Dantalion had been gravely wounded.
The moment she heard those words, Elisabeth quickly scanned the room. Temple priests who had arrived late were moving among the wounded, performing healing, while those with minor or no injuries had risen to their feet and were still showering her with applause.
In a corner, one man sat leaning against a wooden pillar.
It was clear at a glance that his condition was dire. His abdomen was soaked in blood. Since he was a Demon Lord whose very nature turned ordinary priestly healing into poison, the priests could do nothing and had simply handed the task over to a handful of healing mages.
The man had his eyes barely open. Those pupils met Elisabeth's gaze. The man—Dantalion—had been glancing in her direction from the start.
—Everything was flowing in slow motion.
Even the sound of applause had slowed to an endless crawl. Elisabeth felt as though every nerve in her body had seized.
'...Was this all planned from the beginning?'
'Exactly as you said.'
She could almost hear Dantalion's reply as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. It was no mere guess. Dantalion's face was twisted in pain, but those black pupils still shone with piercing clarity. They conveyed more certainty than any words could.
'Quite a few people witnessed you and me leaving the ballroom.'
'Among them, only I returned to the scene of the incident, and you were found gravely wounded out of nowhere.'
'A script ripe for anyone's suspicion has been completed.'
People clapped their hands. Clap, clap—the applause rang out dull and heavy, like the tolling of a bell. Everything except Dantalion and her had slowed to a crawl.
'You must have thought something like this: the incident just happened to occur in a place where I wasn't present. If this goes on, I might end up suspected as the culprit.'
'Ah, yes. You needed to arrive at the scene as quickly as possible and put on a good show. Even if someone harbored suspicions, it would be difficult to openly criticize the person who had personally led the rescue efforts.'
'Truly, you must have led the rescue magnificently.'
And that was precisely why Elisabeth had arrived at the scene in greater haste than Dantalion.
In situations like this, suspicion naturally gravitated toward whoever arrived last. Some people had rushed to the scene the moment the incident broke out and helped the victims—so why had you dawdled and only shown up now? Could there have been some other motive?
The fact that the Saint survived had thwarted Dantalion's intentions.
By participating in the rescue far more actively than Dantalion, she had even secured the moral high ground.
The story should have ended there.
*'I was certain you would succeed.'*
If only Dantalion hadn't been found injured.
*'The terror attack targeted the Saint. And on top of that, I was also struck down. This is no mere plot a common assassin could have orchestrated. Someone is behind the terrorists… that's what people will think.'*
*'And suspicion will focus on you.'*
She had left the ballroom together with Dantalion. That alone had already put her on the list of suspects.
Moreover, Elisabeth had handled the rescue a little too skillfully. Everyone had been thrown into a panic by the sudden incident, yet only Elisabeth had responded with astonishing composure and calm. People would ask themselves—is it really possible to be that level-headed?
Had she perhaps anticipated the attack in advance?
*'You have plenty of motive. There's a personal grudge from the Plains of Bruno. And above all, you suffered a crushing defeat in the diplomatic battle against the Saint and me just recently.'*
*'That she tried to assassinate the two of us as revenge for the diplomatic battle.'*
Elisabeth gritted her teeth.
*'The motive is too obvious. If she were truly the culprit, the method is far too clumsy.'*
*'But the suspicion doesn't go away, does it?'*
*'…….'*
People would think—it's too inept to be Elisabeth as the mastermind. But there's still a possibility. As long as that possibility remains, people's suspicion will not disappear either…
*'On the diplomatic stage, your reputation is far from stellar. No, the Habsburg bloodline itself is not one that earns much trust. It's tangled up with all sorts of vile rumors. And you killed your own second brother with your own hands.'*
Setting aside her ability, her character was hard to trust. That was the diplomatic reputation of Consul Elisabeth.
*'There's no guarantee that someone who killed her own brother wouldn't carry out a terrorist attack. The suspicion will linger for a long time and continue to pressure you.'*
'…….'
People swarmed in. They smiled and applauded Elisabeth, asking to shake her hand. Hidden among the crowd, Dantalion's figure was no longer visible.
What would tomorrow bring? Once the dust settled and she thought calmly, suspicion would inevitably turn toward Elisabeth. When that time came, what would rain down on her would not be praise and goodwill, but suspicion and contempt.
'But.'
As she shook hands with the crowd, Elisabeth thought.
'Even so — to stab your own stomach until your guts spill out.'
After Elisabeth departed, Dantalion was left alone in the garden. There, he drew a blade and cut himself.
These were not wounds from one or two stabs. More than five times, more than ten times, that man had driven the tip of a blade into his own stomach. In a place where no one was around. With not a soul nearby. Enduring the pain and groaning, he silently drove the edge in again and again.
Imagining that sight sent a chill through Elisabeth's entire body.
What kind of expression had he worn while doing it to himself?
What kind of life had he lived for something like that to be possible?
'Ah. The complete opposite, then.'
Elisabeth realized once more.
'That's precisely why he's the weaker one — because something like that is possible for him.'
The day was drawing to a close.
The Republican Representative Assembly had been postponed indefinitely.
Elisabeth's pupils turned toward this way. The pain had been so extreme that her vision was nearly gone. And yet, for some reason, Elisabeth's gaze came through relatively clearly. What a curious thing.
What a shame, Elisabeth. It seems you saw through my methods and my character, but unfortunately, you were exactly one step short.
I'm not stupid enough to challenge you to a head-on fight. The person who couldn't even properly handle Henrietta in a direct confrontation — that's me. You're three times more terrifying than Henrietta. Running away was the smart move.
So I flipped the entire board over. The Saint almost died. The assembly is scrapped as things stand. Any chance of certain humans and demons gathering under the banner of republicanism has been eliminated — or at least postponed…….
You must have figured it out by now, Elisabeth. But you never imagined I'd self-harm.
Now do you understand? The weak aren't simply those who run. If there's still somewhere left to flee, then you haven't truly hit rock bottom. The truly weak are the ones who look at where they're standing and see only the edge of a cliff. The ones for whom there is nothing beyond that cliff. That is the weak……
There was no way I could face a monster like you without making sacrifices. You have to be willing to casually give up an arm or a leg. If all it takes is a few stabs to the gut, that's practically a bargain.
This makes it the second time I've done this to myself.
When I threatened Gamigin, I used anesthetic tobacco. I couldn't do that this time. Mages specializing in healing were posted everywhere. If I'd used an anesthetic, there was a strong chance they would have noticed.
The question of why the person who was attacked would be under anesthesia would raise suspicion. I had to stab myself in the stomach with no anesthetic at all……
My first idea was to use Ivar's puppet. While I dealt with Elisabeth, the puppet would return to the ballroom and get caught in the explosion. That would make it look like Elisabeth had left the ballroom alone, deepening the suspicion against her.
The problem was that the ballroom's security was tighter than I'd expected.
Paimon had clearly poured everything into this meeting. Knights and mages were standing guard in overlapping layers, making it impossible to sneak the puppet in. In the end, there was no option left but to self-harm.
It was hellish work. If I didn't have the Demon Lord's regenerative power, I'd have been dead long ago. Honestly, I want to pass out right now.
But I can't yet. A few more people need to gather…… damn it, my vision's getting blurry. I can't see Elisabeth anymore. The pain is so extreme that it's circled back to feeling nothing at all.
"Your Excellency the Court Count! Are you all right!"
They're finally here.
I could faintly sense people murmuring all around me. I was one of the key power brokers of the Habsburg Empire. Naturally, people should be swarming in and making a scene.
"Mage! What is His Excellency's condition!"
"We're doing everything we can…… but the wound is laced with poison. His Excellency has high regenerative power, but the poison is interfering with it."
The mage spoke in a grave tone. I heard the crowd gasping in shock. "Poison?" "What a vicious method." First the devastation that could level a building, and then an assassination attempt on top of it. They must feel like they've taken a one-two punch.
"It's a poison specifically designed to thoroughly suppress regenerative power. It would be of little use against ordinary humans. The assassin was undoubtedly targeting His Excellency the Court Count from the very beginning."
"This is terrible. I heard the Saint's condition is critical as well. If this goes on……."
They're making too much of a commotion. Don't worry. I calibrated the dosage to bring me right to the edge of death and no further. It was Jeremy who did the hard work on that, not me……but I probably won't die.
"Those two are nothing short of a bridge connecting humanity and the demon race. Both species could spiral out of control... Mage!"
"I'm doing everything I can."
This mage was a lost cause too, of all people to end up in charge of treating me. Humans and demons had vastly different approaches to medicine. The old man must have been wishing for death right about now, stuck treating a Demon Lord with methods he had no familiarity with. If I actually died, he would genuinely be executed — the poor old fool.
Had enough people gathered? Now came the moment for one final performance.
"Guh... uh..."
"Your Excellency! Are you awake, Your Excellency?!"
Stop shouting! My head is splitting! Didn't you learn to keep your voice down when dealing with patients? There are far too many idiots in this world. The problem was that right now, I actually needed to make use of them.
I opened my mouth.
"...the Saint..."
The pain was a dull haze, which meant my condition was worse than I had anticipated. My voice refused to come out properly. I focused every shred of my willpower on my lips and tongue. It felt like my body, which had been running on autopilot this whole time, had been switched to manual mode, and I had to operate each part individually.
"The Saint... is she...?"
"...! The Saint is unharmed! She sustained injuries, but there's no problem!"
Someone I couldn't identify answered in a desperate rush. It was a somewhat clumsy thing to say. "No problem," he says. The fact that the Saint had been injured at all was already a catastrophic problem. He probably misspoke while trying to exaggerate how fine things were in order to put me at ease.
He looked so foolish that a smile crept onto my face before I could stop it.
"I see... that's a relief..."
That was all I could manage.
I released the consciousness I had been straining with every fiber of my being to maintain. Awareness receded at dizzying speed. I had been enduring the pain while putting on a brave front, but even that became too much. Those around me must have misinterpreted the shift, because every single one of them screamed.
"Y-Your Excellency! No — you must stay conscious!"
"Who is the culprit! Please, tell us who did this!"
"Lord Dantalion!"
Idiots. Did I not tell you that I won't die?
All you need to do is quietly testify that while I was hovering between life and death, you were worried about the Saint's safety… That is the mission given to you. To prove my innocence. Don't you dare forget that….
And then my consciousness faded to black.
Truly, being a Demon Lord is a job even a demon wouldn't want to take.