How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending

“You should have ended it properly a long ago. Now the Crown Prince will use Hezekia as a foothold to set his sights on the throne. What do you plan to do?”

Everett’s smile stiffened for a brief moment. Still, he forced his expression to relax and replied gently.

“I was thinking of reaching out to my father.”

“…Mind your words, Prince.”

Liander slowly studied her son’s face and cut him off in a cold voice.

“‘Father,’ you say. He was recognized as a privateer, received a viscount’s title, and became a count in exchange for a formal marriage with me. That does not change the fact that his origins are those of a pirate.”

“…”

“Your father is His Majesty, not some street-born ruffian from a pirate background.”

Yet it was precisely through that ruffian’s devotion that you built this much power, and that I survived to become a prince. Everett swallowed the words that caught at the tip of his tongue and clenched his fist beneath the table.

Liander waved her hand irritably, as if her head ached, and dismissed him.

“Leave now and think about how to deal with Hezekia. No matter what, that Omega must not give wings to the Crown Prince.”

“…Yes. Understood, Mother.”

Everett bowed lightly in farewell and left the reception room.

The moment the door closed, the faint smile on his lips vanished. As he passed through the cold marble corridor, none of the ease or composure he had shown before his mother remained.

Deep within his warm dark brown eyes, a cold fury swallowed by darkness slowly rose and churned.

Each time news from Hezekia arrived, the nobles’ movements grew more restless. The entire Rubyere Empire was watching closely as the Crown Prince, once thought to be a powerless orphan, gained a solid backing. If Everett faltered even slightly, they would all rush toward the young Crown Prince, loudly invoking legitimacy.

Born a bastard and enduring endless humiliation just to be acknowledged as a prince, he was now about to be blocked by Hezekia at the final stretch. Bloodline. Simply that one thing the child had possessed since birth.

And then there was Tristan.

At the thought of that unpleasant name, Everett clenched his jaw tightly. The memory resurfaced of the arrogance shown toward him, an imperial prince, by nothing more than a beggarly Grand Duke ruling a desolate northern territory.

Everett lifted his head and looked out the window. The trees in the garden were still swaying gently.

“Ruel. Without you, would he ever have made it this far?”

Recalling a bond he had once held in the palm of his hand and toyed with at will, Everett muttered softly to himself.

“I cannot understand it. You were mine…”

An unbearable sense of loss slowly surged up, tightening around his chest. Once again, it began to grow into a dark hatred within him.

❖ ❖ ❖

The ominous afterimage of the blue flames flickering atop the mast lingered stubbornly in my mind.

The sailors who had begun carrying out their duties in silence, as well as the knights directing them, still wore expressions gripped by fear. The deck remained filled with a heavy, oppressive quiet.

After sailing for some time, the familiar coastline finally began to appear faintly beyond the horizon. Yet for some reason, the sense of unease only deepened. Setting the sailors aside, even I could hardly breathe comfortably, gripped by restless anxiety.

But Hezekia was now literally just ahead. Thinking that, I tried to calm myself. If I could endure just a day or two, perhaps it would be fine to forget such superstitions.

A violent ringing echoed from above.

Just as I began to relax slightly, a harsh alarm sounded from the lookout platform installed at the top of the mast. The sailors waiting on deck immediately turned their gloomy faces toward the sea.

The lookout’s sharp cry poured down from above.

“ A large fleet sighted to the west! Unable to identify nationality!”