Chapter 189: The scheme of the ’other’ Julian

With a choked sound, the Duke dropped to his knees in front of Julian. He didn’t untie the ropes; instead, he surged forward and buried his face in Julian’s lap, his massive arms wrapping around Julian’s waist and the chair.

He held him with a crushing, trembling strength, as if he were trying to anchor Julian’s soul to the physical world.

"L-Lucien?" Julian whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs in confusion. "What is it? Why am I... why are you acting like this?"

Alaric pulled back just enough to look Julian in the eye. His face was a mask of agony.

"I’m sorry," he rasped, his voice breaking. "I’m so sorry, Julian. I can’t take these off you yet. Not until I know how to hide you."

Julian’s breath hitched. "Hide me? Why? What..." He choked, the words heavy as he asked, "What happened?"

"You don’t remember?" Alaric’s grip tightened on Julian’s bound arms.

"Remember what?"

Alaric went silent. The only sound in the damp cellar was the rhythmic drip, drip of water from the stones and the frantic thrum of Julian’s pulse.

Finally, the Duke spoke, the words sounding like they were being dragged over broken glass.

"You tried to assassinate Aurelian," Alaric whispered. "And your accomplice, Seraphina... she succeeded in her own attempt... on the Empress. The Empress is dead."

Julian’s heart stopped, and the blood drained from his face so quickly that his head fell back against the wood of the chair.

"What?" The word was a breathless wheeze from his lips.

It was absurd. Completely absurd.

"No. That’s... that’s impossible. Is this a prank, Lucien? Are you messing with me? There’s no way I would’ve assassinated the Emperor and the Empress?" His heart was pounding. "I can’t... Why would...? She was kind."

If anything, she was a grounding force that helped him in some ways. She was a frail and ill woman. He had no reason. He might have believed it if he had sleepwalked and tried to kill the Emperor for all the torment he put him through, but not the Empress.

And definitely not with Seraphina’s help. That creepy woman had watched him so many times and smiled, but they never exchanged words.

"I have nothing to do with this." He stated. "Lucien, please tell me you’re joking." His voice trembled. "Or that, at least, the other person looked a lot like me, and that’s why I’m a suspect. I can’t... I couldn’t have done something like that."

Alaric didn’t answer. He knew. He had seen the ’other’ Julian and that this was all his doing, but the Empire didn’t care about a different personality being responsible. They only cared about the flesh.

They cared about the man who had walked back into that ballroom with Princess Seraphina at his side. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Flashback: The Ballroom — One Hour Earlier

The music was swirling just as usual, the waltz was ongoing, and the nobles slowly recovered from the tension of the balcony. The wine was flowing, and the gossip about the ’midnight scholar’ was reaching a fever pitch.

Then, the grand double doors of the ballroom were thrown wide quite rudely.

Who was it that thought they could make a grand entrance by arriving later than the Emperor?

Silence followed right away, as all eyes landed on the door.

Two figures stood on the threshold, framed by the golden light of the hallway. The first was a man in familiar midnight-blue velvet, but he wore a new mask—a jagged, silver thing that looked like a shattered mirror. It covered more than half of his face and left his lips exposed. He moved with the predatory grace of a king. And beside him walked a woman who seemed to swallow the light.

Princess Seraphina was draped in heavy, floor-length black lace, a thick mourning veil obscuring her features like a shroud. She looked like a ghost invited to a wedding.

The whispers immediately ignited like wildfire.

"Is that... the Princess? How does she have the face to show herself here?"

"Technically, she isn’t showing her face, haha."

"After the scandal? After the disgrace?"

"Who is the man with her? He wears the same midnight blue coat as the man who had walked in with the Emperor. Are they the same person?"

"It doesn’t seem like it. This man... he walks like he owns the throne."

No one knew it was behind the mask. They only saw the ’Star’ and the ’Mourner’ advancing toward the high dais, their steps synchronized in a dance of cold, calculated intent.

And on the high throne, the Emperor leaned forward, amused by this change in situation. Even with the changed walking steps and the changed mask, he knew for certain that that was Julian. Because that coat was practically the only one in the world. And if to say it was stolen, it would never fit them as it did Julian.

This frame, this structure... he had toyed with Julian for a week long enough to master him.

After showing their presence, they stopped at the center.

"This is a splendid crowd," he mused. "And now, I shall announce your fate,"

He gazed in the Emperor’s direction and then grinned. But he did not do anything yet. He turned slightly toward Princess Seraphina. To the shock of the gathered nobility, he reached out, his gloved hand cupping the side of her dark veil. He leaned in and pressed a lingering, cold kiss to the lace over her lips.

"My dear, you can do what you want now," he whispered, his voice carrying just enough for the front row of dukes to hear.

Seraphina didn’t say a word. She simply turned, her black lace trailing like smoke, and walked toward the side exits.

The crowd watched her leave, their heads turning like a field of wheat in the wind, but before they could speculate on where she was going, a sharp, deafening crack echoed through the hall.

Julian clapped his hands together once, the sound amplified by a jagged ripple of mana.

"Eyes on me, everyone," he commanded, his voice dripping with a predatory amusement. "I have a present for all to see."

He reached into the void of his midnight-blue coat—a space that should have been too small for what he pulled out, and slowly, he drew forth the Scepter of the First Sun.