Chapter 127: Another Temptation  

The shorter guard glanced at the prisoner and handed over his baton, which hung at his waist.  

“When you’re done, hit the bars with this.”  

“Understood.”  

The guards left Margaret alone and retraced their steps, disappearing down the corridor. Once their footsteps were no longer audible, Margaret stepped closer to the iron bars.  

The prisoner continued to stare intently at her.  

“Now that the guards are gone, shall we have a little chat?”  

“Ma… ga… ret.”  

The sound of teeth grinding was eerily unsettling. Even in the darkness, the prisoner’s bloodshot eyes gleamed with a menacing light.  

“You don’t look so good, do you?”  

There was no response.  

But suddenly, the woman on the bed sprang forward like a bullet, slamming her body against the iron bars.  

Clang! Clang!  

Her frostbitten, blackened hands grabbed the bars like she’s trying to break them apart. Her bloodshot eyes, filled with rage, were a fiery red.  

“Argh! You wretched little rat!”  

“Thank you for the warm welcome, General Jude.”  

Despite the cold, Jude’s cracked and swollen lips spat venomous words.  

“You conniving bitch! You pinned everything on me and slipped away unscathed!”  

“General—no, not anymore. You’ve lost your rank and title, haven’t you?”  

“You!”  

Jude stretched her arms through the bars, thrashing as she tried to grab Margaret by the collar. But the narrow bars didn’t allow even that much.  

Margaret, watching her with pity, twisted her lips into a smirk.  

“And whose fault is it that you ended up like this? You brought it on yourself.”  

“Ugh! I’ll kill you!”  

Jude screamed with such venom that it was fortunate her cell was isolated from the others; otherwise, the other prisoners would have caused an uproar.  

“Tsk, tsk. Shouldn’t you be asking why I came to see you first?”  

“What?”  

For a moment, Jude, who had been barking like a mad dog, calmed down. She was, in truth, curious about why Margaret had come all the way here. Then and now, Jude had always been emotional and easily swayed.  

Margaret chuckled at her predictable reaction and clasped her hands behind her back, speaking softly.  

“The whole nation is singing praises for the Saintess. Even if you’re locked up here, you must have heard.”  

“…….”  

Of course, she had. Even she had reluctantly used one of those holy power patches.  

At first, she refused, not knowing what it was. But after seeing a prisoner in a nearby solitary cell turn black and be carried away, she had no choice but to use it.  

“So what if I have?”  

“Doesn’t it make you angry? Seeing Saintess Yuria clinging to the Duke’s side?”  

“It’s none of my concern anymore. I was deceived by the Crown Prince and you into nearly killing my lord. I can’t rest until I’ve torn you apart. If I ever get out of here, I’ll kill you and then end myself.”  

Her purple eyes glinted with terrifying intensity.  

‘She’s serious.’  

Margaret hid her trembling nerves and continued.  

“Hmm. I’ve seen something. Want to hear about it? It might change your mind.”  

“What scheme are you plotting now?”  

“Why do you think I came here? If I went to the capital, I’d be captured and killed by the Crown Prince and Count Willem.”  

“Not my problem.”  

Jude turned her head sharply and stepped away from the bars. Deep down, she instinctively knew there was nothing she could do to her enemy from within this cell.  

“It will be your problem. Write a letter to the Crown Prince for me. That’s all I ask.”  

“What nonsense is this? Why would I write a letter for you to him?”  

When Jude glared at her, Margaret pulled a pouch from her apron and tossed it through the bars. Jude caught it and opened it to find paper, a quill, and ink inside.  

“You’ll write it. No, you have to. Don’t you want to get out of here?”  

“Get out of here? Is that even possible?”  

Jude’s interest was piqued, and her mouth hung open.  

“If you do as I say, you’ll be free. And I’ll survive as well. Do we have a deal?”  

“I’m not falling for your tricks again.”  

“You’re as frustrating as ever. Take a look at this.”  

Margaret pulled another item from her apron and held it up against the bars.  

“A photograph?”  

“Look closely. I risked my life to take this after opening the Duchess’s safe.”  

“A marriage contract?”  

The photograph showed a document.  

[Marriage Contract]  

1. Xavier Auguste and Yuria Graham agree to a contract marriage.  

2. The contract marriage will last for one year. The duration can be adjusted by mutual agreement but will not exceed two years.  

3. Both parties will respect each other’s consent in physical contact, and nothing beyond kissing will occur.  

4. Yuria Graham, as a saintess, is obligated to lift Xavier Auguste’s curse. However, if the curse is fully lifted, she may demand a divorce even within the contract period.  

Date: Imperial Year…  

The names Xavier Auguste and Yuria Graham were clearly written on the ‘Marriage Contract,’ along with a date that predated their wedding.  

Jude froze in place, unable to believe what she was seeing.  

“See? It wasn’t me who deceived you. It was the Duke and the Duchess.”  

“Their marriage… was all a lie? All that talk about love was just a sham?”  

“I was shocked too. The higher-ups are always craftier than you think.”  

“Ah… hahaha…”  

Jude clutched her stomach and threw her head back, laughing maniacally.  

“It says here that the Duke is under some kind of curse, and she’s supposed to lift it?”  

Her laughter abruptly stopped. Slowly straightening her posture, Jude glared menacingly at Margaret.  

Margaret’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.  

“You know what that curse is, don’t you?”  

“Shut up. If you keep spouting nonsense, I won’t do anything.”  

“Hmm. So there really is something. Fine, it’s not my concern anyway. All I care about is reuniting with my siblings and family safely. I’m worried they might have caught the plague.”  

“Ha, what a touching display of family love.”  

Jude sneered as she picked up the quill, ink, and paper scattered on the ground.  

“Mark my words. If you breathe a word about the curse, I’ll personally strangle your precious family.”  

“Got it. I’m not that reckless.”  

“What do I need to write?”  

“First, request a pardon from the Crown Prince. Two pardons—one for you and one for me.”  

“Is that even possible?”  

“The imperial family secretly regrets losing the saintess. And the Crown Prince sees the Duke as a thorn in his side. He won’t refuse.”  

“And then?”  

“Write about Saintess Yuria and Duke Xavier’s marriage. Promise to hand over evidence if he brings the pardons. He’ll come running without hesitation.”  

“Fine.”  

Jude sat down on the ground. She overturned the tray, spilling the untouched food, and placed the paper on top of it.  

“Make sure you hand over the evidence only after we’ve received the pardons and left this prison. Got it?”  

“I know that much. Do you think I’m an idiot?”  

“You are an idiot.”  

“You little—!”  

“That’s the only piece of paper we have!”  

“Tch.”  

Jude, who was about to crumple the paper, stopped herself. Instead, she slammed her fist into the ground, leaving a dent.  

Seeing this, Margaret swallowed nervously. It was a relief that the iron bars were specially designed to withstand the strength of experts like Jude.  

“Once the pardon is secured, leave it in the hollow of the apple tree at the edge of the forest.”  

“Why? Afraid I’ll kill you if I catch you?”  

“Hmph. Isn’t it better if we don’t see each other again?”  

“Run as far as you can. Since I’m letting you go, I’ll spare you this time.”  

Jude smirked.  

Margaret quietly gripped the baton in her hand. As soon as she received the letter from Jude, she struck the bars with the baton.  

Clang! Clang!  

The sound of the bars reverberating was followed by Jude’s mocking laughter echoing from her throat.  

＊  

Arthur had downed an entire bottle of wine the night before and passed out. But as a skilled martial artist with heightened senses, he woke up immediately at the presence of something unfamiliar.  

“Ugh.”  

He grimaced at the throbbing headache, pressing his palm to his forehead. It was a chronic pain.  

“If only the Saintess were in my grasp!”  

In his previous life, Saintess Rosetta had cured his headache with a kiss. Now, it clung to him like a leech, tormenting him endlessly—a constant reminder of his failure.  

Even his last hope, the plague, had been resolved by Saintess Yuria.  

He had known that the Lonicera flower was a medicinal herb but had deliberately concealed it, planning to strike the Beast Kingdom while they were weakened by the plague.  

Yet all his plans had crumbled. His critical mistake had been failing to win Yuria over during the emergency meeting.  

“Has the goddess abandoned me in this life?”  

In the past, everything had unfolded according to his wishes. The Saintess, the world, and even the plague had been on his side.  

Would the outcome have been the same if he had remained ignorant?  

“Ugh. Is anyone there?”  

Staggering toward the door, Arthur reached for the handle but collapsed in place. Before his eyes, he spotted a small, rectangular envelope.  

“A letter?”  

If it had arrived through official channels, it wouldn’t be lying here. That meant it hadn’t come through the Crown Prince’s personal attendants.  

Someone had slipped it under the Crown Prince’s bedroom door.  

[To His Highness the Crown Prince, if you wish to claim the Saintess, please read this letter. —Jude.]  

Jude.  

She was a discarded pawn—a useless, imprisoned failure.  

Arthur initially considered ignoring the letter and tossing it aside. But the words on it changed his mind.  

“Claim the Saintess?”  

The woman who had blocked his path at every turn.  

The woman who had never given him a single chance.  

Could there really be a way to reclaim her?  

Dragging himself upright, Arthur picked up the letter and stumbled toward the nightstand. He fumbled for the paper knife inside and collapsed onto the bed. Opening the single-page letter, he began to read with a dazed expression.  

“Xavier Auguste and Yuria Graham have entered into a contractual marriage…?”  

Arthur shot up from the bed. The effects of the alcohol vanished instantly.  

“…If you wish to obtain evidence, bring two pardons and visit the Central Prison.”  

When he finished reading, madness flickered in his golden eyes.