It was a Political Marriage, But I’m Being Loved - Chapter 102

Even though there was no meaning in speaking face-to-face in this situation, Valter Bianchi knew that appearances still mattered.

He had to keep up the act—for now.

He needed to avoid Achilles Illien’s gaze.

It was humiliating, but in his current state, he couldn’t defeat the Tower Master. No matter how many times he fantasized about ripping Achilles to pieces, he had no choice but to swallow his rage and bide his time.

Strangely quiet today…

The guards, under Philozena’s mind control, should have at least been doing routine rounds by now. The magic she used kept them docile, and if needed, they had been mentally primed to give their lives to protect Valter.

Creeeak…

The rusted iron door, slick with the dampness of the dungeon, groaned open.

Still seated on the floor, Valter tilted his head toward the descending footsteps. They didn’t sound like the usual guards. There were too many of them, and they were armored.

Could it be the Crown Prince?

As the unexpected visitor came into view, Valter’s face twisted with hatred.

Illuminated by torchlight was the one person he wanted to destroy more than anyone: Achilles Illien.

“You look comfortable,” Achilles said flatly.

Valter stood up immediately and stepped toward the bars, glaring daggers at him.

“Is that supposed to be mockery?”

“Just stating the obvious. Those injuries couldn’t have healed overnight.”

“Ha! You sealed my mana and dare talk like this?”

Valter’s voice seethed with venom. He sounded casual, but a sheen of cold sweat clung to his skin. Achilles had clearly noticed the signs of physical recovery—likely thanks to the S-class potion provided by Philozena.

“Giel. Begin.”

At Achilles’s command, Giel turned to his subordinates. Mages in grey Tower robes stepped forward, chanting in unison. Blue mist began to rise from the ground, and Valter’s eyes narrowed in alarm.

“What… what are you doing?!”

From within the mist, glowing blue chains shot out and wrapped around his limbs. Pulled taut, they forced Valter to his knees as he shouted in fury.

“Tower Master!”

But Achilles simply looked at him with his usual cold, unreadable expression. Beside him, Oscar stood silently, brows furrowed. Though Oscar generally opposed using mind-intrusion magic on humans…

“This concerns the demons. The Princess is already in danger, and the Fragment of the Demon King is involved…”

So he’s asking for an exception. I get it.

The Tower’s people had already noticed the strange behavior of the dungeon guards. Giel confirmed they were under a mind-control spell and had them immediately restrained and removed.

If Valter had planned an escape, it likely would’ve happened during the royal wedding—right in front of the foreign dignitaries. Oscar shivered at the thought of such disgrace.

Valter Bianchi… This is unfortunate, but you brought it on yourself.

A mage took a key from a knight and opened the cell door.

Giel prepared his magic and stepped inside.

Valter’s eyes caught the pale light glowing around Giel’s hands. He recognized the spell immediately—someone in his own faction had similar abilities.

“Crown Prince! Mental invasion magic is illegal! Are you really just going to stand there?!”

“You’re the exception,” Oscar said heavily. “You’re a traitor.”

And traitors were not protected under imperial law. It was the one absolute rule.

No. I can’t let it end like this!

But Giel was already in front of him. Valter, restrained by the chains, could do nothing but clench his fists.

If I could just use my mana…!

These chains would’ve been nothing. But when his eyes met Achilles’s again, Valter felt something cold—almost despair.

He realized then that even if he shook off these mages, he would never escape Achilles.

No… this is before I fall into their trap. If I could just break through the mages’ barrier…

“I’m beginning,” Giel said, glancing to Achilles and Oscar for permission.

He placed his glowing hands on either side of Valter’s head.

As the spell surged into his mind, Valter clenched his teeth, gathering every shred of his will to resist.

“Fools.”

Mental-intrusion magic couldn’t be blocked with willpower alone. Just as tensing a muscle couldn’t stop a needle from piercing skin, resisting only made the pain worse.

And Valter wasn’t some prisoner whose sanity needed preserving. Giel had no intention of holding back.

That is—until he encountered the barrier around Valter’s mind.

A red veil…?

It shimmered faintly at first, but as Giel’s spell drew closer, the translucent red began to darken, blackening like burning coal. A cold instinctual fear washed over him.

He immediately tried to pull back the magic.

But the black aura surged up, as if sensing his retreat, and lashed out—attacking his spell.

The resulting shockwave burst outward, slamming into not only Giel but even those standing outside the cell.

What are they doing to me?

Just moments ago, Susanna had believed that once her cuffs were removed, she might finally be free.

But the moment of hope vanished quickly. One Holy Knight gripped her wrist tightly, while another clamped down on her shoulder, holding her firmly in place.

They stretched out her left arm—the one bearing the cursed bracelet.

What is this? What are they doing?!

One at her wrist. One at her shoulder. The bracelet still refused to come off, and the Holy Knights remained silent, no matter how she begged.

There was only one conclusion she could draw.

No!

She screamed.

Thrashing with all her strength, Susanna desperately tried to escape the knights’ grasp. But the High Priest’s sacred spell was already infused into the raised blade of a knight. As the divine energy flowed into the sword, the knight steadied his stance.

After a brief glance at the High Priest—and his solemn nod—the knight brought the sword down.

“Aaaaagh!”

Her piercing scream echoed through the dimly lit prison chamber.

The sacred blade sliced through her arm cleanly—but there was no blood.

Instead, thick, black miasma spilled out like tar, trailing from the severed stump in a grotesque, corrupted flow.

“What in the…?!”

The High Priest recoiled in shock. He had seen the procedure before, but not this.

He had expected her severed arm to fall to the floor. But instead, the black miasma surged from the stump, clinging to the detached limb and pulling it back toward the body.

The arm reattached itself.

Is it too late to separate it from her body?

“Aaaagh! You lunatics!”

Freed from their grip by the miasma’s backlash, Susanna clutched her reattached arm, screaming. Still shackled to the floor, she thrashed violently, the chains clattering against the stone.

“I’ll never forgive you! I’ll curse you all!”

Tears ran down her face as she ripped off the veil covering her head. Her eyes burned with fury as she stared at the knights and priests.

“You’re all monsters! Demonic devils! You’ll be damned!”

But no one responded. The Holy Knights stood in tense silence, shaken by what they’d just witnessed.

Moments ago, they’d hesitated, burdened by the thought of severing a noblewoman’s arm. But now they were certain.

The Fragment of the Demon King had already rooted itself within her.

“…We’ll try again.”

They had no other choice. If they couldn’t separate it, they would have to destroy the fragment—with Susanna still attached to it.

The High Priest called forth divine energy once more.

The knights stepped forward again. Susanna screamed and tried to escape, but her shackles rattled uselessly against the floor.

“You know that with divine power, we can regenerate your arm,” one of the knights said gently.

“I… I know, but I can’t—! I don’t want to go through that again!”

“This bracelet is no mere magical artifact created by demons. If left alone, it will consume your body… and eventually your soul.”

Pale and trembling, Susanna stared at the cursed bracelet clamped around her wrist. No matter what she did, it wouldn’t come off—and now it seemed alive, parasitic.

“No… No way. That can’t be…”

“Hold her.”

Two knights grabbed her again—one at the wrist, one at the shoulder. Susanna sobbed and shook her head in terror.

The High Priest steadied his breathing and began another sacred chant.

Just enchanting the blade isn’t enough. I need to cast a barrier immediately after—to stop the bracelet from reattaching…

He infused the divine magic into Hans’s sword once more.

Hans drew his weapon, stepped forward, and raised the blade.

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