Killer
"Some poisons work without a sound."
A Memory from the Expedition
During her continental expedition, Medea had endured countless hardships—hunger, exhaustion, and the relentless demands of survival.
There were times when her party had to forage for sustenance across barren plains, when civilization felt like a distant dream.
One such day, she had reached for a cluster of violet-tinged leaves, their fragrance unexpectedly sweet.
"Your Highness, please—do not touch that."
Her attendant's voice had been sharp with alarm.
"Why not? It smells rather pleasant."
"That is Halus—the Refined. A poison that works without taste or warning. It induces a creeping madness, so gradual that the victim never realizes they are losing themselves."
The attendant had stepped between her and the plant, face pale.
"They call it the *Silent Killer*. Even the scent alone can be fatal with prolonged exposure."
Medea had withdrawn her hand, her expression unchanged.
"How inconvenient. I had no intention of drinking it anyway."
She had looked almost bored—as if death itself failed to impress her.
The Present
The memory dissolved as the door creaked open.
"Your Highness—"
Neril stepped inside, her posture oddly hesitant. Behind her, a small figure darted past before she could speak further.
"Wow!"
A child—no older than five—burst into the chamber, his dark eyes sparkling with unbridled curiosity. He spun in a circle, drinking in the gilded walls and velvet draperies.
"Mama!"
He spotted his target and launched himself forward, colliding with the kneeling maid and wrapping his arms around her neck.
"J-Jeremy...? Why are you here?"
The maid's voice cracked, her face draining of what little color remained.
"The pretty lady said she'd show me the palace! She promised not to tell Grandma—it's our secret!"
He pressed a finger to his lips conspiratorially, then turned to beam at Neril, who offered a small nod of confirmation.
"Mama, everything's so shiny! And there are so many yummy things! It smells like cookies!"
His gaze swept the room with breathless wonder.
"But where's the Princess? Can I meet her? Does she really have horns? Did you see them, Mama?"
The questions tumbled out in an unstoppable torrent.
The maid stiffened. Her eyes slid toward Medea with dawning horror.
Medea rose from her seat and approached.
"I do live here."
The child's eyes went wide as saucers.
"You're the Princess?"
"I am."
"But... where are your horns?"
Medea knelt, lowering herself to his eye level. Her silver hair cascaded forward like moonlight made tangible.
"What do you see?"
The boy studied her face with the earnest intensity only children possess.
"I don't see any horns. You just... sparkle. Like the moon."
As if hypnotized, he reached out and grasped a handful of her pale hair, letting the strands slip through his small fingers.
Neril moved instinctively—
Medea raised a hand.
"It's quite alright."
She waited until the last strand fell away.
"Jeremy. Are you thirsty?"
The maid's blood turned to ice.
"Yes! Very thirsty!"
"Then have some tea."
She lifted the porcelain cup—the same cup that sat untouched before the maid. The same tea she had refused to drink.
"Can I really?"
"Of course. There's plenty more."
The child's small hands wrapped around the cup. He brought it toward his lips—
"NO!"
The maid lunged. Her hand struck the cup with desperate force.
CRASH.
Porcelain shattered against the wall. Dark liquid splattered across silk and marble, spreading like a stain.
The maid collapsed, pulling Jeremy into her arms so tightly he could barely breathe.
"Please—please forgive me! I'll tell you everything!"
Jeremy burst into tears, overwhelmed by his mother's sudden terror.
"M-Mama? What's wrong?"
"Shh, shh—it's alright, my love. Mama's here."
But her voice shook. Her hands trembled.
Medea observed them in silence, her expression unreadable.
"Jeremy."
The maid flinched as though struck.
"I need to speak with your mother privately. Would you wait outside for a moment?"
She gestured toward a silver tray laden with confections.
"You may take the cookies with you."
The boy sniffled, his tears already drying.
"...All of them?"
"Every single one."
Wonder replaced fear in his eyes. He accepted the tray with both hands, carefully balancing its weight.
"I'll be right back, Mama!"
He waved cheerfully as another maid guided him from the room.
The door closed with a soft click.
Silence descended like a shroud.
The Truth
The maid crawled forward on her knees, grasping the hem of Medea's gown with desperate fingers.
"It was Duke Claudio! He gave me the Halus—threatened to kill my family if I refused!"
Her words came in ragged bursts, punctuated by sobs.
"When did he first approach you?"
"Three years ago. But I refused him—I swear I did! It was only four months ago that I..."
Her voice broke.
Three years.
Medea's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. They had been moving against her long before she had even begun to suspect.
"How long has Siseo been drinking this tea?"
"F-four months... only four months, Your Highness, I swear—"
Four months. Not yet irreversible.
If treatment began immediately, the damage could still be undone. A small mercy.
"I'll resign immediately! I'll accept any punishment! Just please—please spare my child—"
The woman's face was a ruin of tears and terror.
"Your fate is not mine to decide. You will go to Siseo and confess everything yourself."
Hope flickered in the maid's eyes—fragile, desperate.
"Your son, however, will remain here."
The hope shattered.
"He will be fed. Educated. Protected. He will receive instruction from the palace tutors and grow up among nobility."
Medea's voice remained perfectly even.
"And he will remain where I can see him."
The maid understood.
A gilded cage is still a cage. A cherished hostage is still a hostage.
"I understand, Your Highness. My body, my thoughts, my very soul—all of it is yours to command."
The words emerged as a broken whisper.
The maid pressed her forehead to the cold marble floor.
The Midnight Hour
The palace had fallen silent.
Medea sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the glass. The maid had departed hours ago, clutching Jeremy's hand, her face hollow with despair.
Only Neril remained.
"You witnessed something ugly tonight."
Medea did not turn around.
"I used an innocent child as leverage. I exploited a mother's love to forge chains. Such methods must be... distasteful to someone of your principles."
Silence stretched between them.
"If you find it unbearable, you may leave. I will not hold it against you."
Her voice softened, almost imperceptibly.
"But I will not change. I will not soften. I cannot afford to."
The fabric of Neril's uniform rustled.
She knelt.
"I swore an oath, Your Highness. To follow you. To support you. Whatever path you walk—I will walk it beside you."
Medea's eyes closed.
"...Thank you."
The words were barely a whisper.
Outside, a night bird cried—a thin, mournful sound that echoed across the empty gardens.
And the palace, wrapped in shadow, listened to its lament.
End of Chapter She weaponizes innocence.
She binds with kindness.
She rules through fear.
Work in Silence
And so does she.
[ The Silent Killer ]
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