"Samon."
"Medea."
Samon Claudio—the Regent's son and Birna's older brother—stood behind her.
"I was so preoccupied tonight that I forgot to congratulate you on your recovery. I'm glad to see you healthy again."
His voice was friendly.
His blue eyes—dark, calculating—were not.
"After falling from that horse, she's changed so much."
"The dignified voice praying for victory earlier didn't sound like the insignificant fool I knew."
"Did she catch onto our plan and strike first?"
He secretly suspected Medea.
Wasn't her skill at driving his father and younger sister into a corner—all while wearing an innocent face—far too polished?
"Samon, did I do something wrong?"
Medea lowered her delicate eyebrows, her voice trembling.
Worry reflected in her clear, transparent eyes—she looked like a frightened deer.
"I only repeated what Aunt Catherine and Birna told me, but I didn't expect everyone to be so upset."
A pale hand reached out and grasped Samon's arm, shaking it slightly.
"Do you think I was arrogant? Giving away the dress my aunt gifted me to Birna?"
She seemed completely dependent on Samon, as though confiding in a trusted older brother.
"Yes, she's always been this timid and eager to please... I must have been overthinking."
If she truly knew about their ambitions, Medea wouldn't treat him so consistently.
Samon dismissed his suspicions and patted her shoulder affectionately.
"Not at all. You know how much my mother cares for you. I'll simply have a word with the immature Birna."
Besides, tonight was her triumph.
Samon smiled.
But Medea noticed his eyes weren't smiling at all.
"Samon, you were cunning and cruel by nature."
"Whenever you suffered a loss, you always exacted revenge."
One day, a junior servant at the dukedom accidentally damaged Samon's favorite leather shoes.
Samon graciously forgave him at first.
But later, that servant was found in an "accident"—expelled from the estate with one ankle severed.
His true character revealed itself only to those weaker than him.
At the time, Medea had thought him merely fastidious.
But now that she knew Samon's true nature—
"I'm certain he'll want payback for tonight."
"His family has been humiliated."
But she wasn't afraid of Samon.
"I also have much to repay you for."
The King was chosen by the divine—the most noble being in the kingdom.
Therefore, the people of the continent believed the body must also be perfect.
Valdina was no exception.
"Doesn't this mean the gods no longer recognize His Majesty as King?"
Without even time to heal his injured leg, Peleus had been forced to quell fierce public opinion threatening his royal authority—both internally and from abroad.
It was then that Samon—with similar lineage and appearance to Peleus—emerged as a potential replacement.
Eventually, whispers spread that Samon should take the throne instead of the "flawed" Peleus.
"We won't let you siblings parasite off us any longer."
"Brother, please speak well of me. You know how I feel."
"Of course."
Samon nodded.
"I'll take my leave now, Medea. Today is your day—don't worry about anything and enjoy yourself."
He bent down, kissed the back of Medea's hand, and departed.
Medea did not take her eyes off his retreating figure for a long time—like a predator watching prey.
The Corridor
Birna fled in fury.
If she didn't want her mother to catch her again, she had to return to the banquet hall quickly.
As she retraced her steps toward the venue, she spotted Medea in the distance—smiling brightly while conversing with distinguished guests.
"Why are you smiling?"
Birna muttered blankly.
I'm so miserable—yet Medea, why are you laughing so happily?
"If I think about it, this is all Medea's fault."
That girl gave up her dress deliberately—so Birna would be mocked by everyone.
Otherwise, how could she have surrendered such a precious thing so obediently?
Birna clenched her fists.
If that's the case, she couldn't just stand by either.
She called for her personal maid, Sheila.
"Sheila, make Medea drink this."
"What? Her Highness? Miss, this is still a palace banquet—it's far too dangerous—"
Sheila was horrified when she saw the white powder.
Birna's eyes glinted coldly.
"Are you my servant or my master? Do as you're told—unless you want to be sold tomorrow without anyone knowing."
Sheila nodded helplessly, clutching her burning cheek.
"Don't worry. It's not poison. I wouldn't do anything that could kill her."
"Then... what is it?"
"She'll just see strange things. Hear auditory hallucinations. I'm only trying to cause a little scene."
She could already imagine it—Medea screaming at phantoms, terrified and out of control.
It would be quite the spectacle.
Just like when she got scared and fell off her horse at that tea party.
"So just do as you're told, understand?"
Birna's face was filled with its usual lovely malice.
"Yes, the fall from the horse... it started then. She got strange after that."
It seemed her cousin had finally lost her edge.
Perhaps it was time to remind that pretty little head once more who was really in control.
"Birna, what are you planning now?"
It had been the same when Medea fell from her horse.
Every time Birna wore that mischievous expression, trouble erupted around Medea.
Of course, seeing his cousin's reputation crumble was something Samon also desired.
But tonight was different.
"Not tonight."
Samon frowned.
Did she realize how many important people were here tonight?
If something happened, they couldn't cover it up and move on as easily as before—not with so many eyes watching.
"Don't do anything foolish. Do you understand me?"
"What do you think I'm doing?"
Birna raised her eyebrows as if offended.
Samon glared at her warningly, then walked away.
"Hmph. It's already too late anyway."
Birna stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.
The Offering
When the banquet reached its height, a crystal goblet was extended toward Medea.
"Your Highness, aren't you thirsty?"
The courtier was smiling.
It was Medea's favorite berry wine.
Medea stared at the flowing red liquid, then noticed Birna watching her intently from across the hall.
Even if it weren't for the overwhelmingly strong berry scent masking something beneath, Medea would have known something was wrong with this drink.
"As expected, you don't exceed my expectations, Birna."
Was tonight really the first time Birna had orchestrated such a malicious "prank"?
Given how quickly her temper flared and how naturally her hands moved to cruelty—this felt practiced.
Medea accepted the glass.
Then she naturally turned her body and rejoined the conversation with the distinguished guests.
The courtier wanted to see if Medea would drink, but since she'd already taken the cup, lingering any longer would appear suspicious.
She retreated.
Medea, continuing her conversation with the nobles, caught sight of Minister Etienne.
"Perfect timing."
The long-awaited star of tonight's finale had appeared.
Medea looked down at her wine.
A wicked thought crossed her mind.
"Can I use this gift from Birna?"
"It would add a much richer effect to my plan to finish Etienne tonight."
The Minister
Minister Etienne of the Palace saw Medea and his eyes widened.
"Your Highness?"
"Minister Etienne, it's been quite some time. Why do I get the feeling you've grown... larger since I last saw you?"
To her amusement, the Minister chuckled.
Medea's pale cheeks remained steady. The champagne in her hand didn't waver.
He was so drunk he didn't even notice the Princess's mockery of his expanding girth.
"Ah, I was deeply impressed tonight, Your Highness. How can you speak so bravely before so many people without the slightest nervousness? This Etienne was truly moved."
He suddenly opened his eyes wide and looked down at the Princess.
It was an arrogant posture—like an adult condescending to a child.
"So I suppose Saint Esther favored you so much that she poured out those stars like that?"
"Did you interpret it that way? Well, it is said that Saint Esther so abhorred those who abandoned their duty and indulged only in greed that she pierced their stomachs with her spear."
The Princess smiled sweetly.
"As you said, Minister, I'm still young and innocent. Perhaps she took pity on me."
But her choice of words was strange.
Etienne's alcohol-soaked mind briefly wondered—
"Is this girl mocking me right now?"
Saint Esther's eccentric legend was well-known across the continent.
Etienne's clouded mind quickly dismissed the thought—he was just being overly sensitive.
"But, Minister..."
"Yes, please speak, Your Highness."
"With whose permission did you organize this banquet? Can palace events be held without royal approval?"
The Minister's eyes narrowed as he processed her words.
A poison brewed.
A weapon redirected.
And the chalice passed to unintended lips.
To Be Continued
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