Prologue
Held firmly within rugged, hardened arms forged by years of swordsmanship practice, a dark shadow loomed over as I tilted my face up slightly. The heavy cologne scent distinctive of a man tickled my nose, and at the same time, sweet lips—
Without realizing it, I placed my hands upon his shoulders, clinging to the tongue exploring my mouth. The tightening pull within made my back arch tautly, and I tightened my grasp around the fabric of his uniform clutched in my hands.
Fierce, passionate kissing.
He seemed to know my creed better than anyone. Just as passionately as I poured my focus into only one partner at a time, he gave his all to me, and I liked that feeling immensely.
As the kiss gradually reached past my mouth and took hold of my entire body, I tightened my grip on his shoulders. Guided by instinct, I raised my left hand to wrap around his neck, hanging onto him as if practically draped over him, devoting myself completely to a deep kiss meant to devour each other's lips.
Clinging closer to him with a deep moan, an arm wound around my waist and another cupped the back of my head—tongues tangled, entwined anew, sweeping every corner, biting, sucking, releasing once more—and my head spun unbidden from the impossibly deep kiss.
Ah, seriously.
As my breath grew ragged, his scent that had filled every sense began to withdraw, leaving its own lingering regret. As I caught my breath several times in the momentarily freed air, reddish-brown eyes filled with my reflection met mine.
Now this, I like.
I relish my partner's passion. And in return, I show my own. That was the most fundamental rule of romance, an indispensable courtesy to uphold whenever in each other's presence. I asked for nothing else from the one sharing love with me, but passion alone was something I demanded without compromise.
And Khalid was a partner uniquely suited to that standard.
Even as I caught my breath, I felt his lips brushing along my cheek and neck. Tipping my head back instinctively, the fresh air filling my lungs cleared my mind once more. Turning to face him, drawing back the face buried in my neck, I brought my lips to his this time.
With such a noticeable difference in height, my chin naturally tilted upward. But his firm hand supporting me from behind offered steady balance, letting me lose myself in the kiss with ease.
The deep kiss resumed, and we focused wholly on each other once again. An even more intense sensation enveloped my body than before. Disregarding our slick, mingled breath, we merely sought out each other's tongues—finding, twining, tracing, catching, biting, drawing in once more, plunging tirelessly into that bottomless mire.
Lewd sounds slipped out between us, but neither of us cared. When all my attention belonged entirely to the person before me, why bother minding what lay beyond?
Which was why neither Khalid nor I noticed the presence approaching. Even if we had noticed, we likely wouldn't have cared.
“Sc-Scarlett?”
A faint, familiar voice brushed past my ears, but I was in no state of mind to register it. Continuing the kiss with a deeply flushed face, my only desire was for the voice—vaguely recognizable, yet hardly worth identifying—to simply move along on its way.
Yet the owner of that voice showed no sign of doing so, seeming to stand rooted in place, staring blankly at us. Just as the voice reached my ears once more, I reluctantly pulled away from Khalid clinging to me and turned my head.
“Oh, my.”
Panting for breath as I touched my tongue to my lips, I found far more people standing there than I could have imagined. Without bothering to hide my certainly beet-red face, my waist still pinned by Khalid, halfway embraced against his chest, I simply turned my head to look toward the gathered crowd.
Among them stood Count Walter, covering his mouth with a face on the verge of bursting crimson, Lady Asla looking utterly shocked, Celine beaming with excitement as though watching a romance novel unfold, several familiar faces glancing back and forth between Khalid and me with rapt fascination, and lastly—oh, dear.
I let out an apologetic sigh at the sight of Isabel trembling with an ashen face. Even by my own judgment, I was quite the shameless villain right now. One could read with absolute clarity what was running through her head regarding the sight of her fiancé and her friend locked in a torrid embrace.
“Sc-Scarlett… How could you—”
“Oh, my! Scarlett, we've gone and interrupted your wonderful moment. We'll get out of your way, so please, do carry on!”
Cutting across Isabel's trembling stammer, Violetta, who had been watching with pure delight, made an exaggerated fuss. Olivia, on the other hand, watched us with a look brimming with ridicule.
Trembling like a wounded bluebird, Isabel looked infinitely lovely and pitiable, even from my perspective as another woman.
If I weren't a woman who had repeatedly lost lovers to her, lost chances of engagement to her, lost a fair share of my standing in high society, and had so many other things stripped away by her… I might have fallen to my knees before her.
Of course, I knew full well how childish my actions were. But so what? You took from me without hesitation. When I remembered her soft smile, saying, ‘Scarlett, I only did it for your sake. A man taken so easily was never truly yours to begin with, was he?’ I held no regrets for striking back.
I turned my head. My gaze met the eyes that had never once left mine. Khalid was still looking solely at me. Those eyes, which had never held anyone before, wanted only me and looked only at me. That fact pleased me beyond measure.
In this situation with clear-cut boundaries between perpetrator and victim, I was the villain, and Isabel was the victim. Even so, feeling remarkably proud of having brought things to this exact point, I ended up letting out a light giggle.
All of this was a game of revenge wagered on myself.
Petty, and messy.
Chapter 1: The Seventh Betrayal
Six long years since graduating from the academy, six long years since the war broke out, and six long years since being semi-forcibly recruited into royal service right upon graduation.
I was worn down by the daily grind of duties. The war with the neighboring nation of Sierra had dragged on far longer than expected. It had been projected to end within four years, but Sierra had held out longer than anticipated, leaving our side visibly on edge as well. Amid that climate, the news of victory brought a surge of jubilation to the court far greater than rain after a drought.
“Did you memorize the entire list?”
“Yes. Still, the royal family really went all out, didn't they? It feels like they're determined to reclaim every single thing we lost up until now.”
“Naturally. Otherwise, those six years would have been a waste. Honestly, even His Majesty the King didn't expect the other side to resist so desperately. He likely thought they'd yield after a sensible amount of pushback.”
The cause behind the clash between Sierra and us was rather simple at its core. It was a contest over Beliche in the south. Beliche had belonged to Winchester since ancient times, but for various historical reasons, it had been ceded semi-forcibly to Sierra. The former king, Pierre III, had lost that territory, and the current monarch, Edward II, set out to reclaim it—along with whatever else we lacked.
One might call it unjust, but royal politics was inherently stained in blood, and no moral judgment belonged there. Besides, the duties and burdens of a sovereign were difficult to grasp for someone like me with no connection to the study of monarchs, so I had long since stopped weighing such values.
My only role as an official serving the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was to see through this long-awaited moment of triumph with distinction.
“Negotiation time is theoretically unlimited, but the window we have to secure all of our terms is strictly one hour.”
“I understand.”
“This isn't a negotiation worth turning into an endurance match. Beliche is already in our hands, and while His Majesty desires other concessions, we ought to walk away with every single one, shouldn't we?”
Celine nodded at my words and began organizing the list anew. We had to pinpoint the core issues of this negotiation and grasp the thread from the outset. Trusting the talents of Celine, who was exceptionally capable despite her youth, I had placed her at the very head of this negotiation table. There had been some pushback, but with His Majesty delegating full authority to me, I dismissed their opinions as reasonably appropriate.
Leaving her desk, I headed back toward my seat. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, creating a space I rather liked, and time spent unbothered by anyone was something I truly treasured—
“Scarlett!”
Ah, correction. There is always bound to be at least one person who shatters my peace.
I turned my head to see the woman who had barged through the door with a sour expression. Since her rank outstripped mine, I could hardly scold her—she was a royal princess, after all. Putting on an impeccably bright yet sharp smile, I glared at Violetta.
“What are you doing?”
“Scarlett, have you heard?”
Seeing how she had clearly dashed all the way here, I tilted my head. Beside me, I could sense Celine lifting her gaze. What on earth was it this time?
“Heard what? You have to tell me first.”
“Elliot is dating that wench Isabel.”
“Again?!”
The moment my lover's name and Isabel's tumbled from Violetta's mouth in the same breath, I lost my temper and shouted. Celine jumped to her feet beside me, but considering the entire court already knew my romantic history, there was nothing unusual about her reaction. Taking the glass of water handed to me, I downed it in one go. My earlier composure was nowhere to be found, and I glared at Violetta with my blood pressure visibly spiking.
“It's certain. They say they started seeing each other yesterday. There are already more than ten witnesses who saw her fixing Elliot's clothes on his way to work this morning. Scarlett, you really didn't know?”
“I didn't.”
Pressing hard against my chilling temples, I slumped down onto the desk. My voluminous skirts billowed out, and before them, Violetta spoke again with a frown.
“See, I told you we should have torn that wench Isabel apart right then… Why on earth do you still keep company with that girl? Really, what could you possibly find so dear about someone who's stolen her friend's lover seven whole times?”
I let out a sigh, entirely at a loss for words. A throbbing headache was setting in. Celine offered me another glass of cold water from the side, but lacking even the energy to take it, I simply shook my head.
I had to admit it. I was out of my mind. Everyone around me asked why I continued associating with Isabel, but frankly, it wasn't as though I enjoyed having my things stolen time and again.
Yet isn't there that saying about how once something becomes a habit, you no longer even realize you're being struck? Of course, I wasn't the sort to find affection within mistreatment, but cutting ties cleanly with a friend known since age five was extraordinarily difficult.
And admitting it once more, I had been an utter fool.
The first time Isabel began dating a lover of mine, I was sixteen and she was fourteen. The partner had been my second love. Thank goodness he wasn't my first, or it would have left me traumatized enough to distrust men for life. Back then, I loved Isabel dearly and trusted her without reservation, which led me to simply accept her brazen words—
‘Scarlett, a man who strays isn't right for you.’
The second, third, and fourth instances unfolded at the academy. The partners were a peer, Senior 1, and Senior 2, respectively. Back then, despite putting on a terribly pitiable expression, she held herself with surprising boldness, and with tears welling in that lovely face of hers, I fell hook, line, and sinker for her excuse: ‘This is all for your sake.’
I was an absolute idiot.
My heart began drifting from her in earnest, prompting me to keep my distance and grow suspicious, only after she stole two of the men I dated upon entering the royal service. When she took my lover for the sixth time, I told her with a deeply troubled expression that we shouldn't see each other for a while—yet even then, the sight of Isabel's tear-filled eyes had tugged at a corner of my conscience.
Ah, what an easy mark I was.
I had spent all that time cursing countless naive women, but I was hardly in a position to criticize them. Those women had fallen for a garbage man just once, whereas I had been played by an absurd friend seven times! Seven whole times!
Wow, aren't I something truly remarkable?
Drawing a breath, I swallowed dryly once more. Only then did the sight of Celine fretting nearby and Violetta looking at me with undisguised pity register in my vision.
If she were single, I might almost understand. But Isabel had a fiancé. Her fiancé, separated from her during the war, was still very much alive! After already breaking up my engagement once before, this girl really has some nerve!
“…I'm going to ruin them.”
“A splendid idea, Scarlett. And how, pray tell, do you plan on going about it?”
Violetta, who had scolded me daily for bending over backward for Isabel despite being wronged every single time, asked with a sardonic smirk.
Lifting my head and steadying my breath, I spoke quietly.
“First, I suppose I should deal with that spineless bastard, shouldn't I?”
