BWG - 12

When Eleanor returned, the Roland estate felt as cold and foreign as someone else’s home.

She was treated almost like a prisoner, with an impenetrable guard surrounding her. Maids were always stationed in her room—never fewer than three—and outside her door, guards stood watch like sentinels at a prison gate.

On her way to the dining room, she noticed that every entrance was similarly guarded, and unfamiliar escorts patrolled the garden incessantly. Many of these guards were new faces.

At dinner, she encountered Edwin, his expression stern as ever.

She didn’t bother making excuses about being kidnapped—it would’ve been pointless given the missing signet ring and coin purse that had vanished along with her. Edwin remained silent for the most part, likely avoiding serious discussion since Adelle, his wife, was present. They seemed intent on keeping the meal light.

But Adelle, after scrutinizing Eleanor’s shoulders before even picking up her spoon, remarked:

“You’ve gained quite a bit of weight since I last saw you.”

Edwin frowned alongside her.

“It seems you shouldn’t be eating at all right now.”

With that, the plate in front of Eleanor was promptly removed.

All that remained were a few beans and some salad—not particularly appetizing anyway—but having the dish snatched away left a sour taste. Across from her, where only a transparent water glass sat, Edwin and Adelle indulged in a lavish spread. Despite the heavy atmosphere, they ate heartily while Eleanor stared into space.

Her mind drifted to Fertan, who once playfully begged her to eat just one more bite of meat. The stark contrast between Edwin and Fertan made her already frigid heart grow colder.

“I think it’s best if I excuse myself,” she said.

Edwin paused, elegantly setting down his fork and knife, and dabbed at his lips with a napkin.

“We’ll talk later. Wait for me.”

Before Eleanor could leave, Adelle hastily added:

“We’ll need to call a tailor tomorrow to let out your wedding dress. With the ceremony just two days away, things are getting tight.”

A pointed jab about her waistline.

Fertan’s teasing comment about liking strong women echoed mockingly in her ears.

Was this house always so desolate and empty? It wasn’t just the lack of food that made her feel this way—it was their attitude, treating her like an object to measure and appraise.

Yes, it had always been like this. Eleanor was used to being valued like a commodity. As she became more “valuable,” her so-called family across the table rejoiced.

Turning back momentarily, she glanced alternately at Edwin and Adelle.

Come to think of it, how much did Adelle know? Surely, as Edwin’s wife, she wasn’t completely unaware. But surely he hadn’t shared the truth about assassinating the late emperor—that was far too critical a secret.

“The tailor... I suppose I must meet them. What else do I need to do?”

“After adjusting the dress, you’ll need to focus on skincare. Your complexion has darkened terribly—how we’ll fix it in just one day is beyond me, but what can we do? The wedding is imminent.”

Eleanor watched silently to see how far Adelle would go.

“And after that?”

“Once you enter the palace, you’ll need to prepare for childbirth immediately. That herbal tea I gave you earlier—you should start drinking it now. Three times a day will do wonders.”

Eleanor swallowed hard, suppressing the rising bitterness. From the grim reality of marrying Leonard to the bleak future ahead, the weight of her impending fate pressed down on her like a prisoner awaiting punishment.

She grew irritated. Hiding her displeasure, she decided to subtly provoke Adelle as her own form of revenge.

“I’ll do my best. Adelle truly knows her herbs, doesn’t she? Explains them so well too. I’d believe it if she told me she concocted the medicine herself instead of relying on an apothecary.”

Adelle’s face visibly changed.

Without moving her head, she shifted her gaze toward Edwin, exchanging a glance. Edwin hesitated mid-forkful before resuming his meal.

The shift was brief, and they quickly regained composure, but Eleanor caught it clearly.

Given the recent string of troubling events surrounding Edwin, she had honed her observational skills to a razor’s edge. She’d even pieced together his role as the assassin. Even during meals, she couldn’t afford to relax.

There was definitely something shared between the couple. Otherwise, why the fleeting exchange?

Adelle’s act of pretending nothing happened was nearly flawless.

“How could I possibly understand such complex pharmacology? Just make sure you drink the tea regularly, Eleanor.”

Adelle retorted sharply, deflecting Eleanor’s barb.

But Eleanor had nowhere to retreat. If something felt off, she knew she had to press further. In two days, she’d kneel before a priest, holding Leonard’s hand, to recite the marriage vows. She had to fight her way out of this crisis, no matter how futile the struggle might seem.

Fertan wouldn’t be at the wedding—he’d be far away on the southern front.

She had to navigate this alone, even if it was a doomed effort.

“May I ask who prepared the medicine? If I continue drinking it, I might need more later.”

Adelle looked increasingly flustered.

“I-I’ll provide more when necessary.”

“No. Once I enter the palace, I won’t see you daily. I should at least know the apothecary’s name.”

“…”

“Tell me. Who is it, and where do they live?”

Adelle’s hands clenched the napkin tightly, her eyes darting between Edwin and Eleanor.

Finally, Edwin intervened.

“What does it matter? You can find out later.”

He grumbled irritably, seemingly annoyed by the tension. But Eleanor’s thoughts ran deeper. Adelle claimed to have personally ordered the herbal tea yet couldn’t name its maker—a glaring red flag. Another clue wriggled before her, begging to be seized.

Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t an ordinary secret. Edwin stepping in to shield Adelle confirmed that.

“Why wouldn’t it matter? I’m to become the crown princess. Shouldn’t I know whose hands prepared what I drink?”

“That’s guaranteed by Adelle—”

“If it’s trustworthy enough for Adelle, why not just tell me? Why hide it?”

Even as Eleanor pressed, Adelle couldn’t name the apothecary. She pushed harder.

“Where was the medicine prepared? Did you mix anything harmful into it?”

Deliberately raising her voice, Eleanor glared at Adelle with suspicion, implying accusations of ill intent.

The Adelle Eleanor knew was an ordinary noblewoman. Her jealousy toward Eleanor’s popularity in high society was manageable—petty remarks or minor provocations during wedding preparations, nothing more.

Adelle had no apparent motive to poison Eleanor. Becoming crown princess and bearing heirs would bring immense glory to the Roland family, elevating Adelle’s status as well. Yet she hesitated, unable to name the apothecary.

After a tense silence, Adelle finally spoke.

“It’s a shop called Pendon Apothecary on North Hill Street.”

“Pendon Apothecary…”

Eleanor repeated the name softly, committing it to memory.

“A woman named Emils runs it—an older commoner. She may not look impressive, but her skill with herbs is unmatched. I use her remedies myself.”

Adelle added the last part defensively, as if asserting her innocence.

But Eleanor couldn’t simply accept this explanation. Pushing back against Edwin and Adelle, even at the cost of strained relations, felt like her final desperate attempt to break free.

She resolved to dig deeper.

If there was a secret tied to this apothecary, she intended to uncover it—no matter how fiercely Adelle and Edwin resisted.

“Thank you for telling me. While we’re at it, may I confirm something?”

“Confirm what?”

“I’m curious if the herbal tea you gave me truly aids in pregnancy.”

In truth, that wasn’t what she was most concerned about. She already had some assurance the tea wasn’t harmful. What she really wanted to uncover was Edwin and Adelle’s unease.

Eleanor tapped her utensils to summon a servant.

“Bring Liam, my escort, and Evelyn, my maid. Right now.”

Edwin snapped angrily.

“They’ve been dismissed. They’ll be leaving this estate soon.”

“That’s your decision. But I want to keep Liam and Evelyn by my side even after marriage. I plan to take them with me into the palace.”

“Eleanor!”

“Why are you shouting?”

“They failed to judge right from wrong and let you stray. They deserve punishment.”

“If there’s an issue of rewards or punishments, we can address it later. But first, I need them to run an errand.”

As they bickered, Liam and Evelyn entered the dining room. Sensing the tense atmosphere, they stood at a cautious distance. Known as Eleanor’s close aides, their access had been restricted as part of their punishment.

Their dismissal had been decided long ago. However, Evelyn had spent time bedridden, and Liam had accompanied Eleanor to the palace, so the notice for them to leave the estate had only just been delivered today.

Amidst the palpable tension, Eleanor raised her stubborn chin.

“Liam, Evelyn. Come closer.”

Wary of Edwin, the master of the Roland household, they approached cautiously.

“I need you to go somewhere immediately. Visit Pendon Apothecary on North Hill Street and meet Emils, the pharmacist.”

She intended to resolve this matter swiftly. If she delayed, Edwin and Adelle might interfere—perhaps secretly contacting the pharmacist to orchestrate their responses.

“What should we ask the pharmacist?”

“Find out if they’ve prepared medicine for me. Hmm… Don’t mention specifics yet. Start by gently asking if they’ve sold anything related to the Roland family.”

Evelyn double-checked.

“Are we looking for specific sales talk?”

“I have a tea said to aid pregnancy, supposedly made by Emils. I want to ensure the medicine entering my body—meant to help conceive an heir—is safe. So, Liam and Evelyn, subtly inquire about what medicines or teas they’ve sold.”

“Yes, I understand. We won’t foolishly blurt out questions about pregnancy remedies.”

Eleanor patted Evelyn’s shoulder warmly.

“Leave immediately. To prove you’re acting on behalf of the Roland family, take a carriage emblazoned with our crest.”

While pushing them off on their errand, Eleanor kept glancing at Edwin and Adelle.

Edwin sat frozen, unable to stop her, while Adelle visibly trembled, struggling to hide her panic.

---

Liam and Evelyn returned late at night after meeting the pharmacist Emils.

Eleanor, pacing anxiously in her room, greeted them eagerly. She practically begged the other maids to leave temporarily, ensuring privacy.

“You’ve done well. Did my brother interfere?”

Evelyn sank into a chair across the table, exhausted.

“No, since we left immediately after hearing your instructions, nothing unusual happened. The pharmacist seemed genuinely surprised, clearly unprepared.”

“Good. What did you discuss?”

After sipping a drink to wet his throat, Liam spoke calmly. Both looked uneasy.

“Don’t be alarmed, but the pharmacist said they’ve never prepared herbal teas for the Roland family.”

“What? Then where did my tea come from? Did Adelle lie?”

“They did sell ingredients, though. Expensive ones, ordered frequently, which they remembered clearly.”

“If they sold ingredients… that means someone else formulated the tea.”

Could Adelle have made it herself? Her confident demeanor suggested it was possible.

Her thoughts tangled like a labyrinth. Why would Adelle hide such expertise? Knowledge of pharmacology was something to boast about, not conceal.

“Did you ask what ingredients were sold last spring? That’s when I started receiving the tea.”

“We didn’t delve that deeply, but they mentioned selling beneficial ingredients over the past few years—things to warm the body or improve skin.”

The hidden implications in their words unnerved her.

“Wait, so they’ve also sold harmful ingredients?”

“It seems so. We pretended to be servants sent by the duchess, hinting that the Roland family hadn’t fully paid for past transactions. After chatting casually, the pharmacist let their guard down.”

“What kind of ingredients?”

“Liam heard too, right? They mentioned frequent orders of poisonous herbs in the past.”

Liam nodded.

“Yes, and not just herbs—snake venom and scorpion toxins as well.”

Eleanor’s jaw tightened. The mention of poison shocked her anew.

Though she thought learning Edwin’s crimes had numbed her to surprises, new truths kept emerging.

Realizing why Adelle hid her pharmacological knowledge clicked instantly. Of course, she’d conceal involvement in dubious acts.

“When did these purchases happen?”

“The duchess has been a long-standing customer, apparently for over a decade.”

“A decade?”

The final puzzle pieces fell into place.

Seventeen years ago, the late emperor died suddenly. Edwin, then a young man serving closely in the palace, avoided suspicion despite thorough questioning.

Adelle, the duchess, knew how to prepare poisons. As a discreet regular at an obscure apothecary, she’d slowly accumulated toxic substances.

“How could this happen?”

Until now, Eleanor hadn’t questioned where Edwin obtained the poison. She assumed he had a secretive source. But upon reflection, at barely twenty, evading scrutiny while committing such a meticulous crime would’ve been nearly impossible.

It turned out his accomplice was right under their noses.

Adelle, the seemingly ordinary duchess known only for her petty jealousy…

“Huh…”

Her breath caught sharply, as if an invisible hand squeezed her neck.

Overwhelmed, Eleanor struggled to stay seated, trembling uncontrollably. Even as Evelyn rushed to comfort her, her condition barely improved.

The realization that Adelle was complicit—not just Edwin—was doubly shocking. Looking back, no one in her family was innocent. They all harbored sinister intent. Living among them felt horrifying.

Finally calming down, she lay on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as the dark night pressed on her. An unsettling dread crept over her, merging with the darkness.

The shadowy secrets she’d been oblivious to now loomed over her, threatening to extinguish even the faintest light of hope—hope tied to Fertan.

---

Eleanor’s room buzzed with commotion.

Before dawn, Eleanor’s room remained restless with constant comings and goings. The maids who monitored her every move were there to ensure she wouldn’t attempt anything reckless. Edwin’s intentions were now painfully clear—he no longer cared for her comfort or dignity.

The day before the wedding began like a storm, chaotic and suffocating.

Her body was washed, polished, and groomed until it gleamed. It felt as though her own flesh no longer belonged to her. Endless commands—”Raise your arm,” “Keep your head up,” “Look in the mirror”—poured over her without pause.

Yet her mind, detached from reality, struggled to grasp that the dreaded wedding was now imminent.

So this is how it ends—with me becoming Leonard’s wife.

Tomorrow, I’ll be his possession, subjected to his vile whims.

The thought of being paired with that repulsive man, whose mere gaze made her skin crawl, filled her with dread at the ruin awaiting her life.

Lost in a daze, Eleanor would snap back to attention whenever someone called, “Lady Eleanor.” Her pupils would narrow momentarily, only for her to slump again soon after, swaying unsteadily. She tried excusing her frailty as exhaustion from the relentless preparations, but deep down, she knew her collapsing spirit stemmed from the inescapable fate looming ahead.

“Lady, your wedding gown has arrived. Please come this way.”

Each step felt like sinking into mud. Her knees buckled like reeds caught in a swamp.

“Careful,” the maids and tailor cautioned, steadying her as she nearly collapsed. Servants dressed her while she stood limply, the heavy ceremonial gown weighing her down like chains in mire.

No matter how much she shuddered at the thought, tomorrow was inevitable. Tomorrow—the day Leonard finally claimed her, the day her wings would be forever clipped.

Fertan had once warned her that becoming crown princess wouldn’t make her pardon easy. Even if their coup succeeded and he rose as emperor, the unforgivable sins of the Roland family—Edwin’s crimes alone—would weigh heavily against her. How could she expect mercy when she ascended to such a position? Even Fertan, future emperor, couldn’t shield her completely.

She imagined the best-case scenario: Emperor Fertan doing everything in his power for her sake. Perhaps, after weighing punishment and leniency, she might be reduced to commoner status, allowed to open a modest shop with private financial support.

‘It’s not so bad. I can endure. I just need to survive tomorrow and wait for Fertan.’

If Fertan succeeded in his uprising and she endured Leonard’s terror, perhaps they could still find salvation.

If Fertan existed somewhere within the same city, hidden deep within the palace, Eleanor believed she could live gratefully despite everything.

The tailor meticulously checked the final fit of her wedding gown, fastening each button and smoothing out any imperfections.

“It fits you perfectly. How can you be so beautiful?”

Eleanor didn’t bother discussing measurements with the tailor. Instead, she smirked faintly, recalling Adelle’s earlier cruel remarks about her waistline.

“That’s all for now. Let’s take a short break. Everyone’s worked hard.”

Though her spirits sagged and her body felt limp, rest eluded her. While her fate seemed unavoidable, there was still something she could do for Fertan.

After changing into more comfortable attire, she asked a maid to summon Liam and Evelyn.

Edwin clearly disliked them serving Eleanor, yet he hadn’t forcibly severed their contact—not since last night’s apothecary incident. He avoided confronting her two loyal aides, likely fearing further exposure.

Eleanor had planned to corner Edwin today, prying loose whatever truths he still hid. But he was nowhere to be found, absent from the estate on some urgent matter.

She expected threats or warnings to silence her, but the eerie calm unsettled her. Why wasn’t he acting? What was he plotting? Her nerves prickled like the calm before a storm.

She assigned Evelyn to attend to her instead of the intrusive maids. For Liam, she had an important task.

“Liam, can you deliver this to the Bluewing Hotel?”

She handed him a hastily written letter.

Liam hesitated, glancing nervously around. A strange maid—an obvious spy for Edwin—watched them intently nearby.

Ignoring the eavesdropper, Eleanor continued calmly.

“As always, be discreet, quiet, and unseen.”

“Yes… yes…”

“Leave it at the counter for Fertan. You know the drill.”

In truth, Eleanor had never sent secret letters or love notes to Fertan before. This explanation was a fabrication.

Liam, sensing something amiss, stammered but kept silent, tucking the letter securely into his pocket.

“Be careful, and hurry back.”

This letter was bait—a promise made to the emperor. Its purpose was to lure Fertan out of hiding.

Of course, it would only serve as bait in the emperor’s eyes. Fertan wasn’t so easily manipulated, and Eleanor ensured the message contained nothing compromising. Unless she genuinely intended to deceive him, this single letter wouldn’t sway events according to the emperor’s plans.

Besides, Fertan wasn’t even in Solcherton anymore. By now, he’d likely reached the southern front. The letter might arrive after the uprising commenced. Even at its fastest, it wouldn’t reach him until well after tomorrow’s wedding.

Eleanor ignored the nosy maid listening nearby. She deliberately left traces of the letter’s delivery to ensure Edwin heard about it.

Given the emperor and Edwin’s close ties—likely co-conspirators in the late emperor’s assassination—they’d surely share updates. If Edwin learned of the letter, he’d report it to the emperor. Thus, Eleanor saw no need to personally brief His Majesty.

Skipping lunch, she drank only water before enduring another grueling session of beauty treatments.

Every moment, she keenly felt whose benefit these efforts served. Hours spent soaking, scrubbing her skin raw with toners—it all drained her physically and emotionally.

Her body turned limp, like a mollusk, while her heart plummeted endlessly into despair.

---

Fertan’s horse foamed at the mouth.

When its pace slowed significantly, he stopped at a nearby village to buy a fresh mount. Switching horses, he galloped onward.

A group of trusted subordinates had accompanied him from the southern front, but now only two trailed behind. Unable to match his relentless speed, others had fallen back one by one.

Two days ago, during their southward journey, they’d raced at breakneck speed. Surviving on rations and water, they’d pushed toward their goal. Now, returning north, they aimed to cover the same distance in a single day, leaving everyone physically shattered.

Fertan didn’t look back. Even as his thighs trembled, threatening to unseat him, he gritted his teeth and pressed on. Whenever drowsiness crept in, he replayed Herod’s latest letter in his mind. Recent reports painted an uncertain picture of their coup’s success. Too many risks loomed, keeping him perpetually uneasy.

As dusk approached, riding along a ridge resembling a beast’s spine, a lone horseman appeared at the horizon. One of his most trusted men.

“Your Highness, urgent news!”

Fertan snatched the letter, gasping raggedly as he read under the fading sunset.

The first line struck him cold.

“Lady Eleanor has left the villa surrounded by the imperial guard.”

“What… what is this…”

His parched throat failed him. The implications hit like a sledgehammer.

He felt dizzy, as though struck from behind. Eleanor wouldn’t leave the villa willingly—something catastrophic must have happened. And involving the emperor’s elite guards?

“The imperial guard searched the city and eventually reached the villa. A firefight erupted, leaving many casualties. Our losses remain unclear, but few likely escaped.”

“Skip the battle details. Tell me about Eleanor.”

Skimming past combat reports, his eyes locked onto her name.

“Lady Eleanor is unharmed. According to informants, she exited calmly and boarded a carriage. A high-ranking officer escorted her courteously.”

Thank heavens. Truly, thank heavens.

Her safety mattered above all else. In a battlefield of flying bullets, anyone could fall victim. Imagining her bleeding, collapsing—it tightened Fertan’s chest painfully.

That she hadn’t been mistreated by the guards offered some small relief. Still, interpretations varied widely, and potential scenarios abounded.

Despite everything, picturing her walking proudly amidst black-uniformed soldiers brought both heartache and pride. She must have handled herself brilliantly under pressure.

“The destination of the carriage remains unknown. I’ll send another update as soon as new information comes in—”

The ink smudged heavily below this line, interrupting the unfinished sentence. Two lines were hastily drawn through it, and the message continued.

“Just received word. The palace guard’s group entered the imperial palace, with Lady Eleanor among them. It’s difficult for us to gather further details inside the palace, so this is all I can report for now.”

Fertan flipped through the short letter front and back, a futile attempt to find more about her. Beneath the sparse details about Eleanor lay strategic suggestions regarding changes to their plans. Her story ended abruptly after just these few lines.

The lack of information gnawed at him. Why had the guards attacked the villa? Why did they take her? What happened once she entered the palace? Questions piled one on top of another.

Above all, he worried about her. His chest tightened with concern.

What was happening to her now? Was there trouble brewing? His heart pounded as if it might burst.

Herod’s letter was dated yesterday afternoon. After a full day and night, things could have taken a drastic turn by now. From the moment Eleanor left the villa, much of their carefully laid plans unraveled. Even setting aside the coup, her entire schedule had been thrown into chaos.

She was no longer safe. Despite his efforts to keep her hidden, it hadn’t worked. A sharp pang of self-reproach pierced Fertan like thorns.

He needed to redraw the board—both for the uprising and for Eleanor.

As he skimmed the rest of the letter, an idea struck him. They weren’t far from Solcherton City; a day’s ride would get them there.

“Why are you so late arriving? If the letter was written yesterday afternoon, shouldn’t you have traveled much farther?”

His subordinate caught his breath before replying.

“To be honest, I saw something suspicious along the way. Though delivering this message was urgent, I thought what I witnessed also needed reporting. The situation felt too important to ignore, so I delayed to investigate.”

“What did you see?”

“On the outskirts of the city plains, there was a group conducting military enlistment tests.”

Fertan’s dark eyes narrowed sharply.

“Military enlistment?”

“They weren’t wearing uniforms, but their setup clearly resembled recruitment trials. When I pretended to read the posted notice, someone asked if I was a new recruit.”

“Civilians gathering soldiers... So they’re expanding their forces.”

This private army likely belonged to Edwin. But what was going on? Tremendous changes had occurred in just days, leaving little time to grasp the full picture.

While Fertan was away at the southern front, developments unfolded beyond his control. Based on the limited information in the letter, he had to consider the most plausible scenario.

For now, he assumed the militia was Edwin’s doing. Though uncertain, it seemed the most rational guess.

“Why raise such a force? If they grow too large, the emperor’s army will crush them easily.”

His subordinates listened silently to his troubled muttering.

“Your Highness, forgive me, but perhaps they’re targeting us.”

“If they wanted to strike us, they wouldn’t need to gather mercenaries. They already have sufficient forces for that.”

“That’s true. Honestly… I’m not sure.”

Everything was muddled. Fertan clenched his jaw tightly and reread the brief letter several times. After much deliberation, a vague suspicion formed.

Why would Edwin suddenly assemble a private army? Given Edwin’s cunning nature, it didn’t make sense for him to expose himself so blatantly unless he anticipated being discovered.

Why build a militia so hastily?

“Perhaps...”

Looking back, Edwin had never directly tried to kill him. Except for the failed attempt during the late emperor’s assassination, there had been no overt threats since.

“Their target might not be us.”

He broadened his thinking. Who else could they aim to attack with a militia?

Could it be... the emperor?

If Edwin sought rebellion, it fit the current circumstances. Ambitious and skilled in conspiracy, Edwin certainly had the potential to covet the throne.

But urgency clouded judgment, and evidence remained scarce. Moreover, the timing coinciding with Fertan’s advance troubled him. This theory relied too heavily on intuition without solid proof.

There was no time to waste pondering on the road. In a few hours, they’d reach Solcherton City. Speculation alone wouldn’t resolve anything—he needed to move quickly.

“Let’s hurry. We don’t have time to linger.”

Gripping the sweat-soaked reins tightly, Fertan spurred his horse onward. Barren fields and tangled shrubs blurred past in streaks. His cloak billowed wildly in the wind.

A storm brewed within his mind.

The disrupted coup plans and Eleanor were inseparable thoughts. Like being swept up in a flood, everything shifted simultaneously. Coincidence? No, unlikely. An unseen tide seemed poised to crash over them both.

She was in the emperor’s grasp. Eleanor might already be detained in the palace. If the palace guards interrogated her harshly under the emperor’s orders—or worse, Leonard...

“Eleanor, please wait a little longer. Stay safe.”

Under the cloudy night sky, the distant glow of the city began to appear.

He tried not to dwell on grim possibilities. The last sighting reported her unharmed, so he clung to hope that she remained safe now.

As he galloped, the burning ache in his chest wasn’t from the intense ride—it stemmed from worry eating him alive.

Fertan’s heart scorched with anxiety every time he thought of her.

---

The crown princess’s quarters, where Eleanor would reside starting tomorrow, were close to the crown prince’s palace. A short walk along the first-floor corridor connected the two.

Even late at night, Leonard couldn’t sleep, his excitement keeping him wide awake.

Pacing inside and outside his palace, he eventually made his way to the crown princess’s quarters. Servants were already stationed there, and when he entered, palace guards saluted energetically. Passing through rooms meant for Eleanor’s use—a study and salon—he opened the bedroom door. The empty room smelled faintly of incense, lit in preparation for her arrival.

He felt giddy with anticipation.

No more misfortune would come his way.

Surrounded by the Roland family’s impenetrable security, Eleanor was practically in his hands.

Lately, Leonard had been on edge. Unable to locate Eleanor despite his vast intelligence network, his temper frayed dangerously. His appetite waned, causing him to lose weight, making his already gaunt cheeks even more hollow.

He lashed out at those around him. During the weeks Eleanor disappeared, bodies were carried out of the crown prince’s palace daily. Madness swelled within him, driving him to spill blood and hear screams to satisfy his urges.

Even as recently as yesterday afternoon, before news of Eleanor’s whereabouts reached him, Leonard had been slicing open the abdomen of a woman resembling Eleanor, rummaging through her entrails with a knife.

“But now it’s over. All that’s left is for me to claim her.”

A whistle escaped his lips unconsciously.

His footsteps echoed eerily down candlelit hallways, the sound akin to a snake’s menacing hiss.

Unaware of how unsettling he appeared, Leonard strolled confidently. Behind him, attendants shivered, too frightened to speak.

His eerie eyes gleamed unnaturally, the whites reflecting an otherworldly sheen that evoked fear. Every glance around exuded murderous intent. Wandering the palace hunting for victims had become second nature.

Dark circles shadowed his pale face, evidence of restless nights fueled by uncontrollable rage.

Thud, thud, thud—the sound of his boots reverberated ominously. A maid, unaware of who approached, stepped out to investigate. Leonard’s unexpected visit to the crown princess’s quarters caught her off guard.

Holding a candle, she peered curiously toward the source of the noise.

When she turned the corner of the corridor, Eleanor collided with Leonard.

“Ah!”

The candle she was holding hit him and went out, leaving behind black soot and hot wax that spilled onto his hand.

The scattered drops of wax burned his skin. A short groan escaped his lips.

“Ugh, it’s hot...”

Leonard shoved the maid, causing her to fall backward, while he blew hard on his scalded hand.

“Y-Your Highness.”

The maid, now flat on her back, belatedly realized the situation. Overwhelmed by sudden terror, she froze.

As the heat from the wax subsided, Leonard glanced down at her. Remembering his infamous reputation, the maid began scooting away on her bottom, trembling. Recent rumors of slaughter throughout the palace were enough to plunge her into mortal fear.

Leonard’s thin lips curled in displeasure.

“See this?”

He thrust his wax-covered hand toward her, making no effort to remove the hardened drips.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me...”

“If you’re sorry, then accept your punishment. Why do you only beg for forgiveness?”

“Your Highness, please...”

His unchecked madness showed no signs of stopping. Accustomed to bloodshed, he craved ever greater stimulation. The maid’s desperate pleas brought him a twisted satisfaction, and the urge to end her life became unbearable.

While handling affairs in his office to locate Eleanor, Leonard had appeared relatively sane. But his outward demeanor masked a fractured psyche.

Even he failed to recognize how far gone he truly was. His already precarious mental state had finally crossed the line, and Eleanor’s return—or the impending wedding—wouldn’t fix it.

No matter how hard his aides tried to cover up the reality, the truth had spread beyond the crown prince’s palace: the heir to the throne had become a deranged killer. Even the emperor now kept a wary eye on Leonard.

His warped thoughts converged on one goal.

‘Eleanor. Eleanor. My Eleanor.’

Though the habitual muttering had stopped, its essence now consumed him entirely.

Staring indifferently at the maid whose fate was sealed, Leonard envisioned the ultimate prize he would claim tomorrow.

---

She dreamed.

It wasn’t of Fertan.

Someone else appeared in Eleanor’s dream. Throughout the day, preoccupied with wedding preparations, her conscious mind often drifted to Fertan. Yet her subconscious held something equally meaningful.

A distant memory resurfaced vividly in her dream. She was about eight years old—or perhaps even younger. Her small frame, fluttering like a butterfly, seemed much tinier than the Eleanor of today.

Young Eleanor had burst into her father’s study like an intruder, playing as if it were her own domain.

“It’s late. Time to go to bed.”

“Just a little longer, Father. Just a bit more, please.”

Though composed elsewhere, she acted sweetly spoiled in front of her father.

While he worked late into the evening, she amused herself by flipping through random papers—not interested in their content but simply enjoying his presence.

The decorative shelves held various trinkets that became her toys. She used trophies from hunting competitions as teacups for pretend tea parties. Though past the age for such games, what truly delighted her was when her father occasionally glanced over.

Eleanor loved capturing her father’s attention.

Though her antics might disturb his work, he never sent her away. The study door always remained slightly ajar. He watched her play, patiently answering questions whenever curiosity struck.

“Father, what language is this?”

Waving a foreign script, she clambered onto his lap. Her mother would have scolded her—”Isn’t it time you acted like a lady?”—but not here.

“Shall we read it together?”

Her father pulled her close, preventing her from slipping off his knee. He read each sentence aloud, translating carefully. To her young eyes, the mahogany desk seemed majestic, and her father’s fluent command of foreign tongues made him appear invincible.

After hearing the entire passage, Eleanor traced unfamiliar characters with her finger, peppering him with questions.

“This letter looks strange. How do you pronounce it?”

“If you’re interested, shall I hire a tutor for you?”

Her interest wasn’t in languages but in climbing onto her father’s lap and listening to his soothing explanations.

“No, I don’t need all that...”

Perhaps thirsty from talking, her father poured tea from a pot on the desk. The lukewarm liquid swirled gently in the cup.

Its color differed from the afternoon tea they usually drank—it was a deep, rich chocolate brown. Sipping delicately, her father chuckled softly.

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?”

“Is it a new kind of tea? The color’s unusual.”

He drained half the cup in one gulp, set it down, and refilled it.

“It’s medicinal tea Adelle recommended. It contains herbs to help with sleep. She said drinking it in the evening is beneficial, so your mother and I have been having it lately.”

“How does it taste? Can I try some?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure if it’s suitable for children. Adelle didn’t mention that.”

Instead of tea, he poured water for Eleanor, drinking the rest himself. Disappointed, her gaze lingered on the cup as he sipped.

The dark liquid in the white porcelain cup, edged with gold, seemed unique—almost matching the hue of his desk.

Little Eleanor sparkled beside her father, pestering him endlessly. She rubbed her head against his chest, chattering nonsense, and kicking her feet in the air. Until the very last moment, she laughed and babbled cheerfully.

“Hnn... hng...”

Still asleep, tears streamed silently down her face, soaking her hair and pillow.

“No... Father, don’t drink it...”

When she awoke, puffy-eyed, reality hit her like a wave.

Her father was long gone.

Blinking through blurred vision, she looked around. The loss she’d felt years ago surged anew, threatening to swallow her whole. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she shivered—not from cold but from a chilling realization.

Only now, through symbols in a dream, did she grasp the injustice of her parents’ deaths.

Tears dripped steadily onto her lap.

Between dreams and reality, her father’s face lingered. If alive, he’d be older now, yet in her memories, he remained youthful and vibrant. No matter how much time passed, the father in her dreams stayed frozen in youth.

Each time she recalled him, guilt overwhelmed her. Though too late to change anything, remorse weighed heavily on her heart.

Borrowing the cover of darkness, she wept silently, careful not to alert those watching outside.

Sitting limply on the edge of the bed, she quietly soaked the sheets, just as she had done while crying in her sleep.

Eleanor had been closer to her father than her mother. While her mother disciplined her curiosity, her father offered unconditional affection. Perhaps that’s why he appeared in her dream.

Her parents had passed away 15 years ago—two years after the late emperor’s death.

At that time, Eleanor had been an innocent child, and her parents hadn’t suspected a thing. They must have firmly believed the herbal tea Adelle prepared would help them sleep. Edwin likely devised the meticulous plan, while Adelle selected the poison.

Though her parents passed away early, no one suspected foul play because their deaths seemed entirely unrelated.

Her mother died due to complications from dental surgery. Severe bleeding during the procedure led to infection later on. Her father sued the doctor, and the death was ruled an accident caused by surgical negligence.

Not long after, her father fell victim to an ambush. His escort was killed, and he sustained severe injuries. By the time the doctor arrived, excessive blood loss and sepsis left him beyond saving.

Assassination attempts on nobles were common, so the attack itself didn’t raise suspicions. Many were suspected—rival factions, greedy relatives, or business associates—but the culprit was never found.

Even amidst such seemingly unremarkable circumstances, Eleanor alone had heard whispers. Years later, she met her mother’s former maid by chance and learned fragments of what truly happened.

Her mother hadn’t stopped bleeding during or after the surgery. The blood-soaked operating table left such a horrifying impression that the maid still remembered it vividly years later.

Eleanor also overheard something from her father’s attending physician. Despite the short length of the stab wound, he bled excessively—an unnatural amount.

Now, the truth became clear. Though lacking evidence, Eleanor’s heart pointed accusing fingers at Edwin and Adelle.

“That herbal tea must be connected to the uncontrollable bleeding.”

Perhaps it even contributed to the subsequent infections.

The thought of Edwin plotting his own parents’ deaths made her stomach churn. Not just anyone—his adopted son, no—his own flesh and blood. Her father had even recommended Edwin as an attendant to the emperor for his future prospects.

And yet, Edwin had served him poison daily.

What could have driven him? Edwin, who thought himself superior to all, would do anything for ambition. Whatever despicable motive lay behind his actions, it surely stemmed from selfish greed.

A wave of nausea hit Eleanor. She clenched her chest, trying not to let anyone notice her waking in the middle of the night.

She sobbed uncontrollably, pounding her hardened heart with her fists. Between sobs and retching, she cursed her demonic brother.

In that moment, the last shred of familial attachment she’d felt toward him vanished.

---

As Fertan’s group entered the city center, they slowed their pace.

To avoid drawing attention from night watchmen, they tightened their cloaks, concealing the military uniforms beneath. At this critical juncture, they couldn’t afford any suspicion.

Upon reaching the designated safe house, Herod hurried out to greet them.

“Your Highness, you’ve arrived already?”

Fertan leapt off his horse and rushed toward Herod, gasping for breath. His voice came out rough and urgent.

“Eleanor! How is she?”

His worry for her burned like embers smoldering into ash. Grabbing Herod by the collar, he demanded fiercely:

“Eleanor?! Where is she?!”

“The lady…,” Herod stammered, loosening Fertan’s grip slightly to catch his breath. “She’s currently at the Roland estate.”

“Is she injured? Has anyone harmed her?”

“According to our informant there, she’s unharmed.”

“Ha…”

Fertan’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

After hours of riding, finally hearing good news about her overwhelmed him. Letting go of Herod’s collar, he collapsed gracelessly onto the ground, tossing aside his dusty cloak. As he exhaled roughly, his shoulders slumped in relief.

Thinking he might faint, Herod steadied him.

“Are you alright?”

Fertan shot Herod a piercing glare. Nothing else mattered except Eleanor.

“Is she just staying there? Anything else? Any problems?”

“Yes, my lord. Lady Eleanor has been busy preparing for the wedding.”

“The wedding…? Now you mention the wedding?”

When Eleanor had been hiding at the villa, he hadn’t paid much attention to the date. Even hearing that Leonard moved it up didn’t concern him—he assumed a fake bride would take her place, rendering the marriage invalid anyway.

But now, it was different. Tomorrow, Leonard would walk the real Eleanor down the aisle.

“This can’t happen.”

A fierce resolve blazed within him. He absolutely wouldn’t allow her to become Leonard’s wife.

Only now did he fully realize how much she meant to him. Without her, nothing else mattered.

Rebellion, power—it all paled compared to her. If given the choice, he’d abandon everything, take her away, and hide somewhere remote. His rebellion wasn’t driven by lust for the throne; survival forced his hand. But if she couldn’t join him on this path, he couldn’t bear the emptiness.

If forced to choose between two pressing issues, Eleanor would always come first.

Throughout planning the vast conspiracy, becoming emperor and rescuing Eleanor from her grim fate had been intertwined goals. He never had to choose between them.

But now? What if stopping her marriage jeopardized the rebellion?

“It’s impossible. I can’t let Eleanor fall into Leonard’s hell.”

Though his breathing steadied after the long ride, his heart pounded violently in his chest. He couldn’t endure losing her, knowing he’d be powerless to act.

She was the only one who held his soul captive. Just thinking of her lifted his spirits. She comforted him, supported him, and stood by him when needed.

Beyond cherished memories and countless charms, she was irreplaceable.

Even if she did nothing but breathe near him, it would be enough.

Eleanor had to stay by his side.

“My lord understands your feelings, but the bridal carriage departs from the Roland estate at dawn. Only a few hours remain.”

“I know. Dawn approaches soon.”

“Then… what will you do?”

Fertan rose, taking a deep breath, and surveyed those around him.

His subordinates, gathered for the decisive battle, awaited his decision in solemn silence.

This situation felt like a counterattack gone wrong. Though they appeared fierce, the devastating defeat at the villa surely affected morale.

Whether the emperor knew everything before attacking the villa remained uncertain. But they couldn’t sit idle after being crushed and losing Eleanor.

Fertan’s low, commanding voice resonated through the night.

“We change the entire plan.”

Herod, standing closest, bowed sharply. Those behind followed suit, acknowledging the order.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

They entered the building to devise detailed strategies. Their hideout was a closed shop in the old district, surrounded by other buildings they’d purchased to ensure secrecy.

First, Fertan urgently discussed the rapidly changing situation with his advisors.

Though Fertan desperately wanted to focus solely on Eleanor’s situation, understanding the broader context of their enemies’ movements was crucial to rescuing her.

The suspicious militia group expanded on what he’d read in the letter. Edwin was indeed behind it. Some of Fertan’s men had infiltrated by pretending to enlist, gathering valuable information. Rumors even circulated that the emperor sanctioned this force—an unbelievable claim.

Untrained recruits, still dressed in civilian clothes, roamed the city in groups of three to ten. Their presence unsettled some citizens.

Edwin’s goal remained unclear. The target could be either Fertan or the emperor.

But would Edwin even know Fertan was alive? And if he aimed to strike the emperor, why act so openly? Eleanor’s wedding was proceeding without a hitch.

“It seems we have an enemy lurking behind us.”

Herod nodded in agreement.

“Exactly, my lord. Not knowing their purpose makes them even more dangerous.”

“Edwin has poured an immense amount of funds into this operation—salaries, training costs, food… and weapons. Guns, I presume?”

“Yes, firearms. Swords take time to master, but even an amateur with a gun can cause significant harm.”

“So they’re arming raw recruits with guns…”

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Edwin was taking a massive gamble. This was a situation that demanded extreme caution.

Yet, they couldn’t afford to waste time investigating further. Dawn would break soon, and Eleanor would begin preparing as the bride.

“Is there any other news about Eleanor?”

“After I sent the letter, Lady Eleanor left the palace not long after. Based on yesterday afternoon’s timeline, she exited after a couple of hours and headed straight back to the Roland estate.”

Fertan’s sharp gaze urged Herod to continue.

“At dinner, Lady Eleanor reportedly clashed with Duke Roland. She sent Liam and Evelyn on an errand, and the two went out late at night.”

“If Liam and Evelyn are practically our allies now, did we manage to intercept them during their outing?”

“Yes, my lord. They met one of our informants near the apothecary while running their errand.”

“The apothecary?”

“They claimed the errand involved visiting the pharmacist. We intercepted them briefly to learn more. From what we gathered, there’s a hidden secret tied to the duchess—a detail we hadn’t focused on before.”

Herod elaborated further. Every snippet of conversation Liam and Evelyn overheard—from the dining room to their discussion with the pharmacist—was relayed to Fertan without omission.

As Fertan listened, particularly to Eleanor’s heated confrontation with the duchess, he pieced together the truth. The duchess was deeply implicated in old crimes. Hearing about the ingredients sold by the pharmacist made him gasp.

The source of the poison used to kill the late emperor had been uncovered.

Despite being forcibly escorted from the palace back to the estate, Eleanor had achieved another critical breakthrough. When the truth about the late emperor’s assassination came to light, revealing the origin of the deadly poison would lend undeniable credibility.

Her proactive efforts, even under dire circumstances, filled Fertan with pride—and heartache. How emotionally taxing and mentally exhausting it must have been for her. He questioned whether he truly deserved such unwavering support.

Perhaps the throne would be better suited for Eleanor. With her brilliant mind, she could revive the crumbling empire and lead it toward prosperity. Imagining her confidently listing policies she hoped to implement brought a fleeting smile, even amidst the tension.

If he declared Eleanor the next empress, how would she react? He yearned to see her incredulous expression, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

He missed her.

He longed for their sharp exchanges and the way her piercing gaze sent shivers down his spine.

He refused to let her hold another man’s hand. Though he hadn’t yet asked, Eleanor had to become his empress.

“Tomorrow.”

From the true emperor’s lips came an unyielding command.

“We launch the uprising.”

“Your Highness…”

Herod and the future ministers present voiced their loyalty in unison.

“A hidden enemy continues to grow stronger. Delaying only puts us at a disadvantage. We must assume Duke Roland could strike at any moment. The time to act is now—while their forces are scattered and disorganized, and ours remain tightly coordinated.”

The subordinates looked at their lord with utmost solemnity. The decisive moment approached with each passing second.

“Originally, we planned to exploit the cover of night, but hiding our identity no longer holds significance. If the villa was raided by the imperial guard, it’s likely our forces have already been exposed through the emperor’s intelligence network.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“The longer we wait, the greater the risk of counterattack. Even Count Ginédien, who commands the emperor’s army, won’t disobey a direct imperial order to mobilize. Therefore, swift action is imperative.”

“Are we attacking the palace in broad daylight?”

It was less a question and more a confirmation of their resolve.

“We’ll unleash our full strength. The 7th Division’s cavalry will arrive first—likely tonight, or by tomorrow at the latest. I’ll draft orders for the troops to enter Solcherton immediately. Protect innocent civilians and suppress any treacherous noble movements.”

Fertan penned a concise order on the spot. Since Herod needed to participate in the palace attack, the directive was handed to another trusted aide.

“Our assault on the palace won’t rely on stealth. A sudden, all-out firefight will commence. While we’ve strived to minimize casualties, the rapidly shifting situation leaves us no choice.”

“I understand, Your Highness. There are moments when safety isn’t the top priority.”

Another subordinate chimed in with agreement.

“To win, sacrifices must be made. I’ve long accepted this might be my end. Failure means death anyway.”

Fertan squared his broad shoulders, exuding the commanding presence of a ruler. In the past, he’d doubted himself, feeling inadequate. But now, he stood resolute.

Eleanor, on the verge of marrying Leonard, spurred him forward. His leg twitched restlessly beneath the table, itching to storm the Roland estate.

“Thank you for following my lead. Now, assemble the Vanguard.”

The elite unit tasked with assaulting the palace was nicknamed the Vanguard. Its commander responded promptly.

“The Vanguard is ready to deploy at your command. May I stay for the remainder of the meeting to hear further details?”

“No, act immediately.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The commander departed, agreeing to relay subsequent decisions through subordinates.

“Good. Let’s now finalize the detailed plan to rescue Eleanor.”

Fertan clenched his fists so tightly that tendons bulged on the backs of his hands. He interlaced his fingers atop the table, grinding his teeth beneath a tense jaw.

Though he couldn’t reveal this to his loyal followers, his heart leaned overwhelmingly toward saving Eleanor rather than slaying the emperor.

---

Inside and outside the Roland estate, young men loitered conspicuously. Peering out the window, Eleanor noticed groups of three or four armed individuals pacing everywhere her gaze landed.

Their presence didn’t resemble ordinary security. Never before had so many guards been stationed at once.

They were all under Edwin’s command—his recruits.

While applying makeup and dressing in her bridal gown, Eleanor pondered. Who were these men? Why were they milling about here? Perhaps Edwin’s absence throughout yesterday was tied to this activity. The atmosphere felt more like wartime chaos than a wedding celebration.

Meanwhile, Eleanor had nearly resigned herself to marrying Leonard.

By now, Fertan was likely deep in the southern frontlines, unaware that she would soon walk down the aisle. Accepting her fate, she resolved to ensure Fertan’s rebellion succeeded, doing everything within her power to aid him.

Even if she accepted their diverging paths, severing her emotional ties to Fertan proved impossible. His image haunted her, filling her chest with aching sorrow.

She thought of him constantly, forcing herself to push the thoughts away again and again. She tried to console herself.

‘Even if I can’t be his companion, other paths remain open to me.’

If Fertan ascended the throne, at least her life wouldn’t be ruined as Leonard’s wife. She could endure somehow.

‘…Could I really live like this?’

Already, she felt herself slipping away. She couldn’t fathom what life without Fertan would be like.

She kept imagining him bursting in from somewhere—climbing through a window or disguised as a fake guard. The illusion was so vivid it almost felt real.

When the time came and she descended to the reception hall, Edwin showered her with congratulatory words. Surrounded by gathered relatives, he played the part of an emotional older brother sending off his sister into a glorious future.

“I’m proud of you for ascending to such an honorable position.”

“……”

Thankfully, her thickly painted lips allowed her to remain silent.

“As you take on the responsibilities given by the imperial household and fulfill your duties as a wife, I hope you live well.”

His words drove another nail into her wavering heart. She was certain she’d never live happily. Every word Edwin spoke felt like walking through thorns.

As multiple maids supported the trailing hem of her elaborate dress and escorted her out of the house, despair overwhelmed her. Her movements slowed, as if her body no longer belonged to her. The weight of her gown felt alien.

Her veiled face was pale and stiff. To others, she might appear the epitome of a noble crown princess, but inside, she felt on the verge of collapse.

Forced into a situation she despised, she tried to steady herself, but tears threatened to burst forth despite her efforts.

As she passed through the grand entrance hall on the first floor, Eleanor suddenly felt the piercing gazes of unfamiliar men. Those who had been surveilling outside glanced curiously at her—the bride of the crown prince—as if witnessing something rare. Their curiosity carried an odd, unsettling vibe. They were neither guards nor soldiers, yet their rigid demeanor suggested a clear hierarchy among them.

Even amidst her turbulent emotions, Eleanor couldn’t ignore their presence.

Moments later, when Edwin followed them out, they all snapped into a military salute. A chill ran down her spine.

She froze in place, unable to board the carriage.

Their lack of uniforms had initially thrown her off. Accustomed only to seeing elite imperial guards, the sight of these unpolished men confused her. But now, she understood.

Edwin had undoubtedly hired strange mercenaries!

Fertan would return in a few days, launching his assault immediately upon arrival. Yet here were Edwin’s private troops, appearing out of nowhere.

The tears brimming in her eyes stopped swelling. Though her heart still ached with despair, she knew solving this problem took precedence. Even if she couldn’t escape becoming Leonard’s wife, she could still help Fertan. Now wasn’t the time to lose herself in anguish.

Evelyn hurried over, holding an umbrella over Eleanor.

“It’s starting to rain.”

Only then did she notice the cold droplets. Her mind had been so consumed by turmoil that she hadn’t even registered the weather worsening.

Evelyn shielded her silently, making no move to rush her into the carriage.

Under the umbrella, thick raindrops trickling down, Eleanor stared intently at Edwin.

Caught between those who celebrated fervently and those who mourned quietly, her thoughts strayed far from the wedding itself. With only moments left to exchange words, she carefully considered how best to uncover Edwin’s intentions.

Glancing around at the men stationed in the garden, she spoke sharply.

“Brother, there are too many guards.”

Edwin, far more cunning than she, didn’t flinch.

“It’s an important day. I can’t risk anything happening to you.”

“For someone supposedly concerned about my safety, they don’t seem appropriate. Their attire and behavior…”

Edwin glared at her openly. After the apothecary incident, their facade of sibling harmony had crumbled, and neither bothered masking their hostility anymore.

“I’ll handle it. Standing here dazed is ruining your bridal gown. Hurry up and get in the carriage.”

He pushed her back irritably.

But Eleanor wasn’t one to back down easily. Straightening her posture, she confronted him head-on.

“They look suspicious to me. Are there more stationed outside?”

“The rain will soak you. Keep the carriage windows closed during the ride.”

His dismissive tone only fueled her determination.

“So there are more of them? Are you overseeing some construction project, Brother? Building a new Roland estate, perhaps?”

“Eleanor!”

This time, she succeeded in riling him. By sarcastically implying he was gathering workers under his command, she struck a nerve.

In truth, proper construction projects required careful planning and expert oversight—not haphazard recruitment. Though she’d identified them as soldiers from their military salutes, she deliberately chose provocative phrasing to unsettle him further.

“If they’re not workers, then what are they for? From the looks of it, they’re doing nothing for my safety and only lowering the ceremony’s dignity.”

The drizzling rain added to the chaos. Instead of boarding the carriage, Eleanor prolonged the argument. Edwin grew increasingly frustrated as his private troops disrupted the wedding atmosphere. Worried she might flee again, he’d stationed them densely around the estate, but their disarray was obvious.

He just wanted her to shut up and get in the carriage.

Impatient, he snapped defensively.

“They’re harmless. Stop asking questions and let’s go.”

A sharp glint flashed behind her veil.

“Whether they’re harmful is for me to decide. I want to know why you’re wasting money hiring so many laborers.”

“They’re not laborers.”

“Then what?”

Eleanor lowered her voice, ensuring only Edwin could hear.

“Ah… judging by their swords, are they soldiers? Surely you’re not foolish enough to raise your own private army against His Majesty’s authority. Or is that exactly what you’ve done?”

“Preposterous! Private army, indeed.”

No one else suspected anything amiss from the brief salute. To distant onlookers, the men simply appeared disciplined guards serving the esteemed Duke Roland. Only those familiar with the estate knew such salutes weren’t customary here.

Seeing Edwin squirm gave her a sense of control.

Time was running short before she had to board the carriage. Prolonging the argument further would invite commentary from the watching relatives, who planned to follow her to the cathedral shortly after.

Pushing Edwin too hard would yield no useful information. It was time to wrap things up.

“You know raising a private army is a grave offense, Brother. One that could destroy our family entirely. Is this really how you want me to enter the palace as crown princess?”

Her aggressive tone brought her a step closer to him.

The thin black veil separating them somehow emboldened her. Fighting face-to-face, even as siblings, felt oddly empowering. Sharing the same violet eyes as Edwin filled her with bitterness. It felt unjust.

It was unfair that this man shared the same parents she had loved—and lost.

That he, who had killed them, bore the same purple hue in his eyes enraged her.

With her lashes pressed tightly against her eyelids, she glared at him.

Edwin retaliated with oppressive intimidation, his voice laced with threat.

“Get in the carriage—now. Or you’ll regret it deeply.”

The threat Edwin issued was laughably empty—a mere echo of the physical punishments he’d doled out a decade ago. It seemed desperation had dulled his wits.

Her reflections ended there.

Deep down, Eleanor knew Edwin wouldn’t dare harm her—not today. Ruining the crown prince’s wedding, his life’s masterpiece, wasn’t an option. He had no choice but to send her off as a beautiful bride.

Glancing up at the increasingly heavy rain, Eleanor smirked coldly.

“Well… there isn’t much time left before the ceremony.”

She even allowed herself a faint smile. This taunting tone—she must have picked it up from Fertan.

The carriage door clicked shut. Six horses clattered forward, pulling her toward a point of no return.

---

The distance from the Roland estate to the palace wasn’t far. Eleanor had traveled this road countless times during her frequent visits to Princess Lucena’s quarters. Though Edwin’s recent restrictions had limited her outings, she’d traversed this route so often she could measure it with her eyes closed.

Even with the windows sealed against the rain threatening to ruin her bridal gown, she instinctively tracked their progress.

Halfway there.

Almost halfway.

Each calculation brought her closer to Leonard—the madman whose very name made her stomach churn.

Eleanor had no choices left. But if one last opportunity arose, she wanted to pass along the information she’d gathered to Fertan’s trusted aides.

The carriage descended from the hillside lined with noble estates and approached the central avenue leading to Ablein Street, where the palace loomed ahead.

Her thoughts fixated on how to relay Edwin’s suspicious private army to Fertan. She tried not to dwell on what awaited her in just a few hours—as Leonard’s wife. No matter how shattered she felt inside, the reality of heading toward the cathedral wouldn’t change. Even if Leonard claimed her body, her soul belonged to another.

Across from her, Evelyn sat silently, sorrow etched into the downturned corners of her eyes. The despair of this wedding journey paired perfectly with the oppressive silence inside the carriage.

The drizzle fell soundlessly, blending with the rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestones.

Clopclop clopclop...

Then came a strange, distant cry—perhaps from the end of the hill or a side alley used by carts.

“What is that sound?”

It resembled the shriek of an enraged bird, yet unmistakably human. Its distinctiveness cut through the ambient noise like a war horn summoning troops.

Suddenly, chaos erupted around them. Shouts echoed, followed swiftly by the thunderous approach of galloping horses. The carriage jolted to a stop. The steady rhythm of wheels gave way to the deafening roar of men and beasts converging like a tidal wave.

Eleanor’s head snapped up. Life surged back into her previously frozen expression.

This clamor was undoubtedly aimed at her. Whoever they were, she prayed fervently they were Fertan’s men. Even if they were third parties intent on disrupting the wedding, anyone blocking her path to the cathedral was welcome. Any risk was preferable to Leonard.

“Open the window, will you?”

Terrified, Evelyn clutched her hands tightly.

“But the sounds are terrifying!”

“If you’re scared, hide behind me.”

Without waiting for Evelyn to move, Eleanor stood and opened one window.

Masked men wielding swords charged toward the carriage. At first glance, it seemed only a handful were attacking, suggesting they might be outnumbered. But soon, dozens more poured out from narrow alleys between buildings.

“They’re targeting us! Look, the fight has begun!”

A masked figure lunged at one of their escorts, slicing him before he could react. The man let out a brief scream and fell from his horse.

Eleanor’s entourage stretched long in front of and behind the ornate carriage. After the ceremony, these people would assist with subsequent festivities planned along the city’s central roads.

Few carried lethal weapons; most bore only swords due to the rain rendering firearms useless. The laborers Edwin had stationed near the estate lacked horses and proper gear, leaving only a small elite force accompanying the carriage.

Most others were merely household staff dressed in fancy attire for the procession.

The attackers struck with precision. Our side, relying on appearances alone, stood helpless against their onslaught.

Clashes erupted all around the carriage. Eleanor opened the opposite window. Masked assailants outnumbered her group overwhelmingly.

“Our side is losing quickly. Look, some are already fleeing.”

Despite the dire situation, a corner of her mouth twitched upward. Though she didn’t recognize the masked figures, her heart cheered them on.

To better assess the scene, she leaned out slightly, bracing herself against the rain-soaked sill. Latecomers to the battle weren’t masked but wore yellow armbands—likely markers to distinguish friend from foe.

Timid Evelyn cowered behind her, trembling.

“You’ll get hurt! Shouldn’t we close the windows and lie flat?”

The fighting hadn’t yet reached the carriage itself, though the encircling net tightened steadily, drawing closer to Eleanor at its center.

“Just a moment longer.”

Her interest wasn’t in the bloodshed but in identifying familiar faces among the attackers. She knew Herod and other informants from the Bluewing Hotel, as well as several individuals who’d visited Fertan at the villa. Desperately, she hoped to spot someone she recognized.

Rain-soaked streets blurred the fighters’ features. Among the unmasked, none appeared familiar.

Our side suffered a brutal rout. Skilled swordsmanship and sheer numbers overwhelmed Roland’s guards.

One masked figure moved exceptionally fast—clearly their leader. His swift strikes and light-footed leaps made him seem untouchable. He darted in and out of view, too quick to track through the small carriage window.

As allies fell one by one, Eleanor couldn’t muster sympathy. Being captured by these masked strangers felt infinitely preferable to becoming Leonard’s wife.

Gradually, the clash of weapons subsided.

Nearby, one of the guards protecting the carriage took a fatal blow to the neck. With a piercing scream, he collapsed onto the wet cobblestones.

Blood sprayed like a fountain, mixing with rainwater to form crimson pools everywhere. The street had become a gory battlefield.

With no enemies left to fight, the masked men swiftly advanced toward the carriage.

“They’re getting close.”

Eleanor hastily retreated from the window.

Not knowing who they were, following Evelyn’s advice to lie flat seemed wisest.

At that moment, the carriage door flew open.

“Ah!”

Caught off guard, Eleanor stumbled forward, her foot slipping on the threshold. She tumbled out—

Only to be caught mid-fall by a man.

Strong arms clad in black steadied her. Instinctively grabbing hold, she felt the firm muscles of his upper arm—oddly familiar.

“Whoa there.”

The man’s voice...

“Looks like Eleanor knows something after all. This warm welcome is making me so happy.”

A slimy, obnoxious attitude accompanied his smirk as he pulled her into an embrace, his hands wandering inappropriately despite the chaos of battle.

Breathless from the fight, his panting carried an oddly sensual undertone. Even without the mask, his decadent aura was unmistakable.

He tore off his mask.

“Fertan!”

It was him—Fertan, who shouldn’t have been here.

Catching his breath, his lips slightly swollen and his eyes crinkled with a playful smile, he looked as handsome as ever. The soft flesh under his thick eyelids gave him a mischievous charm.

By now, he should’ve been at the southern front or en route to the capital at best.

Eleanor stood frozen, her mouth agape, unable to form words. The shock of seeing him felt surreal—as if she were hallucinating or mistaking her deepest wish for reality. Even though his strong arms held her firmly, it felt unreal.

Fertan lifted her lightly and pulled her out of the carriage.

His teasing chuckle and wink suggested he found her stunned expression amusing.

“Are you this glad to see me? I’m so moved, I don’t know what to do.”

The black veil that had covered her face was pushed aside, revealing her complex emotions. Tears welled up, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward before twisting down again. The hand that had clung to him, thinking he was one of the masked attackers, now tightly wrapped around Fertan’s neck.

Yes, this was overwhelming joy.

A joy so profound it felt like a dream.

Her heart surged so powerfully she couldn’t express it properly.

Struggling to process the unbelievable situation, she traced his face with trembling fingers. It was unmistakably him—the same striking features she’d always admired. A moment later, a torrent of emotion crashed over her like lightning.

“Fertan...”

Afraid the sensation might vanish, she touched him again. The elastic, healthy skin slid smoothly under her fingertips. His warmth confirmed his return. Realizing this man holding her was Fertan, whom she’d nearly given up on reuniting with, sent shivers coursing through her spine.

Her parted lips still trembled with uncontainable emotion. Fertan naturally claimed her with a kiss.

His long, narrow eyes narrowed further.

“I was worried. I thought something might’ve happened to you.”

She had worried about him too—terrified he might lose his life if their coup plans failed. The sudden villa raid and the appearance of suspicious mercenaries had left her deeply anxious.

“I... I worried about you too...”

Her voice cracked, unable to continue. Instead, sobs escaped uncontrollably. Her facade of strength crumbled, exposing her vulnerability. She who had preferred being abducted by strangers rather than becoming Leonard’s bride. Death seemed preferable to holding the crown prince’s hand at the altar. Her intense aversion flipped into overwhelming relief, leaving her disoriented.

“Hnn...”

She pressed her wildly heaving chest against him, craving the warmth of his presence.

“Shh... You’re beautiful even when you cry, but I’d feel better if you didn’t.”

Her hand slipped from his damp nape, so she adjusted her grip. Sweat and rain soaked his black combat uniform, streaked with blood from those he’d slain.

---

When Eleanor showed signs of calming, he carefully lifted her back into the carriage.

“You’ll get wet out here. Stay inside.”

But Eleanor didn’t mind her wedding gown soaking up Fertan’s moisture—it symbolized the unraveling of her marriage to Leonard.

The sight of human blood sticking to her dress terrified her, yet she saw it as a reflection of the hardships Fertan endured.

Threats to his life, shedding blood, or taking lives—

These were realities she couldn’t avoid if she stayed by his side.

“It’s fine. Rain doesn’t matter.”

He gently seated her and released her hand.

“What if you catch a cold?”

Part of her wanted to cling to him like a child, begging him not to leave. But pride kept her silent, though her tear-streaked cheeks puffed stubbornly.

Behind Fertan, the aftermath of the brutal battle lay sprawled. All of Roland’s men were dead or incapacitated, and the rain turned the cobblestones into rivers of blood.

This road connected to the hillside estates, where noble carriages would soon pass en route to the crown prince’s wedding. Time was of the essence.

His subordinates kept watch, their impatience evident. Only Fertan remained unhurried.

“Fertan, we can’t stay here much longer.”

Leaning close until their noses nearly touched, he focused solely on her condition.

“Are you calmer now? How do you feel?”

Even in this urgent moment, her feelings came first. His unwavering care warmed her heart but also stung with guilt.

She swallowed her rising emotions. If she moved, perhaps he would too.

“I’m fine. But people might pass soon.”

“We’ve staged an accident at the hilltop to block the road. We have some time.”

“No wonder... I wondered why no one was coming.”

“Shall we go, then?”

Fertan climbed in beside her. After issuing brief orders to the masked subordinate and Evelyn, he turned to the maid.

“Evelyn, things may get dangerous from here. My subordinate will guide you to safety. Follow them.”

“Ah... Yes.”

Evelyn rose awkwardly, bewildered.

“A safe place has been prepared for you. Stay there until everything settles. You can return to the Roland estate afterward if you wish.”

“Just follow your instructions. I’ll retreat for now and return to the estate later.”

With only the two of them aboard, the carriage changed direction. Dozens of agile subordinates followed as they zigzagged away from the cathedral.

Fertan’s disciplined group navigated the rain-soaked brick roads. The sound of splashing water echoed loudly.

Eleanor had much to say.

First, she needed to share the information she’d gathered about Edwin. Even amidst despair, she clung to the hope of aiding Fertan in any small way.

She also wondered how he’d arrived in the city when he should’ve been at the southern front. His perfectly timed appearance on her wedding route felt miraculous.

But instead of dwelling on the past, priorities demanded attention. Time was short; future plans mattered more.

Through the open window, narrow alleys of unfamiliar districts came into view.

“Where are we going?”

Uncharacteristically, he furrowed his brow, hesitating.

“I want to leave you with a choice.”

“What kind of choice?”

Eleanor could tell from his tone that this conversation would be anything but ordinary.

Reuniting with Fertan so unexpectedly threw her off balance. Nothing about this situation matched the plans she’d been briefed on. Predicting even the next moment felt impossible. At this point, any twist wouldn’t surprise her.

Bracing herself, she focused intently on Fertan’s slow, deliberate voice.

“I’m heading straight to the palace.”

Her heart sank. Though he phrased it gently, she understood the gravity of his words.

“Straight…?”

“The royal banquet is scheduled for the afternoon. I need to settle things before then.”

“Then we must hurry.”

The banquet would host provincial lords, foreign envoys, and nearly all the nobility. It was planned as a grand event, reportedly the largest in decades.

But that wasn’t all. Before the banquet, a wedding procession was set to parade through the central streets. Crowds of citizens would gather to catch a glimpse of the crown princess. Moreover, several high-ranking noble families invited to the ceremony would already be en route to the cathedral by now.

The calm of early morning wouldn’t last long; soon, the entire city would buzz with celebration.

“There isn’t enough time. It’s too tight.”

“More than that, Eleanor, I’m unsure what to do with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hid you in the villa thinking it was safe, but it was discovered. There are other safe houses, but if I send you there again, something might happen.”

“Ah…”

“The atmosphere is extremely tense right now. Edwin has gathered his private army. The imperial guards and Leonard’s intelligence network have been active these past few days, and there’s no guarantee today will be quiet just because it’s the wedding day.”

“So you’ve noticed Edwin’s private army too.”

She’d thought to urgently share this information, but it seemed he already knew. Fertan smirked bitterly, shaking his head as he thought of Edwin.

“We’ve gauged their size, but their purpose remains unclear.”

“I don’t know either. Men filled the estate inside and out—they were watching me and saluting Edwin.”

“So Edwin is indeed their master. This means we have an unknown enemy lurking behind us—an unpredictable one at that.”

His troubled gaze locked onto Eleanor.

“If it were only Edwin’s men, you wouldn’t be in danger. Why harm the lady of the Roland house? But my army will soon arrive. Things could escalate into open conflict.”

“You mean the 7th Division from the southern front is entering the city?”

He nodded grimly. Their carriage turned into a deserted marketplace, still cloaked under heavy rainclouds.

“The clash between my Vanguard and the imperial guard is uncertain. So…”

“…”

“I can’t force you into hiding without your consent. It’s better to leave the decision to you.”

Startled, she stared at him wide-eyed. Allowing her to decide instead of issuing orders didn’t fit the dynamic of lord and vassal. His intent to prioritize her safety was clear.

“But charging into the palace in broad daylight—won’t that put you at a disadvantage?”

“…There’s no other way.”

Clearly, sacrifices were being made. Was it because Fertan, who shouldn’t have been in the city, had appeared? Or had losses occurred while rescuing her carriage?

Too many questions swirled, but the carriage abruptly stopped in front of a shabby shop. Voices outside urged haste.

“We must get out now.”

“I’ll suggest first: hide here temporarily and return to the Roland estate by evening. If the coup succeeds, my men will come for you beforehand. If it fails, claim you were briefly detained by rebels trying to disrupt the wedding. Either way, you’ll remain safe…”

“Wait a moment.”

Her head spun. Too many possibilities surfaced at once, and she needed to decipher his underlying meaning.

Just then, voices outside grew urgent. “Your Highness, we’re out of time.”

She understood the urgency. There was no room for hesitation. No time to question or calculate—she had to decide immediately.

Fertan and his allies were fully committed, leaving only Eleanor with an escape route. A route he himself offered.

In that frantic moment, her heart overruled her mind.

She didn’t care if it was the right decision or beneficial to her. Such considerations felt irrelevant.

For a vassal to defy their lord’s guidance was unheard of. This reeked of personal desire—a man’s selfish wish to protect her. Pure yet improper. Desperate tactics amidst a life-or-death operation.

Typical of a cunning man.

He prided himself on strategy, yet here he was scheming to spirit away his lover.

“Fine…”

She resolved to cherish only the gratitude she felt toward him as a man.

Though deeply moved by his private plan meant solely for her, she couldn’t accept it. With the final battle looming, she refused to abandon him.

Eleanor swiftly decided her course of action and faced him with unwavering resolve.

“I’m going with you to the palace.”

Fertan’s dark eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“Drop me off near the palace. I’ll blend in as an ordinary person, spending time at a café on the central avenue. When the fighting starts, I’ll act surprised and hide under the table.”

“Why take such a risk?”

“Fertan, did you figure out why the villa was attacked?”

He shook his head.

“I couldn’t determine that. It was too sudden. But after thinking it over, perhaps all our safe houses have been exposed to the emperor. Acting unpredictably might be safer.”

“Even so, why stay near the palace where gunfire will erupt…?”

Eleanor gazed at him with her translucent violet eyes.

Reuniting with him after only a few days felt profoundly moving. She scrutinized his striking features and sturdy physique. Everything about him felt fresh and electrifying, just as it had when they first met.

He still felt new and astonishing. She wanted to know not just his exterior but his inner self too. He was a man who joked often but rarely revealed his true feelings. Among his ambiguities, one thing was certain—he held her dear.

She didn’t want to let him go. She couldn’t bear to send him off alone.

Watching him charge into the palace attack would bring her peace. Rather than cowering in a hidden room, she wanted to be near the edge of the battlefield.

“You’ll be there.”

With raw emotion spilling forth, she pursed her lips slightly.

She’d always wanted to be honest, but so many thoughts remained unspoken. Confessing her hopes to become more than just a political ally to Fertan felt impossible. While aiding the coup was crucial, admitting she wanted to be his partner felt untimely.

It wasn’t the right moment. Stirring him unnecessarily before battle would be reckless.

After the storm passes and the bright sun shines, she vowed to speak her heart.

As the raindrops grew heavier, Eleanor made a silent vow. Despite Fertan’s furrowed brow filled with worry, her heart brimmed with hope, like sunlight waiting to break through dark clouds.

“Eleanor, staying near the palace could get you hurt.”

“I’ll avoid places directly facing the main road. And I roughly know the range where bullets might fly.”

“The imperial guards may sweep the area randomly. It’s common in war to grab and interrogate any civilians they find.”

“I can only hope that doesn’t happen. If they’re busy harassing shopkeepers instead of fighting your army, it would mean our plan has failed. How pathetic would it be for me to run away alone while the side I’ve chosen is being annihilated?”

“What nonsense. If you can survive, you must.”

Her delicate fingertips gently traced down his stormy expression.

His jet-black hair clung damply to his temples, droplets trailing along his jawline. He exuded an intoxicating allure she couldn’t bear to part from. His cheek, still moist, felt impossibly soft.

“A single soldier to stay by my side will suffice. Just enough to ensure I don’t meet trouble. I’ve decided to share life and death with you, and this resolve won’t change whether we succeed or fail.”

Outside, restless footsteps shuffled anxiously. No one dared open the carriage door where their lord sat, but their impatience was palpable.

Eleanor hesitated to pull her hand away from his cheek, exhaling softly.

“We need to go now. I hope I haven’t taken too much of your time.”

“You haven’t. Eleanor, I…”

She tilted her head slightly, brushing her lips against his in a fleeting kiss. It was so brief that only the faintest sensation lingered, yet it promised to echo in their senses for far longer.

“Thank you.”

“Eleanor.”

“For coming today. For pulling me out of the abyss.”

There wasn’t time to ask every question, but she understood enough to realize Fertan had arrived at a moment when he shouldn’t have been able to. He might have suffered significant losses to be here.

Even as she pieced together these thoughts, a pang of regret accompanied them. Though Fertan often praised her as a diligent ally, she yearned to support him even more. She didn’t want to burden him further.

Moreover, she believed staying near the battlefield might offer opportunities to help—something she couldn’t voice aloud, knowing how protective he was. Being close to the palace seemed far more useful than hiding safely away.

Yet, he showed no sign of opening the carriage door. Rising decisively, Eleanor moved toward the exit on her own.