BWG - 13

In front of a closed shop, on a tiny patch of open ground barely larger than a palm, Fertan stood surrounded by his men—his demeanor now resolute and commanding, as though their earlier tender moment had never occurred. The vertical streaks of rain blurred his figure, adding to the solemnity of the scene.

“I’m replacing the squad leader of Team 3, Wilson, with Palma. Wilson, you’re relieved from this battle to escort Lady Eleanor.”

A burly man who had been waiting at the back stepped forward briskly to receive his orders.

“Lady Eleanor will be operating independently near the palace grounds. She’s an important figure, so ensure her safety at all costs.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Switch to a less conspicuous carriage and take the reins yourself. If any strangers approach, show no mercy.”

Fertan meticulously instructed Wilson on how to proceed after the palace assault, emphasizing that Eleanor’s will should take precedence above all else. Meanwhile, he escorted her to the building’s entrance to shield her from the rain.

Afterward, he surveyed his entire group.

By now, everyone had removed their masks and untied the yellow armbands they’d worn for identification. At a glance, they appeared like an ordinary gathering. Among them were Herod and Marcron—Fertan’s trusted aides disguised as the Bluewing Hotel manager and jewelry shop owner.

He called over a man who appeared to be of officer rank.

“Were there any pursuers following us here?”

“No, sir. I kept a safe distance while monitoring our rear, and there was no sign of pursuit.”

Fertan nodded briefly, taking a deep breath. Then came the final order to mobilize.

“Listen up, everyone. We move out immediately to rendezvous with the Vanguard unit assembling near Central Avenue. Wait for the signal—a gunshot—to commence the assault. The operation remains unchanged from the original plan, except that night has turned into day.”

The men silently bowed their heads in acknowledgment. A loud response would have drawn unwanted attention, so silence reigned.

Fertan locked eyes with each person, delivering his final words.

“Then… good luck to you all.”

Mounted on his horse, he tugged the reins and cast one last glance at Eleanor. Through the curtain of rain obscuring her view, Fertan’s figure remained strikingly vivid across the small square. To her eyes, he was the only man present.

Perhaps because they had tearfully parted ways at the villa before, she didn’t cry this time. Instead, her resolve hardened. Though she couldn’t match Fertan’s strength, she too steeled herself with grim determination.

Even if she couldn’t wield a sword alongside him, she vowed to fight in her own way.

He raised his hand lightly in farewell. Their gazes lingered far longer than a simple gesture warranted.

His hand, lifted just above shoulder height, flipped to reveal its back as his horse turned away. Surrounded by dozens of soldiers forming ranks around him, his retreating form soon disappeared from sight.

“Good luck, Fertan,” Eleanor whispered softly, her words lost amidst the patter of rain.

The seamless departure of his troops was nothing short of breathtaking. Watching them vanish like the ebbing tide, Eleanor couldn’t help but marvel inwardly. Judging by their discipline alone, they rivaled the imperial guards. The Vanguard awaited them already; these must be part of Fertan’s elite forces.

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away, she turned toward the task ahead.

First, she changed out of her wedding gown inside the safe house, trading it for simpler attire.

Without delay, she set off along the path Fertan had taken. The man introduced as Wilson sat in the driver’s seat, personally steering the carriage. Though Liam, her usual escort, would have provided reassurance, he had been excluded from the wedding events entirely due to Edwin’s animosity.

Central Plaza remained quiet for now. It was still early morning, and according to schedule, the bride should currently be kneeling before the priest inside the cathedral.

After the lengthy ceremony, the procession would begin in the afternoon. Crowds would gather to watch and enjoy food provided by the palace, but few ventured out onto the streets yet.

‘Come to think of it, what’s Leonard doing right about now?’

A mischievous thought crossed her mind—she wanted to see him throw a tantrum. After years of enduring his disdain, the idea of having gotten one over on him felt satisfying. While revenge wasn’t her goal, it did bring a sense of vindication.

Of course, the crown prince’s wedding was no longer the main issue. With the emperor’s power hanging in the balance, such trivialities seemed irrelevant.

She felt no worry about ruining the ceremony—in fact, excitement bubbled within her.

During her time working with Fertan, she’d fervently wished for this: Leonard standing alone at the altar…

Not long after the throne changed hands, the entire empire would speak only of Fertan. No one would dare slander her or question her qualifications as empress consort. The empire’s landscape would be redrawn, and Eleanor wouldn’t be remembered as the runaway bride but as a key contributor to the coup.

‘Let’s focus on positive thoughts.’

She consciously tried to infuse herself with optimism.

Eleanor stopped the carriage in front of a quaint teahouse. From there, both Central Avenue and the plaza were clearly visible. Far enough from the palace gates to avoid gunfire range, the sturdy walls of the building offered excellent cover should street fighting erupt.

There, seated at a table with Soldier Wilson, she pretended to be an ordinary customer sipping tea. Safety concerns aside, she also had many questions. Having learned that this man was once a squad leader in the Vanguard—and entrusted with her life by Fertan—she believed him trustworthy.

Wilson seemed awkward sitting across from a noblewoman, gripping his teacup stiffly.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead, my lady.”

She first checked that no one nearby was eavesdropping.

“Why is Fertan—I mean, His Highness—launching the attack now? Weren’t we planning a nighttime raid?”

“Well…”

“I didn’t even know Fertan was in Solcherton. I assumed I’d end up at the wedding venue without fail. It seems the plan changed suddenly. Why choose this disadvantageous timing?”

After a brief pause to organize his thoughts, Wilson answered openly.

“First, His Highness arrived at dawn today. No one expected him to arrive so early. Even I was summoned abruptly in the middle of the night and informed that today was the decisive day.”

“He arrived at dawn… That’s why I didn’t know.”

Her heart ached imagining how urgently he must have ridden. Wilson continued freely, answering her queries.

“As for choosing daytime, it’s because our forces were exposed during the rescue of your carriage. When we attacked your bridal procession, reinforcements were stationed both ahead and behind. There might’ve been clashes with other carriages passing through.”

She vaguely recalled hearing something similar from Fertan earlier. Blinking to indicate understanding, she urged him to continue.

“And as you saw, this operation was massive. We wiped out the enemy and seized control of the bridal carriage. To put it bluntly, hiding our movements is impossible now. Both the armed Vanguard and the 7th Division, which has reached the outskirts of the city, are fully exposed.”

Her hand trembled as she gripped the teacup. A dizzying realization shook her core.

Reality hit hard. By stopping the wedding, Fertan’s entire force had been revealed. Who knew when the emperor would hear of this? For their side, swift action was the only viable option.

An unstoppable torrent of fate was cascading forward, irreversible and fierce.

Fertan wouldn’t have explained things so clearly. He would’ve cloaked the reasons behind advancing the schedule in layers of deception to shield her from guilt. But Wilson, with no emotional ties to her, could afford to be straightforward.

If Fertan had rushed his plans to stop the wedding, had she inadvertently caused him trouble?

Eleanor’s heart grew heavy at the thought of burdening him. Of course, if he were here, he’d insist it wasn’t her fault, likely attributing the villa’s exposure as the main reason. Still, knowing she had altered their carefully laid plans left her uneasy.

As her face contorted under her slightly bowed head, Wilson hesitated, unsure whether to continue speaking.

“If Lady Eleanor feels weighed down by this operation, may I offer some words of comfort?”

“Go ahead.”

“The biggest issue right now is the private army hired by the Roland house. Their numbers are substantial, and their purpose remains unclear, making them a significant obstacle to our plans.”

“That’s true. Though I’m part of the Roland family, even I find their presence unsettling.”

“On top of that, the emperor has been acting recklessly, and the imperial guards are patrolling outside the palace… The rapidly shifting political landscape left us no choice but to accelerate the timeline.”

Wilson shared everything he knew in detail, relaying information from the early-morning strategy meeting.

“Moreover, Lady Eleanor has been an immense asset to our side. Rescuing you was only natural. And since the wedding has already been disrupted, why not seize this opportunity to strike at the emperor?”

“But how does ruining the ceremony create an opportunity? Aren’t security measures heightened during such events?”

“With the bride missing, they’ll likely mobilize the guards to search for you. We’re hiding here, after all.”

“But…”

Eleanor’s thoughts diverged.

If the bride disappeared, Leonard would surely throw a fit, but Edwin wouldn’t stay idle either. Wouldn’t his suspicious mercenaries comb every corner of the city?

Even if a significant portion of the palace guards were dispatched to search, there was no guarantee it would work in Fertan’s favor. Though she lacked military expertise, she knew our forces were outnumbered.

“Wilson, when will the 7th Division arrive?”

“I’m not sure. I heard they’re on their way.”

“Surely there’s an estimated time.”

“The vanguard might arrive by tonight if they’re fast—but nothing’s certain.”

Watching Wilson scratch the back of his head awkwardly, Eleanor’s heart sank further.

We had to account for the possibility that reinforcements wouldn’t arrive in time. Victory wasn’t assured. Fertan might find himself crushed between the imperial guards and Edwin’s mercenaries. If the enemy scattered to search for the bride, it could work in our favor—but if not, it would spell disaster.

She pictured Fertan caught in a pincer attack. Bullets piercing his body, blood spurting like a fountain as he collapsed. His back, sides, and head riddled with holes—his final moments.

“No, Fertan.”

Her teacup slipped from her trembling hands, clattering loudly onto the saucer.

“My lady, are you alright?”

“Ha…”

The mere thought of something happening to him felt like her heart was being torn apart. She pressed a hand firmly against her chest, trying to steady herself. No matter how much she told herself it was just a hypothetical scenario, the fear refused to subside.

“Edwin won’t sit still. Surely…”

She didn’t know how many soldiers Fertan had counted, but the numbers she’d seen were staggering. The men surrounding the vast Roland estate—crowded in the central garden and along the roads beyond the walls—were formidable.

She couldn’t stay cooped up in this teahouse any longer.

Fertan had risked so much to rescue her from the wedding. How could she simply wait here while sensing impending danger?

This wasn’t mere paranoia. No one understood Edwin’s cunning and greed better than she did. To him, Eleanor was merely a tool to forge a bloodline with the imperial family. He wouldn’t passively wait for others to search for her.

“What are you thinking so deeply about?”

Wilson asked, concern etched on his face.

“Hiding here isn’t the best option.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even though the ceremony time has passed, the cathedral likely hasn’t closed yet. If I’m caught now, they might force me to complete the marriage vows. Though avoiding Edwin and Leonard is critical…”

Her voice was low and measured, but the atmosphere was intensely grave.

“But you said the Vanguard’s presence has been exposed. Edwin commands a private army. While searching for you, his men will also pose a threat to Fertan. If they clash, they’ll undoubtedly attack each other.”

Caught between a rock and a hard place.

It felt as though sharp weapons were flying at her from all directions. Even in this quiet teahouse, she sensed Edwin’s sinister schemes pinning her down, rendering her helpless. If she fell into his trap, she’d become Leonard’s plaything forever.

She had to escape.

After all Fertan had sacrificed to save her, she couldn’t foolishly crawl back into the devil’s jaws.

And she had to protect him.

To ensure Fertan’s safety as he stormed the palace.

She needed to act. To devise a plan. War was fundamentally about numbers, and she had to prevent Edwin’s mercenaries from overwhelming the Vanguard.

She recalled the scene that morning in the garden—the burly men saluting Edwin. It had instantly revealed him as their master, the one issuing orders and commanding their movements.

“Yes… I must stop Edwin from giving the attack order.”

Resolute, she raised her head sharply. Wilson looked at her, bewildered.

“I don’t fully understand what Lady Eleanor intends to do.”

Eleanor stood abruptly. She couldn’t stay seated any longer.

She urgently needed a way to immobilize Edwin’s forces. They were a newly formed private army. Without Edwin’s direct command, no subordinate could move them freely.

Pacing the cramped teahouse, she brainstormed. She barely noticed the curious glances from other patrons.

She had to silence him. Render him unable to give orders.

Kidnap him? But how could Wilson manage that alone…

Perhaps separating Edwin from his messengers or aides would suffice.

She briefly entertained the childish idea of luring him into a secluded spot and knocking him out with a blunt object but quickly dismissed it. Edwin was tall and physically imposing, like most of the Roland family.

“Could I lure him somewhere else?”

That seemed the best option. For the coup to succeed, external interference needed to be delayed. As long as Edwin’s mercenaries didn’t converge on the palace during the assault, they’d have a fighting chance.

But Eleanor feared leaving the teahouse and being captured by Edwin too soon.

Time was crucial for the wedding as well. Only when the venue was completely sealed could she breathe easier. The cathedral might remain open for a while, with the priest waiting. Though they likely wouldn’t keep it open until midnight, being discovered now would be disastrous.

If she could avoid taking the marital vows and make it through today, the future didn’t matter. If Fertan became emperor, it would be a happy ending. Even if he failed, she was prepared to face whatever came next. She had resolved to share his fate, no matter where it led.

“We need to buy time. As much as possible. Where can we lure him?”

“Lure him… Is this part of a plan?”

Wilson cautiously approached. Their conversation remained hushed, inaudible to others.

“I want to draw my brother out. Do you know a suitable location, Wilson?”

Having made up her mind, Eleanor grew more urgent. Wilson was the only one who could help execute her plan. Together, they began devising a strategy to deceive Edwin.

This was a race against time. They needed a distant location to waste Edwin’s time en route. And they had to come up with a convincing excuse to lure him out. The most effective bait, Eleanor realized, would be herself.

The perilous decision, tantamount to treason, only heightened the tension between the two as they prepared to act.

---

Both the cathedral and the palace were thrown into chaos. The bride-to-be had been abducted, sending shockwaves through everyone involved.

With the entire entourage of Eleanor’s carriage annihilated, no one knew exactly what had transpired. They could only speculate that she was the sole survivor—or rather, the sole target—of the attack.

Behind the chapel, in the Crown Prince’s waiting room, the atmosphere buzzed like a disturbed beehive.

What set this scene apart was that Leonard had a rough idea of who was behind it. While the ordinary nobles attending the wedding remained clueless, those privy to the situation unhesitatingly pointed fingers at Fertan.

The captain of the imperial guards, preoccupied with securing the palace, hadn’t arrived at the cathedral yet. Inside the waiting room, Leonard and Edwin exchanged icy glares, each blaming the other.

“Your incompetence knows no bounds. You couldn’t even protect her on such a short journey from your estate to the cathedral.”

“You know full well, Your Highness, this wasn’t some petty band of thieves. It was a deliberate assault by Duke Ablein himself.”

“Isn’t His Majesty ordering reinforcements to capture that man? Yet all we hear is that the duke remains elusive while the city swarms with vagabonds.”

“The guards I hired aren’t numerous. I only recruited them days ago.”

“So where are the results? And more importantly, where’s Eleanor?”

Leonard’s shrill voice carried far enough for concern about being overheard outside the waiting room. But who would dare silence the arrogant crown prince? Advising him to calm down would only provoke further outbursts.

“Edwin, what do you intend to do?! Bring my Eleanor back immediately!”

Edwin shot an irritated glare at Leonard, who was practically falling backward in agitation, crossing his arms defensively.

He faced a double-edged dilemma: placating Leonard’s volatile psyche while also finding Eleanor.

Though the ceremony time had passed, the guests still lingered, unwilling to leave just yet. However, they couldn’t be kept waiting indefinitely. Soon, whispers of unease would spread, and they’d begin departing one by one.

Letting them go would signal the collapse of the wedding. If Eleanor didn’t become the crown princess, Edwin’s dreamt-of future would crumble entirely. Mishandling today’s events risked shattering his life altogether.

Thankfully, the emperor hadn’t arrived at the cathedral—he was scheduled to depart the palace at the start of the ceremony. Had he shown up alongside Leonard, Edwin would’ve been squeezed dry like a rag.

Father and son shared equally thin skins, but Leonard’s obsession with Eleanor made him somewhat easier to manipulate. The emperor, clinging stubbornly to his authority, often pushed absurd demands, which only fueled Edwin’s frustration.

“All available men under my command are already searching for her. Every possible measure is being taken.”

“Enough with the excuses! Have you found Eleanor? Any trace of her?”

“Not yet…”

“Now!”

Crash! The vase atop the table shattered.

“Deploy more men now! Mobilize the army if you must!”

Edwin glared at Leonard, who was venting his rage by smashing furniture with feeble strength. He wasn’t in the mood to humor the crown prince’s tantrums.

“How am I supposed to mobilize the army? I’m not the emperor.”

His curt tone laid bare the reality of the situation.

This moment was critical for Edwin. Overcoming this hurdle promised to elevate him several steps closer to his ultimate goal. He’d nearly reached the summit when Eleanor’s unexpected actions derailed everything. One misstep now, and the staircase he’d painstakingly climbed could collapse beneath him.

Still, he retained some leverage. He commanded a private army and wielded power backed by the imperial household.

Moreover, as much as it irked him, Leonard was right. The official justification for assembling his private forces had been to capture Fertan. Though Eleanor took precedence for now, Fertan couldn’t be ignored forever.

“Your Highness, my men are currently focused on tracking Eleanor’s whereabouts. But there’s another pressing issue: we must find Duke Ablein.”

“Then do so. Find a way, any way.”

“But to do that, I’ll need to inform my subordinates about the duke. However, keeping secrets among my newly hired men isn’t easy. News of the duke’s survival will spread quickly.”

Leonard’s already sour expression deepened further, finally grasping the gravity of the situation.

“Hmm…”

“His Majesty ordered the duke’s immediate execution upon sighting. If word gets out that we failed to eliminate the late emperor’s heir, it’ll cause irreparable damage.”

“You’re right. Only the trusted imperial guards or similarly discreet forces can handle this. Your ragtag mercenaries are unreliable.”

Edwin’s jaw clenched slightly, masking his irritation. How long did he have to endure Leonard’s incessant complaints?

“But as you said, time is of the essence. We can’t afford to sit idle. I’ll meet with His Majesty and propose capturing the duke alive first, even if news of his survival leaks. Once we have him, we can decide the next steps.”

“The emperor might prioritize the duke over Eleanor.”

“Perhaps. He may choose to postpone the wedding and focus solely on eliminating the duke quietly. But I’ll persuade him otherwise.”

“How?”

Edwin offered a bitter smile at Leonard’s brainless question.

“Trust me. Haven’t I always served His Majesty faithfully?”

Around the cathedral, Edwin’s private soldiers were scattered. With part of the imperial guard dispatched to search for Eleanor, the safety of the venue—and Leonard’s life—rested in the hands of Edwin’s “vagabond” troops.

In other words, Leonard’s fate was now in Edwin’s hands.

Hadn’t he assembled this private army to threaten the emperor? Now, with nothing left to lose, Edwin intended to use Leonard’s confinement in the cathedral as leverage. Even the dimwitted emperor would grasp the situation if threatened with the crown prince’s captivity. Self-serving as he was, the emperor couldn’t afford to lose his heir without complications.

Edwin planned to feign desperation in finding Eleanor, ensuring Leonard softened toward him afterward. This crisis could then be smoothed over, allowing Edwin to escape punishment for his insubordination.

“We must hurry. Some guests have already left.”

“Even if no guests remain, Your Highness’s presence here suffices. The priest won’t leave either. I’ll ensure the required witnesses are present, so please stay as long as possible.”

“How long? Until nightfall?”

“Yes, that’s the limit. The Church won’t sanction a nighttime ceremony.”

As Edwin left Leonard alone, a smug smile tugged at his lips. Despite the crisis, the crown prince remained oblivious to Edwin’s manipulation. Leonard would likely remain holed up in the waiting room, venting his frustrations on attendants.

Passing through the chapel where the ceremony should have taken place, Edwin listened to the murmurs of anxious guests. After hours of waiting without resolution, many were growing restless.

Those who’d already left were mostly elderly nobles. Given the prevalence of lifelong titles, most representatives of noble houses were advanced in age. Unable to endure prolonged waits, they departed reluctantly. In their place, younger heirs and daughters lingered awkwardly, exchanging uneasy glances.

Still, it was better than closing the venue entirely. With urgency gnawing at him, Edwin stepped outside the cathedral.

---

A drizzle persisted, dirty and relentless.

The empire’s grandest cathedral, renowned for its gleaming white marble and towering spires, seemed dull today. Only the large puddles pooling on the flat ground before its entrance caught the eye.

Edwin flicked his fingers. A commander from his private army noticed and approached, bowing his head.

“You called?”

Edwin was about to issue instructions, intending to discuss stationing soldiers to monitor Leonard and prevent him from leaving the cathedral.

He’d already positioned a select group of experienced soldiers inside and around the cathedral—those dressed neatly enough not to disrupt the wedding atmosphere.

Just then, an uninvited figure crossed the open cathedral doors.

It was Liam, Eleanor’s loyal retainer.

Still employed by the Roland house, Liam had bypassed the private army’s checkpoint. Assuming something urgent had occurred at the estate, the soldiers hadn’t detained him.

Edwin frowned, both surprised and suspicious. He’d explicitly barred Liam from the wedding, yet here he was—an ominous sign.

As Liam approached, Edwin fixed him with a frosty gaze.

“What do you want?”

Liam hesitated to speak openly, glancing at the soldiers scattered around. Though Edwin didn’t trust him, he was intensely curious about what had brought Liam here.

“Everyone, step back and cover your ears.”

Once a semblance of privacy was established, Liam took a step closer, lowering his voice.

“I bring news of someone His Lordship has been desperately searching for.”

There was an awkwardness in his phrasing. To Liam, Eleanor was undoubtedly his true master, while Edwin was merely the man who paid his wages.

Suppressing his displeasure, Edwin responded as if it didn’t bother him.

“Do you know where Eleanor is?”

Liam’s composed expression made him appear more capable than any of Edwin’s hired guards. His devotion to protecting her was palpable.

Edwin had taken care to assign competent escorts to Eleanor, given her active public life, but now it seemed Liam was unmatched among all the servants. None of Edwin’s followers were as loyal as this man. He couldn’t help but marvel at his sister’s rare fortune in having such a devoted retainer.

“The lady sent me. She requests that you come to her.”

Even the usually dignified Edwin gaped at this bombshell of a statement.

In his shock, he strode closer to Liam, gripping his shoulder and raising his voice.

“W-what? Eleanor?”

“She requested your presence in secret.”

“So you know where Eleanor is?”

“She asked that you come alone. I’m sorry, but we must travel by horse, not carriage.”

“How dare you presume to dictate terms to me?”

“If you refuse, I cannot guide you to her. No amount of beating or torture will make me divulge the information quickly. And I believe your situation is urgent…”

Edwin’s teeth ground together in barely contained fury. Even shaking Liam by the collar did no good. Such threats were powerless against someone as loyal to Eleanor as he was.

If time allowed, Edwin might have tried extracting the truth through pain, but with Eleanor’s whereabouts at stake, he couldn’t afford delays.

Uncharacteristically, Edwin let out a frustrated roar. Those inside the cathedral turned at the sound, though they couldn’t discern the tension between the two men.

“Fine. Lead the way, wherever it is.”

He abandoned his plan to discuss Fertan with the emperor—this was far more pressing.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Relieved to have passed this difficult hurdle, Liam mounted his horse alongside Edwin.

---

Liam’s arrival at the cathedral hadn’t been by chance. Hours earlier, after leaving the teahouse near the palace, Eleanor had moved to a safe house recommended by Wilson. From there, she sent Wilson back to the Roland estate to relay instructions to Liam. Given their need to approach Edwin discreetly, Wilson—an outsider—couldn’t do it himself. Thus, the task of luring Edwin fell to Liam.

At the safe house, Eleanor waited with Wilson. The plan was simple: lure Edwin alone, detain him for a while, and resolve everything cleanly.

Leading the way, Liam kept a wary eye on Edwin, ensuring he didn’t act suspiciously. Two men in wide-brimmed hats rode into the gray streets, rain drizzling steadily.

But focused on guiding the path ahead, Liam failed to notice Edwin subtly signaling to a commander behind them.

Farther back, hidden by the misty rain, a group of cavalry followed at a distance. Their faint silhouettes blended into the haze, the muted sound of hooves echoing off the wet roads—a cacophony impossible to pinpoint in number or direction.

For all his competence, Liam’s lack of vigilance repeated a past mistake: he was being tailed again.

---

Wilson, the 3rd Squad Leader of the Vanguard, was known among his peers for his sharp mind. However, his marksmanship left something to be desired, which was why he led the 3rd Squad instead of the elite 1st.

Being excluded from the final assault frustrated him. While guarding Lady Eleanor was meaningful, he yearned to partake in the thrill of storming the palace and capturing the emperor.

When Eleanor unexpectedly left the teahouse and initiated her own scheme, Wilson’s suppressed combat instincts reignited. Instead of lying low, he now had a role to play, secretly rejoicing. Though not as grand as invading the palace, capturing Duke Roland still stirred his competitive spirit.

The chosen location to lure Edwin was a house on the city outskirts—one of Fertan’s prearranged safe houses.

After dropping Eleanor off, Wilson followed her instructions.

“Go to the Roland estate and meet a guard named Liam. Tell him my plan exactly as I described it, and don’t breathe a word to anyone else.”

Rushing to the estate, Wilson found locating Liam harder than expected. The man was evidently unpopular there; an assistant steward tried every excuse to turn Wilson away empty-handed.

But Wilson wasn’t one to give up easily. Experienced in covert operations, he spun a tale of being Liam’s close friend, pleading with a story about Liam’s sick family. Eventually, he succeeded in making contact.

With his mission complete, Wilson should’ve returned to the safe house to protect Eleanor.

Instead, he headed toward the palace.

“I must inform His Highness of this. Though I was ordered to escort Lady Eleanor, His Highness should know she’s acting outside the plan.”

Had Eleanor stayed quietly at the teahouse, Wilson would’ve dutifully prioritized her safety. But this unexpected development forced his hand.

Reporting the plan to lure Edwin might displease Eleanor—or earn praise for foresight. Either way, Wilson acted according to his judgment. His true liege was Fertan, and he believed keeping him informed was paramount.

Traveling back and forth left Eleanor unattended longer than ideal. The journey from the safe house to the Roland estate and then to the palace was considerable.

Still, Wilson hoped to return before Edwin arrived. If delayed, he trusted Liam, described as Eleanor’s loyal retainer, to safeguard her.

Rain continued to fall, turning the cobblestone streets muddy.

Wilson entered an inn overlooking the palace square.

The first floor was packed with ordinary guests eager to watch the crown prince’s procession later that afternoon. Many had traveled from afar, hoping to secure spots along the route, but the rain drove them indoors. The teahouse Eleanor visited earlier was likely bustling too.

A burly man blocked the stairs to the second floor, firmly turning away curious onlookers.

Recognizing Wilson, the man nodded discreetly and stepped aside.

The second floor was as crowded as the first, but unlike the civilians below, everyone here was part of the Vanguard. Armed with rifles wrapped in waterproof cloth and swords strapped to their sides, they stood ready. This inn—and nearby buildings—was filled with their forces.

Knocking urgently on the door of the innermost room, Wilson requested an audience and was soon face-to-face with Fertan.

“Why aren’t you guarding Eleanor? Why are you here?” Fertan’s voice was low but cutting.

“There was something urgent I had to report, so I rushed here.”

“If your news isn’t satisfactory, I won’t forgive you.”

Fertan’s anger was unmistakable. The weight of his glare suffocated the room.

“Lady Eleanor is no longer at the nearby teahouse.”

“What? Then where is she?”

“She has moved to lure Duke Roland. She’s currently at a safe house on Brellyn Street.”

“To lure him?” Fertan’s tone sharpened further.

“Her plan is to tie up Duke Roland’s private army by luring him into a trap. She intends to delay him at the location while we deal with his forces. Given that it’s a newly formed army, they likely won’t act without direct orders from the duke.”

Fertan shot up from his seat, striding forward with an imposing aura born of his towering height and muscular build as he pressed Wilson for answers.

“You’re telling me Eleanor is luring Edwin herself?!”

“Yes.”

“And her safety? Who’s protecting her? She’s alone, isn’t she?”

“A man named Liam has been tasked with bringing Duke Roland. He’s said to be Lady Eleanor’s most loyal retainer.”

Fertan’s jaw clenched tightly, teeth grinding so hard that the flesh inside his mouth tore, drawing blood. His dark eyes swallowed the storm of emotions raging within—anger, helplessness, and something akin to despair.

He understood all too well why Eleanor had made this decision. Her devotion was absolute; she gave everything she had, throwing herself into danger like a general charging headlong into battle. Though small and delicate in frame, her resolve burned fiercely.

And yet, he couldn’t fault her logic. To neutralize the mercenary force whose purpose remained unclear, capturing Edwin—their leader—was indeed the best course of action. By becoming bait herself, Eleanor had devised what might be the most effective strategy under these dire circumstances.

Edwin would undoubtedly rush to her if he learned of her whereabouts. The lure was irresistible: reclaiming the runaway bride to deliver her to Leonard.

But Eleanor wasn’t merely targeting one man. Alone, she faced an entire army of mercenaries. If things went awry, she risked losing everything—her freedom, perhaps even her life.

“Damn it, this is maddening.”

While Fertan’s Vanguard prepared for their assault on the palace with unwavering resolve, Eleanor stood alone, willingly stepping into harm’s way.

His fists tightened until the knuckles cracked audibly. His complexion shifted between red and pale before settling into a deep, shadowed gaze. Her steadfast support filled him with gratitude, but beneath it churned a bitter resentment—not toward her, but toward himself. He hated that she was placed in such peril, and he loathed that he’d allowed it to happen.

“Eleanor… truly…”

The mere utterance of her name felt like bile rising in his throat, choking him.

Fertan was moments away from signaling the final attack. Through the rain, the faint outline of Princess Lucena’s carriage swayed near the palace gates. It was time.

Unfortunately, the urgency of the situation left no room to spare soldiers to protect Eleanor. Each squad was meticulously balanced against the imperial guard’s numbers. Removing even one unit would create a gaping hole in their formation, risking failure.

It pained him deeply to consider how few men he could send. Every fiber of his being wanted to dispatch more, but practicality forbade it.

“Third Squad, follow Wilson. Adjust your spacing accordingly. Wilson, go and ensure Lady Eleanor’s safety.”

Though his body yearned to run to her himself, Fertan resolved to join her immediately after securing the emperor.

“And keep a close watch on the cathedral. Report any changes to me at once.”

Herod straightened and replied firmly, “Yes, I’ve already instructed our informants.”

“What about the 7th Division? How far have they advanced?”

“No word yet. Based on their silence, they’re likely rushing here as we speak.”

“We can’t wait any longer.”

Closing his eyes tightly, lashes brushing his cheeks, Fertan growled low.

“Signal the smoke now.”

This was the prearranged cue. A plume of red smoke rose from the inn’s second floor, visible to those hidden in nearby buildings. Soldiers readied their weapons, synchronized by the brief pause.

Meanwhile, Fertan nodded sharply at Wilson, who hadn’t yet departed.

“Go. Go now, and protect Eleanor at all costs.”

“I’ll stake my life on completing this mission, Your Highness.”

“Whatever happens, prioritize her safety above all else. Do not let her come to harm.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Fertan hesitated briefly. Should Edwin attempt to drag Eleanor away by force, Wilson might resist based solely on tactical advantage. Would letting her go be better than risking a violent struggle?

Above all, Eleanor’s survival mattered most. Even contemplating allowing Leonard to take her back left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Unable to voice such an order, he fell silent, sorrow surging through him like a tide.

As Wilson sprinted out of the inn, Fertan turned to Herod with further instructions.

“Herod, send another messenger to intercept the 7th Division en route.”

“What message should I relay?”

“The first cavalry unit to arrive must head directly to the safe house where Eleanor is. Secure her safety and capture Duke Roland.”

Suppressing the overwhelming urge to race there himself, Fertan felt drained. He longed to abandon everything and rush to her side, but doing so would jeopardize the entire operation. Failure to seize the palace meant certain death for them all.

Pounding his chest with a clenched fist, he mimicked the motions of a warrior psyching himself up before battle. In truth, self-loathing weighed heavily on him, suffocating his breath. Each thud against his ribcage was a desperate attempt to steady his racing heart.

The envelope tucked inside his coat pocket crinkled softly.

It was the letter sent from the Bluewing Hotel—a note Eleanor had entrusted to Liam just days ago.

Though he’d memorized its contents after reading it countless times, he unfolded it briefly, savoring every moment.

“To Fertan, who lingers ceaselessly in my thoughts, never fading.”

From the opening line, he sensed the deliberate intent behind this letter. Had Eleanor written freely, she would have teased or mocked him playfully, as was her nature. Instead, the words echoed sentiments found in the countless love letters he’d received from other noblewomen—sentiments that didn’t align with Eleanor’s personality.

Still, he couldn’t suppress the upward twitch of his lips. Her handwriting was immaculate, each stroke alive with artistic precision. Beyond the content, the act of her writing and sending this letter held greater significance.

“I regret parting ways last time and haven’t stopped thinking of you. These days feel fraught with unease. Fertan, I worry endlessly about you. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, please stay safe.”

Her penmanship was exquisite.

“As always, I send this letter in the same manner. I’ll count the days until we meet again.”

By this point, Fertan was certain the letter was crafted with someone else’s scrutiny in mind.

Until now, Eleanor had sent him only one note: a brief memo during the Moon Festival specifying a time and place. That simplicity suited her—aloof and indifferent, leaving him to come or not as he pleased.

In contrast, this letter overflowed with longing and anticipation—phrases that seemed almost comical when imagined in Eleanor’s voice.

“Fertan keeps changing our meeting places, so I can’t visit freely. All I can do is wait for your reply. But I believe… I believe you’re waiting for my letters too.”

He wished to hear her recite it aloud someday. Imagining the scene brought an amused smile to his face.

‘Still, reading this makes me feel good.’

Outside, the acrid smell of red smoke filled the air as the commander called out the minutes.

“Five minutes elapsed.”

The smoke had risen some time ago. Every soldier wore the yellow armband identifying them as allies. The clinking of rifles being readied and the rustling of waterproof covers had ceased, replaced by an eerie stillness.

Fertan’s stern voice broke the silence, signaling the next phase.

“Prepare to fire.”

His gaze remained fixed on the letter, feeling like a distant lover communicating only through written words.

As the Vanguard aimed their rifles to signal the assault on the palace, he quickly scanned the final paragraph diagonally.

“Soon, my wedding will take place. I feared it might mean our permanent farewell, but fortunately, a solution has arisen. I’ll explain everything when we meet—just set a date, any day except the day of the ceremony. The location will be the palace. I have a way to sneak you in.”

From this passage, the purpose of the letter became crystal clear. Eleanor had visited the palace with the imperial guards who attacked the villa. She must have met someone there. And the only person capable of instructing Fertan to infiltrate the palace was the emperor himself.

She had embedded a powerful message within the seemingly innocent lines of the letter. It was undeniable that this letter was written at the emperor’s behest. He likely coerced her into crafting it to lure Fertan into the palace.

Folding the letter carefully, Fertan tucked it deep into his inner pocket. He felt immense gratitude for her clever handling of the situation, yet the thought of her suffering under the emperor’s pressure weighed heavily on his heart.

Pounding his chest as if to relieve indigestion, Fertan let out a roar-like shout. No longer did he bother to lower his voice.

“Fire!”

Tatat, tatatatang…

Flames erupted from the barrels of the rifles pressed against the windows. The deafening sound of gunfire thundered like lightning.

With the overlapping volleys serving as the signal, Fertan and his army poured out of the surrounding buildings in perfect unison. Moving swiftly and decisively, they charged toward the palace.

---

Princess Lucena was isolated within the palace walls. She had no allies among those who mattered.

Everyone saw her as a pawn to be sold for a high price; not a single soul offered her sympathy or aid. Among them, the emperor-aligned nobles attending the Privy Council were particularly ruthless—Edwin being a prime example.

On the flip side, this meant she didn’t have to worry about misplaced trust leading to betrayal. Her sphere of influence was minimal, limited to a few loyal palace attendants who had cared for her since infancy and a small contingent of guards she had personally selected.

Her decision to recruit these guards stemmed from necessity rather than ambition. The imperial guard paid little attention to her quarters, leaving her short-handed for sentry duty.

With no other option, she sought Eleanor’s help to find candidates for the guard selection. Fortunately, those she recommended passed the rigorous tests and were assigned to her quarters. These few, recruited years ago, were the only ones she could trust with important tasks.

Cut off from the outside world, gathering information within the palace was exceedingly difficult. While chatting with noblewomen close to her provided glimpses of societal updates, she hadn’t heard the news of Fertan’s return the previous night.

It was impossible for anyone to deliver such confidential information to Princess Lucena inside the tightly sealed palace gates.

The morning of the coup attempt was no different. Unaware of what was unfolding, Lucena visited the cathedral to attend Leonard’s wedding.

There, she encountered Count Russell. As the father of Chelsia, one of Eleanor’s closest friends, he was secretly aiding Fertan’s faction. Pretending to offer lengthy congratulations for the imperial family’s joyous occasion, he approached Lucena discreetly.

When no one was paying attention, he lowered his voice.

“It’s today. Between noon and afternoon.”

“…!”

“When you hear dozens of simultaneous gunshots, know it has begun. This won’t be a covert operation—it’s an all-out assault.”

Startled by the abrupt change in plans, Lucena flinched, quickly averting her eyes downward to mask her surprise.

“Today? But I’m attending the wedding—I may not be able to open the palace gates.”

“The wedding will be canceled.”

Her fan proved useful in concealing her expression. Blaming the rainy weather, she naturally hid her face behind it. Behind the fan, her mouth hung agape in shock.

Though she wanted to hear more details, she knew brevity was essential to avoid leaks.

“There’s also a message from His Grace Fertan: ‘Please don’t overexert yourself. Many will die today—it’s unavoidable. Your safety is paramount.’”

Sweat trickled down her neck as she fanned herself lightly, maintaining a serene smile befitting a princess.

“A kind sentiment.”

“I’ll take my leave now.”

After delivering his concise message, Count Russell turned to go. Lucena, addressing his retreating back, spoke in a tone as detached as possible.

“I won’t push myself too far. But I’ll do what I can. After all, I need to hold my ground in the future.”

Russell inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. Their exchange carried the subtle weight of shared secrets.

Afterward, Lucena no longer spotted the count at the wedding venue. Predicting where he had gone, she discreetly tightened her grip on her fan, sweat pooling in her palm.

Logically speaking, following Fertan’s advice would be the prudent choice. She had already played a crucial role in saving Eleanor from grave danger once. Though it wasn’t a direct contribution to the coup, it gave her leverage for later.

Still, her heart refused to settle. Restless, she shifted in her seat, her legs bouncing nervously. A part of her felt compelled to act.

Lucena had always likened her existence to a stagnant pond covered in moss—praised for her virtue and modesty, but ultimately dull and unremarkable. In contrast, Fertan and Eleanor radiated energy like the summer sun, possessing the charisma to lead others and the drive to forge ahead.

To be swept away by their invisible aura would be foolish, especially given the life-and-death stakes. Yet, at some point, she found herself overwhelmed by their momentum.

She imagined Fertan drawing his sword soon. Her heart raced as if she needed to dash out into the pouring rain.

Just then, Leonard’s chief attendant appeared in the venue, visibly flustered. Clearing his throat softly after covering his mouth with a fist, he announced loudly enough for everyone to hear:

“Regrettably, an unforeseen circumstance has arisen concerning the crown princess-to-be. The ceremony will be delayed. Please bear with us momentarily—we will provide further instructions shortly. His Highness extends his apologies.”

A flicker of understanding passed through Lucena’s eyes. The prediction that today’s wedding would be canceled was coming true.

While others dismissed the delay nonchalantly, assuming the ceremony would soon begin, Lucena scrutinized the situation closely. Her impatience surged, already propelling her thoughts back to the palace. Opening the main gate was her assigned task, and she yearned to return to fulfill it.

The nobles around her began whispering.

“What could have caused the delay?”

“Perhaps Lady Eleanor is overly nervous?”

“Lady Eleanor doesn’t strike me as the type… Still, such a momentous occasion could unsettle anyone.”

Someone whose estate neighbored the Rolands chimed in.

“I saw blood pooled on the road leading here—a vast amount spread widely…”

“I noticed it too. Could it be related to Lady Eleanor?”

“Hard to say. But it’s the path she’d have taken to get here.”

Recalling signs of a fierce battle, murmurs grew darker. At first, concerns were couched in polite terms, but as the wait dragged on, speculation intensified. Eventually, someone mentioned kidnapping, sparking wild theories. Whispers even suggested murder.

No one was more curious than Lucena, but returning to the palace took precedence. Hoping nothing terrible had happened to Eleanor, she waited for the right moment to excuse herself.

Time passed without further announcements, and anxiety mounted. An elderly count in his seventies couldn’t endure the prolonged wait. Apologizing to those around him, he leaned on an attendant and shuffled out of the cathedral.

Others unable to withstand the long wait followed suit, quietly slipping away to avoid disrupting the ceremony.

The time had come. Lucena rose, feigning a somber demeanor.

“As much as I’d like to stay until the end, I must excuse myself.”

Her departure drew surprised glances, given her close friendship with Eleanor.

“Your Highness, the ceremony may begin soon.”

“My own wedding is imminent. Calming my nerves isn’t easy.”

Following Leonard’s wedding, Lucena was scheduled to depart for the Pelos Empire in a few days. Everyone knew this, so they silently accepted her excuse. To them, she appeared a sorrowful princess.

She bypassed Leonard’s waiting room entirely. Meeting him would only bring trouble. Even if she asked about Eleanor’s fate and the wedding’s disruption, she wouldn’t receive a truthful answer. Better to maintain their usual strained distance.

Midway through her carriage ride through the rainy streets, she paused briefly.

Opening the carriage door, Lucena summoned those following her. Her personal guards, already recruited and prepared for the operation, gathered around.

“The plan has changed. We’re executing it now on the way to the palace.”

One of the guards questioned her.

“It’s broad daylight… and the crown prince’s wedding day, no less.”

“That’s the order we’ve received. Please, everyone, stay safe.”

Since she had only been informed of the timing by Count Russell, Lucena assumed everything else would proceed as originally planned. Patting the shoulder of a guard wrapped in a damp cloak, she steadied her trembling heart.

If the operation had been set for nighttime, Lucena’s loyal guards would have attempted to quietly pick the locks of the palace gates. But now, that was impossible. With sentries posted everywhere and strict identity checks for anyone entering or leaving, it was practically unfeasible for Lucena alone to keep the gates open. Still, they had agreed to try if the opportunity arose.

Feeling increasingly tense, Lucena approached the outer perimeter of the palace.

The palace walls—low brickwork adorned with ornate iron grilles—felt eerily desolate despite the national celebration. Access near the walls was typically restricted to the public, while across the wide roads and plaza, umbrella-wielding pedestrians bustled about in the distance.

As Lucena’s carriage approached the gate, a sentry lazily stepped forward to inspect both the vehicle and its occupants. Though it was obvious at a glance that this was the princess’s carriage, the procedure was meticulously followed. The windows were opened, and even the faces of the maidservants were scrutinized for anything amiss.

Had it been Leonard’s carriage, the gates would have been flung wide open without question—or even preemptively, long before his arrival.

The disparity in power was glaring. After enduring such discrimination silently for so long, the thought of finally seizing an opportunity stirred within her.

Lucena locked eyes with the guard peering into the carriage. Pushing past her maid, she glared at him with barely contained fury.

“How dare you search the carriage of a princess? Such insolence has its limits.”

“My apologies, but protocol must be followed,” he replied stiffly.

Though she expected this response, it still left her exasperated. She let out a bitter laugh. Her usual meekness had led even the gatekeepers to underestimate her.

“Open the gates. I’m getting out.”

The maid seated beside her widened her eyes in alarm and tried to dissuade her. Though aware of Lucena’s plan, the maid played her part, offering a fitting reply.

“Your Highness, please calm down. Let me handle this guard later…”

“I said I’m getting out.”

Her firm tone caused the maid and others around her to grow visibly tense. Ignoring the heavy raindrops soaking her, Lucena stepped onto the neatly paved avenue leading into the palace grounds. The maid quickly held up an umbrella, but it couldn’t shield her voluminous wedding gown from the downpour. The wide skirt rapidly absorbed the rainwater.

Amidst the frigid atmosphere, Lucena surveyed her surroundings.

There was no fear among the imperial guards for the princess who would soon depart. Even if she threw a tantrum, they’d merely bow their heads superficially before her. But she didn’t care. The world would soon turn upside down.

“State your name.”

Startled by Lucena’s unusually stern demeanor, the sentry hesitated briefly but then proudly announced his rank and name.

“I am James Siren, a private in the 6th Squad of the Imperial Guard.”

While the commotion unfolded, the deputy commander of the imperial guard appeared. He attempted to pacify the situation, apologizing on behalf of the sentry.

The grand gates stood partially open, with the carriage awkwardly halted in the middle.

Lucena deliberately caused a scene, unleashing a torrent of scathing remarks toward the deputy commander.

“How lax is the discipline of the imperial guard that a mere gatekeeper dares to challenge me? Commander, does this man fall under your jurisdiction?”

“Please calm yourself, Your Highness. I will reprimand the sentry appropriately.”

“Reprimand? Not punish? It seems you’re the one who needs discipline.”

“Your Highness.”

“Someone bring me something for corporal punishment. I’ll demonstrate the dignity of the royal family right here, right now.”

Ordinarily, she avoided mistreating subordinates, unlike Leonard, who excelled at it. Instead, she strived to treat those around her kindly to counterbalance his behavior. But this time was different. With Fertan’s attack imminent, she aimed to buy as much time as possible.

“What are you all standing around for? Fetch me a horsewhip, at least.”

Those around her scrambled to restrain her, sweat pouring down their faces. This was exactly the scene she wanted. By berating one person after another, she calculated that luck might align with the timing of the assault.

Having indirectly experienced Leonard’s methods, she had no qualms about reprimanding them harshly. At this rate, she could stir chaos at the palace gates for at least an hour.

Perhaps divine intervention was on her side. Just then, the sound of gunfire erupted.

“What on earth is that noise?”

Multiple rifles fired simultaneously, shaking the ground like cannon blasts. It matched the signal Fertan had explained during their earlier strategy meeting.

Flashes of gunfire sparkled from buildings beyond the plaza and central avenue. Though the distance ensured bullets wouldn’t reach Lucena, she feigned terror beneath her umbrella. While genuinely startled by the gunshots, she inwardly rejoiced. Hoping Fertan’s timing was impeccable, she also resolved to find shelter and avoid danger.

The deputy commander panicked, shouting orders.

“There are suspicious individuals over there! Defend! Defend!”

He shoved another guard to arm himself, urging reinforcements.

“Call for backup! Alert the imperial guard immediately!”

The commander retrieved a rifle stored in a waterproof box near the gatehouse. Layer upon layer of firearms spilled out, carefully protected from the rain. Guards crouched behind the low palace walls, aiming their rifles toward the plaza.

What baffled Lucena was that no one paid attention to her safety. Whether they assumed her personal guards would escort her away or simply ignored her due to ingrained neglect, the deputy commander was too preoccupied defending against the attackers.

The most anxious person was her maid.

“Your Highness, please take cover!”

Urgently linking arms with Lucena, the maid tugged her toward safety.

“Yes, yes…”

But instead of boarding the carriage, Lucena signaled subtly to the driver.

Beside the coachman sat one of her loyal guards, secretly tasked with unlocking the palace gates. Originally planned for a nighttime raid, the circumstances clearly indicated that now was the moment.

Other loyalists shared the same realization. Lucena’s guards recognized the approaching army as allies.

“Quickly, get back into the carriage.”

A sharp-eyed attendant clumsily opened the carriage door, causing it to slam loudly against the frame.

Chaos reigned nearby. The sentries scrambled to arm themselves, while the deputy commander ran frantically, shouting orders. No one could fathom what to do first. Who could have predicted an assault on the palace in broad daylight?

The coachman spurred the horses onward, feigning panic.

Pretending to misunderstand the signal, the guard seated beside him seized the reins, steering the horses off course.

The carriage swerved dangerously, skidding on the rain-soaked cobblestones.

“Oh, oh…”

Skillfully maneuvered by the coachman and guard, the carriage wheels wedged firmly between the iron bars of the gate.

Crack!

One wheel twisted under the weight of the carriage, unable to bear the strain. The heavy vehicle collapsed, its doors swinging loosely.

It was a stroke of luck, courtesy of a skilled coachman and the rainy weather.

“What are you doing?!”

The deputy commander rushed over, but the damage was done. Removing the broken carriage would take considerable effort.

The palace walls stretched endlessly into the distance. While the commander hurried far away to fetch help, Lucena’s group untethered the horses from the wreckage. The coachman looked distraught, and the mangled wheel lay discarded nearby.

Lucena, feigning fear, moved further away from the gate on foot.

“Your Highness, what happened?”

“The wheel came off. We couldn’t move the carriage with just the harnessed horses.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just abandon it like that…”

At that moment, Fertan’s advancing army entered firing range as they stormed across the plaza. With large cover objects shielding their approach, they loaded their rifles and unleashed a coordinated volley from their wide-spread formation. The thunderous roar of gunfire mingled with the rain, shaking the ground beneath them.

“Aaah!”

Terrified, Lucena bolted, lifting her drenched and heavy gown with both hands as she ran in the opposite direction of the gate. Though she was deep inside the palace grounds, there was no telling how quickly Fertan’s forces would close the distance. She needed to escape immediately. While her determination to actively support the operation was commendable, being shot was not on her agenda.

Her loyal guards surrounded her as they fled together. The open plaza near the gate offered little cover, save for some low shrubs, forcing them to sprint far to find safety.

Everyone was too preoccupied with avoiding gunfire to question why the carriage hadn’t been moved. Even the deputy commander had disappeared, crouched low while directing the defense.

After running for what felt like ages and finally taking refuge inside a building, Lucena let out a sigh of relief.

“I made it.”

And succeeded.

She had flawlessly completed the task entrusted to her.

---

On Brellyn Street, Eleanor was alone.

The safe house was a modest, single-story home belonging to commoners. Once the door closed, the interior grew pitch-dark, and the cold seeped through her damp clothes, clinging chillingly to her skin.

As time passed without Wilson returning, Eleanor’s unease deepened. Standing isolated in the barren one-room house, fear crept over her.

“What if the plan failed? Wilson might not have found Liam at the Roland estate, and luring Edwin here from the cathedral must’ve been even harder.”

A foreboding sense told her the next person to push open the creaking wooden door wouldn’t be Wilson.

She imagined Edwin or Leonard storming in with an overwhelming force, a possibility she’d anticipated but dreaded nonetheless. Her anxiety felt tangible, as though disaster loomed just beyond the horizon.

She couldn’t simply wait any longer.

Turning away from the window where she’d been scanning the outside, Eleanor cautiously stepped out of the house.

The area was deserted. A fairly spacious clearing stretched in front of the house, making it easy to spot anyone approaching. The rocky, weed-filled ground drained well, preventing puddles, but the sharp gravel bit into her shoes.

The carriage she’d arrived in stood under a tree. Without a stable or shed, the horse stood exposed to the relentless rain, looking pitiful.

Holding an umbrella, Eleanor carefully surveyed the surroundings. If worst came to worst, she planned to flee on foot and had already mapped out potential escape routes.

This working-class neighborhood on the outskirts of the city was humble and sparse. The scattered houses were small, and their layout offered few hiding spots in case of trouble.

“There’s no way I can outrun my brother—or anyone else—at this point.”

The thought of sprinting brought back distant memories; she hadn’t run at full speed since childhood.

“There’s only one option left: fight.”

Her sole weapon was her sharp tongue, barely a handspan long. Whoever came, she’d have to rely on words to hold her ground.

Wilson had given her a small dagger for self-defense, but she didn’t know how to wield it and had no intention of drawing it. It remained tucked safely in her bag, its presence more burden than comfort.

The rough gravel began to hurt her feet through her shoes. As she returned to the house and folded her umbrella, two horses appeared through the thick rain.

“They’re here.”

Her heart pounded like a soldier facing the enemy.

Moments later, she recognized Liam and Edwin. Relief mixed with mounting tension as they approached.

Eleanor’s mind raced with thoughts, giving her a headache. Though this remote, empty house seemed insignificant, she felt as though she were standing in the middle of a monumental test—a pivotal moment in her personal history.

“Brother.”

“Eleanor, what on earth is going on?”

Edwin leapt off his horse with practiced agility and hurried toward her. She stepped aside, leading him into the dim interior.

“Liam, could you check the surroundings?”

Ensuring no one else was within earshot, Eleanor closed the door behind them, leaving her alone with Edwin.

Her goal was simple: keep Edwin here as long as possible. Whatever conversation unfolded didn’t matter. Even if her heart broke or truths she didn’t want to face came to light, it didn’t matter. Fertan, likely assaulting the palace by now, needed protection from Edwin’s mercenaries.

Taking a deep, silent breath, she turned to face Edwin squarely.

In his mid-thirties, Edwin exuded vitality. Tall, impeccably built, with the same golden hair and violet eyes as hers, he embodied the archetype of a ruler. Beyond his striking appearance, his sharp intellect and cunning made him perfectly suited for the cutthroat world of politics.

But that wasn’t all there was to him. Edwin was ruthless in achieving his goals, stopping at nothing. Eleanor knew well the underhanded tactics he employed in the Privy Council. Through her own social circles, she’d heard whispers of his manipulative schemes.

Among the older members of the council, Edwin’s youth only highlighted his craftiness. Though she owed her upbringing to him, she couldn’t deny that he was both a schemer and a conniver.

And the spoils he’d fed her weren’t what she’d wanted.

Staring at the raindrops hammering against the window frame, Eleanor reflected on her journey from girlhood to womanhood.

Had there been any joyful moments?

Had she ever laughed or chatted freely with Edwin’s family?

Had she ever thrown tantrums or complained to someone?

Like she used to on her father’s lap when she was little.

“Brother.”

Edwin, unlike her, radiated urgency. Shaking the rain from his hat, he caught his breath.

“Did you meet Duke Ablein?”

His direct question betrayed his impatience.

“Yes.”

Eleanor suspected Edwin’s intelligence network was formidable. Running wouldn’t help. Given his information-sharing arrangement with the emperor, he undoubtedly knew about her deep connection with Fertan.

“So the duke intercepted you on your way to the cathedral. He must’ve hated the idea of your marriage to the crown prince.”

He spoke as if discussing someone else’s affairs, feigning objectivity. Did he truly think this way? It was as absurd as when the emperor claimed Fertan was her lover.

“Yes. Fertan is my lover.”

Admitting the truth felt satisfying, even if she hadn’t yet confessed it to Fertan himself.

“Eleanor, you’ve never caused trouble before. Why this sudden change? It doesn’t make sense.”

“‘Well-behaved’? That’s not who I am.”

“It’s clear the duke has corrupted you.”

“I’m not some child easily swayed by others.”

This verbal sparring came naturally. Revealing the depth of her bond with Fertan brought a strange satisfaction.

Edwin clicked his tongue in obvious disapproval.

“You need to come to your senses. First, we must return to the cathedral. Once the wedding is done, the immediate crisis will pass, and I’ll handle the rest.”

“What part of what I just said didn’t you hear? I love Fertan. I’ve never wanted to marry the crown prince—not for a single moment.”

“Stop saying nonsense. Is a royal marriage something you can approve or disapprove of?”

“You mean sacrificing myself for the family’s prosperity? For gratitude’s sake? Well, I refuse. And you know Leonard is unhinged.”

While Leonard’s unappealing traits went beyond mere neurosis, citing his instability was effective against Edwin. Eleanor pressed on relentlessly.

“If I become the crown princess, I know exactly what will happen to me. I’ll end up like the current empress—a plaything neither alive nor dead.”

“That won’t happen. Don’t you have me? I’ll protect your status and dignity.”

Desperate, Edwin didn’t bother trying to persuade her gently; instead, he lunged forward abruptly, like a pickpocket grabbing his mark.

Eleanor swiftly dodged, stepping back.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

She had no intention of being captured so easily. Edwin had only just arrived, and rainwater from his hat still dripped intermittently from the brim.

“Let’s go back first. There are still people waiting for you at the cathedral.”

“Are you trying to drag me there like livestock?”

“If you keep resisting like this, I’ll have no choice. It’s all for your own good.”

“For my sake? Not yours?”

“For the glory of us all…”

Eleanor cut him off sharply, infuriated by his attempt to frame their relationship as one between a submissive noblewoman and a patriarchal head of the family.

“Don’t make me laugh. This is all for your ambition.”

“Eleanor!”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it? We both know how insatiable your greed is. You’re desperate for more power, faster.”

It was unbearable to hear Edwin lecture her about obedience when he himself was guilty of far worse. His hands, pretending to be refined, were stained with murder. She knew exactly whom he had poisoned, yet he showed no remorse, only endless greed.

Fury surged within Eleanor as her voice grew louder.

“Just because I don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean I don’t know the truth.”

Edwin’s shadowed brows twitched slightly.

“Calm down, and we’ll talk about this later. First, let’s get to the wedding venue.”

“You already know that I’ve figured everything out, don’t you, Brother?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You killed the late emperor, didn’t you?”

“Th-that…”

“There’s no point denying it. Even if you shout about the lack of evidence, it won’t change anything. No matter how much you lie, I know the truth.”

The predatory hand movement meant to seize her faltered momentarily. His usually poised neck tilted awkwardly, revealing a glimpse of unease.

Realizing the gravity of the secret she threatened to expose, his face twisted into a snarl. For all his crimes, at least some semblance of ethical awareness remained. The brim of his dripping hat partially concealed his ominous expression.

“Why did you have to go that far? Back then, you were already a recognized courtier.”

She expected him to deny it, as he always did.

But perhaps her insistence struck a nerve this time—or maybe it was because she’d gotten close to incriminating evidence like the signet ring or the apothecary. Whatever the reason, Edwin reacted differently now.

Like a beast before an attack, he lowered his head. His rigid face briefly disappeared beneath the brim of his hat.

“At the time, I wasn’t even of age yet.”

“Are you trying to claim it was a youthful mistake? That’s absurd.”

“No, that’s not it.”

When Edwin slowly raised his head, the man standing before her was unrecognizable. Gone was the dignified Duke Roland she had always known. In his place stood someone exuding a demonic aura, as though a forked serpent’s tongue might flicker out with every word.

The sight of his true colors made her recoil in shock. The sheer transformation—from composed nobility to unveiled malice—was staggering.

He clicked his tongue in irritation, looking down on her as if she were too foolish to understand.

“To soar higher, I still had a long way to go.”

“A long way? What do you mean?”

“It means I had to spend years tidying the emperor’s desk and straightening his clothes. While I was ready for greater responsibilities, the world refused to acknowledge my pace.”

His reasoning was utterly incomprehensible. She stared at him blankly, wondering if she’d misheard.

“So you murdered the late emperor just to climb the ranks faster?”

“The late emperor trusted Father completely, leaving me no room to intervene.”

“But you could’ve waited. Your position would’ve improved naturally over time.”

“Do you remember how old Father was back then? You wouldn’t know, having not debuted in society yet, but his youth and beauty shook both the imperial court and noble circles.”

“Are you saying age and appearance mattered? Does that even make sense?”

“Of course, that wasn’t the whole story. Father’s exceptional abilities made him the late emperor’s closest confidant, which was also a problem. And the Privy Council couldn’t have two members from the same family. No matter how hard I tried, my potential was capped.”

“I can’t believe you were so obsessed with reaching the highest position—even if it meant harming others.”

His snake-like eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You really are naïve. Life must be so simple for you.”

His sarcastic tone only deepened her disbelief.

It was as though he viewed himself as a victim of circumstance, forced to take drastic measures because the world failed to recognize his brilliance. The fact that he justified poisoning the late emperor with such flimsy reasoning left her speechless.

Edwin was a devil consumed by selfishness and deceit, yet listening to him recount his past exhausted her emotionally. Anger and sorrow intertwined, draining her rapidly.

Though she wanted to shut her ears, she knew this opportunity wouldn’t come again. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to listen.

Edwin’s venomous words poured forth relentlessly. Seizing the moment, he elaborated on his crimes as though boasting of achievements.

“At first, I considered eliminating either the late emperor or Father. But blood ties being what they are, I decided to target the emperor instead.”

“Then why did you kill Father and Mother?”

“I thought replacing the emperor would solve everything. But I was wrong. To you, Father may have seemed dependable, but to me, he was an obstacle—one that would soon limit my rise in status and power.”

A chilling realization dawned on her: to Edwin, their father was nothing more than a tool for his ambition.

He took for granted the privileged upbringing, the finest education, and even the recommendation to serve as a courtier under the late emperor. When the time came to demand more, he didn’t hesitate to kill his own father.

To Edwin, his parents weren’t family—they were merely treasure chests to plunder.

“Do you know how long titled nobles typically live? Even by average lifespans, I’d have had to wait decades for Father to die. By the time I inherited the title and became head of the Roland household, I’d be old and wrinkled.”

“What does aging matter? Most inherit titles around middle age.”

“I didn’t want that. Why should someone like me waste thirty years—from radiant twenty to decrepit fifty—languishing in Father’s shadow?”

“It doesn’t make sense. I can’t comprehend it.”

“When there was nothing left to gain from them, they became obstacles. And obstacles need to be removed, don’t they?”

Eleanor’s teeth ground together unconsciously. Tears streamed down her cheeks like the rain outside, unnoticed.

“What’s the point of reaching the pinnacle bent over with white hair? I couldn’t wait that long.”

“You’re a devil… Brother, you’re a devil.”

Thinking of their mother, who doted on him, and their father, who tirelessly supported him, broke her heart. Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe.

Choking back sobs, she swallowed her curses against Edwin.

“I see you understand now. Judging by your expression, you seem to sympathize a little.”

His taunting demeanor was despicable. He deliberately provoked her emotions, scraping at her raw nerves, perhaps hoping she’d collapse from grief.

Edwin cast a disapproving glance at Eleanor as she clutched her chest, struggling to hold back her tears. A bitter clicking sound escaped his twisted lips.

“You dragged up the past, so I had no choice but to explain myself. But you mustn’t breathe a word of this outside. You understand how dangerous this truth is, don’t you?”

She couldn’t respond, sobbing bitterly until an eerie groan clawed its way out of her throat like a dying animal.

“Besides, you’re my sister. If I’m harmed, you won’t escape unscathed.”

It was a thinly veiled threat to keep her silent. No wonder he’d spilled so much—Edwin wasn’t one to make things easy. He intended to manipulate her into knowing the truth yet remaining complicit.

Had she not been thinking of Fertan and what he might be doing right now, she might have succumbed to despair under the weight of Edwin’s malevolence. She prayed fervently in her heart for Fertan’s success—for the day when all these sins would be punished.

“I’m ashamed to call you my brother. It’s humiliating.”

He smiled like a snake.

“What do your feelings matter? Whether you like it or not, your fate is to become the crown princess.”

And she, too, was merely another tool in Edwin’s grand design.

By marrying into the imperial family and bearing heirs, she would pave the way for him to eventually become the emperor’s maternal relative. But was that truly the end of his insatiable greed?

Where does greed ever stop? Once you grasp what you desire, you only hunger for more.

Seizing the moment while Eleanor wavered, Edwin moved silently, his steps chillingly deliberate. Like thorny vines creeping closer, his shadow loomed over her.

“We’ve wasted too much time. We need to return to the wedding venue before it’s too late.”

With all her strength, Eleanor shook off his grip. The force of their collision left her wrist throbbing painfully.

But pain was hers alone to bear. Edwin, with his imposing physique, remained unfazed, baring his teeth mockingly as he sneered.

“Are you trying to resist me?”

Eleanor instinctively sensed danger.

She couldn’t afford to collide with him head-on. If she did, she’d be caught immediately.

He wouldn’t show mercy just because she was his sister. Imagining herself being beaten in hidden corners or dragged away by force filled her with dread. The thought of her arm being twisted behind her back fit all too well with the merciless Edwin she knew, leaving her sighing in despair.

“Don’t come any closer.”

He let out a derisive laugh.

“I’m not joking. Stop fooling around and come here.”

“I mean it. I’m not going to the ceremony.”

“Eleanor, that’s not your decision to make. You must become Crown Prince Leonard’s bride.”

“I said no!”

Like a hunter cornering a rabbit, Edwin pushed her into a tight spot. There was nowhere to hide in this barren house with only a few broken pieces of furniture. In an instant, she found her back pressed against the wall, screaming with all her might.

“Kyaaah!”

Stumbling backward, she lost her balance. Leaning against an old shelf caused it to collapse with a deafening crash.

Bang! The wooden fragments scattered chaotically amidst the wreckage.

“Ah.”

Instinctively, Edwin hesitated. Unintentionally, the fallen shelf now stood as a barrier between them. Though small, it momentarily halted his pursuit.

This was her chance. Swiftly, Eleanor pulled the dagger from her bag.

“Don’t come near me!”

Her voice cut through the air as sharply as her scream.

“You can’t take me by force.”

She pointed the blade at her own throat, pressing its sharp tip lightly into the hollow just beside her collarbone.

“Eleanor, what are you doing? This is dangerous!”

“Stay right there, Brother. If you come any closer, you’ll see me die.”

“Put the knife down. Any harm to the crown princess’s body will be disastrous.”

“Are you even listening to me? I said I’m not going.”

Her hand gripping the dagger tightened with resolve. A solemn determination welled up within her.

The finely honed blade bit into her soft skin. The slight sting mattered little compared to her overwhelming will to resist Edwin. In the heat of the moment, she barely registered the sensation of the blade slicing her flesh.

Beads of crimson blood welled up on her pale skin.

Thin rivulets trickled down the contours of her slender neck.

“Stop it! You’re bleeding!”

Edwin shouted furiously, unable to bear the sight of his carefully crafted masterpiece being marred.

Her simple summer dress left her neckline exposed, revealing the vulnerable skin where the blade pressed. Edwin watched as more blood seeped from the cut, pooling in the hollow above her collarbone.

“Brother, give up. Take three steps back, and I’ll lower the knife.”

As this unfolded, Eleanor wondered why Liam hadn’t checked in yet.

There was no way he hadn’t heard the shelf collapse or her piercing screams. Though her cries were meant to deter Edwin, they should have alerted Liam too.

Something must have gone wrong. Perhaps they’d been attacked.

The operation was precarious, riddled with variables. Her plan relied solely on keeping Edwin detained for a few hours, nothing more.

She prayed Liam was safe, her ears straining for any sign of movement outside.

“You’ve lost your mind. Your emotions have clouded your judgment.”

“No matter what you say, my resolve won’t change. Step back.”

Edwin took a single step back, feigning concession.

“Fine. I’ll give you a moment to calm down.”

His sneer betrayed his true intentions as he lowered his predatory hand. His cold gaze revealed his scheming—how to subdue her and drag her away.

Though pretending to grant her a brief reprieve, Edwin’s attention was subtly drawn outside.

Why hadn’t his private army made a move? Even if they’d been waiting silently on his orders, the commotion inside should have prompted them to intervene. At the very least, they should have knocked to check on him.

Granted, wresting the dagger from Eleanor wouldn’t be easy, whether Edwin handled her alone or dozens stormed the house. Still, the absence of expected activity unsettled him.

Surely Liam, guarding the door, hadn’t been overpowered.

Edwin’s cunning eyes darted around, scanning for clues. He glanced outside, wondering if anything was amiss.

“What are you looking at?”

Eleanor asked sharply.

“Mind your own business. Take a deep breath and put the knife down.”

While outwardly patient, Edwin planned to seize the dagger at the first opportunity. Prolonged confrontation drained energy quickly, and he doubted Eleanor could maintain her grip for long. A fleeting lapse in focus would allow him to wrench her arm and disarm her.

His calculating gaze continuously searched for an opening.

“Brother, it’s you who should give up.”

Their argument circled endlessly, revisiting the same points without progress.

Amidst the verbal sparring, both were preoccupied with assessing their situation. Eleanor worried about Liam’s silence, while Edwin fretted over the lack of movement from his soldiers.

Before long, Edwin resorted to cunning.

With feigned nonchalance, Edwin picked up a piece of scattered furniture debris from the floor—a hefty chunk of wood.

“Strange. Why isn’t there any sound coming from outside?”

He hurled the wooden block at the window with full force. The glass shattered into countless shards, scattering sharp fragments everywhere as raindrops clinging to the pane were swept inside by the wind.

At the same time, Edwin shouted loudly, his voice carrying through the gaping hole where the window had been.

“Everyone, come in!”

Even Eleanor, who had steeled herself, was startled. Her body instinctively recoiled despite her resolve.

Edwin didn’t miss the fleeting moment when her eyes blinked. Leaping over the fallen shelf, he lunged at her, grabbing her arm with brute force.

“Aaah! Let go! I said let go!”

She thrashed desperately, gripping the dagger tightly with all her might.

The sharp blade wavered precariously, tracing an erratic curve through the air. Its movement followed a trajectory no trained swordsman would ever use.

By sheer luck, the tip of the dagger sliced into Edwin’s hand—the very hand gripping her arm.

“Ah, this...”

Blood dripped freely as Edwin released her. Like someone possessed, Eleanor screamed and scrambled to the opposite corner of the room.

Her heart pounded wildly, as if she’d just run a marathon, and her trembling hand still clutched the dagger firmly. Yet her mind remained clear, acutely aware of reality. Pressing the blade back against her throat, she yelled:

“I told you not to come near me!”

Edwin stared grimly at the gash on his palm.

An eerie silence settled after their life-and-death struggle. Eleanor, still poised to resist, faced him in a renewed standoff. He hesitated to make another move.

Only the howling wind and driving rain whistled through the broken window.

And then it dawned on both of them: there was no one outside—no Liam, no reinforcements.