Chapter 8: Judgment in the Sanctuary

“It’s a ‘cursed object’.”

My voice was trembling with terror, but those words cut through the noise of the banquet hall and struck Rixian’s ears with perfect clarity. My fingers tightened on his arm. His solid forearm felt like the only mast I could cling to in a violent storm. Rixian’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. He instantly recognized the weight of the word I had spoken. A portrait presented to the Emperor. The fact that it was an object meant to harm him. This went beyond a simple forgery scandal. This was a direct challenge to the Imperial family—an act of treason. His gaze passed over me, to Seraphina, who was ecstatic on the stage, and to the Emperor, who was smiling with satisfaction. Then, his eyes returned to me.

“How will you prove it?”

His voice was as cold and sharp as a winter blade. He didn’t believe me. He was demanding 'certain proof'. I fought to push back the evil aura radiating from the painting, gasping for breath. This was different from the pure resentment that had poured from the ‘First Empress’s Mirror.’ This was filthy, artificial, and profane, an energy that desecrated all things holy. Therefore, there was only one answer. I answered with my intuition.

“Sacred power…”

“…”

“It will react violently against holy energy. We have to go to the place where that power is strongest.”

I looked Rixian straight in the eye and whispered, betting everything I had.

“To the Imperial Chapel.”

***

The moment Rixian’s brain processed Eliana’s last words, it was already calculating dozens of possibilities. The Imperial Chapel. If she was telling the truth, it was the perfect stage to prove the curse. If she was lying, she would be executed on the spot for desecrating the Imperial Sanctuary. Either way, it was a gamble Rixian couldn't lose. No, this wasn't a gamble. His hunter’s instinct was catching the scent of the great beast named Valerius Sforza. The information from Prince Raphael, the 'mysterious pigment' from the ‘First Empress’s Mirror,’ and now the ‘curse’ Eliana Bester was warning him about. All the pieces pointed to that one name: Sforza. If so, there was no reason to hesitate. Rixian neither shook off Eliana’s hand nor acknowledged it. He simply took one step forward, her hand still on his arm.

“Your Majesty!”

His voice carried a chill that seemed to freeze the entire banquet hall. All music and conversation stopped. The Emperor, who had been about to congratulate Seraphina with a satisfied smile, turned to look at his most faithful hound. Rixian de Valois knelt on one knee before the Emperor and bowed his head. His posture was one of perfect etiquette, but the aura he emitted was an overwhelming pressure that no one dared to defy.

“Your Majesty, I ask your forgiveness. But I sense a… profane aura from the portrait just presented by Lady Lafont.”

A murmur rippled through the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Rixian saw Seraphina’s face morph from ecstasy to horror, then to a pale, blank sheet.

“Duke, what is the meaning of this?”

The Emperor’s voice grew low.

“This is a sacred portrait of Your Majesty, the glory of the empire. It goes without saying that not a single trace of profanity can be tolerated.”

Rixian presented the most perfect justification, one that would dig into the Emperor’s suspicion.

“I request your permission to move it to the Imperial Chapel for a sacred purification ritual before it is presented, to wash away any worldly energy that may cling to it.”

It was a perfect, irrefutable logic. Who would dare refuse the words of Duke Valois, when he was arguing for the Emperor's own safety and sanctity?

“How amusing.”

Just then, Prince Raphael, who had been swirling his wine glass in the corner, stepped forward, clapping. He wore his signature languid smile, as if he was enjoying the chaos.

“The Duke’s loyalty is profound. Your Majesty, I also agree with the Duke. We cannot allow anything that might, by even the smallest chance, harm your person. Why don't we all proceed to the chapel to prove Lady Lafont's innocence and the painting's sanctity?”

With Prince Raphael now fanning the flames, the Emperor had no reason to refuse.

“...Very well. We shall do so.” “Your Majesty! You can’t!”

In that moment, Seraphina, having lost all reason, shrieked.

“Th-this painting… This painting is my life’s work…!”

“Lady Lafont.”

Rixian cut her off, his voice like ice, without even lifting his head.

“If you have nothing to hide, the sacred power of the chapel will prove your innocence. What are you so afraid of?”

His words were no different from holding a knife to her throat.

***

The corridor to the Imperial Chapel felt as long and cold as the road to hell. The Emperor led the way, with Rixian and me following close behind. Prince Raphael watched us like an audience member at a thrilling play. Seraphina and Cassian, both deathly pale, and a few key nobles followed in a suffocating silence. I had let go of Rixian’s arm long ago, but I could still feel the hard, cold touch of it on my fingertips, as if his body heat lingered. With a single sentence, he had overturned the entire board. There was no going back. If I was wrong, I would die at Rixian's hands for deceiving the Emperor and the entire empire. But I wasn't afraid. Seraphina’s ragged breathing behind me, the sound of her footsteps trembling in terror, was all the proof I needed that my premonition was correct. Finally, the great doors of the chapel swung open. Moonlight poured through dozens of massive stained-glass windows, bathing the altar in an ethereal light. This was the Sanctuary, the place where the empire's sacred power was most concentrated. The moment I stepped inside, I felt a warm, blue light—the same kind the 'Empress's Mirror' had emitted—wrap around my body. The internal pain I’d suffered from using the 'Eye of Truth' began to fade. But for one presence, it was the exception.

“Now, place the painting on the altar.”

At the Emperor’s command, trembling attendants carried the portrait to the center of the altar. It happened in an instant. The painting had begun to tremble minutely from the moment it entered the chapel. And now, as the power of the holy relics on the altar touched it, the painting began to ‘react’ like a beast.

Sssiiizzzle…!

The surface of the canvas began to boil, as if acid had been thrown on it. The benevolent face of the Emperor, so beautifully painted, turned black, rotted, and began to melt like spoiled fruit.

“Ah… Aaaah…”

The noblewomen screamed and staggered back at the disgusting sight.

“Wh-what in the world…!”

“The painting… the painting is rotting!”

That wasn't the end. A black fog rose from the painting, writhing like a living creature as it fought against the chapel's sacred energy. Where the Emperor’s face had been, there was now only a formless, black mass, melting with a horrific stench.

“No… No! This can’t be happening!”

Seraphina finally broke. In an instant, she had fallen from the star of the show to a witch who had performed an unholy curse.

“I didn't paint that! This… This is a trap! Eliana! What… What did you do!”

She pointed at me, shrieking, and tried to lunge, but she was immediately subdued by Rixian’s knights. It was all over. No, not yet. I couldn't miss this chance. The black energy destroying the painting was now suppressed by the chapel's holy power, its resistance clearly weakened. If I act now… I can read the root of that curse, read Seraphina’s memory! I dragged my staggering body to the altar and, without hesitation, placed my hand on the melting canvas. Then, I unleashed my 'Eye of Truth,' gathering every last ounce of strength I had left.

'You dare…!'

The curse's final resistance attacked my mind, but it was just the dying struggles of a weakened force. I pushed through it and dove into the memories embedded in the painting—into Seraphina’s memories. My vision shifted. A dark, lavish room. In front of me stood a middle-aged man with a gentle smile but eyes as cold as a snake’s: Valerius Sforza. He was holding out a small glass vial to Seraphina—to me. Inside, the ‘mysterious pigment’ Rixian had mentioned glowed a dark, blood-red.

“This is an ancient pigment, Lady Lafont, one that cannot be found anywhere else in the empire.”

Sforza’s voice, sweet as honey, burrowed into my ear.

“Use this, and your painting will gain a living soul. His Majesty the Emperor will surely be moved.”

I could feel Seraphina’s heart pounding with greed.

“However…”

Sforza added with a smile.

“This pigment’s energy is so strong… it can be detrimental to the health of those who stay near it. Especially… someone elderly.”

It was a clear warning. An implication that it could harm the Emperor. But in Seraphina’s memory, she wasn't afraid. She was… ecstatic.

'The Emperor's health…?'

Her inner voice echoed.

'Who cares! With this… With this, I can surpass Eliana! I can become the greatest painter in the empire!'

I opened my eyes. And I exposed the truth I had seen to everyone gathered in this holy sanctuary.

“Valerius Sforza…!”

I saw Rixian’s shoulders tense at my shout.

“Seraphina! You met Valerius Sforza!”

I screamed at Seraphina, who was struggling against the knights.

“You accepted the ‘mysterious pigment’ he gave you! You knew! You knew that pigment… that painting could harm His Majesty the Emperor!”

I mimicked her inner voice, crying out in mock despair.

“‘Who cares! As long as I can surpass Eliana!’ …That’s what you thought, wasn’t it!”

“Ah… Aaaah…”

Seraphina’s eyes rolled back. Her ugliest, innermost thoughts had been exposed to the world. She couldn't even scream. She just went limp and fainted. At the same time, all the strength drained from my body. The price for using the 'Eye of Truth' to its limit, and the backlash from confronting the curse head-on, all hit me at once. My vision went black, and my legs gave out. I was falling… falling to the cold marble floor.

In that instant, Rixian moved. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. The moment Eliana Bester exposed the truth. The moment Seraphina de Lafont collapsed, foaming at the mouth. And… the moment Eliana, having used all her strength, crumpled like a broken flower. His reason commanded him. 'No contact.' 'You are before His Majesty. Do not act rashly.' 'That woman is just a witness. A tool with value.' But his body was one step ahead of his reason. Before his mysophobia could scream, before his trauma could paralyze his senses, Rixian leaped onto the dais. That strange jolt he'd felt when she grabbed his arm in the banquet hall. That terrible kinship he'd felt watching her agony in the observation room. All of it had become a single instinct, and it moved him. Whoosh. He caught Eliana without hesitation, just before she hit the floor. In front of hundreds of nobles, the Emperor, and Prince Raphael. He broke his own pathological rule and lifted the bloodied woman as if she were the most precious treasure. In the sacred chapel, not the banquet hall, everyone held their breath at the shocking sight. 'The Mad Dog of the Empire,' 'Valois's Ice Pick,' was holding a woman. That is what they must have thought. Rixian looked down at Eliana, who was breathing faintly in his arms. It was strange. There was no burning pain, no sensory overload. There was only a cold satisfaction, as if confirming his possession. He held her blood-stained form and slowly bowed his head to the Emperor.

“Your Majesty.”

His voice was unwavering.

“The witness has exhausted all her strength.”

He adjusted his grip on Eliana, as if daring anyone to try and take her from him.

“I will stake my family’s honor and secure this witness.”