---
The palace infirmary had never been this quiet.
Aurelia noticed it the moment she stepped inside.
Rows of beds lined the walls, each occupied by a wounded soldier or servant. Some lay unconscious, others stared at the ceiling with dull, resigned eyes. The physicians and assistants froze when they saw her, hands hovering uncertainly over bandages and bowls of water.
Fear thickened the air.
They were afraid of her.
Aurelia felt it clearly—far more clearly than she had in her first life. Back then, she mistook fear for respect. Now, she recognized it for what it was.
A barrier.
"You may continue," she said calmly.
No one moved.
She sighed inwardly and walked further in, stopping beside the nearest bed. A young soldier lay there, his face pale, lips faintly blue. Sweat soaked his hairline, his breathing shallow and uneven.
Aurelia reached for his wrist.
The physician beside her flinched. "Y-Your Majesty—"
"I will not harm him," she said quietly.
Her fingers settled against the soldier's pulse.
Weak. Irregular.
Not from blood loss.
Her gaze sharpened.
"This man was not injured by a blade," she said.
The physician blinked. "But he collapsed shortly after returning from patrol. We assumed internal trauma—"
"He was poisoned," Aurelia cut in.
The word struck the room like a blade.
Several assistants stiffened. One dropped the cloth in his hands.
Leonhardt Kael, who had followed her inside, narrowed his eyes. "That is a serious accusation."
"It is an observation," Aurelia replied. "Low-dose toxin. Likely administered through drink or food. Slow enough to avoid immediate suspicion."
She straightened and looked around the infirmary.
"How many returned from that patrol?"
"Seven," the physician answered hesitantly.
"And how many are here?"
"…Three."
Aurelia closed her eyes briefly.
Too many.
She turned back to the soldier and spoke in a crisp, commanding tone that allowed no argument.
"Boil fresh water. Bring charcoal powder, vinegar, and clean cloth. Now."
The staff stared at her in shock.
Leonhardt stepped forward. "Your Majesty, do you truly know what you are doing?"
Aurelia met his gaze.
"I have done this more times than you can imagine."
She did not wait for permission.
Her hands moved with practiced precision—measuring, diluting, adjusting. The physician followed her instructions almost without realizing it, his earlier hesitation overridden by the authority in her voice.
Minutes passed.
The soldier coughed violently, his body convulsing. The assistants cried out in alarm.
"Hold him," Aurelia ordered.
She pressed firmly against his chest, watching his breathing closely.
Slowly—agonizingly—the blue tint faded from his lips.
His pulse strengthened.
A stunned silence fell over the room.
The physician swallowed hard. "He's… stabilizing."
Aurelia stepped back, wiping her hands.
"He will live," she said. "But monitor him closely. If the same symptoms appear in the others, treat them immediately."
Whispers rippled through the infirmary.
Leonhardt stared at her as though the woman before him was a stranger.
"You learned this where?" he asked quietly.
Aurelia met his eyes, expression unreadable.
"Experience," she said.
---
By the time she returned to the palace corridors, word had already spread.
The Empress had saved a dying soldier.
The Empress had diagnosed poison.
The Empress had entered the infirmary herself.
Aurelia knew exactly how dangerous rumors could be.
That evening, she was summoned to an emergency council meeting.
The nobles gathered quickly, their expressions carefully controlled. Duke Harren, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, spoke first.
"Your Majesty," he said smoothly, "it is said you intervened in the infirmary today."
"Yes," Aurelia replied, taking her seat. "Is there an issue?"
"It is… irregular," another noble added. "An Empress should not involve herself in such matters."
Aurelia folded her hands atop the table.
"And yet," she said calmly, "a soldier poisoned within palace walls seems far more irregular to me."
The room went still.
Duke Harren's smile tightened. "Poison is a grave claim. Are you suggesting treason?"
"I am suggesting investigation," Aurelia replied. "If someone is poisoning imperial soldiers, they are testing how far they can go."
Eyes flickered around the table.
Leonhardt said nothing, but Aurelia felt his gaze on her.
Good.
Let him watch.
The meeting ended tensely. Servants moved in to pour tea, restoring tradition as if ritual alone could smooth over unease.
A delicate porcelain cup was placed before Aurelia.
Steam rose gently from its surface.
She stared at it.
In her first life, she would have lifted it without hesitation.
In her second life, she had learned something critical:
Poison rarely announces itself.
Aurelia did not drink.
Instead, she turned slightly and handed the cup to the servant who poured it.
"You," she said softly. "Taste it."
The servant froze.
"M-My Empress…?"
Leonhardt's head snapped up. "Your Majesty?"
"If there is nothing wrong," Aurelia continued evenly, "then there is nothing to fear."
The servant's hands shook as he raised the cup. He took a single sip.
The cup shattered.
He collapsed to the floor, convulsing violently.
Chaos erupted.
"Poison!"
"Call the physicians!"
"Guards!"
Leonhardt moved instantly, catching the servant before his head struck the marble. He looked up at Aurelia, shock blazing in his eyes.
"You knew," he said.
"Yes," Aurelia replied calmly.
She rose from her seat and looked around the room—at the nobles who had just tried to kill her without hesitation.
"And now," she said, voice cold and steady,
"we will find out who wished to murder their Empress."
Deep within the palace, unseen and unaware, the true culprit smiled.
They believed they had failed.
They did not yet understand—
This was only the beginning.
---