Episode 180
Philemon pondered how to escape this place.
But nothing came to mind.
This place was strange. Time seemed to slow down, then speed up, months passing in the blink of an eye.
The war, as predicted, had begun. The real Philemon’s belly had grown large, her pregnancy nearing its end.
But there was one difference.
“Philia, are you uncomfortable?”
“No, I’m fine. Really.”
Artius hadn’t gone to war.
He sat by the bedside, watching the real Philemon with loving eyes as she prepared for bed. Their affection was so palpable, so all-encompassing, that there seemed to be no room for anyone else.
Philemon, her own eyes filled with a weary sadness, watched them. They looked so happy together.
“I’m sleepy now, Your Majesty.”
“Sleep well, Philia. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.”
Artius gently kissed her forehead, and Philemon, a peaceful smile on her face, drifted off to sleep.
Artius lingered by her side, reluctant to leave. He finally left when Aaron, his face filled with exasperation, appeared.
Philemon, looking at the sleeping Philemon, murmured,
“…This would have been your future, if you had lived.”
She had sometimes wondered if she had stolen Philemon’s life.
And now she knew.
She had.
“I… wouldn’t have been able to keep Artius.”
No matter how much love she received, her weary heart, scarred by years of abuse and neglect, couldn’t adapt to such happiness. No, if she had been given more time, she might have.
But she hadn’t had time.
After regaining her memories of Chelon, she had been consumed by guilt and a desperate urgency.
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
“If only I could have lived like you… then Artius wouldn’t have had to kill Chelon…”
“No.”
“…!”
Philemon’s head snapped up at the unexpected reply.
The real Philemon, still lying in bed, her eyes open, was looking at her coldly. She smirked.
“This is something only the real one can do.”
“What…?”
“You, a fake, wouldn’t have been able to keep Artius. I’ll live on, even after giving birth to this child. Unlike you, I’ll survive childbirth, even with this frail body, and I won’t hurt Artius.”
“B-but…”
“You abandoned your daughter. And your belated attempt to reclaim her only hurt Artius. And your selfishness made him hurt your daughter.”
“Ah…!”
The real Philemon’s words, though spoken with a gentle smile, were like daggers piercing through Philemon’s heart. She reached out and caressed the phantom’s cheek.
“You poor thing… You lived as a slave, so you don’t know how to be loved.”
“No, I…”
“You never learned, so you foolishly lost everything, not knowing when to act, when to fight back.”
“No, I didn’t lose everything…! At least Elonia survived!”
“And do you think your child will survive this time as well?”
“…!”
Philemon couldn’t answer.
Would Elonia survive? No, she wouldn’t.
That was why Philemon had been so desperate.
The real Philemon, looking at her with pity, reached under her pillow and pulled out a dagger.
“Here.”
“This is…”
It was a familiar object.
The holy relic she had been carrying. The small charm she had left for Elonia, hoping it would protect her.
Philemon wanted to ask why she had it, why she was giving it to her. But as she had said, Philemon had never learned how to express herself properly, so she remained silent.
The real Philemon chuckled.
“Do you want to know how to escape this place?”
“…Tell me.”
Why would she tell her? Was she telling her to stop interfering with her and Artius?
The real Philemon smiled, as if saying, Think whatever you want. She pressed the dagger into Philemon’s hand.
“You’re obsessed with Artius, aren’t you? He promised to love only you, and yet, you saw him loving me. Weren’t you angry?”
“No, I…”
“You can be honest here. It’s just us.”
The kind and gentle Philemon everyone spoke of was nowhere to be seen.
She asked sweetly,
“Why wouldn’t you stab him? Artius stabbed your phantom. If you want to save your daughter, stab him. He’s not real here, anyway.”
“But…”
“Why? You said you would do anything for your child, and yet you don’t want to sacrifice your loved one?”
Her green eyes gleamed coldly.
Philemon, her hand trembling, took the dagger.
‘Stab Artius with this?’
To save Chelon, Elonia?
The real Philemon’s smile widened as Philemon hesitated.
“Go on.”
Just as Philemon lifted her head,
“…!”
She was somewhere else.
Standing before her was Artius, his back turned to her.
He stood there, unguarded, as if waiting for his death.
“He’s not real here, anyway.”
She knew.
Philemon slowly approached him.
With every step, she could almost hear the real Philemon’s laughter.
She raised the dagger.
Clang—
“I can’t stab you.”
The dagger clattered to the floor.
“How can I kill you?”
Philemon embraced Artius from behind, her tears soaking his back.
The real Philemon’s voice echoed in her mind.
Artius stabbed your phantom.
Philemon finally understood.
She had been able to do it because she was already dead. If she had been alive, Artius wouldn’t have been able to stab her phantom.
He would have been afraid of hurting her.
“It’s okay if you love someone else. So please, let me go. I have to save my daughter.”
After a while, Artius slowly turned around.
She felt warmth against her hands, which were still wrapped around his waist. Philemon looked up and saw Artius, a different smile on his face now.
“Artius.”
She recognized that smile.
A smile she had never seen before, a smile meant only for her.
“You can see me…?”
Artius slowly nodded.
And then he gently removed her hands from his waist.
And Philemon, feeling like she was falling into an abyss, opened her eyes.
And she saw…
“P-Philia?”
Artius, his eyes filled with tears, gently caressed her cheek.
The warmth of his touch was real.
The real Artius had found her.
“Dolores Heilan, the forgotten princess. That’s your real name, isn’t it?”
Tristan couldn’t answer Elonia’s confident question. Felix was confused.
“I-impossible. Dolores Heilan? There’s no such name in the Heilan royal lineage—”
“Of course not. Heilan erases the names of failed princesses. Just like they erased mine.”
Elonia chuckled bitterly.
The first apostle had been a woman. But the one who claimed to be the first apostle was a man.
But Heilan’s history was often distorted. So no one had questioned the first apostle’s gender.
In Heilan, what mattered was a man’s success, not a woman’s failure.
Felix, his face filled with confusion, looked at Tristan.
“But Tristan has always been a man…”
“Felix, do you really not know why Tristan appeared as a man?”
Elonia looked down at Felix with disdain.
But Felix truly didn’t understand. Elonia scoffed.
“Would you trust a woman with such an important task?”
“…!”
“You didn’t trust Olivia, who was more intelligent than Simon. You tried to kill me, even though I was the War Demon. Would you have believed a powerless woman who claimed to be able to grant your wish?”
The dagger aimed at Felix also pierced Tristan’s heart.
Tristan had known all along.
He had known since he returned to Heilan. His appearance had changed instantly.
He had known what he had to do, what he had to become, to gain Felix’s trust.
But he had pretended not to know, because he loved Felix.
Tristan clenched his fists and glared at Elonia resentfully. Elonia scoffed.
“Why are you looking at me like that? It wasn’t me who rejected you, it was Felix, your beloved.”
“Shut up!”
Tristan shouted, his face contorted in an expression Elonia had never seen before. Felix’s confusion grew, his suspicion turning into certainty.
“Tristan, are you really Dolores…?”
Just as Felix spoke those words,
Tristan’s appearance changed.
His features didn’t change much. But he shrunk, his frame becoming more delicate, his chest swelling slightly, his Adam’s apple disappearing.
Felix, witnessing the transformation with his own eyes, murmured, his voice filled with betrayal,
“You lied to me…”
Elonia and Lucius exchanged triumphant glances.
Tristan reverting to Dolores meant Felix’s faith had been completely shattered.
Dolores, staring at her now delicate hands, let out a cry of despair.
“Ah, aah…! My voice…!”
She stumbled backward, startled by her own voice. No matter how she touched her throat, her Adam’s apple didn’t reappear, and her voice remained feminine.
Felix’s legs gave way, and he slumped to the ground.
“You lied to me…”
“Shut up!”
Dolores’s furious roar silenced him.
“Aaaah!”
She clawed at her hair, her body trembling with rage.
“Your Highness, behind me.”
“No.”
Elonia, pulling Lucius behind her, watched Dolores’s outburst anxiously.
Dolores might have lost Felix’s faith, but the faith she had accumulated in Ravanta still lingered. And Lucius’s stamina was at its limit.
Elonia had to protect him.
“Ha… Haha…!”
Dolores, her face contorted in self-loathing, scratched at her skin with her sharp fingernails, then lifted her head, a hollow laugh escaping her lips.
Just as Elonia raised her sword, anticipating an attack,
“You fool!”
“…!”
Dolores’s rage, surprisingly, wasn’t directed at Elonia or Lucius, but at Felix. She pointed at him, her voice filled with resentment.
“I gave you everything, and yet you despair over a mere change in appearance?!”