Mercy
"Mercy is a coin with two faces— one gilded in grace, the other branded with debt."
"Ah, yes. That boy."
Only then did the crowd recognize Theo.
The young rebel whose passionate voice had called for justice—his words had stirred something in their hearts that day.
Now, the Princess herself descended and knelt to meet his eyes at level.
"I know that your courage today was for the good of Valdina. As Princess of this kingdom, I promise never to turn away from the call of its citizens."
Murmurs of admiration rippled through the crowd—praise for the Princess's generosity in embracing even a traitor.
Theo, too, might have been moved by those honeyed words...
...if he didn't know the truth.
If he hadn't known that the Princess before him—beautiful, benevolent—was the mastermind who had threatened his sister's life and orchestrated this entire charade.
But he *did* know.
Despite her affectionate tone, there wasn't even a flicker of warmth in those emerald eyes gazing down at him.
'The play isn't over yet.'
Theo shivered.
"Your Majesty."
Medea turned to Peleus with an expression of serene composure, as though she hadn't noticed Theo's trembling fear.
"Though this boy joined the rebellion, he recognized the harm it caused and risked his life to report the Regent's treason."
She paused, letting her words settle over the crowd.
"Moreover, Valdina subdued the rebels because this boy did not hesitate to sever the head of their corrupt leader. It is difficult to recognize one's mistakes—but it takes far greater courage to correct them. Therefore, I ask Your Majesty to forgive this boy's sins."
Peleus's blue eyes flickered briefly between Medea and Theo.
"Do as the Princess wishes."
Permission granted.
Medea bowed her head slightly toward Peleus, as if in gratitude.
A knight stepped forward and untied the rope binding Theo's wrists.
Thump.
The thick rope fell to the ground.
Theo stared down at his freed hands.
"..."
The sharp, metallic taste of blood lingered between his bitten, torn lips.
Fury coursed through him—rage at the woman who had shattered his will by holding his family's lives hostage.
Yet he couldn't deny the instinctive surge of relief flooding his veins.
'I survived.'
Amid self-loathing and resentment, Theo was forced to admit a bitter truth.
There was nothing he could do—not then, not now.
This board had been set by the Princess from the very beginning, and he was merely a piece in her hands.
"Your Majesty... Your Highness... I thank you for your boundless generosity..."
'Are you satisfied now?'
As he lowered his head, suppressing the rage rising in his chest, Medea's lips curved ever so slightly.
"How fortunate that you get to *live*."
Theo bit his lip harder as he caught the hidden meaning in her words.
"...Yes. I will not forget this favor."
The words barely escaped his throat.
He bowed his head again—not out of loyalty, but to avoid meeting those beautiful, merciless green eyes any longer.
He couldn't bear to look at them.
The people, oblivious to Theo's inner turmoil, erupted in admiration.
"She truly is our Princess—the radiant jewel of Valdina!"
"And His Majesty's mercy in pardoning that boy! What benevolence!"
The image of the righteous royal siblings saving their people was almost mythic—like something from an ancient epic.
But before the crowd could fully savor that uplifting emotion, discomfort crept in.
"Your Highness, please! Save me too! I beg you!"
The condemned nobles realized, through Theo's example, that the King—cold and unyielding as an ice wall—would only heed his sister's requests.
Shamelessly, they reached out toward the Princess.
The most shameless of them all was the Regent.
"Medea, forgive me! I—your uncle—must have been momentarily confused. You know how much your uncle loved you..."
He tried to approach her, squinting through his bloodied, ruined eye, stumbling forward.
"Do you wish to lose your remaining eye as well?"
Peleus's blade flashed, barring his path.
The Regent recoiled, covering his good eye protectively, and staggered backward.
"You don't need to beg me, Uncle."
Medea's voice was calm, almost mocking.
"If you are truly the master of this land—chosen by heaven itself—then surely the Goddess knows how to make the proper arrangements."
"What... what do you mean?"
"*Heaven knows, and the earth knows!* I, Joaquin de Valdina, am the one destined to rule this land! Valdina has suffered because *I* am not King! The Goddess has punished us!"
Medea echoed his own mad proclamations from earlier—before Peleus appeared, before his delusions of grandeur shattered.
The Regent gnashed his teeth, his remaining eye blazing with hatred as it darted between Peleus and Medea.
The siblings were remarkably alike—even down to the arrogant tilt of their chins as they looked down upon him.
"Yes, laugh while you can! Your arrogance won't last long!"
His voice turned venomous.
"How long do you think this pitiful Valdina can survive after making enemies of both the Grand Duke *and* the Fourth Princess? The war on the plains was a *crushing defeat*!"
"This insignificant kingdom will crumble with a single blow from Katzen's cavalry! You'll be trampled into dust! Ahahahaha! In hell, I will laugh at you!"
Peleus regarded the Regent with something close to pity. One elegant brow arched, as though posing a question.
"We were defeated...?"
As soon as the words left his lips—
Fwooosh!
The Agemas raised their standards in unison.
"T-those are the flags of the Lasha people!"
"One, two, three... My God, there are *dozens* of tribal banners from the plains...!"
A flag is the identity and soul of an army.
Across the entire continent, no warrior would willingly surrender their banner—unless it was torn from their hands by the enemy.
Which meant...
A fragile flicker of hope ignited in the hearts of those who saw the standards.
"The war is over, people of Valdina! We have *won*! The plains are now Valdina's territory—this is the dawn of our new future!"
D'Angel's voice thundered across the square.
"The Goddess has not abandoned Valdina! Every hardship we've endured will become the foundation for a homeland that shines brighter than ever before!"
Long live Valdina! Long live the King!
A thunderous roar erupted.
Cheers. Exclamations. Tears of overwhelming joy.
Some danced. Others collapsed, sobbing. All were moved beyond words—their kingdom's impossible dream had finally come true.
Only the Regent could not share in the jubilation.
"This—this is *impossible*! It can't be! Let go of me! LET GO! This can't be the end! This can't—PELEUUUUUUS!"
His screams—desperate enough to rend the heavens—were drowned out by the roar of celebration as knights dragged him away, each arm seized in an iron grip.
"Long live Valdina!"
It was the first confident cheer in ten years.
In the shadows beneath the tower, on the far side of the wall, Cesare turned and leaned against the cold stone.
Even here, the cheering could be heard.
"Boss, we need to leave. Now. The Agemas are everywhere—if we linger, they'll detect us."
Gallo glanced pointedly at Cesare's empty hands. The dagger that usually twirled between his fingers was absent.
"..."
"The Princess is safe now. You don't need to worry anymore, do you?"
"Yes, Cesare. Besides, don't you have more pressing matters to attend to?"
"..."
It wasn't difficult to spot the gleam of silver hair shining amidst the crowd.
Cesare thought of Medea.
The image of the girl who had always stood unwavering—like a lighthouse in the storm—collapsing helplessly into her brother's arms lingered stubbornly in his mind.
A bitter taste coated his tongue.
'A subtle sense of defeat...'
A hollow smile curved at the corner of Cesare's lips.
'Did she show that side of herself—the vulnerable one—hoping I would be the one to see it?'
"Let's go."
"Understood, boss."
Cesare's golden eyes swept across the castle one final time before settling on Medea's distant figure.
"Prepare the compensation to be delivered to Valdina. As soon as the curse is lifted, we must pay a price equivalent to the Dawn's Droplet."
"Of course. I've already begun preparations."
Gallo's response was immediate. They intended to honor their debt to the kingdom that had provided their lord with the antidote—in full.
That young, beautiful King would never know.
He had been given a weapon called Facade—a treasure more powerful and rare than any blade on the continent.
"...I'm going back."
Cesare turned away.
Tap. Tap.
The sound of his footsteps descending the stone stairs was soon swallowed by the distant roar of victory.
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