It was a statement I would never have uttered under normal circumstances. Whether it was the delirium of fever, the lingering disorientation of having died and returned, or the creeping suspicion that none of this was real—for some reason, my tongue moved of its own accord, carving out a painful honesty.
I told Peon, “I know you don’t even see me as a woman.” It was a confession that essentially meant, “I know exactly how little I matter to you.” It was a sentiment the pride of the Lady of Ostain would have never permitted, yet the words had already slipped out.
‘It’s nothing.’
Once said, I felt a strange calm. It was the truth, after all. I had simply been the only one who knew it, and I had kept it tucked away like a secret wound.
“Is that so?”
Peon nodded, his expression maddeningly placid.
“I have acted needlessly. My apologies.”
“Why did you save my father?”
Kaella seized the opening to press him. It was a question that had been burning in my chest, one I could never dare voice within an Imperial Palace filled with the Emperor’s eyes and ears.
“It has nothing to do with you, Your Highness.”
That was the nature of our relationship: a hollow, sterile thing. We were strangers, bound by neither blood nor affection.
My mind told me this was for the best, but my heart felt like an abyss. Kaella scrambled to steady herself against the rising tide of emptiness.
“You could have been held accountable for it.”
If the Empress hadn’t collapsed, the consequences would have been dire. The Emperor would have surely branded him an ignorant, uncouth brute for allowing a target to slip away. Peon merely replied with a chilling indifference.
“I am already a man held accountable for many things. It is fine.”
How could I tell you that I did it because I wanted no more sins to weigh against you? Because I wanted you to be happy? A sinner has no right to speak. I kept my mouth shut.
“Support for Lyussenford could have been reduced.”
If it meant starving the front lines fighting the Evil Dragon, the Emperor was a man fully capable of such cruelty. It was common knowledge that the Emperor’s malice toward Peon lacked any shred of rationality.
“If that had happened, Lyussenford wouldn’t have been able to hold out. Why did you do it?”
The Grand Duke of Lyussenford was, first and foremost, a soldier. He knew the cost of hunger and cold on the battlefield. Despite the humiliation he suffered before the Emperor, he fought tooth and nail to secure supplies. Wasn’t his ultimate dream to defeat the Evil Dragon, return home, reunite with his mother, and marry Beatrice?
Kaella knew that if Peon had finished off the Evil Dragon Gwasalante before the Emperor could intervene, she likely would have been murdered in the shadows of Lyussenford. The Grand Duke had many loyal subordinates who would eliminate anyone standing in the way of his master’s happiness. One way or another, Kaella was destined to die.
“We can hold out.”
Peon’s reply was brief, laced with a flicker of dangerous confidence. This was not the same man who had struggled against the winter and the beast.
“I thank you for your concern, but Lyussenford can hold out. And before His Majesty the Emperor, are we not both in a position where we must help one another?”
With eyes hazy from fever, Kaella looked at him anew. It was jarring to hear him speak in a way so disconnected from the Grand Duke she remembered. Though she used the formal language of the past, and he responded in the tone he once used with her husband, it felt alien. The syntax was the same, but the spirit behind the words had shifted. Why had he changed?
“Yes. That is so.”
If Kaella pushed him further, if she let her anger show, would he regret saving her father? Was I already losing his favor?
“Kaella? My Lady?”
My head throbbed. Every jolt of the carriage sent needles of pain through my skull.
“We are almost there.”
Let it come. I’ve died once; what is there to fear in dying twice? Even if my relationship with Peon turned to ash, I had nothing left to lose.
While Kaella clung to her fading consciousness, the carriage passed through the dark stone path and arrived at the brightly lit townhouse of the House of Ostain. The carriage, escorted by armored knights, came to a halt with a rhythmic clatter of hooves.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out and offered a steady hand toward the interior.
“You have worked hard today. Rest well and take care of your health.”
It was the perfect performance of a gentleman. It was so polite, so detached, it suggested we were mere acquaintances who had met only this morning. It lacked the weight of our shared history, the friendship that had once tethered us.
My hand, burning with fever, rested on his. Peon reached out with both hands to catch the swaying Kaella, bracing her as she stepped down.
“Thank you for seeing me home, Your Highness.”
Even in her delirious state, Kaella managed to offer her thanks and returned his cloak, which she had been wearing like a shield.
“Have a peaceful night.”
Suppressing the words he dared not say, Peon stepped back. A familiar sense of deprivation clawed at his chest.
Leaving the townhouse, he mounted his horse and turned back toward the Imperial Palace. The streets were swathed in shadows, with only the distant, glowing silhouette of the Palace to guide him.
The Grand Duke rode in silence. No matter how close his knights were, none could read his expression or divine his thoughts.
“Your Highness.”
Sir Renard approached so quietly it was as if he had manifested from the gloom. His whispered words were swallowed by the sound of hooves striking stone.
“Lady Lavalle has secretly entered the Soleil Palace.”
The information was delivered with practiced neutrality, yet the implication—that ‘Beatrice’ had crept into the Emperor’s private chambers—was heavy with treason. Peon nodded without blinking.
“She has not come out yet.”
“Keep watching her.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The loyal knight bowed and vanished back into the dark.
Peon trusted only those who had remained by his side until the end. He kept them close, moving them in the shadows. He trusted only those who had shielded his retreat with their lives, whispering for the Grand Duke to survive, even as the Imperial Army surrounded them.
Therefore, Kaella, whom he had ordered to be imprisoned in the tower at the northern edge of Lyussenford, remained the most significant exception to his cold logic.
Ever since he encountered her again in the garden of the monster, he felt as if he were under a spell. He was fundamentally powerless before her.
He had wanted to tell her to keep the cloak—a small, pathetic gesture of comfort—but the butler had rushed forward with a shawl, cutting him off.
When this short spring ended, he would return to the front, and Kaella would become a stranger to him forever.
Would that be enough? If Kaella’s life became peaceful, could he finally rest?
‘No.’
Atonement was never that simple. The meeting with Kerujan, the catatonic Empress, the insane Emperor, Beatrice’s nocturnal visit to the Palace, the Evil Dragon—the variables were endless, yet all were already accounted for in Peon’s cold calculations.
He felt no surprise at his mother’s collapse; he knew the cause. It was unfortunate, perhaps, but it worked to his advantage. He only needed to follow the path he had laid.
But Kaella—everything she did was an anomaly. She had to be brought into his calculations, or he could not protect her perfectly.
*Who would dare link someone like me with Your Highness and spread rumors?*
As a lady of the highest standing, her pride was immense. For her to debase herself, to refer to herself as ‘someone like me,’ was impossible. The eyes that had once sparked with light toward him had turned to ice. She was lashing out at her own image just to draw a line in the sand.
What had Kaella been like back then? Despairingly, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall. He had been under a curse that rendered her invisible to his heart. Had she felt this way since the beginning? Had she been hiding it behind a veil of politeness all along?
Was there truly no chance for them to find peace in this lifetime?
The more he thought, the more the possibilities felt like shards of glass. This long, dark night seemed endless, fueled by the shame and anger of a lady and the secrets buried beneath his own armor.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
The event the Lady of Ostain had orchestrated was a resounding success, destined to be the talk of the nobility for months. The Kerujan diplomatic mission was satisfied with the grand opening.
In the morning, the Emperor met briefly with Prince Elkanan. In the afternoon, he quietly summoned the Grand Duke of Lyussenford, who had been attending a military briefing.
Peon entered the Soleil Palace, surprised to find the Duke of Ostain, who should have been occupied with diplomats, and the Lady, who should have been recuperating. What was this?
Kaella couldn’t possibly be recovered after one night; she was physically fragile. Yet, the Emperor, looking even more haggard than Kaella, waved a hand dismissively as Peon moved to offer a formal greeting.
“That’s enough. Come here. I have no time to waste on formalities.”
“How can you say such hurtful things, Your Majesty.”
Even though he had been inches from death at the Emperor’s hands just days ago, Adeo, the Duke of Ostain, had no choice but to dance to the Emperor’s tune. Being the eldest present, he bore the weight of their survival.
“It is our joy to come when summoned, Your Majesty.”
“Empty words that don’t reach your heart.”
“Your Majesty.”
The Emperor grumbled like a petulant, aging tyrant. Perhaps owing to whatever transpired with Beatrice Lavalle the night before, he looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink. The shadows under his eyes were deep, as if his own internal rot were finally coming to the surface.
“Enough, Hyperion. You are twenty-eight this year, are you not?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And how old is Kaella?”
Kaella answered, caught off guard.
“I am twenty-one.”
The Emperor rubbed his face, his skin gray and tight.
“As you both know, the Empress remains in a state of living death. The doctors are useless, and the medicine is water.”
Watching the Emperor, Kaella remained silent. Should she rejoice that he felt despair, or lament that his misery hadn’t yet consumed him? He was a man who spread ruin while agonizing over his own trivialities.
“I have looked back and reflected a great deal, only now.”
It was a miracle that the word ‘reflection’ had even crossed his lips.
“I have neglected things I should have nurtured long ago. I am ashamed that I am only now seeing the truth, Hyperion.”
“Your Majesty has always taken care of me.”
Kaella fought the urge to stare at Peon in shock. She kept her gaze fixed on the red carpet, masking her horror.
Is this truly the Grand Duke of Lyussenford? The man who would endure such blatant lies, speaking words that didn’t come from his soul?
He was a man who did not know how to weave fictions. He was upright, almost to a fault—a man Kaella had once found pitiful for his stubborn, honest nature.
And yet, here he was, flattering the very man who had kidnapped his mother—a man who deserved to be shattered—more expertly than even the Duke of Ostain. The Emperor himself seemed taken aback, blinking as if he didn’t know whether to trust the change.
“Do you really think so?”
“Since Your Majesty has bestowed such grace upon me, am I not enjoying the honor of receiving an undeserved position as Grand Duke and having an audience with Your Majesty?”
He spoke with the cadence of a man reciting dry facts. These were the very phrases the Emperor had used to brainwash him since childhood. The irony was so sharp it was almost laughable.
Kaella realized once again that the Emperor was a man who trusted no one, not even those who bowed to him.
“No, the position of Grand Duke is not undeserved. Are you not the son of the Empress?”
“I am only grateful that you say so.”
What on earth was he planning? Kaella felt as if the world had shifted beneath her feet. The Peon she knew would rather die than grovel, yet here he was, using his tongue as a blade to soothe a monster.
He did not look servile. He looked like steel—cold, tempered, and unbreakable. His words sounded like undeniable facts, and the Emperor seemed pleased by the weight of them.
“The son of the Empress is of noble status.”
The Emperor emphasized the words. After calling it a ‘dirty, lowly bloodline’ for twenty-eight years, this reversal didn’t even earn a smile from Peon.
“So, I must resolve the Imperial marriage I have been putting off.”
The Lady of Ostain looked at the Grand Duke with wide, anxious eyes. He stood in silence, not a hair out of place.
“Adeo, my younger brother.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor, who donned affection only when it served his interests, gestured for the Duke of Ostain to step closer.
“You have managed the Imperial marriage to my liking. Yet, your own daughter remains unmarried.”
*Successful?* Kaella’s mind raced. Something had happened this morning.
Adeo hid his discomfort well, though he must have felt the chill of the trap closing in. He had to protect his daughter and his Principality.
“Everything has its order. Among the children of this family, isn’t Kaella the eldest? A Lady who will inherit Ostain should be joined with a strong husband.”
The Emperor reached out, extending his other hand toward Peon.
“This is not an impromptu decision; I have been ruminating on this for days, especially while the Empress has been so ill. I have not dismissed Prince Elkanan, either. But the Principality of Ostain is the pillar that supports Krania.”
Peon stepped closer to the Emperor.
“Since Lyussenford is the shield that guards Krania from the front lines, I could not wish for more than to see these two joined, making the Imperial structure unbreakable.”
“Your Majesty.”
Adeo couldn’t help but falter.
The entire Empire knew where the Grand Duke’s heart resided. To whom was he being joined?
Adeo expected the Grand Duke to object, but Peon remained perfectly still, his eyes wide and vacant, as if he had lost the ability to speak.
“I believe Kaella and Hyperion are the most suitable partners for each other.”
Before the words had even finished echoing through the hall, the Lady collapsed onto the red carpet.