Chapter 34
The secret remained buried, a truth concealed from the Emperor and Empress alike. It was a burden Ferdinand carried in isolation, a vulnerability he guarded with fierce intensity.
No one would ever welcome the exposure of such a devastating flaw.
The irritation radiating from the Crown Prince was palpable, intensifying by the second. His mood was volatile enough that even the most harmless object in his path might be kicked aside in a fit of pique.
A peace offering was necessary.
The handkerchief I had tucked away came to mind, but as I moved to offer it, I paused. Given his prickly temperament, there was every chance he would simply discard it in disgust. It wasn’t a luxury item; my current situation only allowed for a simple square of cotton.
He stood there in the sudden downpour, a Crown Prince who could hear nothing, watching me with sharp, suspicious eyes, terrified that his secret had been laid bare.
“Clean the blood away.”
I enunciated each word with deliberate care as I pressed the fabric into his palm. I felt him tense, his initial instinct to hurl the gift away wavering into hesitation.
Without lingering, I caught the edges of my skirts and sank into a formal curtsy.
“Meeting you was an honor, Your Highness.”
Standard etiquette dictated that the encounter should end there. However, knowing that this man was destined for a life devoid of rest, I allowed myself one final remark.
“I wish you a night of peace.”
In the fleeting moment our skin met, I realized his hand was as cold as a block of ice.
“Clean the blood away.”
The words were lost on Ferdinand. The rain had rendered him deaf, his senses overwhelmed by the torrent of divine power surging through his veins.
Yet, as Tulia offered the cloth, she mirrored the action of dabbing at one’s mouth. Like a fledgling mimicking its mother, Ferdinand followed her lead, slowly bringing the handkerchief to his lips. The drying crimson stains transferred onto the white fabric.
It was rare for Empress Carmi to strike him so openly. She was meticulous about her reputation, cultivating an image of a saintly and compassionate ruler. She avoided leaving physical marks on his face whenever possible.
Instead, her cruelty was more calculated. She had executed his nanny and silenced any servant who showed him a shred of pity by removing their tongues. She hid needles in his garments and, throughout his infancy, had slowly introduced toxins into his meals.
She likely suspected that his inherent divine strength would prevent the poison from being fatal. While he survived, the agony was absolute. Young Ferdinand had been haunted by scorching fevers and the sensation of his internal organs being shredded. No matter how many times he begged for relief, the palace physicians never stepped foot in his residence. The Empress’s loyalists, who served as his attendants, merely offered empty promises that sleep would bring an end to the pain.
He had grown used to the suffering now.
Ferdinand stared at the stained cotton.
“Nothing but a scrap of fabric,” he muttered. He couldn’t hear himself, but the silence was familiar.
He pictured the young girl from the House of Frazier, remembering how she had shook like a leaf while handing him the cloth. It was a basic thing. Noble daughters of her status, typically smothered in affection, carried lace-trimmed luxuries. Though they had never met until now, he knew Tulia Frazier by her signature pink hair and pale green eyes.
The sight of such a high-born lady using such a plain handkerchief spoke volumes about her life. She had servants to provide her dresses, but no family who cared enough to look after the small details.
For a moment, he felt a kinship with her, though he quickly dismissed it. Even her meager comforts far outweighed the desolation of his own existence.
“Meeting you was an honor, Your Highness.”
He had read those words on the lips of a thousand nobles. But as she turned to leave, she had said something else. He tried to reconstruct the movement of her mouth in his mind, but the memory slipped away.
The rain showed no sign of stopping. He needed the swelling on his face to subside before he could show himself. Pressing the damp, humble cloth against his cheek, he realized that despite its simplicity, it was exactly what he required.
Ferdinand looked up into the gray sky and let his eyes drift shut.
His presence was suffocating. I finally understood why the game required meeting him as a child to achieve his ending. Even now, his stare was so predatory and fierce that I feared my legs would give out if I encountered his adult self. He truly lived up to his reputation as a tyrant.
I hurried through a side path, eager to leave. My sodden dress was a heavy nuisance. Adel had picked out this extravagant piece specifically for my visit to the Imperial Palace with the Grand Duke, and now it was ruined. Restoring it would be a nightmare.
I was already rehearsing the excuses I would give the guards when I was suddenly jarred.
My foot hit an obstacle, and I tumbled to the ground.
A shadow loomed over me, blocking out the rain.
“They claim the White Tower is a bastion of purity, yet I find nothing but filth crawling here.”
The voice was dripping with condescension.
“What is this bedraggled rodent doing in my path?”
I looked up at a boy dressed in dark, expensive silks. The silver insignia on his shoulder and the insufferable arrogance in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He looked like someone who had never been told ’no’ in his entire life.
It was Dave, the Second Prince.
The realization hit me—this brat had just tripped me.
Dave let out a sharp, mocking click of his tongue. For a panicked second, I wondered if he’d seen me with Ferdinand, but his expression suggested otherwise. He wasn’t suspicious; he was just bored and looking for a target.
In his eyes, I was likely just some low-ranking noble girl who looked like a mess. He was waiting for me to grovel. It fit the character from the original story perfectly—a spoiled, greedy prince who used his mother’s influence to bully anyone he pleased.
I tried to push myself up from the wet ground, but a sudden force sent me back down.
Dave had kicked me.
I stared at him, stunned. Even Tedrick, as obnoxious as he was, hadn’t stooped to physical violence.
“How dare you!” Dave barked, his face twisting with feigned indignation. “You have the nerve to touch the Second Prince and you don’t even beg for a pardon?”
He was actually claiming that my attempt to stand up was an assault because I hadn’t apologized for existing in his personal space first. My ankle throbbed from the fall, and I looked at him with pure incredulity.
This was the Dave I knew from the story, but his hostility toward me felt amplified. Was it because I wasn’t the protagonist, Coriko? Was being Tulia, the doomed villainess, enough to invite this level of cruelty from the start?
Then it clicked. He didn’t even recognize me. He was just tormenting a stranger because he could.
I suppressed the white-hot rage bubbling in my chest. To survive this world, I had to play the part. I forced my body to tremble, putting on a mask of pure terror.
“I… I touched Your Highness?” I stammered. I had no intention of actually saying sorry.
“Indeed! You might have caused me injury!”
“But… Your Highness,” I said, keeping my voice shaky. I knew that appearing weak would only feed his ego and make him feel he had already won.
“I think you’ve made a mistake.”
