Sylas was escorted into the royal lodge, bound tightly hand and foot.
Attempting to dive into the river before these soldiers, who dealt with water daily, was nothing but a humiliating exercise in futility.
He had closed his eyes and jumped into the river, only to open them again already aboard a warship.
He hadn't even had a chance to taste the river water.
Moreover, he didn't get another opportunity to seek death; manacles were immediately clasped onto his wrists and ankles.
The female soldiers, terrified he might try to drown himself again, piled every set of restraints they had onto him.
And even that wasn't enough to reassure them.
He also wore handcuffs, and a kerchief was stuffed in his mouth, ensuring he had absolutely no chance to attempt suicide again.
The soldiers, worried he might catch a chill in the height of summer, insisted on warming him by a fire.
These soldiers were pillars of their households at home; when had they ever needed to serve a man?
They didn't know how to coax him either.
So they just employed the most forceful methods.
Their goal was simple: ensure Sylas was alive when presented to Her Majesty, and the reward would be theirs.
Dawn arrived.
Sylas was handed over to the palace maids and then escorted to a small, bright room with clear windows.
The room contained a table, a bed, and a series of iron hooks on the wall.
His chains were hung upon these hooks.
Sylas was tethered.
He mumbled "Mmmph! Mmmph!" at the maids, hoping they would remove the kerchief from his mouth.
But no one paid him any heed.
Her Majesty had decreed that this man knew Charm Magic; under no circumstances were they to look directly into his eyes.
The room soon emptied.
Sylas felt his arms grow heavy.
Looking down, he saw a row of gleaming golden bracelets on his arms, along with two heavy iron chains.
Helpless, he could only sit in the corner, his hands hanging listlessly, sinking into bleak despair.
It wasn't long before he heard footsteps outside.
Then, he saw Isolde enter, her seven-month pregnancy prominent, moving with a certain heaviness.
She came alone, without attendants, settling calmly into a chair by the door, completely at ease.
Sylas looked at her blankly.
He wanted to speak, but found his mouth still blocked.
After a silent sigh in his heart, he ultimately gave up on communication, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"My, my, who do we have here?" Isolde drawled mockingly.
"Escaped from the grave, have we? A zombie?"
She looked at Sylas, then suddenly turned her head away, tears actually welling up in her eyes.
She had cried for him, had mourned him for so long, and he?
Not only did he fake his death, he cultivated some dark magic.
So her feelings were just the result of his enchantment.
Sylas hung his head, showing no reaction.
Isolde wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
"Come here. You may speak."
Sylas shuffled over, dragging his heavy chains.
The kerchief in his mouth was enchanted with a minor binding; he couldn't remove it himself.
Isolde easily plucked it away for him.
Sylas bent over, dry heaving a few times, then looked at Isolde with a pitiful expression.
"Your Majesty, I have already died once.
I've returned my life to you.
I truly owe you nothing more.
I beg you, let me go.
Grant me a path to survive, please?"
Isolde's fury was ignited by his words.
"You call that dying?" she raged. "Didn't you practice some 'magic of Resurrection'?
Are you afraid of death now?
And what about your plan to become a sorcerer who causes chaos and ruins countries?
Why paint yourself as so pathetic now?"
Sylas was instantly rendered speechless.
So it seemed Isolde had gotten hold of the things he wrote.
Just as well.
This way, at least Jade and Crystal wouldn't be implicated.
"I... I did have such thoughts," he murmured. "After all, I am from Lyonesse. I wanted to avenge the former dynasty..."
"So, my obsession with you was because of your Charm Magic, correct?"
"...Yes."
"And my sister? And Marshal Victoria?"
"The same..." Isolde sighed in disappointment, her voice sorrowful.
"How does the Charm Magic work? Is it through the eyes?"
What did Sylas know about Charm Magic?
He could only go along with her line of questioning.
"Yes, the eyes. When making eye contact..." He turned his head away, trying not to laugh.
Had Isolde deliberately become foolish?
But if she was willing to believe it, then let her.
No ruler would allow a creature who could charm the populace to live.
Since he was caught, true suffering awaited—where death is denied and life is misery.
Isolde's willingness to believe was probably just her finding a reason for her own past behavior.
She hadn't fallen in love with Sylas; she was bewitched!
"That explains it.
Your eyes are indeed captivating.
Turn your head back. Look at me," Isolde said, her expression grave. "If I can already charm you, why should I look at you?"
Sylas muttered.
But not daring to resist, he turned his head and met Isolde's gaze.
Isolde saw not a trace of seduction in his eyes.
Is this the Charm Magic?
It doesn't seem any different.
But then... why did she like him so much?
No wonder the late Empress said beautiful things are often poisonous.
And he used that fake death to cheat her out of so many tears.
Never mind if it was bad for the child.
Sigh. If a mother cries too much during pregnancy, Sylene is bound to be sentimental.
Wait. Why am I still calling her Sylene?
Irritated, Isolde said, "Since you're not dead, I'm changing the child's name.
She won't be called Sylene anymore.
She'll be called Misandry.
I hate you to death right now."
"..."
Sylas had no strength to refute.
Whatever makes you happy.
Isolde then lifted the hem of her garment slightly, revealing a sliver of her belly.
Pale and rounded, like a smooth pearl.
Sylas's eyes were caught by that glimpse of skin; he couldn't look away.
Seeing him stare, Isolde realized he was looking at her belly.
The corner of her lip curled into a smile.
"Want to see?"
"...Yes."
Isolde pulled her garment up a little more, exposing her seven-month belly.
Looking at the swell, Sylas felt a strange mix of sorrow and joy.
This is my flesh and blood.
In three months, the child will be born.
"Want to listen?"
Isolde's offer was surprisingly gentle.
He slowly knelt down, letting his ear press against the taut, elastic skin, listening to the sounds within.
Isolde didn't stop him.
She said calmly, "Admit it yourself. You've been utterly excessive, haven't you?"
"Yes..."
Sylas no longer wanted to argue.
Faced with the child he had longed for, he didn't want to fight anything anymore.
"So you deserve to be punished."
She reached out and touched his hair, stroking it as if soothing a pet.
"Take a good look now. Later, you won't be able to see anymore."
Hearing this, Sylas slumped heavily to the floor.
He looked at Isolde and finally yielded.
"I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have run."
He was finally beginning to feel afraid.
He didn't want to die so much anymore.
In three months, three months later, the child would enter the world crying.
He could be a father. This was his descendant, his bloodline.
He wanted to take good care of the child.
Isolde seemed satisfied with his answer.
She nodded. "Continue. You have at least three more things to confess."
"I shouldn't have seduced The Duchess of Arbor and Marshal Victoria.
I shouldn't have faked my death and escaped, or trained Crystal to be my puppet.
I shouldn't have enchanted you, hindering you from becoming a great sovereign."
Sylas simply admitted to all the charges.
By admitting them, perhaps he could receive leniency.
If he didn't, the heads of Jade and Crystal would surely roll.
"Ah..." Isolde also sighed helplessly.
She said, "In that case, don't blame me. I cannot remain under your spell.
I must strive for greatness.
Therefore, I intend to gouge out your eyes.
Henceforth, you shall be blind."