Chapter 288: Accusations and Alibis

Ed hurried in after Ben, looking like he’d just returned to the banquet hall. His face paled as he took in the scene of devastation on the terrace.

The shock lasted only a moment.

He quickly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and calmly dabbed at the blood Deon had coughed up. Ignoring the legion commanders who were craning their necks at the sudden commotion, he thrust the blood-soaked handkerchief – stained black – at Ben, urging him to analyze it immediately.

The result was predictable.

“Poison. And not just any poison, but one laced with a faint trace of magic,”

“…Just as I thought… which means…”

After all, the only poison potent enough to harm a Hero to this extent had to be demonic in origin. Common poisons would be neutralized by the body’s defenses almost instantly. The fact that it was still taking effect spoke volumes.

All eyes turned to one person. Under the weight of a thousand stares, Dahar, the demon with poison abilities who had been alone with Deon Hart, remained silent.

“But why?”

Someone voiced their confusion, clearly unable to grasp the motive.

“It makes no sense.”

“Asking for a reason after the deed is done is absurd, but still, why?”

“…Maybe Dahar isn’t the one who did this.”

Another voice spoke up. Deon recognized it instantly.

Develania. Appearing as if from nowhere, she murmured while theatrically covering her mouth.

“It could be someone else trying to frame him.”

Why jump to conclusions and assume Dahar’s guilty already?

As she spoke, her eyes subtly flickered towards Deon Hart.

‘Hah, trying to spin this as a setup, are we?’

Right, that way she could keep me in check while saving Dahar, who’s been dancing to her tune. A win-win for her, I guess.

*Cough* – Deon coughed again, a faint, bitter laugh escaping him. Each time he spat blood, Ed, still dabbing at it, grew paler, but no one seemed to notice his fading complexion.

‘But knowing Dahar’s personality as I do…’

He hadn’t pushed that glass off the terrace for no reason. Deon smirked faintly.

Just as he suspected, Ben, who had been preoccupied with Dahar while administering a temporary antidote to Deon, suddenly recalled hearing glass shatter. He vaulted over the terrace railing. Moments later, his voice echoed back, announcing his discovery of the broken glass.

“The glass is coated in poison!”

“The composition?”

“Is there really any need to ask? If it wasn’t the same poison as what Sir Deon ingested, I wouldn’t have even bothered…”

*Cough* –

A soft groan escaped him.

As if needing no further confirmation, or perhaps simply at the end of her patience, Lirinel’s ethereal tentacles lashed out, seizing Dahar’s neck. An uncharacteristically savage voice sliced through the air.

“What are you dragging your feet for? Circumstantial evidence points straight to him. Isn’t that right?”

Someone as meticulous as Dahar wouldn’t leave tools at the scene of the crime. If someone was trying to frame him, they’d have left the glass here, not tossed it off the terrace.

So, finding traces of an attempt to destroy evidence only fueled Lirinel’s rage. Now that Dahar’s likely involvement was exposed, what reason did she have to hold back?

Her unleashed fury didn’t lessen even when a fellow legion commander tried to restrain her, grabbing her arm.

“Lirinel, I understand how you feel, but please, calm down…”

“If you understand, then don’t interfere! Just stay out of this!”

The color drained from her usually vibrant face. For a ‘Hero’ to look so ashen meant she was dead serious. How could anyone stay calm in a situation like this? I certainly couldn’t.

Her gaze, sharp as her voice, locked onto Idelia. Despite her tear-filled eyes, her glare was so fierce it made Idelia falter. Recovering quickly, Idelia feigned composure and finished her thought.

“First, we need to confirm if it’s actually Dahar’s poison.”

“…”

The tentacles around Dahar’s neck, which had been tightening, twitched and relaxed slightly. Dahar’s deathly pallor began to recede, just a fraction.

“Confirmation complete.”

Ben’s voice cut through the tension.

Ed abruptly released Dahar’s wrist. As he did, a droplet of liquid, which had been clinging to the tip of his fingernail, splashed onto the floor.

A seemingly insignificant reaction drew everyone’s attention. In the sudden hush, Ben calmly announced the results.

“It’s Dahar’s poison, alright.”

“Figures.”

The gazes fixed on Dahar grew heavier, sharper. Develania rolled her eyes, scanning the room.

Evidence, public opinion – everything pointed to Dahar as the culprit. Even if doubts lingered, no one would dare voice them in this charged atmosphere.

‘Nothing more to see here, then.’

Dahar was as good as dead. A rather anticlimactic end, considering.

Her interest apparently waning, Develania began to withdraw. Lirinel’s tentacles, still coiled around his neck, tightened again. Ed glared at Dahar, a murderous intent in his eyes.

He wanted to tear the guy apart right then and there, but remembering his duties as adjutant, he called out to Ben, his voice strained but composed.

“How is Sir Deon? We’re not doing anything further for him?”

“The Hero’s body will naturally expel or neutralize it. We’ve given him a counter-agent to deal with the demonic magic in his system. There’s nothing more to be done.”

“…I see.”

Relieved to see Deon’s color returning, Ed’s own complexion remained deathly pale.

After all, this whole mess had unfolded while he was absent. It was clearly his fault. And the reason for his absence? To rectify his own shortcomings.

Already under immense pressure from Deon’s constant rejection, this incident seemed to be the final straw. The light seemed to fade from Ed’s eyes.

‘…’

Observing this, Deon lifted his gaze. Lirinel was still raging, but he noticed the other legion commanders also glaring daggers at Dahar. Idelia, he saw, seemed uneasy, like she wanted to know the full story, but not enough to challenge the prevailing mood and press for answers. She remained silent.

Against a backdrop of simmering anger hanging heavy in the air, Dahar was dying in silence.

“What in the world is going on here?”

The Demon King appeared.

His crimson eyes darted between the unusually large crowd gathered in one corner, the tense atmosphere, the dying Dahar, and Deon wiping blood from his lips. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips. In his usual calm tone, he called out to a nearby servant.

“Where’s the Commander of the 12th Corps?”

“Uh…”

“Well, I suppose I already know without asking. He probably slipped away already.”

Bring him here. No explanations.

At the quiet command, Dahar, who had been still as a statue, flinched. The Demon King, who had been scrutinizing him, shifted his gaze to the owner of the tentacles constricting his neck.

Lirinel shuddered as she met his cold crimson gaze.

“Lirinel, release him.”

“…Yes.”

Dahar, who had been suspended in the air, dropped to the floor with a thud.

A heavy silence descended. Only Dahar’s ragged coughs broke the stillness. The Demon King pinched the bridge of his nose as if battling a headache.

…Where had his ornate cuff buttons gone? Deon’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the empty sleeves.

“Alright then…”

A calm voice cut through the silence.

“I’m going to lay out what I think happened here. Listen, and correct me if I’m wrong.”

No need for lengthy explanations. Without waiting for confirmation, the Demon King spoke directly.

“Dahar tried to poison Deon, I presume. And I walked in just as Lirinel was about to finish him off, am I right?”

“…Correct.”

“Haa…”

He removed his hand from his forehead and lifted his eyelids. His cold crimson eyes fixed on Dahar, a chilling gaze.

“Why?”

“…”

Instead of answering directly, he glanced around the room.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak with so many people around, more like he was assessing the crowd. The Demon King frowned, his brow furrowing.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll assume Myers is involved…”

“Because legion commanders connected to Sir Deon have been dying!”

His desperate voice echoed through the banquet hall.

Ed’s hand, which had been cleaning the blood from Deon’s clothes, froze. And it wasn’t just him. Even the other demons in the banquet hall, who had been subtly eavesdropping, seemed to have heard the outburst. Their movements faltered.

“…”

“…”

An icy silence descended.

In the heavy silence, so thick it felt like the very air had frozen, Deon scanned the countless gazes fixed on him, seeking out one demon in particular. Develania, seated near Dan, came into view, a smug smile playing on her lips.

That confirmed his suspicions.

‘It was you after all.’

You put Dahar up to this.

The legion commanders’ gazes felt like needles pricking his skin. Deon glanced at the Demon King. His expression was unreadable, set in stone.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then glanced towards the door and closed it again. Just then, the banquet hall doors burst open.

“I heard you summoned me.”

Every head in the room swiveled towards the entrance.

Myers, Dahar’s direct superior, seemed overwhelmed by the sudden attention. He faltered, then subtly rolled his eyes. Beneath his unease, a clear look of bewilderment surfaced, indicating his confusion about the situation.

The Demon King offered him a faint smile.

“Perfect timing. Things have… escalated.”

“What…”

“Your adjutant, Dahar, attempted to poison Deon Hart. We just need to clarify whether you ordered him to do it.”

“…Huh?!”

He startled, his eyes darting between the Demon King, Deon, and Dahar. In that moment, Dahar’s eyes met his, a silent command to answer clearly, without stammering, despite the servants present. But with everything happening, such subtleties were completely lost on him.

“There’s no… no way…”

A stammered, incoherent reply came out – clearly unfiltered by thought.

He seemed genuinely incapable of processing the sudden situation. It was clear to everyone watching that he had no direct involvement in the attempt. But the Demon King, in no mood for leniency, pressed him relentlessly.

“Are you saying you’re condoning your adjutant’s attempted poisoning?”

“!”

Seemingly at a complete loss for words, he could only mouth silently, unable to speak.

Having already spoken, he was trapped. Whatever he said now would sound suspicious. His panicked gaze pleaded with Dahar, silently asking: *Is this really happening? Why? How am I supposed to answer?*

Dahar, unable to watch his superior squirm any longer, gritted his teeth and shouted.

“It is my duty to protect my superior!”

“…”

“In a conversation with Sir Deon, I overheard that Lord Myers would soon have an ‘active role’ to play. To me, that sounded like he might end up like the former 8th Legion Commander or the 10th Legion Commander.”

“…”

“I couldn’t lose Lord Myers. I didn’t want to! In that situation, with my superior’s death looming over him, how could I just stand by and watch that shadow fall…!”

It was a desperate cry.

“That’s why I did it.”

“…”

“I admit it was impulsive. I know it was foolish. I am deeply sorry for the trouble I’ve caused Lord Myers.”

Hearing those words, there was no mistaking his intentions.

By claiming it was ‘impulsive’, he was trying to deflect any repercussions from Myers.

‘He really is trying to have it all, isn’t he?’

So greedy. Irritation flickered in Deon’s eyes.

‘Damn it, Lirinel, you should have finished him off before the Demon King arrived.’

Dragging your feet like that, and now look at the mess.

*I’m* the victim here, yet the atmosphere has turned against me. Deon’s eyes narrowed as he caught Develania out of the corner of his eye, a renewed smirk playing on her lips.