Translator: Nox

Chapter 13

You two have to run away or something!

The haggard Ostein Duke’s daughter, his wife, gathered every last ounce of strength left in her body and unleashed it as fury in her shout.

It even seemed like a conviction that they absolutely had to do so. In the Kranian Empire, the words of this fragile duke’s daughter, who looked ready to collapse at any moment, didn’t carry much authority.

But to Pheon, her words were absolute, even if she herself wouldn’t believe it.

It was ridiculous and pathetic how he was now hanging onto Kaella like this, after having gifted her a wretched, humiliating death—and when she was no longer even connected to him. Kaella must find him repulsive. He knew it.

Yet Pheon, who had always been shackled by duty and responsibility, couldn’t dare defy her. Whether Kaella showed a completely different reaction from before her regression or not, he had to at least try, exactly as she had demanded.

It was either the atonement of a fool or the lingering obsession that was so very Pheon.

“It’s been hard to meet up lately.”

The moment he left the Ostein Duke’s townhouse, he went straight to see Beatrice Lavalle.

After his proposal—which lacked even a ring, any sincerity, or even the word “marriage"—she had been avoiding him with all sorts of excuses. It was only natural. She had no intention of marrying Pheon, as her mother, the Duchess of Monde, desired.

But Pheon, who had already assigned a loyal watcher to her, had no trouble appearing suddenly when Beatrice was alone.

“Pheon.”

Beatrice was terribly flustered. Even if he had come to Kline, Pheon never mingled in high society, and he had always been considerate enough not to meet her too often. Why had he come looking for her again?

She hurriedly glanced around, worried about prying eyes. But Pheon simply gazed at Beatrice with a calm expression.

Beatrice rushed over and threw her arms around him.

“How did you get here? People might see…….”

“It’s fine. No one’s around.”

She looked up at Pheon. Just that expression—gazing up at him with her doe-like eyes—was enough for Beatrice to steal hearts and hold gazes captive. Pheon looked down at those lovely pinkish eyes without a spark of emotion.

There had been a time when those eyes had comforted him. A time when he had dreamed of marrying her someday. He must have been twelve—no, thirteen. It was the fleeting first love of an innocent boy.

To Pheon, now living his twenty-eighth year for the second time, it was a gaze so faded by time that it had lost all luster. Once he saw the disgusting truth hidden behind those eyes and broke free from his shackles, all that remained was the realization that even his memories had been a deception.

“……I heard the news. His Imperial Majesty is…… with that girl Kaella and you…….”

Beatrice trailed off, her eyes welling with tears.

Pheon knew she had the talent to shed tears on command whenever she felt like it. At the same time, he caught the long-brewing contempt in her words—"that girl Kaella.” Beatrice looked down on Kaella.

“What do you want to do?”

There was no value in reacting to those tears one by one. Or rather, it was too much of a hassle. Just as he had been ruthlessly indifferent to those without worth in Lüsenford, Pheon showed no mercy here.

“What do you mean, what do I want to do? How can you even ask that, Pheon? Of course I want to be with you, but how could I defy an imperial decree?”

Beatrice let tears fall, knowing she held no power herself. She could only clutch desperately at his hand.

The pitch-black spell of restraint crept over him through her tears and her hand. Even those words were incantations. Each one reinforced the spell endlessly, designed to make Pheon take them at face value.

“Pheon, are you, are you going to forget me? No. I’m, I’m all alone here. You know that. You’re all I have.”

Suppressing the lips that twisted involuntarily at those spell-like words, Pheon asked exactly as Kaella had cried out.

“Shall we run away?”

He uttered words he would never say. Beatrice went pale as a ghost.

“Th-that…… how could you…… that’s impossible, Pheon. Get a hold of yourself.”

If she was going to play the part of a love-crazed lover, she should have at least played along properly. Even Beatrice, who could produce tears on cue down to the exact number, couldn’t maintain her perfect act in this moment of genuine fluster.

“It’s an imperial decree!”

Imperial decree. Wasn’t that the biggest word they had brainwashed him with, ensuring he would inevitably obey? Why was Pheon suddenly acting like this?

“So you’re fine with me marrying another woman.”

His tone was serene. It wasn’t all that surprising since everything was unfolding exactly as he had known it would.

But his voice was inherently a deep, profound bass, and even when he spoke plainly, it made listeners flinch and feel intimidated for no reason. Startled, Beatrice scrutinized Pheon’s unreadable face.

“How could I be fine with that? I’m only looking at you! How can you say something like that, Pheon…….”

Leaving Beatrice to bury her face in his chest and sob with heaving shoulders, he couldn’t shake the feeling of annoyance.

Annoying. Repulsive. Because of this shackle disguised as tears, he kept discovering anew just how foolish he had been.

“How could we run away? His Imperial Majesty wouldn’t let us get away with it. It’s not that I’m okay with you getting married. It just tears my heart apart.”

Even as she rambled on, she must have thought Pheon—who knew nothing—was a fool. Recalling what Beatrice had hysterically babbled in front of his wife’s corpse, Pheon waited for her to stop on her own.

Beatrice said a lot, but none of it reached his ears. The spells she had so painstakingly woven were now nothing more than worthless babble to him.

“I understand.”

Pheon nodded vaguely.

“You get what I’m saying, right, Pheon?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t forget me. Promise you’ll only love me.”

To the woman who had mocked him for looking at Kaella instead of her at the moment of marriage, he gave no reply.

Before they knew it, another day had passed in Kline, and darkness was falling.

Beatrice repeated her incantations several times, insisting he couldn’t abandon her, before parting ways as if with no choice. The man and woman, pretending to be in love while disguised, were both exceedingly busy.

*

“Come in.”

The emperor, who had summoned Pheon briefly, beckoned him over.

“Come closer. Must be hectic with the sudden marriage order, eh?”

Ever since the Empress had collapsed, the emperor had been unusually affectionate toward Pheon. Having once been properly killed by that emperor’s hand, Pheon knew well that this warmth could turn to murderous intent in an instant, so he placed no special meaning on it.

But the nobles aside from him were astonished. The emperor had never treated the Empress’s illegitimate son—always banished to the front lines—with such tenderness.

To the emperor, Pheon was humiliation incarnate. As the Empress’s only child—and a strong son at that—it was all the more so.

Among the emperor’s illegitimate children, no one matched Pheon’s all-around excellence or his striking appearance. No one knew who the man the Empress had fallen for was, but rumors persisted that he must have been extraordinarily handsome.

“At a time when Your Majesty is worried about Her Imperial Highness the Empress, I hesitate to proceed with the marriage.”

Could he somehow avoid it? If this marriage fell through, the countless lives depending on his shoulders would scatter meaninglessly, but Pheon hadn’t given up and was still probing for possibilities.

“I see, I see. Your heart must not be in it. But the Empress’s collapse has sharpened my senses. You need to settle down and become a family man yourself.”

The emperor nodded and gestured to the chamberlain at his side. The chamberlain approached deferentially and offered Pheon a velvet box he was holding.

Pheon accepted it for now. Even if it contained a razor-sharp dagger or poison, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Open it.”

But inside the box was no blade—it was jewels. A bracelet of citrines and diamonds woven together, gleaming beautifully, and a rather large diamond ring.

“It’s one of the Empress’s jewels. But it’s still a marriage, so you need an engagement ring for the proposal, don’t you?”

“……Thank you for your thoughtful consideration.”

“The ring should come from the man.”

He had given Kaella a ring once before as well. He was so indifferent that he couldn’t even remember its design or how he had obtained it. All he recalled was that Kaella had always worn it preciously.

He remembered seeing her from afar, crying as she searched for it after losing it once. Rumors had spread in Lüsenford that the Duchess had enchanted her wedding ring to communicate with the emperor’s faction.

‘It must have been Beatrice’s scheme. Even that brief disappearance of the ring was deliberate.’

Amid the Lüsenford nobles who bullied the foreign duchess and the emperor’s spies, tensions in Lüsenford had escalated to extremes. Who was to blame? In the end, it was his fault as the grand duke.

“It is an honor, Your Majesty.”

He had grown adept at empty words that weren’t sincere at all. By parroting what others said well, the emperor treated him as if he were a true son. A hollow laugh escaped him.

*

What to do about this marriage. He had regressed, done his utmost to avert death, and his mother the Empress had quietly collapsed.

Even with so much changed, the marriage was still fated to happen, which was absurd—but in truth, Pheon could not refuse it according to his plans. Even at today’s luncheon, Duke Ostein had gripped his hand tightly.

‘Take good care of my daughter.’

Adeo knew well that Pheon was currently the best prospective groom Kaella could choose.

But Pheon knew he was the absolute worst of the worst. Hadn’t Kaella been furious just recently? Every time he faced her, he was keenly reminded of how pathetic and powerless he was in her presence.

No matter how he thought about it, the only conclusion was that he had to marry her to protect her—which only made him feel more pathetic.

“Your Highness, Lady Lavalle has entered the Soleil Palace again today.”

Knight Lenar, who had sidled up discreetly, reported on Lady Lavalle’s increasingly suspicious movements and glanced cautiously at Pheon.

From the first report until now, Beatrice had been secretly visiting the Soleil Palace—the emperor’s private residence—without fail every single day.

For the flower of high society, not yet married, to frequent the palace where the emperor resided, avoiding people’s eyes, was shockingly scandalous news. Pheon, who had pinpointed the exact moment to catch this unknown fact, merely smiled instead.

“She must be busy.”

Knight Lenar had sensed that his steadfast lord had changed a great deal recently. Pheon issued orders of unknown purpose, and every time Lenar carried them out, he uncovered new truths that left him stunned.

“What shall we do?”

“Keep watching her.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Darkness had fallen over Kline, and before he knew it, Pheon found himself lingering near the Ostein Duke’s townhouse. While Kaella had been collapsed, he had scurried about trying to block this marriage, but the diplomatic situation with Keruzhan was too clear-cut.

The entire empire agreed they could not hand the Ostein Duchy over to Keruzhan. Thus, the duchy’s sole heir had to wed into Lüsenford.

‘The emperor is already planning to marry off the Ostein Duke’s daughter as he pleases.’

Even if Pheon overturned this marriage, Kaella wouldn’t get the one she wanted. In the worst case, Adeo could die again. That was why Adeo had entrusted his daughter to him.

With such a crisis hitting before he could even gather strength, there was little he could do. The political landscape, unknown to him before his regression, now unfolded clearly before his eyes, tormenting him deeply.

It was then, as Pheon walked through the darkness, that he spotted someone slipping out furtively from the Ostein Duke’s townhouse.

*

Objectively speaking, Kaella was in no state to run away right now.

Her severe illness hadn’t fully subsided yet, and the duke’s household was anxiously watching over her, fearing it might worsen. Kaella had always been prone to minor ailments since childhood.

‘But it’s all death anyway, isn’t it?’

Yes. Whether sick or refusing this marriage, the emperor would plunge her into something more miserable than death; even submitting and going to Lüsenford meant death.

She was the emperor’s sly spy, putting on a facade of docility! The people of Lüsenford had pegged her as the woman who made their grand duke unhappy—not Beatrice, who would make him happy—and stared at her accordingly.

Hahaha. A clear laugh burst out. Though it was followed by painful coughing, Kaella was no longer in her right mind.

She was grateful just to have survived, but her father—who already suffered enough tension every time he visited the imperial palace—couldn’t be burdened further with a troublesome daughter like her. It would be better for him to have a brat who made him worry.

The cheerful members of the Ostein Duke’s household were each staggering under their own burdens.

‘I didn’t think I’d actually go through with it.’

Kaella glanced back at the receding Ostein townhouse. As the Lüsenford Duchess, everywhere had been eerily quiet, and winter dragged on forever.

Thoroughly isolated, she had developed a habit of brooding over the past with deep regret, her thoughts sometimes drifting into meaningless what-ifs. Like turning “I should have done that back then” into a concrete plan.

In the bone-chilling cold and solitude, Kaella had vividly imagined escaping before her marriage. She had rehearsed it so many times that she could execute it on the spot.

She stole a maid’s clothes, smeared soot on her face, and wrapped her platinum hair in a headscarf. She had learned the harsh ways of the world brutally in Lüsenford. Even if she fell to rock bottom, it would be less miserable than Lüsenford.

‘If I’m caught, I’ll die.’

Or be dragged back to Lüsenford. Either way, it was death.

A painful death, a less painful death—anyway, a horrific death. Hahaha. Kaella laughed silently. So until the moment before death, she would do as she pleased, then die as cleanly and quietly as possible.

To the warm south. Unlike Lüsenford, where the silence was spine-chilling and the snow could kill, to the bustling, warm south full of life. From her time in Lüsenford, Kaella had always wished to die in the warm south.

“Has Jutirang Street closed already?”

“They say it closes early these days.”

Riding in a smelly hackney carriage with others didn’t faze her at all.

The North Tower, where she had last lain, had been far filthier. After getting off in a commoners’ residential area, Kaella decided to walk a great deal. She knew well that running away wasn’t done elegantly on horseback with escorts.

Once she walked and passed the city gate guards, that was it. Which crowd to blend into? As Kaella carefully stepped forward, predicting the heightened security due to the Empress’s health,

“Going any further is dangerous.”

A voice that couldn’t even address her as duke’s daughter seized her.