"U-Urgh... Aaaaaaahhh!!"

McHart screamed in horror as he dropped the hand mirror, stumbling backward in terror at the sight of his own reflection. The hideous, disfigured face staring back at him was a far cry from the handsome features he once prided himself on. It had been nearly four years since he had last seen his true face, and the shock of it was overwhelming.

"W-what... What is happening... Why...?" McHart muttered, his hands trembling as he touched his face, as if trying to comprehend the reality of what had happened.

It wasn’t just McHart who was confused; most of the people present didn’t seem to grasp what was going on either. Seizing the opportunity, I began to explain how the "Mirror of Truth" worked to the bewildered crowd.

"The Mirror of Truth is a power that reveals the true nature of its target, exposing their real form," I said calmly.

"Lillis?" someone in the crowd called out, puzzled.

"With the power of the Saintess, the Mirror of Truth can unmask demons hiding among humans," I continued. "Dark magic, which demons use to conceal their true forms, is nothing more than an illusion in the face of this power."

"Lillis, who are you talking to right now...?" another voice inquired, even more confused.

"So, if the light from the Mirror of Truth has revealed this as Prince McHart’s true appearance... isn’t this his real face?" I concluded, letting the implication sink in.

"…!" McHart visibly panicked, his expression betraying his fear as my words took hold among the onlookers. Slowly, the realization began to dawn on the crowd, and they started nodding, piecing together the situation.

"Y-yes, if the Mirror of Truth showed this... then he must have been using transformation magic..."

"But transformation magic is dark magic, right? And only imperial-approved sorcerers are allowed to use it, aren’t they?"

"The empire banned dark magic because it’s used by demons, you idiot."

"So, could it be that Prince McHart is really...?"

The crowd murmured, hesitant to fully voice their thoughts, likely out of fear of committing blasphemy. Despite the obvious evidence that McHart had been using dark magic to disguise himself, he was still a royal, after all.

Amidst the growing tension, a brave noblewoman, with beige twin-tails, stepped forward, eager to defend McHart.

"N-no! There’s no way Prince McHart could be some ugly monster!" she cried out, her voice trembling.

This girl, likely an extra from earlier, had entered with McHart, but I hadn’t paid much attention to her. Her presence now, standing before the crowd, was an attempt to clear McHart’s name.

"You’re all being deceived! There’s no way Prince McHart could be such an ugly freak!" she insisted.

"Is that really true...?"

"But the Mirror of Truth..."

"Someone must have cursed Prince McHart! There’s no way he could really be such a hideous...!"

"No, that person is indeed Prince McHart, Lady Erisya," Seraphine’s voice rang out, silencing the girl’s protests.

"Princess Seraphine?" Erisya stammered, taken aback.

"I’ve always noticed something odd when recalling memories of my brother, McHart," Seraphine began, her tone calm but pointed.

"Seraphine... What are you talking about?" McHart’s voice wavered with growing fear.

"In my memories, McHart has always been handsome, but he never seemed to like his own face for some reason," Seraphine continued, her words heavy with meaning.

"W-what do you mean? No, this can’t be...!"

"To alter not just one’s appearance but also how others remember it—that’s a power even the imperial-approved dark sorcerers aren’t permitted to wield, isn’t it, brother?" Seraphine’s question was more of an accusation.

"N-no, that’s not true... Please, you have to believe me..." McHart’s voice trembled, his composure crumbling under the weight of Seraphine’s words.

Seraphine’s quick grasp of the situation and her firm conclusion that McHart had already turned to demonic power left Erisya, who had stepped forward to defend him, in a difficult position.

"Lady Erisya," Seraphine addressed her directly, "didn’t you just claim that my brother was cursed and that’s why he looks like this?"

"Y-yes...? No... I mean, I didn’t mean...," Erisya stammered, caught off guard.

"Then are you willing to take responsibility for what you said in front of a royal?" Seraphine asked, her tone sharp.

"..." Erisya fell silent, realizing the gravity of her words.

"It’s alright, Lady Erisya," Seraphine continued, her voice softening slightly. "You truly believe my brother is cursed, so I’ll give you a chance to break that curse with your sincere kiss. Surely, you’ve heard the old tale of the prince turned into a frog by a witch’s curse, haven’t you?"

"..." Erisya’s face drained of color as she realized where this was heading.

"In that tale, the prince was freed from his curse by the kiss of a lady who truly loved him," Seraphine explained, her voice dripping with gentle cruelty. "So, Lady Erisya, if you believe my brother is truly cursed, then your kiss should be able to break that curse. Go on."

Seraphine’s grip on Erisya’s arm tightened as she led the reluctant girl toward the fallen McHart. Erisya’s face was filled with dread, and she hesitated with each step, knowing that the idea of kissing McHart’s cursed face was horrifying.

"Come now, Lady Erisya," Seraphine urged.

"P-Princess...?" Erisya whimpered, her voice shaking.

"Quickly. A kiss from you can break the curse on my brother," Seraphine insisted.

"I-I... I can’t... I’m sorry, Princess...," Erisya choked out, desperately trying to pull away.

"Why don’t you hurry up?" Seraphine’s voice was suddenly steely.

"..."

Erisya, unable to resist Seraphine’s grip, was forced closer to McHart’s face, who, despite everything, seemed to hold out some hope for the kiss. But as Erisya neared his disfigured face, she couldn’t take it anymore.

-Smack!

"Gurk! Uurrgh...!!"

"..."

"Bleergh...! Uueergh...!!"

...Poor girl. Clearly, the idea of kissing McHart repulsed her to the point that she knocked Seraphine’s hand away and turned her head, vomiting uncontrollably. McHart’s suit was now stained with Erisya’s bile, but I couldn’t muster any sympathy for him. After all, that suit would soon become his burial shroud.

"Oh dear, it seems you’re not feeling well, Lady Erisya," Seraphine remarked, her tone almost mocking.

"Gurgh... H-hurgh..."

"Why don’t you try again? My brother will forgive you for dirtying his suit if you manage to break the curse."

"N-no... I’m sure it’s not a curse... McHart was always this ugly... I’m sorry, Princess Seraphine... Please, no more..."

The crowd fell silent at Erisya’s desperate admission, the truth finally coming to light. They all seemed to share a sense of pity for the unfortunate girl.

"I see. I had hoped that you could break my brother’s curse, Lady Erisya," Seraphine said with feigned disappointment, releasing Erisya from her grasp.

The young noblewoman, her courage shattered, quickly fled into the palace, leaving the courtyard behind.

Of the remaining onlookers, about sixty percent were still noble ladies.

"Is there anyone else who would like to try breaking my brother’s curse?" Seraphine asked, her tone deceptively sweet.

-Stampede.

Before she even finished her sentence, the majority of the remaining ladies quickly dispersed.

"Oh, and gentlemen, you’re welcome to try as well. Normally, this would be out of the question, but given the circumstances of breaking such an ugly curse, exceptions can be made," Seraphine added, watching as the last few remaining nobles hurriedly fled, leaving only a small group behind.

Among those who stayed were Ethan, Seraphine, Cerista, McHart, and me.

It seemed like Ethan’s allies—Agnes and the others—were nowhere to be seen, though the situation had resolved itself without them.

The focus now shifted to McHart’s proper punishment. The Mirror of Truth had exposed his use of dark magic, and with numerous nobles and royal guards as witnesses, the evidence was undeniable. As Seraphine prepared to carry out justice, she addressed McHart with cold finality.

"Colluding with demons, using forbidden dark magic, manipulating the memories of royals... The list of your crimes is long, McHart. Do you have any last words?"

"W-why...?" McHart stammered, his voice trembling.

"..." Seraphine waited, her expression unchanging.

"That woman... she’s not the real Saintess..." McHart mumbled, pointing a shaking finger at Cerista.

His hands trembled violently as he realized the full extent of the betrayal. He turned his gaze slowly towards me, recognition dawning in his widened eyes.

"Y-you... couldn’t be...," McHart stuttered, his pupils dilating as if finally understanding something crucial.

His eyes filled with terror, and he began to stammer out a dangerous revelation, one that the royal guards nearby shouldn’t hear. But just before he could speak further, Ethan intervened, ensuring that McHart’s last words were silenced forever.

"Could it be that you are the real Sa—"

-Slash.

...A head without a body can’t finish a sentence.