Supreme Protocol

She had plunged headlong into the Holy See's encirclement, like a moth crashing into a spiderweb.

They placed the triple crown, symbol of the Pope, upon her head.

From that day on, she had never again known freedom. From that day on, she had never stopped thinking of breaking free from that web.

And today, she had failed.

From beginning to end, she had been nothing but a chess piece, caught in someone else's schemes. She had broken free of one web, only to discover that outside it lay another, larger web.

The Holy See, the Empire, the nobility, family names, bloodlines—web after web had trapped her tightly, leaving her able to do nothing but struggle in what she thought was defiance.

And now, she had reached a dead end.

The influx of seawater had stopped, and her ascension ritual still showed no sign of movement. Yet the seawater that the ritual had poured into her body began to churn.

Perhaps she should have given up. Perhaps she should have given up from the very beginning. She knew she could not break free from that web. Once that crown was placed upon her head, it could never be taken off again.

How had she found the courage to start struggling back then?

Yes, what had she been fighting so desperately for?

For Count Theus?

No. She truly had wanted to meet Count Theus, but that was not the real reason.

At that moment, the Pollution within her body boiled like scalding oil. Dense ranks of enemies surrounded her, their gun barrels aimed at her, merely waiting for her to lose control. Yet Beatrice instead calmed down.

Her brief life flashed before her eyes. As a child, she had been forced to learn every manner of noble etiquette. When she grew