The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1185 - 181 - The Death Of The King (2)

"Hello, Leon?" I said, holding the phone a little tighter than I meant to.

It rang only once before I answered.

Leon was the one who called me.

That alone made the moment feel heavier than it should have. He hadn’t called for quite a while now, and this was probably the first time he reached out after my father was officially proclaimed dead. Not a letter, not a formal message through attendants or knights—just a call. Direct and personal.

"Is everything alright over there?" he asked.

His voice sounded the same. Calm. Steady. That familiar tone that always felt like it was trying to ground me, even when everything around me was spinning out of control.

It was oddly comforting, hearing him again after such a long silence. Almost enough to make me forget, just for a second, how quiet the castle had become since my father’s death.

"Yeah," I replied, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. "Everything’s been going well so far."

That wasn’t entirely a lie. Things were moving. Orders were being followed. The kingdom hadn’t collapsed overnight. But "well" felt like an exaggeration.

"Although," I continued, "the heroes are pretty disturbed by the situation. I told them they had to stay calm while my mother and I are working hard to resolve everything. For now, my mother has taken the helm of the throne."

I paused, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the phone.

"But honestly, I don’t think she’ll be able to keep it for even a year. She wasn’t raised to rule. She was raised to be a wife and a mother. That’s all she ever prepared herself to be."

Saying it out loud made it sound cruel, but it was the truth. My mother was strong in her own way, but the throne demanded a kind of ruthlessness she had never been taught.

Then I remembered something else.

"How about Princess Titania?" I asked. "I heard she might be in danger of being sent back to Bethlan. Did that actually go through?"

There was a brief pause on the other end before Leon answered.

"Well," he said slowly, "Nia doesn’t really like the idea of going back. She said she wants to stay here."

I could imagine the look on Titania’s face as she said that. A stubborn, defiant, and hiding worry behind pride.

"I think she’s worried about you," Leon added. "That’s probably why she decided to stay. But honestly, I don’t think the people of Bethlan are going to respect her decision."

"I see..."

The word came out quieter than I intended.

Considering that Princess Titania had escaped her homeland for protection and education, it made sense. The Kingdom of Bethlan wouldn’t just let her go so easily. To them, she wasn’t just a princess—she was a political asset.

"I think things are going to get a little complicated in the kingdom for a while," I said.

That felt like the understatement of the year.

"I’ll support you," Leon said without hesitation.

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

It was nice to hear. Truly. But part of me hesitated. He already carried so much responsibility as well as so many expectations. I didn’t want to pile my problems onto him, not when he was already juggling his own battles.

There was a brief silence between us.

"Myrcella," Leon suddenly said.

I hadn’t realized I’d stopped talking.

"I am going to support you," he repeated, his voice firmer now. "You don’t have to worry about anything."

He understood. Of course he did. He always seemed to notice when I pulled back and when I tried to shoulder everything on my own.

I smiled again, this time a little more openly.

"Alright," I said. "I’ll lean on your shoulder then."

Maybe it really would be alright. Maybe trusting him—really trusting him—wasn’t such a bad idea. Letting myself rely on someone else, even just a little, felt terrifying. But also... comforting.

***

The wake passed smoothly.

Too smoothly, perhaps.

And then, it was the day of the king’s funeral.

The castle grounds were filled with people. More than I expected. Nobles, officials, knights, servants—faces I recognized and faces I didn’t. Their black attire blended together, forming a sea of mourning that stretched as far as I could see.

The ministers were there, standing together in stiff clusters, their expressions carefully composed.

The commander and vice commander of the Magic Knights stood nearby, their posture straight and eyes forward. They looked every bit the protectors of the kingdom, unmoved and unreadable.

The heroes were there as well. Silent. Watchful. They didn’t speak to one another, simply observing the ceremony with solemn expressions.

My father’s concubines stood closest to him, crying quietly beside the casket.

That place should have belonged to my mother.

But considering her relationship with him—and the fact that he loved his concubines far more openly than he ever loved the queen—she allowed it. She stood back with her face calm as ever.

Everyone was silently paying respect to the passing of a king.

He may not have been a great ruler. He made mistakes. Many of them. But he did his best to keep the kingdom afloat as well as to prevent it from sinking under the weight of its enemies and internal strife.

And perhaps those same enemies were the ones who finally killed him.

The investigation was still ongoing, led by the commander herself. No culprit had been named. No arrests had been made.

There were no signs of struggle.

That alone spoke volumes.

Whoever poisoned him was someone he trusted. Someone close enough to hand him a drink without raising suspicion.

It was likely the culprit was already within the castle walls.

Even the maids were under suspicion.

Still, the person I couldn’t stop thinking about—the one who lingered in the back of my mind—was the commander herself.

She was the closest to the king. Always at his side. Always present.

If anyone could have done it so cleanly and so seamlessly, it was her.

And yet, something didn’t add up.

If she truly wanted the throne, she would have eliminated the entire royal family. That would have been a full usurpation. That was brutal but effective.

But she didn’t.

That contradiction gnawed at me.

All I knew for certain was that whoever did this had a clear agenda—and it wasn’t finished yet.

As I stood there, lost in thought, the sound of a door opening cut through the quiet.

I turned toward the noise.

And froze.

The man standing there was someone who hadn’t been seen in the castle for a long time.

Someone who was supposed to be locked away.

I knew exactly where he had been.

The dungeon.

He was a man responsible for arson. For slaughter. Someone who had killed countless people using his abilities without mercy.

It was Julius.

My brother.

He looked thinner than I remembered, his face sharp, his body gaunt from confinement. But despite that, his eyes burned with the same fierce intensity as ever.

That fire hadn’t dimmed.

It was the kind of look that felt wrong—unnatural—coming from someone who had been imprisoned for so long.

And yet, there it was.