knee.
"My Liege, may this humble servant of Nidhogg report the situation?"
"Speak."
"Bishop Paul's drug operation has hit a snag. Funds needed for distribution are tied up, and with tails sniffing around, delays are inevitable."
"What caused it?"
"The scoundrel young master of the Altesia Count House didn't come through. Worse, he reported it to the imperial family, drawing unwanted attention."
"How is the cleanup progressing?"
"All key personnel have been silenced. The rest were given minimal information, so even under interrogation, there won't be any issues."
Over-controlling the information flow could arouse the emperor's suspicions of a deeper plot.
The cult planned to frame the failed scheme as a rogue venture by greedy nobles chasing quick riches, fooling the emperor.
"What a headache."
They had merely stood by and watched, so the cult itself suffered no direct blow.
But losing a hard-won ally on such a scale was no small loss.
Once trust was shattered, rebuilding it was no easy task.
"Shall we scrap the drug plan?"
"We've taken a hit, but not enough to abandon it. Especially when you consider the massive gains if it succeeds."
"Understood. I'll instruct Bishop Paul to devise a more meticulous plan."
"As for our losses, it would be wise to pin the blame on someone else."
"I'll prepare accordingly."
The priest bowed his head, committing the leader's orders to memory.
Then, he gazed up at her with eyes full of reverence.
"How fares the curse on the princess?"
"The princess's curse proceeds smoothly. We can confidently say so."
"I see."
"Even the Holy Kingdom's highest priests can't lift it. Her days are numbered."
The leader's eyes narrowed.
The priest had said nothing wrong.
It was, after all, the supreme curse she herself had placed upon the princess.
Yet after this recent failure, could it be?
She could no longer be absolutely certain that the princess's death by curse—something she had dismissed as a mere trifle—would succeed without fail.
"Don't let up your vigilance until the princess draws her last breath. Nothing is more pathetic than mistaking arrogance for confidence."
"I shall remember."
As the priest departed, the leader perched on the railing and resumed watching the worshippers cry out the evil dragon's name.
Yet the scene failed to touch her heart.
Something kept nagging at her relentlessly, and she murmured it softly.
"Altesia..."
She committed it to a corner of her memory.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Inside the carriage heading to the capital.
I frowned at my fidgeting companion seated across from me.
Luke was biting his nails and shaking his leg like a vibrating massager.
It wasn't exactly refined behavior, but I let it slide.
He was probably anxious enough that he couldn't stop if he tried.
"Young master, are you really going to the imperial palace?"
"You told me Princess Rosmel was in critical condition."
"That's true, but I didn't mean for you to use her as a test subject."
"I've tested it on myself and confirmed no side effects. What experiment?"
"Aren't you nervous, young master? They say a single slip-up before His Majesty means execution."
"Not really?"
Truth be told, I was tense as hell.
A notorious playboy known for toying with women was seeking an audience to meet the emperor's beloved princess.
No matter how I spun it, the emperor wouldn't approve.
Even with the medicine, he might just order my head on a pike the moment he saw me.
His daughter's prolonged illness had no doubt left him in a volatile state.
To be brutally honest, I would've preferred proving the elixir's efficacy on anyone but Princess Rosmel.
But circumstances left me no choice but to select her.
The current emperor had three sons and one daughter.
Yet the only child of his principal wife, the empress, was Princess Rosmel.
All the princes were born to concubines.
Especially precious as the daughter born amid the empress's infertility, the emperor doted on her immensely.
'That's why he declared right after her birth that she wouldn't be heir.'
It was the emperor's way of shielding her from the fray.
A sign of how cutthroat the succession struggle was—he merely reined in the princes' excesses.
The real trouble began after Princess Rosmel, whom he cherished so, passed away.
Grief-stricken, the emperor lost his will to live and stopped curbing the princes.
Without his judgment, the succession battle intensified into civil war, paving the empire's path to ruin.
In short, Princess Rosmel's death was no exaggeration the pivotal trigger for the empire's fall.
'As long as she lives, no civil war.'
That was why I had no choice but to swallow my dread and save Princess Rosmel.
The longer peace lasted—even by a little—the more my influence could grow.
Still, some worries were unavoidable, though most of Luke's dire predictions were unfounded.
"You developed a potion to treat the princess?"
"Yes."
"Just leave the sample and go."
"Got it."
A direct audience with the emperor to enter her bedchamber and administer it? Not happening.
They wouldn't let her take an unverified drug.
In reality, the empire's top healers personally tested treatments or analyzed drugs before deciding on her dosage.
Hand over the sample, return later once verified, deliver the potion, and done.
No need to even glimpse the emperor or princess.
'Or so I thought...'
Less than an hour after submitting the sample, I received a summons from the palace.
Had the elixir's effects exceeded all expectations?
Turning back to the palace, imperial healers swarmed me the moment I arrived.
"Even in such a minuscule sample amount, it not only mended a severed wound but dispelled an advanced curse! No existing potion surpasses this!"
"It's worthy of being called a divine gift!"
"Incredible! How did you develop such a potion?"
"I didn't make it."
Upon my return visit, the healers who had finished verification bombarded me with questions.
I never claimed to have made it, yet they hailed me as the creator.
If word spread that I'd developed the elixir, I'd attract all sorts of unwanted attention.
So I vehemently denied it.
But...
"Ahaha! What an amusing joke!"
"Our noses aren't for show. You reek of herbs from head to toe—don't dodge the truth!"
"You might fool others, but not us!"
I slipped money into their sleeves.
"So there really is another creator!"
"I've actually had rhinitis since yesterday!"
"Thwat's..."
Sleeve-stuffing technique: rock-solid reliable.