“You two should at least run away!”
The gaunt Princess of Ostain, his wife, shouted, pouring every ounce of her remaining strength into a pure, frantic fury. It was a desperate conviction—a belief that they absolutely had to. Yet, the desperate pleas of a princess who looked as though she might collapse at any moment carried little weight in the Krania Empire.
But to Peon, her words—though she would never believe it—were absolute. It was laughable, pathetic even, to remain so obsessed with Kaella, a woman who was now a stranger to him, especially after he had consigned her to such a miserable and shameful death. Kaella would surely find him repulsive. He knew this well.
However, Peon, long shackled by the weight of duty and responsibility, dared not defy her. Regardless of whether Kaella’s reactions were now entirely different from before she regressed, he felt he had to try, unconditionally, just as she said.
It was either the atonement of a fool, or a lingering attachment, common for a man like Peon.
“It’s been hard to meet lately.”
As soon as he stepped out of the Ostain townhouse, he sought out Beatrice Lavalle. Ever since he had proposed without a ring, without sincerity, and without even mentioning the word “marriage,” she had been avoiding him with a parade of excuses. It was only natural; she had no intention of marrying Peon, just as her mother, Duchess Monde, desired.
But Peon, who had already placed a loyal watcher on her, managed to corner Beatrice while she was alone, with little difficulty.
“Peon.”
Beatrice was visibly flustered. Peon rarely frequented high society, and since he had come to Krain, he had been distant, seemingly considerate of her comfort. Why had he come now? She hurriedly scanned her surroundings, eyes darting in fear of prying eyes. Peon, however, merely watched her with a calm, unreadable face.
Beatrice hurried over and threw herself into his arms.
“How did you get here? Others might see us…”
“It’s fine. We’re alone.”
She looked up at him. With that exact expression—fixed, deer-like eyes looking up at men—Beatrice had captured hearts and commanded gazes for years. Peon looked down into those lovely pink eyes, stripped of any emotion.
There had been a time when those eyes comforted him. There had been a time when he dreamt of marrying her. Twelve, or was it thirteen? It was the fleeting, naive flicker of a boy’s first love.
To Peon, now living his twenty-eighth year for the second time, that was a gaze so old it had turned to ash. After seeing the rot hidden behind those eyes and finally escaping the constraints of his past, nothing remained but the bitter realization that even his memories had been a deception.
“……I heard the news. His Majesty has… you and that Kaella girl…….”
Beatrice couldn’t finish the sentence, her eyes welling with tears. Peon knew she had the talent to summon tears exactly when she pleased. At the same time, he recognized the deep-seated contempt in the phrase “that Kaella girl.” Beatrice looked down on Kaella.
“What do you want to do?”
There was no value in reacting to her tears. It was merely a chore. Peon, much like he had been with Kaella in Lyussenford, was indifferent to the point of harshness toward those he deemed valueless.
“What do you mean, what do I want to do? How can you ask that, Peon? Of course, I want to be with you, but how can I defy an Imperial command?”
Beatrice knew she held no power, so she let the tears fall, gripping his hand with desperate fervor.
Through her tears and her touch, a pitch-black constraint seeped into him. Every word she uttered was a spell, each additional sentence tightening the noose, designed to force Peon to take her words as literal truth.
“Peon, are you going to… forget me? No. I am alone here. You know that. I have no one but you.”
Suppressing the urge to sneer, which threatened to twist his lips at words that felt like a curse, Peon asked exactly what Kaella had insisted he say.
“Shall we run away?”
He threw out the words—words he would never have uttered in his right mind. Beatrice went deathly pale.
“That…… how, such a…… that’s impossible, Peon. Get a grip.”
If she were truly the lover she claimed to be, she would have played along. But even Beatrice, who could choreograph her sobs to the second, faltered in the face of such genuine shock.
“It’s an Imperial command! An Imperial command!”
Imperial command. Wasn’t that the primary weapon used to brainwash him, ensuring he had no choice but to obey? Why was Peon acting like this now?
“Then you’re saying it’s fine for me to marry another woman.”
His tone was calm. He wasn’t surprised; everything was unfolding exactly as he knew it would. However, his voice was a deep, natural bass, and even when he spoke flatly, it tended to startle people, leaving them feeling intimidated. Beatrice looked at his unreadable face, her pulse quickening.
“How could it be fine? I only have eyes for you! How can you say such things, Peon…….”
He stood still while she buried her face in his chest, sobbing with heaving shoulders, but he felt only annoyance. It was bothersome, and repulsive. Because of the constraint veiled by these hypocritical tears, he only realized more clearly how foolish he had been.
“Running away—how could we possibly do that? His Majesty wouldn’t leave us alone. It’s not that I’m okay with you getting married. My heart feels like it’s being torn apart.”
She prattled on, secretly thinking that Peon was a fool who knew nothing. Recalling the words she had once spewed in a state of madness before his wife’s corpse, Peon waited for her to run out of breath.
Beatrice had said many things, but not a word registered. Her spells, once painstakingly crafted, were now nothing more than meaningless noise.
“I understand.”
Peon simply nodded.
“You know what I mean, right, Peon?”
“Yes.”
“You mustn’t forget me. Promise me you’ll only love me.”
He offered no response to the woman who would later sneer that he should have looked at Kaella instead of her, the very moment he married.
Before long, another day passed in Krain, and the darkness deepened. Beatrice cast her spells, demanding he never abandon her, before they parted as if it were an unavoidable tragedy. The man and woman, who met only to play parts in a masquerade of love, were both very busy.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
“Come in.”
The Emperor, who had summoned Peon for a brief meeting, gestured toward him.
“Come closer. You must be dazed after being told to marry so suddenly?”
The Emperor had been remarkably affectionate toward Peon ever since the Empress collapsed. Peon, who had once been killed by the Emperor’s own hand, knew all too well that such affection could turn into murderous intent in a heartbeat. He attached no meaning to it.
The other nobles, however, were surprised. The Emperor had never treated his illegitimate son, usually exiled to the front lines, with such kindness.
To the Emperor, Peon was a symbol of disgrace. Being the Empress’s only child, and a strong, capable man, only fueled the resentment. Among the illegitimate children, none were as well-rounded or as handsome as Peon. Although no one knew who the man the Empress had once loved was, rumors circulated that he must have been a man of extraordinary beauty.
“I am merely cautious about marrying at a time when Your Majesty is worried about the Empress.”
Could he not cancel it somehow? If he overturned this marriage, the lives resting on his shoulders would be pointlessly extinguished, but Peon still explored every possibility.
“Yes, yes. I suppose your heart isn’t at ease. But seeing the Empress collapse made me realize something. You, too, should settle down and become the head of a household.”
The Emperor nodded and signaled to the Lord Chamberlain. The Chamberlain approached respectfully, offering a velvet box to Peon. He accepted it, unbothered by the fact that it might contain a blade or poison.
“Open it.”
It wasn’t a weapon, but jewelry. A citrine and diamond bracelet emitted a beautiful, cold luster, accompanied by a heavy diamond ring.
“It is one of the Empress’s jewels. It is a marriage, after all; you should at least have an engagement ring when you propose.”
“……Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
“A man should provide the ring himself.”
There had been a ring for Kaella before, too. He had been so indifferent then that he couldn’t even remember its shape or how he had obtained it. He only remembered that Kaella had worn it as if it were her lifeblood. He recalled watching from afar as she cried while searching for it when it once went missing. Rumors had spread in Lyussenford that the Grand Duchess used her wedding ring to communicate with the Emperor’s side.
‘It must have been Beatrice’s doing. The time the ring disappeared must have been intentional, too.’
Lyussenford had spiraled into chaos, caught between nobles who bullied the foreign Grand Duchess and the Emperor’s spies. Who could he blame? Ultimately, it was the fault of the Grand Duke—himself.
“It is an honor, Your Majesty.”
He had become adept at speaking words he didn’t feel. As he parroted the platitudes others used, the Emperor treated him as if he were his own flesh and blood. A hollow laugh escaped him.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
What to do about this marriage? He had regressed, done his best to prevent their deaths, and yet his mother, the Empress, had collapsed regardless. It was absurd that everything else had shifted, yet this marriage remained set in stone. The truth was that Peon absolutely could not refuse, no matter his plans. At the luncheon today, Duke Ostain had gripped Peon’s hand tightly.
‘Take good care of my daughter.’
Adeo knew that Peon was the best suitor Kaella could hope for. Peon knew, all too well, that he was the worst of the worst. Didn’t Kaella feel anger the moment she saw him? Every time he faced her, Peon was reminded of how pathetic and powerless he was.
It was all the more galling that, no matter how much he agonized over it, he always reached the same conclusion: he had to marry her to protect her.
“Your Highness, Lady Lavalle has entered the Soleil Palace again today.”
Sir Renard, who had approached quietly, reported the movements of Lady Lavalle, which now seemed far too suspicious, and cast a cautious glance at Peon.
From the first report until now, Beatrice had been secretly visiting the Soleil Palace, the Emperor’s private bedchamber, every single day. That the flower of high society, a woman not yet wed, was visiting the Emperor’s private quarters while avoiding eyes was shocking. Peon, who had pinpointed the exact locations where this could be captured, merely laughed.
“She must be busy.”
Sir Renard sensed that his stoic lord had changed. Peon gave instructions of unknown purpose, and every time Renard carried them out, he was shaken by a new, dark truth.
“What should I do?”
“Keep watching her.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Darkness had settled over Krain, and Peon found himself wandering near the Ostain townhouse without realizing it. While Kaella lay collapsed, he had run around trying to stop the marriage, but the diplomatic situation involving Kerujan was immovable.
The consensus of the entire Empire was that the Duchy of Ostain could not be handed over to Kerujan. Therefore, the heir to Ostain had to be wedded to Lyussenford.
‘The Emperor is already trying to manipulate the Princess of Ostain’s marriage as he pleases.’
Even if Peon overturned this, Kaella would not have the marriage she wanted. In the worst case, Adeo would die again. That was why Adeo had begged him to take care of his daughter.
These events had spiraled before he could even gather his strength, leaving him with little room to maneuver. The political landscape, once a fog to him before his regression, was now visible at a glance—easy to read, but deeply troubling.
It was then that Peon, passing through the shadows, saw someone slipping out of the Ostain townhouse.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Objectively, Kaella was in no state to run away. She had not fully recovered from her severe illness, and the household was anxious, fearing her health might deteriorate further. Kaella had always been prone to frequent sickness since childhood.
‘But it’s all death anyway, isn’t it?’
That was true. She would die even if she remained sick; the Emperor would put her in a situation more miserable than death if she refused this marriage; and she would die if she submitted and went to Lyussenford. She was, after all, a mere pawn—a spy for the Emperor—who played the role of the meek girl. The people of Lyussenford already gazed at her with the conviction that she was not Beatrice, but a woman who would bring only misery to the Grand Duke.
Hahahaha, a clear laugh burst out. Although a painful cough followed, Kaella was no longer in her right mind. It was better to be a troublesome daughter causing headaches than for her father, who was currently grateful she had barely survived, to bear more burdens—as he was already perpetually on edge whenever he visited the Imperial Palace. The members of the Ostain family were all struggling under their own private weights.
‘I didn’t think I could actually pull it off.’
Kaella looked back at the receding townhouse. Back in her days as the Grand Duchess of Lyussenford, everywhere had been dreadfully quiet, and the winters were long. Thoroughly isolated, she had developed a habit of ruminating on the past with regret, her thoughts drifting in meaningless directions. For instance, “I should have done that back then” turned into a concrete, final plan.
Cold to the bone and lonely, Kaella had thought concretely about running away before her marriage. She had done it so many times in her mind that she could execute it right now. She had stolen a maid’s clothes, smeared soot on her face, and wrapped her platinum-blonde hair in a headscarf. She had learned the brutal ways of the world the hard way in Lyussenford. Even if she fell into the abyss, it would be less miserable than that place.
‘I’ll die if I’m caught.’
Or she would be dragged to Lyussenford. No matter what, it was death anyway. A painful death, or a less painful one—a horrible end regardless. Hahaha. Kaella laughed without a sound. She would do what she wanted to her heart’s content until the very last moment, and then die as cleanly and quietly as possible.
Toward the warm south. Unlike Lyussenford, where it was chillingly quiet and snow fell that could easily kill a person, she would go to the south, full of noise and heat. Since her time in Lyussenford, Kaella had always wished to die in the warm south.
“Did the gate close at the Jutilin house?”
“They say they close the gates early these days.”
Sharing a smelly rented carriage with others didn’t bother her. The north tower where she had lain at the end was far filthier. After riding the carriage and getting off in a residential area where commoners lived, Kaella decided to walk. She knew that running away wasn’t something you did gracefully on horseback or with an escort.
She only had to pass the guards protecting the Krain city gates. Should she walk among the crowd? It was as Kaella, anticipating tighter security due to the Empress’s recent health condition, was carefully moving her steps.
“It is dangerous if you go any further.”
A voice that didn’t even dare call her “Princess” grabbed her and took her away.