I Helped The Imprisoned Male Lead And He Became Obsessed - Chapter 68

Serena was momentarily dumbfounded.

What is this man even saying? Murder? Is he seriously suggesting murder?

Her disbelief prompted her to ask again, incredulously, “Are you seriously telling me to kill someone?”

Dietrich nodded as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

“That Anise girl is your competition, right? Killing off your competition is just common sense. That’s how you survive.”

“What part of that is common sense? Your way of thinking is completely twisted!” Serena’s voice rose slightly, unable to hold back her exasperation.

But Dietrich looked genuinely puzzled, as though he couldn’t fathom why she was upset. He let out a contemplative hum before speaking again, his tone a little deflated.

“That’s how it was back at the research institute. If you didn’t kill your competition, they killed you.”

“…What?”

“So, I killed them all. I feel a bit bad for the ones who died, but it’s not like I had a choice. It was either them or me.”

This time, Serena found herself utterly speechless.

Did the research institute in the Kingdom of Malta force its test subjects to kill each other?

The thought left her shaken, a chilling reminder of just how cruel humanity could be.

At least one thing was clear: the man before her hadn’t grown up in any kind of normal environment.

Expecting a reasonable answer from him had been foolish. Serena let out a deep sigh and shook her head.

“I’m the idiot for asking you in the first place.”

“Aw, come on. Nobody can live a completely clean life. It’s just the two of us here—let’s be honest,” Dietrich said with a smirk, his flippant attitude making Serena’s head throb.

“Do you even understand what happens if a priest who serves the Goddess commits murder?” she asked, glaring at him.

“Nope, haven’t got a clue,” he replied nonchalantly.

“The Goddess strips them of her blessing—her divine power.”

“Really? What if you get someone else to do it for you?”

“That’s still inciting murder. Same punishment.”

“Jeez, what a strict Goddess,” Dietrich muttered, clicking his tongue in irritation.

“That’s blasphemy,” Serena shot back, her tone sharp.

Dietrich pouted like a child being scolded for mischief, sticking his tongue out in mock defiance.

Serena’s counseling session ended as fruitlessly as it began, coinciding with the completion of Dietrich’s treatment. The soft white glow at her fingertips faded away.

The damaged organs had been fully healed, fulfilling the Emperor’s orders.

There’s no reason to come back here again.

Adjusting her disheveled robes, Serena stood.

“I feel relieved knowing I won’t have to see you again,” she said bluntly.

Dietrich smirked, his tone teasing. “I’m a little hurt, Saint. What am I supposed to do for entertainment now?”

His grumbling was met with indifference. Whatever became of him was none of her concern.

The guard opened the cell door, and Serena followed his lead to leave.

Just as she was stepping out, Dietrich’s voice halted her.

“Saint Serena,” he called, his tone suddenly heavier. “If it were me, I’d take what I wanted, even if I had to steal it.”

Serena paused, her steps faltering.

Was he continuing their earlier conversation? Before she could respond, Dietrich pressed on.

“Pathetic, cowardly, underhanded—it doesn’t matter. It’s a hundred times better than sitting around and doing nothing.”

“…”

After a moment of silence, she replied without turning back, “That’s pointless advice.”

Her words were sharp, but deep down, she couldn’t deny that part of her agreed with him.

Perhaps he’s right. Haven’t I already tried to take what I want through pressure?

She’d pushed Anise to stop making medicine for Emilian.

Pretending to be clean now is meaningless.

The title of “Saint” felt increasingly ill-fitting.

As she left the prison, that thought weighed heavily on her mind.

In the dim corridors outside, faint footsteps echoed.

Rounding a corner, she saw robed figures approaching, the Imperial crest embroidered on their garments.

Court mages?

She glanced at their retreating forms, curiosity sparking. At the end of that corridor lay nothing but Dietrich’s cell.

What business do they have with him? Could it be connected to the Emperor’s reason for keeping him alive?

Speculation flitted through her mind, but Serena quickly dismissed it with a shake of her head.

Whatever the reason, it’s none of my concern.

There was something far more pressing to think about.

Emilian.

At the hunting festival, he had openly displayed his favor toward Anise. If he were to confess his feelings, their relationship could shift from friendship to something far deeper.

There’s not much time left.

“Even if it’s cowardly, I don’t care,” she thought.

One way or another, she would ensure that Emilian turned his attention to her.

With that determination, Serena quickened her pace, leaving the prison and its gloomy corridors behind.

***

The warm sunlight bathed the Imperial Palace garden as two golden-haired men sat facing each other, sipping tea.

The Emperor, with the same elegance as the intricate patterns on his teacup, raised it gracefully and spoke.

“So, I’ve heard about what happened at the hunting festival.”

The faint aroma of tea filled the air as Lucas took a sip, savoring it at the perfect temperature.

“Word has already reached Your Majesty?” Lucas replied with his usual air of nonchalance.

His calm demeanor made it difficult for the Emperor to discern his true feelings. After a moment of silent observation, the Emperor took another sip before breaking the quiet.

“I didn’t realize you had an interest in that girl, Anise.”

Lucas smiled faintly. “Everyone around me seems to be saying the same thing.”

The Emperor decided it was worth probing further.

“People think you’re simply toying with her, treating her as a passing amusement.”

“Ah, the usual idle talk of gossip,” Lucas said, chuckling lightly.

“Then, are you serious about her?”

“We’re not that close yet,” Lucas admitted, placing his cup back on its saucer. “I plan to take my time getting to know her first.”

Despite the speculative rumors, Lucas was honest with himself.

What he felt for Anise wasn’t something he could call love—not yet, at least. It wasn’t a heavy, all-encompassing emotion.

But he did like her, genuinely. It wasn’t some trivial game to amuse himself.

The Emperor’s gaze drifted to a butterfly that had landed on a blooming tulip as he spoke again, his tone thoughtful.

“You are the Crown Prince, Lucas.”

The implication was clear: whoever Lucas chose as his partner would one day bear the responsibilities of the Crown Princess, and eventually, the Empress.

“A Crown Princess of common birth isn’t unprecedented, but such origins are bound to be a target of criticism and attack.”

His voice was quiet yet firm, a gentle reminder of reality. Setting his teacup down, the Emperor continued,

“I doubt that girl would desire such a position, knowing it would subject her to such wounds and indignities.”

Anise had always seemed like someone with little ambition, even as a child. A position as demanding as Crown Princess—or eventually, Empress—would likely be overwhelming for her.

Lucas understood this well.

“Still, there’s no need to fret over a future that hasn’t yet come to pass,” Lucas said, a glimmer of his usual optimism in his voice.

“Besides, I haven’t even won Miss Anise’s heart yet,” he added with a playful smile. “So, Father, please cheer me on. After all, I do have a competitor.”

A competitor. The Emperor didn’t need Lucas to elaborate to know who he meant.

After all, Emilian had presented his hunting prize to Anise during the festival, and it was no secret that he had regarded her as special for years.

Emilian was as dear to the Emperor as a son. To think he and Lucas were now rivals—it was an unexpected turn of events.

Life is full of strange surprises, the Emperor mused.

Still, he had no intention of meddling too deeply in their affairs. He could only hope that the two would resolve this matter amicably—though “amicable” seemed an ill-suited word for a love rivalry.

“Emilian won’t be an easy opponent,” the Emperor remarked.

“I’m well aware,” Lucas replied, his expression bright with unwavering confidence. “But you never know until you try.”

The Emperor, familiar with his son’s resilient spirit even in unfavorable situations, decided to let the matter rest.

Instead, he shifted the conversation to a more discreet topic.

“Now, Lucas. How is that matter progressing?”

Lucas placed his teacup down with a soft clink. He immediately perked up, as though pleased by the change in subject, and replied without hesitation.

“According to the project lead, the magic to break the existing obedience spell is nearing completion,” Lucas reported.

After Emilian captured Dietrich, the Emperor had initiated extensive research to turn the captured Transcendent into a loyal asset of the Empire. Now, those efforts were beginning to bear fruit.

“If the project succeeds, the Empire will gain its second Transcendent,” Lucas added confidently.

“But Dietrich is immature, both morally and emotionally,” the Emperor remarked, his tone measured. “The fact that he has no qualms about killing is a significant problem.”

“That’s why we’ll first inscribe a spell to prohibit him from committing murder indiscriminately,” Lucas explained. “Afterward, we can bind him with magic to ensure absolute obedience to Your Majesty’s commands.”

The Emperor nodded silently, his usually gentle gaze darkening with rare coldness.

Even with the obedience spell, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s spilled the blood of countless Imperial citizens.

By all rights, executing Dietrich would be the just course of action.

Yet, the unparalleled power of a Transcendent offered the potential to save the lives of Imperial soldiers.

For the good of the Empire, he must be made to serve.

As the conversation reached this conclusion, Lucas turned his attention to the fountain in the garden, its water gleaming as it surged upward in the warmth of spring.

He broke the brief silence, asking, “And what of the Duke? Did he say anything regarding Your Majesty’s plan?”

Emilian was fully aware of the plan to induct Dietrich as the Empire’s second Transcendent.

“Wouldn’t he see this as an attempt to undermine his position?” Lucas asked. “The Empire doesn’t need two Transcendents. If he perceives it that way, he might clash with Your Majesty.”

The Emperor, however, chuckled lightly.

“Emilian? Not at all. He doesn’t see this as a threat in the slightest.”

Lucas paused mid-sip of his tea, his brow lifting in surprise.

Does he think Dietrich isn’t even worth considering as a rival?

“That’s certainly like him,” Lucas remarked, an amused smile tugging at his lips. The idea that Emilian might take issue with the plan now seemed almost laughable.

It was just like the Duke to exude such unshakable confidence.

Lucas found himself liking that quality, even if the two were rivals.

If we weren’t competing for the same woman, we might’ve been good friends, he mused, the thought lingering as a faint smile played on his lips.