Chapter 40

The sale of health syrup had been halted by imperial order, and three days had passed.

Third Imperial Princess Anais was still lounging in a small room in the eastern annex of the Imperial Palace.

Her destination for exile had not yet been officially announced.

Was the Emperor hesitating to send away his cherished youngest daughter? Or had the Empress, who had personally managed the princess, belatedly awakened her maternal instincts?

According to Siena’s report, it wasn’t for those reasons.

“The decision has been made, Alan.”

The place of Princess Anais’ exile was a small closed monastery in the Wirral region, which bordered the State.

It was said to be a harmonious place where about thirty nuns lived, making lace, farming, and reading scriptures.

It seemed that the Emperor intended for her to reside there with only a small guard escort. All her privileges as an heir and member of the imperial family would be stripped.

“If everything is already decided, why is the announcement being delayed?”

“Mrs. Chandler is being stubborn.”

“Stubborn… I see.”

“Can you guess what it means from just that?”

There was nothing to guess about. The answer was already obvious.

What the Imperial Court needed now was a scapegoat to share the blame for Anais’ misdeeds.

If they claimed Anais had been solely responsible from start to finish, it could damage the court’s dignity. It might make it difficult to conclude with such a mild punishment as monastic confinement. Exile or even banishment could be necessary.

“The only way to finalize Princess Anais’ punishment is for Mrs. Chandler to confess and die. Honestly, there’s no one else suitable for the role. After all, she’s the publicly known manufacturer of the health syrup.”

“But it seems the old woman refuses to cooperate.”

“I understand. She’s probably denying responsibility at the last minute. Why would she want to die for merely following the Third Princess’s orders?”

It’s common for co-conspirators to turn on each other once a scheme is exposed.

Mrs. Chandler had worked at the lower levels for forty years. She must have known that confessing would mean death. She was likely holding out to secure her family’s safety, enduring beatings from the military police without breaking…

I thought that, but Siena shook her head with a wry smile.

“Isn’t it interesting? There’s a first time for everything, I see.”

“What do you mean?”

“The old lady still admits she manufactured the health syrup. She just denies its dangers. She keeps repeating that it’s good for your health.”

“…”

This was definitely unexpected. I thought she’d twist her words to try saving her life.

Surely she wasn’t sticking to her principles for Princess Anais. Mrs. Chandler was known to have served several generations of royalty over forty years. When one master passed, she’d quietly moved on to the next.

“She became so accustomed to lying about the syrup’s benefits that she probably believes it herself now.”

“Or maybe she just wants to believe.”

“…Yes, that’s possible.”

We couldn’t see into her true thoughts.

The important thing was that Mrs. Chandler was interfering with the court’s plans.

If she simply denied responsibility, we could threaten her family’s lives and break her. But since she’s outright denying the crime altogether, it’s creating headaches even for the higher-ups.

“After a few more days of interrogation, she’ll probably break eventually… I guess. Though I haven’t been tortured myself, so I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s possible. But considering her age, she might die before that. Which could create its own misunderstandings.”

If she were to die now, it could give the wrong impression to those who have already tasted the syrup.

People might think she was wrongly caught in royal disputes and killed unjustly. After all, the syrup genuinely makes people feel healthier, so it’s a plausible scenario.

‘It would be better if she just goes quietly.’

If Mrs. Chandler continues to insist on the syrup’s safety until the end, the repercussions could be massive. Even after the sales ban, panic buying continued openly (even after the prohibition).

How could we change Mrs. Chandler’s mind?

After contemplating for a moment, I realized there was a way.

‘So Mrs. Chandler still believes in the effectiveness of the health syrup.’

Or maybe she’s in denial about distributing harmful medicine to the citizens and has convinced herself otherwise. Either way, it was different from Anais’ attitude.

“Then let’s have her prove that belief. It’s simple – as long as all the prohibited health syrup hasn’t been destroyed.”

“That could work.”

I immediately conveyed this impromptu plan to the military police, not wanting to waste time.

*

The interrogation room of the State Military Police.

After three days of intense questioning, Mrs. Dorothy Chandler stared blankly at the object placed before her.

It was her own health syrup.

Once a source of infinite joy for her, it was now the reason she found herself in this dim interrogation room.

…It couldn’t be called the root cause. There must be some misunderstanding – there couldn’t possibly be any flaw in the health syrup itself.

“Do you still believe the health syrup is harmless, Mrs. Chandler?”

The question came from an officer wearing a military insignia. She simply nodded.

“The day you were arrested, one person at the scene grabbed their chest and collapsed. They eventually died. Their family testified that the victim regularly took five spoonfuls of health syrup morning and evening to recover from fatigue.”

“That was because of something else, not the health syrup…!”

“Seems you’re still unwilling to admit it.”

Unwilling? Of course.

Mrs. Chandler bit her lip tightly.

What was important now was protecting her reputation – and the reputation of the health syrup. She wasn’t going to give in to these people who kept using complicated terms to defame the syrup. She wouldn’t compromise.

‘If it were such a dangerous medicine, people wouldn’t have embraced it, right?’

Remembering customers who praised the syrup as a miracle cure to sustain sixteen-hour workdays, or those who proudly bought it for their elderly parents, she knew it couldn’t possibly be bad.

“How could I have fed something harmful to so many people?”

Impossible. Absolutely not.

Honestly, she didn’t understand the ingredients.

But Mrs. Chandler only trusted the reactions she had witnessed firsthand from her customers.

If it were truly harmful, wouldn’t at least one person among so many have criticized it? But she had only received compliments.

“This isn’t a dangerous medicine. Absolutely not.”

Shaking her head, she repeated this to herself.

The officer, expecting her reaction, pushed the health syrup toward her, and she naturally clutched it tightly.

“If you truly believe, you would be willing to prove it with your own strength, right?”

“Prove…?”

“Reveal your innocence in public. President Alan Medoff of Medoff Pharmaceuticals proposed this. He also said he would help clear your name if you succeed. Are you willing?”

“Are you asking me to drink it?”

“For your information, this is an early product containing poisonous herbs. It was found in the audience chamber of Her Highness the Third Princess. Think carefully.”

It was a very tempting offer.

Some life returned to Mrs. Chandler’s previously lifeless eyes.

If this could somehow clear the health syrup’s name, there was no reason to refuse. Since she had been humiliated in public, it was fitting to restore her innocence publicly as well.

Though it required great courage, she was willing to do it.

“There’s no reason not to.”

“You’ll do it?”

The officer looked at her pityingly as he repeated the question, but Mrs. Chandler firmly nodded while holding the syrup bottle tightly.

What appeared to be internal court conflict.

There was no guarantee that proving the health syrup’s safety would restore the good old days. Those wicked people would likely continue to defame the syrup and the Third Princess.

But wasn’t it enough to see a glimmer of hope in the worst-case scenario?

A faint smile appeared on Mrs. Chandler’s wrinkled face.

…

The next morning.

Mrs. Chandler was escorted to Covent Square in the center of the state. The crowd was already gathering, presumably due to prior announcements.

Without any signs of nervousness, she waved to the crowd.

Then she declared confidently:

“Ladies and gentlemen, the syrup I made does not harm people. I will prove that right here.”

With that, she opened the bottle and drank it all down.

The taste was… naturally good. It was easy to understand why some customers had described it as “noble and sophisticated sweetness.”

“Just tastes good, so what!”

After finishing the bottle, Mrs. Chandler wiped the syrup from the corners of her mouth and smiled.

She gently scanned the crowd.

She recognized quite a few familiar faces – likely her health syrup customers. Some were even showing her their own bottles in quiet support.

“Thank you all. I’m here to clear up this misunderstanding. Everything will turn out fine.”

At first glance, it looked like a public execution, but the atmosphere was relatively warm. There were even people who talked to Mrs. Chandler while glancing at the soldiers.

She reassured them that she was fine, it was all a misunderstanding, and promised to see them again at the shop.

“Hey, Mrs. Chandler! Your face is turning really red – are you okay? It does make you flush a bit, but this seems extreme!”

“Of course I’m fine. I feel healthier instead!”

After talking for about thirty minutes, her confidence grew to the point where she boldly proclaimed the safety of the health syrup – an outright defiance of the imperial order.

The effects of the medicine began to show right at that moment.

“Huh…?”

Her vision started to blur gradually.

Trying to look around, she realized her breathing was also becoming rapid – actually, she wanted to breathe deeply, but something felt blocked, making it hard to breathe. Her stomach started to hurt. Rather, it felt more like being flipped around.

“I’m fi…ne, really.”

While slurring her words, Mrs. Chandler insisted.

But right at that moment, sweat started pouring from her forehead and the back of her neck. Her heart felt like it was about to explode.

‘Can’t do this in front of everyone.’

Thinking she needed to show something to the crowd, she flailed her arms while sitting – actually, she had intended to stand up, but for some reason, her arms moved instead of her legs. She couldn’t understand why her head felt so heavy.

For about ten minutes, she kept flailing – and then –

Thud!

She finally fell to the side.

Lying sprawled on the ground, Mrs. Chandler gasped and wept, but there was no one to help her up.

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