Chapter 72: Like Roots Breaking Soil...
The sixth princess’s scowl deepened as she abruptly released his hand. The warmth of her touch left as quickly as it came.
"A deal?" she repeated sharply, as though the very word was distasteful.
She rose from her chair, skirts brushing the polished floor, and turned her back to him. "What nonsense are you spouting now? Have you already forgotten?" Her voice was clipped, cold. "You still owe me three silvers. Add the fee for what I just did and the debt climbs to one gold coin."
Keiser couldn’t help it, he laughed, low and rich, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet room. "One gold coin, is it? Then perhaps I’ll settle it another way."
The words made her shoulders tighten. He saw it. The brief, involuntary stiffening of her spine before she forced herself to relax. Slowly, deliberately, she turned back toward him, the candlelight catching the red in her irises until they glowed like rubies. Her gaze narrowed.
"...Another way?" she asked at last, measured, wary.
Keiser only smirked, letting the silence draw long enough for her to feel it.
She exhaled through her nose, muttering something under her breath, and then returned to her chair across from him. This time, she did not lounge carelessly but sat with rigid poise, fingers curling tightly against her lap. The tea between them had gone cold, but the air carried a heat of its own.
"What way?" she asked again, quieter this time, though she tried, and failed, to mask the faint fidget of her hands.
"The kind that doesn’t involve coins," Keiser said, leaning forward just enough for his grin to sharpen. Inwardly, he thought, ’The plan still holds.’
She rolled her eyes, though the motion was more defensive than dismissive. "And how, exactly, can you pay me in kind?" she said dryly.
"I already healed you, even knowing what you’ve done. Blood scripting, of all things." Her gaze hardened, her tone laced with disdain. "Unless... no."
She narrowed her eyes, suspicion flashing. "Don’t tell me you’re about to ask for the erasure of your crime. If that’s your plan, abandon it. I cannot and will not change what you’ve done. I can close wounds, yes, but those marks?"
She pointed faintly toward his scars, her lips curling. "Those are carved in mana itself. They will never vanish. Not by my hand, not by anyone’s."
Keiser only shrugged, as if what he was about to say was of little weight.
"Fine, I’ll pay your gold coin," he said easily, his voice carrying a faint mocking lilt. "But I still want a deal, a different one."
The princess tilted her head, lips pressing into a thin line. For a heartbeat she said nothing, the candlelight playing against her scowl. Then, with a quiet hum, "...I’ll hear it."
Keiser shifted, sitting forward this time. His elbows rested against his knees as he leaned in, head cocked at a slight angle, his smirk sharp enough to gleam in the dim light.
"Curse me," he said calmly, "that I’ll die in a very specific way, three days from now."
The princess froze, blinking slowly as though the words took a moment to sink in. Her fingers drifted to her cold cup of tea, hovering just above it as if she meant to reheat it with a spark of mana.
But instead of casting, her hand lingered, her eyes fixed on him. "...Fair," she said carefully, voice cool, measured.
"What will you pay me for such a curse?"
That was when Keiser grinned. A grin that was too pleased, too knowing, and not at all the grin of a man simply making idle bargains.
He thought, Elves and half-elves... they can grant any wish, so long as you give them something of equal value to them in return.
He leaned back, drawing out the moment. Then, with a casual air, he said, "...Your mother."
The princess’s hand faltered over the teacup. Her shoulders stiffened, her breath caught. Slowly, she set the cup back down with a faint clink against the saucer. Her head turned sharply, her scowl darkening until her ruby eyes glinted like sharpened glass.
"...Excuse me?" she hissed.
Keiser raised a hand in mock surrender, though his grin only widened.
"I’m not jesting. I’ll let you meet your mother." He leaned forward again, eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and certainty. "Because I’ve met her."
Suddenly, golden sigils flared to life in the air, twisting and knotting into glowing vines that lashed around Keiser, forcing him back against the chair. The restraints burned cold against his skin, humming with mana.
His breath hitched, not from the pain, but from the trembling tone in her voice.
"How?" the princess whispered, her words unsteady, sharp yet cracking at the edges. "Why is she...?"
Keiser tilted his head, letting the vines dig into his arms and chest as though they were nothing more than a passing nuisance. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted one bound hand, fingers brushing against the bandages on his left eye. With a tug, he peeled the cloth away.
The fabric slipped, falling against the floor like dead weight. At once, the world sharpened, the hazy blur gone.
Both of his eyes, uncovered, met hers.
Even through the wavering light of the candles, Keiser could see it all.
The raw emotion flickering across her face, her breath uneven, her lips parted as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t. The sigils constricting him pulsed violently, losing rhythm, as though her control was faltering.
And then he saw it, the change in her. Her hair, once a pristine gold, shimmered unnaturally under the shifting light. Strands at the edges glimmered faintly, betraying a greenish hue that crept through like roots breaking soil.
"You’re losing it," Keiser said softly, not with malice but with quiet certainty. His uncovered eye narrowed, studying the unraveling girl before him.
The princess’s ruby gaze widened, her pupils trembling as the glow of the sigils flickered with her heartbeat. She grit her teeth, scowling as if that might hide the truth he had already laid bare.