I Became the Mastermind Who Betrays the Heroines

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]

Chapter 92 – The Rose (4)

The painful affliction was momentarily hidden behind a veil of lies.

The fragile breaths now flowed peacefully.

The Rose, unaware of her surroundings, had fallen into a deep sleep.

Leaving her to rest, we moved to the adjoining room and sat down for a light tea.

Across from me, seated on a plush sofa, was a blonde-haired girl.

“...”

Charlotte remained silent, lost in thought.

She held a steaming teacup between her fingers, but the tea had long since cooled, untouched.

Through her transparent gaze, I could glimpse her conflicted emotions.

‘Still like this, I see.’

I smiled bitterly.

The sudden glimmer of hope had clearly left her shaken.

She seemed to have something to say, yet hesitation weighed her down, rendering her silent.

Her intermittent glances carried a fragile, wavering tension.

‘The shock must have hit her hard.’

I gently set my teacup down.

If this continued, we might sit in silence all night. It was time to take the initiative.

In a calm, measured tone, I spoke.

“How do you feel?”

The question was simple, casually posed.

Yet its meaning was clear—it was about the Rose.

After all, it had been so long since Elise had looked so at peace.

As I waited for her reply, Charlotte’s subdued voice eventually broke the silence.

Her blue eyes, heavy with contemplation, met mine.

“...Can you really cure her?”

Her question wavered, faltering under the weight of her uncertainty.

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a desperate wish.

I didn’t nod immediately.

Instead, I let a faint smile tug at my lips, deliberately drawing out her anticipation.

“Is it... impossible?”

Charlotte’s tone grew more anxious.

The fate of her beloved younger sister hung in the balance. She scrutinized every nuance of my expression, her restless gaze betraying her unease.

She was far from her usual stoic self, her emotions teetering on the edge.

Right now, Charlotte was fragile.

Hope and despair churned within her, two powerful forces waging war.

On one hand, she clung to the hope that her sister might survive.

On the other, she was tormented by the fear of yet another failure.

The whiplash of such conflicting emotions was more than enough to shake her.

“It’s not impossible.”

I decided it was time.

The perfect moment to begin taming the young crown princess had arrived.

Her once impenetrable resolve was now cracked, leaving a sliver of vulnerability for me to exploit.

Rising from my seat, I spoke smoothly, letting my words flow like a gentle stream.

“I told you already. It’s entirely possible.”

Exploiting her confusion was key.

Humans, when faced with despair, are inherently weak. In such moments, they instinctively seek hope to cling to.

Even Charlotte, with her otherworldly resolve, was no exception.

I would present myself as that hope—a steadfast wall she could lean on, even as I subtly dragged her deeper into my grasp.

“Trust me.”

I leaned closer, infusing my words with quiet authority.

“Your Highness.”

Her clear, transparent eyes stared at me, momentarily dazed.

I moved closer, positioning myself behind her.

Placing a hand gently on her shoulder, I leaned in, my lips near her ear.

“Treating her won’t be easy.”

“...”

“But if you follow my instructions to the letter, it’s not impossible.”

“What... what do I need to do?”

“Nothing complicated. Simply obey my directives without question during her treatment.”

“And if I do that... will you be able to save Elise?”

“I swear it on my honor. If I lie, you may have my head.”

“I... I’ll believe you. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Her voice quivered as she nodded, as if entranced.

Even as she stepped into the mire, her blue eyes shone with clarity, full of fragile hope.

I smiled warmly, almost tenderly.

“That’s the right attitude.”

Though this was just the first step, it was a promising start.

In a hushed tone, I whispered a reminder.

“Please remember this.”

Amid this despair—

“There is no one else in this world who can save you.”

And so, the true manipulation of the crown princess began.

***

Elise Rose von Staufen.

The second imperial princess and Charlotte’s younger sister, yet one who was poorly treated by the imperial family.

The reason for this was none other than her illness.

Mana Stone Ossification.

Though called a disease, it was widely regarded as a curse.

The stigma was so severe that some even claimed it was the wrath of the gods.

Even scholars had resigned themselves to this superstitious explanation.

Medicine, magic, divine power—all had been tried for centuries, yet no progress had been made.

The condition was so rare and poorly understood that even experts had abandoned their efforts.

Thus, it became a symbol of misfortune.

‘I can’t say it’s unjustified.’

It was understandable.

The disease struck without warning, with no discernible cause or cure.

The afflicted suffered an inevitable and gruesome death, their bodies slowly turning to stone.

With so few cases to study, the lack of information only deepened the fear and mystery surrounding the condition.

‘And worse.’

The disease caused the mana circuits within the body to harden, disrupting the natural flow of energy.

Sharp fragments of ossified mana tore through the body’s insides, wreaking havoc as they circulated.

Even the process leading to death was horrifying, further cementing the disease’s reputation as a curse.

Historical records described victims being burned at the stake under the guise of purification.

And now, this nightmare of a curse had manifested in an imperial princess.

‘Naturally, the imperial family was thrown into chaos.’

One day, the cherished Rose of the Empire became a pariah, condemned by divine wrath.

Such an event was seen as an ill omen for the empire itself.

To prevent unrest, the Emperor acted swiftly.

The matter was classified as a state secret.

All those privy to the information were silenced, and Elise was confined to a secluded annex.

To the public, her withdrawal was attributed to fragile health.

‘The poor girl.’

She hadn’t even been ten years old.

While the Emperor’s actions were politically astute, they left the young Rose to fend for herself.

For nearly a decade, she lived in isolation.

Her residence was modest, almost spartan, reflecting her limited contact with the outside world.

Only Charlotte visited her regularly.

Supported by a handful of maids, Elise lived day by day, awaiting her inevitable end.

This much, I had gleaned from the original story.

[EP???. For Elise.]

—A lonely sanctuary, the Rose withering in winter—

A side story chronicling her tragic life.

Even then, no route spared her from death.

“How pitiful.”

I murmured, as if mourning her fate.

As I clasped my hands together in mock prayer, a cold gaze pierced through me.

“...”

Long, crimson hair cascaded over her shoulders.

Her lifeless green eyes stared daggers at me, void of any warmth.

Her sickly pale complexion only heightened her aura of frailty.

It was Elise.

From her seat on the bed, she glared, her expression practically screaming, ‘Why are you here?’

I offered her a calm, composed smile.

“Good morning. My name is Judas Snakes. From today, I will be your personal physician.”

“...”

“I apologize for any offense I caused yesterday.”

“Hah.”

Had she recalled the events of the prior day?

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, dripping with disdain.

Her contempt was evident, her hands curling into fists as if ready to strike.

Her emerald eyes gleamed with venom.

“You... shut up. I want to kill you.”

“Are you still upset?”

“Shut up.”

“I told you, it was all part of the treatment. Besides, it was Princess Charlotte who entrusted me with this task.”

“You’re shameless. Touching a royal and daring to justify it.”

“I merely did my duty as your physician.”

“A duty that feels like assault.”

“That’s not true. My only goal was your treatment.”

“If not for Charlotte, you’d be dead by now.”

Her voice dripped with venom as she glared at me, murder flashing in her eyes.

Yet Elise couldn’t act on her hostility—she couldn’t even leave the bed without difficulty.

“Ugh... haa...”

Even the brief burst of anger left her gasping for breath.

It seemed the next attack was already creeping in.

Softly, I spoke.

“It appears you’ll need today’s treatment as well.”

“Get out.”

“This is by Princess Charlotte’s order.”

“I don’t need it... leave. I never asked for a physician in the first place.”

“Doesn’t the pain bother you?”

“I’ve lived like this my whole life.”

Her stubbornness remained unyielding.

Even knowing another painful episode was imminent, she rejected the treatment.

Her hands fumbled toward the bedside table.

Clatter.

Pulling open a drawer, she rummaged through it before retrieving something small.

A tiny knife, barely larger than her palm.

Stripping the bandages from her wrist, she raised the blade to her pale skin.

I froze for a moment, startled, before I understood her intent.

“No.”

I caught her delicate wrist before the blade could make contact.

Beneath the bandages, faint scars crisscrossed her skin—evidence of repeated self-inflicted wounds.

She pulled against my grip, trying to hide her arm.

“Let go.”

This was an improvised coping mechanism.

To counter the mana flow disruption, she would cut herself, forcing a rebalancing through bloodletting.

Though temporarily relieving, it was ultimately self-destructive and unsustainable.

Looking closely, I noticed that her arms—and even her neck—were wrapped in bandages.

Could it be...

“...Your condition is worse than I thought.”

Her constant fidgeting with the bandages suddenly made sense.

A withdrawal-like dependency on this act had formed.

With each worsening of her mana flow, the act brought fleeting relief, fueling the cycle further.

Judging by the scars, this had been going on for at least three years.

While the original story hinted at this behavior, I hadn’t realized its severity.

“And yet you refuse treatment?”

“...”

“That won’t do.” @@novelbin@@

I had planned to approach her more gently today after yesterday’s intensity.

But now, I couldn’t afford to relent.

Snap.

My fingers clicked sharply.

Shadows surged forward, twisting into ropes that once again restrained the frail girl to the bed.

It was a perfect reenactment of the previous day.

“W-wait...?!”

Elise collapsed onto the bed in shock as the bindings secured her.

Channeling a deeper surge of energy into my hand, I gripped the hem of her thin nightgown and lifted it once more.

I pressed my palm to her bare abdomen and began to stroke it gently.

“Today’s treatment will be rougher than yesterday’s. Please endure it.”

I spoke calmly to the resisting Rose.

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]