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Fertan felt as though his heart might stop, leaving him dead on the spot.
Breathless from running at full speed, he arrived at the safe house on Brellyn Street only to find Eleanor gone. Beneath a large tree where the carriage had been parked, he discovered nothing but a few lifeless bodies.
Where could she have gone? Had Edwin taken her back to the cathedral?
Just as he was about to decide his next move, his men identified one of the bodies as Liam. Detecting warmth in his body, they immediately began emergency treatment. After moments of heavy blood loss and unconsciousness, Liam’s eyes fluttered open with great effort.
“I’m glad you’re alive, Liam. Heaven must be watching over us.”
“Cough… cough…”
The battlefield medic worked frantically to staunch the bleeding while Liam hacked up blood.
“The lady…”
“When I arrived, no one was in the house. Did you see where she went?”
“Duke Roland… cough, cough… took the unconscious Lady Eleanor and left in a carriage.”
“She fainted?”
“He drove the carriage away. Lady Eleanor held out here for a long time… They haven’t been gone long. Hurry, cough…”
As more blood spilled from his mouth, the medic’s face darkened. Fertan placed a firm hand on Liam’s shoulder.
“Medic, you must save Liam. Do everything you can.”
“You should focus on finding the Lady instead.”
After briefly reassuring the critically injured Liam, Fertan rose to his feet. If Eleanor had been taken by Edwin, the cathedral was the most likely destination. He led his soldiers back along the path they had come, retracing their steps at full speed.
Their passage through the streets sent up white sprays of water. Fertan surged ahead like an arrow splitting through the air, his horse galloping far ahead of the group. The thunderous vibrations of their approach rippled through the city like an earthquake, causing passersby to clear the roads well in advance.
Rain lashed diagonally against his face, soaking him as if he’d emerged from a swim. Narrowing his eyes to shield them from the relentless droplets, Fertan’s mind raced with prayers.
‘Please… please let her be there.’
Deep within, he begged endlessly. He hoped desperately to find Eleanor safe.
‘Let me just see her. I’ll handle everything else after that.’
His insides felt scorched dry, yet his soul remained parched like a desert. His hair clung to him like wet seaweed, but his heart burned with longing. His throat was raw, and his lungs rasped painfully with each breath.
He repeated his fervent wish: all he wanted was for Eleanor to be unharmed. If he could see her safe and sound, he would gladly sacrifice every ounce of luck he had left in this life.
The battle at the palace had been so intense that he hadn’t received updates about the cathedral. After storming straight from the outer perimeter to the emperor’s chambers, defeating Maximilian, and rushing to the safe house without pause, there had been no time for reports to reach him.
The uncertainty gnawed at him. It was like reaching into a box, not knowing what lay inside—a fear born of ignorance that swelled larger with each passing moment.
‘Whatever schemes Leonard hatched don’t matter. As long as she isn’t hurt.’
If Edwin had forcibly dragged her away, they might have forced through a marriage ceremony. Such brutal methods were rare but not unheard of.
This could shatter Fertan’s dream of making Eleanor his companion.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
Even if the grandest cathedral in the empire hosted a formal wedding ceremony officiated by the Imperial Church, it wouldn’t change anything. Even if countless guests witnessed Eleanor being declared Leonard’s wife, Fertan was prepared to accept it.
Nothing could alter the essence of Eleanor’s soul. She would remain the same person, with the same spirit.
She was a talent indispensable to the empire and its people—a beacon of noble ideals.
More importantly, she was the woman he loved above all else.
Her worth transcended even the imperial throne itself. At times, Fertan had even entertained thoughts of abandoning treason altogether and eloping with her. To him, she was the ultimate priority.
A sharp pain stabbed at his left ribcage, reminiscent of a knife wound—something he knew all too well from past battles.
The fear of losing Eleanor pierced his heart like a blade.
What if she disappeared completely, leaving him unable to find her? What if she had suffered irreversible injuries? Amidst these anxieties, the thought of the cathedral wedding faded into the background.
‘That trivial ceremony.’
It was merely a formality. While making Eleanor his empress would be ideal, simply having her by his side was enough. Titles and justifications could always be arranged later—appointments, noble ranks, anything.
Even if public opinion among the nobility turned sour and denied her any official title, there were still countless ways to keep her close. Fertan’s wealth and lands were his alone, beyond anyone’s interference. He could bring her into that sphere if needed.
His first wish was to make the empress’s quarters her home. But if necessary, he could even place her in the emperor’s palace.
Let the masses criticize him for keeping the deposed crown prince’s widow close. Controlling gossip would be an amusing challenge. And when their child was born someday, Eleanor would inevitably gain recognition for the sake of the imperial succession.
‘No matter what happens, I won’t let go of her hand.’
As he imagined worst-case scenarios and devised contingency plans, a boiling sound rose in Fertan’s parched throat. Pressing his horse forward, his thighs hovered half a span above the saddle.
---
The rain that had poured mournfully all day began to ease, though the city remained cloaked in gloomy gray hues. Puddles of mud had risen and receded, leaving sticky stains on the roads.
The lingering drizzle tapped lightly against Eleanor’s forehead.
The peculiar ceremonial carriage, with its wide-open windows, offered little protection from the rain. Initially speeding recklessly, it soon slowed due to Leonard’s motion sickness caused by the uneven road.
The sight of the grand flower-laden carriage was already absurd, but now curious citizens lined the streets, drawn by the commotion of a large group hurrying along.
When they caught sight of the Crown Prince’s resplendent attire and the pale, ornate carriage, cheers erupted.
“Long live the Crown Prince and his bride! Long live the Ratton Empire!”
The hollow cries drifted faintly past Eleanor’s ears.
But the procession wasn’t slow enough for proper viewing. Most bystanders could only catch a fleeting glimpse of the massive, elaborate carriage surrounded by soldiers.
“This is quite the ridiculous sight,” Eleanor muttered to herself.
If she were fleeing in defeat, she would never choose such a conspicuous vehicle. Only someone as thoughtless as Leonard would do something like this. Even in a hurry, using a slow-moving, highly visible ceremonial carriage made no sense.
She considered suggesting they release the twelve horses pulling the carriage and ride individually, but she said nothing. Why offer advice that would only benefit Leonard?
The captain of the guard seated to her right shared her sentiment. He kept her restrained quietly but exchanged no words with Leonard. A loyal retainer would have discussed their destination or sought help, yet the captain stubbornly turned his chin away.
Edwin, trailing behind, also appeared distant. His disdain for Leonard was evident, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts.
Come to think of it, Leonard’s ever-present attendant had vanished. Perhaps he had slipped away unnoticed.
Among the ragtag group, there wasn’t a single ally of the Crown Prince to be found, no matter how hard one looked.
Leonard clasped Eleanor’s left hand tightly, radiating happiness. Having seized her just before fleeing, he must have been ecstatic. Though she understood his feelings, goosebumps crawled up her arm.
Like Leonard, Eleanor had severed communication entirely.
“Eleanor, we truly are destined.”
“…”
“No matter what challenges arise, your presence gives me strength. Even if that bastard Fertan comes after us, I feel secure with you by my side.”
“…”
“You’ll overcome any obstacle, I know it.”
Was he implying she should solve everything herself? It was utterly baffling.
“My clever Eleanor. What should we do next?”
“….”
She bit her lip and avoided meeting his gaze, responding to Leonard’s incessant pestering with silence.
He prattled on about their relationship as if it were already decided, outlining the duties of a wife. When Eleanor remained unresponsive, he eventually snapped in frustration.
“Do you think you can escape me? Even in death, you’ll belong to me.”
Overwhelmed by disgust, Eleanor forcefully tried to shake off his sticky grip. His clammy hand clung stubbornly before finally releasing her.
“Let go of me. We’re nothing to each other.”
The fear of being dragged away forever, never to see Fertan again, surged within her. She could endure anything but an indefinite separation from him.
Tears welled up uncontrollably.
She refused to let Leonard see her emotional weakness. Clenching her jaw, she forced her reddened eyes wide open.
Just then, a thunderous roar erupted.
It wasn’t a sound descending from the sky but a rumble rising from the earth itself.
The ground seemed to split open as the pursuers closed in, swiftly overtaking the fleeing group. Fertan’s army had arrived to capture the fleeing crown prince.
The ragtag band of fugitives looked absurd compared to the elite soldiers of the advancing force. Their movements were lightning-fast, striking even before the thunder could be heard. As soon as Eleanor turned her head upon noticing the pursuit, the first ally came into view.
A man rode alongside Leonard, matching the speed of his horse.
His muscular frame, long limbs, and jet-black hair whipped violently in the wind. Every time his horse galloped, his broad shoulders surged like a beast.
“Fer— Mmph!”
Before she could call out to him, Leonard let out a guttural scream and clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Shut up! Are you so eager to call out to your lover? What does that make me, your husband?”
She wanted to retort, “Who’s your husband?” but his cold, wet grip tightened around her jaw. The sensation of his clammy hand on her face made her shudder. Summoning all her strength, she shook her head free.
In the midst of their struggle, the situation shifted dramatically.
Fertan’s piercing glare locked onto the two of them, his expression sharp as a blade. He radiated the aura of a grim reaper wielding Death’s Side. His murderous gaze bore into Leonard, who was still grappling with Eleanor, filled with raw hatred.
It was palpable animosity—a living weapon aimed straight at them.
“Leonard, you bastard.”
At the sight of Fertan, Leonard’s complexion changed instantly. Panicking, he flailed his arms wildly, inadvertently pulling Eleanor’s hand along with his own.
Seeing their intertwined hands, Fertan’s eyes darkened further. It was almost as if a black aura swirled behind him, born of pure hostility. Though the target of his enmity was Leonard, merely sensing it indirectly made Eleanor tremble involuntarily.
Every movement of Fertan’s seared itself into her mind.
Time seemed to slow. Even the droplets flying from the ends of his drenched black hair floated like feathers.
His rain-soaked uniform clung heavily to his broad shoulders as he turned. With one hand gripping the reins, he reached behind the saddle with the other, rummaging through a long bag wrapped in multiple layers of waterproof cloth.
Inside was a perfectly dry gun—a feat only possible because he had meticulously prepared for the rain-soaked day.
On horseback, he swiftly loaded the gun, inserting bullets, priming the firing mechanism, and filling it with powder. His movements were as practiced as any expert marksman’s.
Fertan aimed the barrel directly at Leonard.
“The usurper has fallen. You’ll follow shortly.”
Though Leonard couldn’t hear the words over the thunderous gallop and his own ragged breathing, the murderous intent piercing through the air delivered the verdict clearly enough.
Realizing the imminent threat to his life, Leonard kicked frantically while seated. His pale face turned ashen as he struggled to release Eleanor’s hand, which was now stuck due to sweat and rain acting like glue. Just as the trigger was about to be pulled, their interlocked fingers wouldn’t budge.
The fleeting moment to escape slipped away.
“Guh!”
Trapped like a cornered rat, Leonard thrashed desperately.
In a sudden burst of desperation, he yanked Eleanor by her hair, pulling her in front of him as a shield. Her body blocked his vital points, hiding his trembling skull behind her.
Curious to see what Fertan would do, Leonard revealed half his crazed gaze.
“Drop the gun.”
Fertan muttered softly, just enough to steady his aim.
“You mad bastard.”
Both Fertan and Leonard were caught off guard by the abrupt turn of events. But then Leonard hit upon the idea of using Eleanor as leverage.
To intimidate her effectively, he needed a weapon. Scanning the area, Leonard glanced at the captain of the guard behind Eleanor.
But the captain, believing his duty ended here, had retreated to the opposite side of the carriage, adopting the stance of a bystander. He neither handed over a weapon nor assisted in taking Eleanor hostage.
Eleanor stood squarely in Fertan’s line of fire.
Thinking he had won, Leonard frantically searched for a weapon. Another soldier, riding alongside the opposite side of the carriage, obliviously offered a short spare dagger.
The moment when Fertan’s resolve might falter due to the hostage situation.
Eleanor, tears or rain streaming down her cheeks, shook her head in despair. The gun barrel wavered slightly downward, unmistakably hesitating. Without needing to see his chest heave, she could feel his inner turmoil vividly.
For Eleanor’s safety, Fertan might let Leonard go—even though doing so would leave a dangerous enemy alive.
“Shoot!”
Her shrill voice pierced the sky, now clearing after the rain.
“Shoot! I’ll be fine.”
Terrified of dying herself, she spoke despite trembling violently in the ill-suited wedding carriage.
Fertan, riding alongside, appeared more composed, but even he was limited by the act of shooting from horseback. No matter how skilled a marksman, hitting a target shielded by a hostage was nearly impossible. Even a perfect shot would have abysmal accuracy under these conditions.
She weighed the risks—her own peril versus letting Leonard escape. The scales wouldn’t balance. Whether Fertan fired or Leonard thrust his blade, death loomed closer with every passing second.
Leonard, treating her as his possession, wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice her life if it meant securing his own survival. His earlier boasts about welcoming rain weren’t out of affection but utility—she was merely an amusing toy or useful tool. Never an equal partner in any sense.
If this was an unavoidable fate, she’d rather entrust it to Fertan’s hands.
Better to die by Fertan’s bullet than Leonard’s petty blade.
“Hurry!”
As she raised her voice, she couldn’t fully grasp the torment raging within Fertan.
Though his eyes remained fixed on the target, his soul writhed in agony, wishing he could take her place. Red-eyed and rock-steady, he experienced a vivid hell that didn’t exist in reality. His entire body felt impaled by countless spikes. The guilt of seeing her cruelly used as a hostage by someone unworthy of harming her consumed him.
“Eleanor…”
Clenching his teeth, he held his breath.
At the same moment, she reached back and grabbed Leonard tightly. Hoping to steady his aim, she didn’t know how much of Leonard would be exposed but wished for even the slightest stability.
Even if we both die, it doesn’t matter. If I perish, Fertan will still become the ruler of the empire.
Though she coveted the position of Fertan’s empress, she hoped he’d find a better woman and be happy.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Bang—
The gunshot echoed through the gloomy city. Blood splattered across the ivory carriage.
“Guh!”
Leonard’s head snapped back, and his blood spattered thickly over Eleanor’s closed eyelids.
Feeling no pain herself, Eleanor shoved him violently and wiped the blood streaming down her face. Her panicked gaze darted toward the source of the scream.
Leonard, now missing an ear, was squealing like a pig. His temple was crushed, grazed by the bullet that had narrowly missed Eleanor’s hand still entwined with his.
No longer able to use her as a hostage, Eleanor pushed him away with all her strength.
Fertan’s horse drew close to the carriage, and in one fluid motion, he leapt from the saddle onto the moving vehicle.
Eleanor let out a startled shriek—”Kyaa!”—as Fertan nearly lost his balance mid-leap. Had it not been such a dire situation, she might have scolded him with a light tap on the shoulder for being reckless. But after seeing him land safely with a long stride, her heart finally settled.
Fertan, his lower eyelids streaked red, glanced briefly at her unharmed state before charging straight at Leonard.
“Let go of her hand.”
His voice was low and menacing as he unsheathed his long sword.
“She is not yours. She is the person I’ve given my entire heart to.”
Even amidst the chaos, their fingers were still tightly interlocked. The grip was so deep, and Leonard’s panicked clutching and releasing made it impossible for Eleanor to untangle them with her own strength.
Terrified, Leonard scrambled backward on his rear.
“P-Please… spare me…”
The sword arced high, gleaming like lightning before plunging downward. It sliced cleanly past the wrist that held Eleanor’s hand.
“Aaahhh!”
A grayish hand flopped lifelessly to the floor as blood gushed like a fountain from Leonard’s severed arm.
“I told you to let go,” Fertan growled, raising his sword once more.
The blade caught the light, reflecting sharply against Leonard’s wide, terror-filled eyes.
The fear of death far outweighed the pain of losing his hand. Frantically thrashing, Leonard retreated further. Ignoring the captain of the guard who had abandoned him, he groped blindly for the low carriage window frame with his remaining hand. Taking advantage of the brief moment when Fertan checked on Eleanor, Leonard hurled himself backward out of the moving carriage.
“Ah!”
Eleanor gasped as Leonard tumbled out, rolling and crashing into a street corner, his body smeared with blood.
The carriage couldn’t stop abruptly due to the horses galloping ahead and behind it. Fertan barked an order:
“Stop the carriage! We can’t let Leonard escape!”
As the carriage gradually slowed amidst loud vibrations, the corner where Leonard had fallen grew distant behind them. The curved road soon hid him from view.
The soldiers surrounding them turned their horses to pursue Leonard.
To eliminate any lingering threat, they needed to return to the spot where Leonard had fallen and confirm whether he was dead. Regardless of the overall outcome, dealing with the deposed crown prince was still necessary.
But Eleanor came first.
While the carriage slowed, Fertan busied himself checking her condition.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”
His worried words mirrored her own concerns.
“Are you okay, Fertan? Were you injured?”
They asked almost simultaneously, their eyes scanning each other’s bodies. As they fumbled to ensure the other’s safety, they suddenly embraced tightly.
“Thank goodness... truly.”
Her sigh, heavy with pent-up anguish, brushed against him.
She didn’t feel the deep imprints of hands on her back or the sting of tears mingling with Leonard’s blood. Burrowing into Fertan’s warmth, she clung to him desperately, rubbing her chest against his and digging her nails into his arms.
His heated presence seeped into her rain-chilled skin, offering warmth akin to a winter fire. Finally reunited with him, she felt acutely the destination she had long yearned for—Fertan himself.
Reluctantly, his firm arms released her.
“Just a moment.”
Fertan picked up Leonard’s severed hand from the carriage floor and tossed it outside before she could notice and recoil. The pale remnant disappeared from sight almost instantly.
He then pulled out a handkerchief and carefully wiped her face. With gentle fingertips, he dabbed at her eyelids, softly patting away the grime and blood. Eleanor felt like a child receiving tender care as she felt the cautious touch of his cleaning.
When she opened her eyes again, the stained cloth had vanished into his pocket, along with the blood and filth. Thanks to his thoughtful gesture, she saw none of it.
“I must look terrible, huh?”
Fertan’s sharp gaze softened, the intensity from across the gun barrel replaced by pure tenderness. He was utterly helpless before her, a man completely undone.
“I’m the one who looks worse. I’m afraid you’ll scold me for being ugly.”
Drenched from the rain, his clothes bore traces of blood that dripped from his elbows. Yet his face remained clean, as if freshly washed.
She touched his cheek, cool from the rain.
“That’s impossible. You’re Fertan. No matter what, you’re the incredible man I know.”
Fertan’s lips curled into a broad smile, achingly beautiful. Though inappropriate for the battlefield, his grin pierced her heart with its brilliance.
Despite the recent bloodshed and the terror of near-death, Fertan’s presence had pushed those fears aside. He held her tightly, agonizing over even the smallest scratch on her skin.
More intense than the whirlwind of upheaval that day was Fertan’s furrowed brow as he noticed a faint scar on her neck.
“I’m sorry I came too late.”
His sorrowful fingertips hovered over the self-inflicted wound she’d made while confronting Edwin, trembling without touching her. His bloodshot eyes seemed to weep for her.
“It’s not too late. I never imagined we’d reunite so quickly.”
“I’m sorry… not just for being late but for so much more. For letting you endure this ordeal and for making you suffer.”
His quivering lips brimmed with regret. She quickly shook her head.
“No, don’t say that.”
Eleanor had many questions: whether Edwin’s role in luring the enemy had helped Fertan, whether she’d complicated things unnecessarily, how the palace takeover unfolded. She knew only the outcome of Fertan’s victory and craved details.
But she postponed those specifics. Seeing him lower his gaze as though burdened by guilt, she wished he’d stop apologizing.
Fertan had surely done his best—judging the situation, racing toward his goal, cutting down enemies with fervor.
Just as she had strived tirelessly to aid his rebellion.
“It was so hard… there were moments I thought I couldn’t bear it anymore. But now, everything’s fine. You must have felt the same, right?”
Seated on his lap, she crossed her arms around him. Resting his head on her hunched shoulders, he murmured her name softly.
“Elle… Eleanor.”
Emotion surged within her. How many times had she despaired, fearing they’d never meet again? Pushed to the brink of hopelessness, she had fought desperately to save this man. Now, enveloped in his warmth, she basked in the moment. His large hands encircling her back lingered, unwilling to let go.
---
Around the carriage, Fertan’s advancing troops formed a secure perimeter.
While Fertan dealt with Leonard’s rampage inside the carriage, his soldiers engaged in fierce combat with the imperial guards. Following Fertan’s lead, wave after wave of his men surged forward, overwhelming the dispirited guards who were more focused on self-preservation.
Many had fallen from their horses. After Leonard’s gruesome tumble, most surrendered.
“Eleanor, could you wait here for a moment?”
Fertan looked back along the path they’d traveled, his gaze passing over his subordinates rounding up prisoners and securing horses.
“Are you going back to where Leonard fell?”
“Yes, I think it’s better if you don’t see.”
Hidden in his words was the hope that Eleanor wouldn’t have to witness Leonard again—his severed wrist and mangled face.
Though uneasy herself, Eleanor didn’t want to be left alone. She clutched Fertan’s sleeve tightly, trying to calm her discomfort.
“Let’s go together. Even if it’s a chilling scene, I think this is a mountain we need to face head-on.”
They retraced their steps along the road. On the edges of the street, imperial guards, soldiers, and attendants knelt, their ranks mixed in surrender.
But key figures were nowhere to be seen. The captain of the guard, who had disembarked from the carriage, looked exhausted as he gazed at Fertan. Leonard’s close attendants seemed to have fled earlier, leaving only a cluster of other servants behind.
As they continued walking back, they failed to encounter the person they sought.
“What do we do? My brother isn’t here.”
Fertan turned to her with a worried expression.
“Edwin was with us? I must have passed him while focusing on you.”
“He was following from the rear. Where could he have gone?”
Her heart, which had finally begun to calm, started pounding again. Come to think of it, the number of soldiers seemed fewer than when they had set out. Though she hadn’t counted precisely, the difference was noticeable.
“It looks like about half the soldiers are missing.”
“The rear must have seen intense fighting. We have quite a few wounded on our side.”
The battle near the carriage, under the command of the assault team’s general, ended in a decisive victory, capturing all of Leonard’s guards. However, the situation for the troops lagging far behind was entirely different. Only scattered remnants of our forces remained, and there was no sign of the enemy. Since Edwin had been at the rear, most of the soldiers there were likely his private militia.
Their faces darkened as they hurried along the winding road.
“Ah... What should we do?”
Eleanor covered her mouth, sighing deeply.
Her ominous premonition proved correct. Where Leonard should have fallen, only a large bloodstain remained. Edwin, along with many soldiers, had vanished.
“They’ve escaped. Edwin must have helped Leonard.”
Fertan let out a low growl and gestured behind him, summoning someone. A squad leader who had fought in the rear quickly approached and bowed.
“What happened? Where is the deposed crown prince?”
The squad leader, bearing minor injuries, reported on the skirmish with Edwin’s militia.
“The troops led by Duke Roland were highly experienced fighters. Their swordplay was sharp, and the battle was closely contested. In the chaos, the duke managed to help the deposed crown prince escape. Your Majesty, I apologize. Though we managed to eliminate some of the enemy, we ultimately failed to capture them.”
“Do you know where they fled?”
“They went up that narrow alley over there.”
Peering down the alley, they found it short and cramped, leading to another street beyond. They could only guess the general direction; pinpointing their exact whereabouts was impossible.
Fertan met Eleanor’s gaze. Their eyes reflected the same grim resolve.
They had to consider the possibility of losing the fugitives. Letting them escape would leave a significant threat. Though Leonard might not pose much danger, Edwin certainly could regroup and retaliate later.
Fertan left only a small contingent to deal with the remaining prisoners and ordered the commander to gather all available troops.
“The deposed Crown Prince Leonard has fled with Duke Roland. They can’t have gone far. Launch an immediate search operation.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Spread word of their numbers and appearance. They must be captured at all costs.”
As his subordinates rallied to chase after Leonard’s group, Fertan commanded with unwavering authority.
Even as he issued firm orders, one arm remained firmly linked with Eleanor’s. He wasn’t letting her go again.
Soon, darkness began to fall over the streets.
The atmosphere grew chaotic. After the battle ended and the pursuit teams departed, things seemed to settle somewhat, but civilians began peeking out cautiously. Everyone watched them but avoided direct eye contact, deterred by the stern discipline of the advancing troops.
The number of onlookers surrounding them from afar gradually increased.
The kneeling guards, the wrecked wedding carriage, and Eleanor at the center of the tight security must have appeared extraordinary. Though the battlefield hadn’t been fully cleared yet, lingering in the streets was no longer feasible. Fertan procured a cloak and a wide-brimmed hat, covering her face as well.
“We need to get out of here first.”
They mounted a single horse together. Riding the ornate carriage again was out of the question—not just because it was impractical in this unstable atmosphere, but also due to the prying eyes around them.
With trusted escorts trailing behind, Fertan’s horse moved swiftly away from the crowded streets.
“Where are we going?”
“To the palace.”
“Of course... That makes sense.”
It was what she expected. Now that Fertan was emperor, the palace was his home.
“It’s still not safe. It’s hard to tell if all those loyal to Maximilian have been dealt with. But for today, we’ll stay there. Symbolically, I need to hold the throne—it’s important to establish my presence.”
“I haven’t seen the situation yet, but it seems we’ll be pulling an all-nighter.”
As she gazed toward the distant palace, his warm breath brushed against her nape.
“I’ll arrange a room for you to rest. Surely the palace isn’t so chaotic that I can’t ensure your comfort?”
“You didn’t leave anything unresolved, did you? You went deep into the palace, right?”
“I confirmed Maximilian’s body before leaving. I entrusted the cleanup to Herod. He’ll handle it well, I’m sure.”
“If you’ve done that much... There shouldn’t be any major issues.”
Hearing that he had witnessed the emperor’s end brought her some relief. If he had resolved that much, Fertan’s mission was nearly complete. Trusting Herod, she believed the aftermath would be handled properly.
---
Though they remained vigilant, an unexpected variable arose.
As they neared the palace square, an alarming sight greeted them—a scene that should never have occurred.
Near the square was a bustling marketplace. Ordinary shops like inns and teahouses mingled with high-end boutiques and jewelry stores, even moneylenders. Proximity to the palace meant better security, attracting such establishments.
But now, chaos reigned. An angry mob wielding clubs rampaged through the shops. They broke into random stores, beating people mercilessly and stealing goods.
“What’s going on?”
Some buildings were ablaze. Ordinary citizens had turned into looters, frenziedly plundering luxury shops.
Fertan had planned post-coup measures to stabilize public order and protect civilians. Troops had been deployed in advance to maintain peace, but now their efforts seemed futile.
Despite deploying more soldiers than the usual city watch, they were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers and madness of the mob. The soldiers couldn’t match the overwhelming force of the enraged crowd.
Violence begot more violence. The riot spread, flames rising from blocks away.
“What do we do? This is practically war.”
“There are too many of them. Look, that man even has a gun. How did they get firearms?”
They were stunned to see a man swinging a rain-soaked rifle like a club, oblivious to the damage he was causing.
Then a thought struck Eleanor.
“Guns? If it’s guns...”
A man passed by, wearing stolen clothes layered over his own. “Hey! Over there next!” he shouted, and a group of similarly disheveled men surged toward one direction.
“Edwin’s militia?”
She stared, mouth agape, as Fertan furrowed his brow deeply, sighing.
“It’s clear the militia is causing this chaos. Unless Edwin supplied them, how else would they suddenly be armed?”
“It must be true. They don’t even know how to use guns—they’re just using them to beat and threaten people.”
“Doesn’t Edwin usually confiscate weapons? How are they all armed?”
“When I left the mansion this morning, the clumsy ones inside and out were only carrying short swords.”
“So they were issued weapons afterward.”
The horse they shared was surrounded by a tight perimeter of guards, keeping others at bay. Fertan glanced at the commander protecting them closely.
“We need reinforcements here immediately. Where can we pull them from?”
The commander looked equally troubled.
“Since we haven’t yet assessed how much of the palace has been secured, I can’t say for sure. Most of the troops loyal to Your Majesty were sent to pursue the deposed crown prince...”
“This is bad. But we can’t request aid from Count Ginédien either. The imperial army might still not fully submit to me.”
“We’ll have to wait for the 7th Division to arrive.”
“They should be here by now. Why haven’t we heard from the 7th Division?”
Fertan’s inability to pause and receive updates while rushing around only heightened his anxiety as screams of chaos filled the air.
“Your Majesty, let’s retreat to the palace first. It’s dangerous here.”
“No, I’ll stay until the riot is quelled. Eleanor should be sent somewhere safe before anything else.”
Eleanor responded firmly.
“I’m staying too.”
“But Eleanor—”
“If nowhere is definitively secure yet, it doesn’t matter whether I’m in the palace or back at Roland Manor. I’d rather stay with you.”
Her decisive explanation left Fertan unable to argue further. His reluctance to part with her was evident as he held her tightly in front of the saddle.
Concerned she might face harm in the chaos, he adjusted her cloak and hat, concealing her delicate features and slender frame within his arms.
“Commander, bring me one of the rioters for questioning. Let’s figure out what’s going on.”
One of Fertan’s guards drew their sword and moved to apprehend a man wielding a rifle amidst the chaos. The absurd sight unfolded as the guard countered the brute’s wild swings with refined swordsmanship.
“This chaos mustn’t spread further…”
As Fertan muttered to himself, Eleanor gently patted the back of his hand.
“It’ll be alright. The 7th Division should be arriving soon… Oh!”
At that moment, a wave of black-clad cavalry surged down the central avenue. The banners bore the empire’s emblem—a symbol used in foreign battles, though incongruous here, it was clear they were an elite force. Far superior to Edwin’s ragtag militia.
The timely arrival of the long-awaited 7th Division prompted Fertan to straighten his shoulders. As the commander called them over and nearby guards signaled with raised arms, Fertan maintained his regal composure, gripping the reins tightly.
“They’re here.”
Eleanor rested her hand on his tensed forearm. Fertan’s single, emotionless statement was calm and low, accepting her subtle touch without comment.
She could sense the immense pressure he bore from the firmness of his grip.
An elderly man in a high-ranking military uniform approached Fertan on horseback, bowing deeply with noble bearing.
“Your Majesty, it’s a relief to see you unharmed.”
“You’ve arrived just in time. We’ll discuss details later; for now, we must address this situation. Secure the city and ensure innocent civilians aren’t harmed by the rioters.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
Orders were swiftly relayed, and after a brief consultation among staff, the 7th Division sprang into action. Soldiers dispersed like fireworks, dividing into small units to sweep through the city in all directions. Anyone not in formal uniform but carrying weapons was forced to kneel.
Finally, some peace of mind returned. Watching a mother and child cautiously emerge from hiding and hurry home, Eleanor gave Fertan’s hand a reassuring pat.
Meanwhile, Fertan’s guards brought a captured rioter before him, forcing the man to bow his head.
“Just in time. Tell me, where did you hear about this and come from?”
The terrified man stammered.
“F-F-From Bantz Street… in the outer districts.”
“Bantz Street? That’s far from here. What were you doing there?”
“I-I was at home when my squad leader summoned me, saying there’d be easy plunder. When I arrived, everyone was looting shops, so I joined in…”
Shortly after, another rioter was brought forward—this time a rare mounted soldier. Captured during the suppression efforts, he had followed Edwin to the cathedral and was promptly brought before Fertan.
“You accompanied Edwin to the cathedral?”
“Y-Yes…”
This soldier, armed with both a saber and a rifle, bore a severe wound on his side.
“Where did you sustain that injury?”
“At the entrance to Brellyn Street, we clashed heavily with strangers.”
Eleanor gasped.
“What? Brellyn Street? That’s where I lured my brother! How did you end up there?”
“After Lord Roland followed one of his household servants, my squad secretly trailed behind to protect him.”
This soldier had broken away from Brellyn’s safe house to call for reinforcements. Amidst his rambling excuses, he explained how the riot had escalated.
Severely injured and tasked with seeking aid instead of attacking Liam, he hurried toward the cathedral as instructed, planning to reach Roland Manor afterward.
But upon returning to the cathedral, Crown Prince Leonard was nowhere to be found.
Amidst the commotion, he overheard fleeing guards whispering:
“With His Majesty dead, I’m as good as dead too.”
“Should we run now?”
“What if we die while escaping? Where would we even hide?”
Some glanced at Duke Roland.
“Perhaps the duke will protect us.”
“Hah, look at him. He’s clearly running too.”
Overhearing this, the soldier realized his own master was fleeing.
When he reached Roland Manor, he incited the remaining infantry stationed there. With no steady income forthcoming, he resolved to seize whatever he could.
They first raided Roland Manor, stealing weapons and valuables. Then they headed into the city, exploiting the power vacuum following the emperor’s death.
Convinced there was no ruler to control the city, the soldier smashed shop doors with clubs, joined by fellow rioters wreaking havoc indiscriminately. Naturally, their targets were the most expensive establishments.
Listening to his account, Fertan fell silent.
The soldier’s pockets were filled with stolen jewels—the spoils of inciting chaos in the city center amounted to little more than a handful of gemstones.
Who was to blame for this mess? The greed of a lone soldier? Edwin’s reckless recruitment of private militia? Or deeper systemic issues plaguing the collapsing city?
What would the late Emperor Maximilian say if he saw this?
---
While the commercial district near the palace regained peace relatively quickly, rooting out rioters in the slums took significantly longer.
Fertan ordered the execution of only the ringleaders. Most, driven by poverty and swept up in Edwin’s militia, were gathered like prisoners in the square. After strict discipline, he planned to release them safely, acknowledging the hardships of the times.
He devoted the final stretch of this grueling day to stabilizing the citizens. Thanks to his direct leadership, the city swiftly returned to order.
Meanwhile, the palace was also secured. Herod sent frequent messengers, reporting that news of Maximilian’s death had subdued the palace staff and guards. Originally, nobles were to be summoned to formalize Fertan’s ascension, but restoring the city’s peace took precedence.
Night deepened.
Soldiers patrolled the darkened streets. The buildings that had blazed earlier now emitted only the acrid smell of smoke.
“Fertan, it’s time we headed back.”
The horse carrying the two of them made its way toward the palace gates, their iron grilles slightly battered but still standing firm.
“It’s finally over. Eleanor, are you tired?”
“A little.”
Leaning her head against him, she drifted off as they passed through the palace gardens. Pretending to be fine wouldn’t fool Fertan anyway. When she blinked awake after what felt like a fleeting nap, they were already in front of the emperor’s quarters.
Herod rushed out to greet them.
“Welcome back, Your Majesty. I’m relieved to see you unharmed.”
His gaze lingered on Eleanor, silently confirming her safety. Though he didn’t say much, his actions conveyed deep concern for her.
Herod’s respectful demeanor was akin to that of a seasoned attendant. She had heard that his family, once a titled household, had fallen from grace under Emperor Maximilian. Perhaps that explained why he served both her and Fertan with such refined grace.
“Your Majesty, may I guide Lady Eleanor to her chambers first?”
“Of course. She’s worked the hardest today and deserves rest more than anyone else.”
Herod nodded vigorously and led the way upstairs.
“The late emperor’s chambers have been sealed off for now. I’ve prepared one of the guest suites for your comfort, but I hope I haven’t overstepped.”
Eleanor tilted her head curiously at Herod’s cautious tone.
“Overstepped? What do you mean?”
“Well… I thought perhaps I should have prepared the empress’s quarters instead.”
Fertan quickly interjected with a light cough, cutting off any chance for her to respond.
“It doesn’t feel right to send Eleanor to the empress’s quarters just yet. For now, it’s better if she stays close to me until things settle down.”
“If that’s your wish, then I’m glad to hear it.”
Feeling a bit awkward, Eleanor playfully tapped Fertan’s arm.
Herod’s assumption that the grand empress’s quarters were already hers, along with Fertan’s agreement, struck her as amusing. While staying here was only temporary—since returning to Roland Manor wasn’t safe—it somehow felt like her life as a guest in the palace might stretch longer than expected.
The chamber she was led to was calm and immaculate, showing no signs of the recent military sweep.
Shortly afterward, attendants arrived from Princess Lucena’s quarters. Many were familiar faces, which put her at ease far more than being surrounded by strangers. They assisted her with bathing and dinner preparations.
As her hair was styled, a dull ache throbbed at her temples. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, compounded by lingering worries. Trying to sort through everything while fatigued brought on a mild headache.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
At some point, Fertan appeared behind her, reflected in the vanity mirror.
Eleanor watched silently as the attendants tidied up and withdrew.
“There’s a lot on my mind.”
He looked freshly washed, his damp hair neatly combed back.
“What’s troubling you?”
“I’m wondering about Leonard and my brother. How is Roland Manor faring? Did Evelyn manage to escape safely? And Liam—he was badly injured, wasn’t he? Also…”
Warm hands settled firmly on her shoulders, gently massaging to ease her tension. Leaning down, Fertan whispered soothingly into her ear.
“I do have updates, but I’d rather you rested. You’ve been through so much today.”
“Still, I can’t seem to relax.”
As he continued the gentle massage, Fertan murmured softly, trying to dispel her unease.
“Roland Manor is now under the control of the 7th Division. Your allies are safe. As for Leonard, though we haven’t found him yet, does it matter? It’s too late for the fugitives to pose any real threat.”
She pressed her throbbing temple, unable to stop worrying.
“We should have capitalized on securing the palace to proclaim you emperor immediately. Delaying even a day could bring unforeseen complications. Influential nobles might be exchanging unfavorable words about us tonight.”
Though Fertan had several advisors, Eleanor considered herself one of them—a trusted aide who anticipated situations and acted swiftly.
Her concerns multiplied. There was much to address: meeting neighboring envoys who had come for the wedding, gaining control of the imperial army still loyal to Count Ginédien…
“Eleanor, enough.”
Fertan interrupted her cascading thoughts, gently smoothing the tense lines around her mouth.
“You’ll collapse if you keep this up. Everything you mentioned is important, but nothing matters more than you getting proper rest.”
“I understand. I’ll jot down a few notes first, then sleep. I need to write down tomorrow’s priorities before dawn.”
The ruler’s role was to receive reports and make decisions, but those around him often bore heavier burdens. Even now, Herod was busy overseeing the palace, while Lord Maxium of the 7th Division patrolled the streets, tightening security.
With her extensive connections among the nobility, Eleanor had plenty of tasks suited to her abilities. In such times, how could she afford to rest?
Yet despite her racing mind, her body sagged with fatigue. She needed strength to assist Fertan, but her drooping head betrayed her exhaustion.
Seeing her furrowed brow refuse to relax, Fertan sighed softly and lifted her gently to her feet.
Stepping onto the balcony, they found a large table set for tea time. A variety of late-night snacks and drinks adorned the surface.
A faint smile curved his eyes as they crinkled slightly.
“Eleanor, how about worrying about me instead of the outside world?”
With just a wink, Fertan transformed from a stern ruler into a seductive figure exuding decadent charm. The dramatic shift sent delightful shivers down her spine. His fingers brushed teasingly behind her ear.
Seated on the edge of the table, he trapped her between his legs.
“Remember, I’m emperor now, starting today.”
His voice was unmistakably flirtatious.
After ensuring her evening comfort, he swiftly shifted gears, loosening buttons and rolling up sleeves to reveal finely toned arms.
“Of course, I worry about you, Fertan.”
“Then you must understand how much I’d suffer if you couldn’t sleep.”
He feigned a pitiful tone, lowering his gaze as if lonely and misunderstood.
How earnest he looked, pretending to be pitiable—all part of his playful plan to coax her into bed. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Surely, upsetting the emperor isn’t befitting of a loyal subject?”
She met his transparent advances with lighthearted banter, though his suggestive movements made her laughter ring hollow.
“Precisely what I wanted to say. Is my excuse too obvious?”
His dimples deepened as he chuckled, drawing her attention to the features she adored, quickening her heartbeat.
Fertan poured wine into tall glasses. Tiny bubbles rose in the fragrant golden liquid, frothing delicately against the crystal.
“Or how about this: A husband wants to comfort his weary wife tonight.”
Another playful jest imbued with intense intent. He raised his glass, gazing at her through the crystal.
“Not my husband yet…”
She hid the word “yet” beneath her tongue.
“If not a husband, then a lover works too. Or even a kept man, as we’ve done before.”
She tried to resist momentarily, but her resolve crumbled. Calling him a kept man now seemed absurd.
When he teased her with a wink, she surrendered completely. Resisting Fertan was truly futile.
“I concede defeat. I’ll keep my to-do list in my head and get to bed now.”
Satisfied, he clinked his glass lightly against hers.
“A toast to sweet dreams.”
“Mmm… I’m sure tonight’s dreams will be wonderful.”
Eleanor hoped to dream of Fertan’s imperial proclamation—a dream where she stood beside him at the throne, brushing away old grudges and welcoming a bright future bathed in sunlight. Though it was a vision he often spoke of, she realized she too had been infected by his aspirations, yearning for the same dream.
She nestled into the familiar, sturdy pillow of his arm. He opened his chest, revealing glimpses of skin through loosened clothing, and pulled her close. After briefly adjusting her nightgown and teasing her thigh, he settled her back into place.
His warm hand gently covered her eyelids.
“It’s been so long since I’ve met you here in the palace.”
She barely registered his words as sleep began to overtake her.
“Have we ever met here before? Hmm… maybe at the New Year’s banquet?”
She tried recalling their most recent encounter. Official events hosted by the imperial court were occasions Eleanor never missed, and unless something unusual occurred, Fertan would make an appearance, even if briefly. Surely, they must have crossed paths at the last New Year’s celebration.
“Not like that. I mean when we were close.”
“Close?”
Her lips, swollen with drowsiness, were tenderly kissed as though he were meeting her in a dream. His fingers lovingly combed through her platinum hair, spreading it across the sheets.
“A long time ago. When we were children.”
As his final whisper fluttered past, a soft breath brushed against her ear, lifting a few strands of hair.
---
Shortly after her sixth birthday, Eleanor was as lovely as an angel descended from heaven.
The era’s greatest artists often drew inspiration for their cherubs from her image. Though her mother, wary of excessive praise, refrained from commenting in front of the young girl, others couldn’t help but melt at her adorable charm.
While her mother cautioned against arrogance and rarely gave extravagant gifts, her father occasionally indulged her with grand surprises.
“If you behave during your lessons, I’ll take you on a tour of the palace,” he promised—and true to his word, he kept that promise. Eleanor eagerly followed her father as he went to attend court.
“You must mind your manners at the palace. Absolutely.”
“I’ll be perfectly still, like a doll.”
With pinky promises sealed, they entered the magnificent palace grounds. As their carriage circled along the outer perimeter, a serene garden overlooking a lake caught Eleanor’s eye.
“Father, can we stop here for a moment?”
“Not going to see His Majesty’s quarters? We have a scheduled appointment, and I already received permission to show you around.”
“I want to see that too, but…”
Stepping down before a pristine gazebo overlooking the crystal-clear lake, Eleanor lightly skipped across the neatly trimmed grass. Her father paused thoughtfully before breaking into a generous smile.
“If you’d like, we can stay here today. We can always reschedule the visit to His Majesty’s quarters.”
“Is that okay?”
“To explore this vast palace fully would take days. While I wanted to show you His Majesty’s quarters first, if you’re fond of the lake, changing the order won’t hurt.”
“Thank you, Father! You’re the best!”
“I have business to attend to with His Majesty. Listen to your maid and don’t go near the water.”
“Yes, I know water can be dangerous.”
Satisfied with her spirited reply, her father gently pinched her rosy cheeks.
After her father left to attend to his duties, Eleanor wandered among the blooming flower beds. The unfamiliar white flowers were enchanting, and the sculptures scattered throughout the garden captivated her artistic sensibilities. She considered making a flower crown but remembered her promise to behave and plucked just one bloom instead.
She approached the lake only as far as her governess allowed—several dozen paces away from the shore. The maid assigned to Eleanor had set clear boundaries.
Then, from behind a sculpture, came the faint cry of a small animal.
“Oh, a kitten. It must still be a baby.”
As Eleanor approached, the kitten’s wide eyes darted open, and it scampered off. Instinctively, she chased after it, weaving through the flower bushes, following the fluffy tail.
Nearby, the white roof of the gazebo peeked above the foliage. Even if her maid couldn’t follow, Eleanor reassured herself she hadn’t strayed far and could easily return. She remained mindful not to trouble her father as she trailed the kitten.
Beyond the thick cluster of flowering trees lay another garden, even more expansive than the gazebo’s.
The kitten hid in the bushes, watching Eleanor intently but no longer fleeing. She crouched down, signaling she meant no harm. “Good kitty,” she murmured, shaping her face into the most innocent expression she could muster.
In the midst of this standoff, someone sat beside her, mirroring her crouched position.
A cool, sweet voice whispered conspiratorially in her ear.
“Do you like cats?”
Glancing at the taller figure’s shadow and the coat brushing against the grass, she wondered if he was a palace guard.
“Yes, they’re so cute.”
Still smiling from coaxing the kitten, she turned her head. The boy wasn’t a guard.
There, close enough for their shoulders to touch, was a radiant youth with sunlit eyes gazing directly at her.
The striking contours of his face softened slightly in surprise. Clearing his throat, his voice emerged smooth and gentle, sending tingles down her neck.
Momentarily mesmerized by him, Eleanor’s attention shifted back to the kitten rustling in the bushes.
“Come here.”
She extended her hand.
“It probably lives in the garden. Calling it won’t work.”
“Maybe not. I’ve never raised animals, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Reaching out carelessly might hurt it... Ah!”
Just then, the kitten scratched her hand. The boy grabbed her wrist, but it was too late. Two distinct claw marks appeared on her tiny hand.
He pulled her back.
Concerned, he examined the wound as blood welled up in droplets. Furrowing his brow, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the injury.
“What should we do? Leaving it untreated isn’t an option.”
“I need to get back to my maid.”
“Where is she? And what’s your name?”
Eleanor pointed to the white gazebo visible through the treetops.
“She’s waiting at the gazebo. I’m Eleanor.”
“Eleanor...”
He paused thoughtfully, trailing off. Wrapping the handkerchief around her wound, he tied it gently. With the injury hidden, the pain seemed to ease somewhat.
“Will you come with me? I’ll apply medicine.”
“But my maid will be waiting.”
“I’ll send my attendant to fetch her.”
“And Father told me not to wander far.”
“Who’s your father?”
“The master of House Roland.”
Recognition dawned on him, and he let out a small exclamation.
Standing face-to-face, the boy was nearly as tall as an adult. His lean frame towered over her. Still holding her wrist firmly, he replied gently.
“I’ll have Lord Roland come to my quarters too. I’m Fertan.”
Blinking her round eyes at the unfamiliar name, she watched as the boy shyly bit his lip.
“If you don’t want to, I won’t insist. But I hope you’ll accept my invitation.”
“Does Fertan live in the palace?”
“Hmm? Yes...”
Eleanor glanced at the few attendants accompanying him and his elegant attire, deducing he must be of royal blood. She had been taught that only members of the imperial family could reside in the palace.
He didn’t seem strange or suspicious. His warm demeanor and evident effort to appear friendly toward her were oddly endearing. Though he was likely of higher status, he wasn’t acting haughty, which she appreciated.
“Then just a moment.”
As they entered the palace, he released her hand, mindful of etiquette despite her young age.
While the physician treated her wound, he stayed by Eleanor’s side, ensuring she received proper care.
When sweet snacks and drinks were served, he watched to see which plates caught her eye. The palace maid, quick to notice, placed a slice of raspberry rare cheesecake before Eleanor. Smiling gratefully, she picked up her fork.
However, while trying to maneuver the fork with her left hand instead of her bandaged right, she accidentally dropped a berry. Fertan swiftly moved closer and wiped her dress with his sleeve.
“Let me help.”
Embarrassed by her childish clumsiness, Eleanor blushed. Though she rarely made such mistakes—her mother always emphasized proper table manners—it happened this time.
“I’ll eat something else.”
“No need to be shy.”
He carefully placed a bite-sized piece of cake on the fork and offered it to her. After a brief playful struggle, Fertan succeeded in feeding her directly.
Noticing her fondness for berries, the maid brought over more desserts: berry mousse ganache and blueberry juice. Seeing Eleanor smile brightly, Fertan found himself utterly captivated, his mouth slightly agape as he gazed at her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You... You’re adorable.”
Flustered, Eleanor pursed her lips shyly.
“Thank you. Sometimes people say things like that.”
“Sometimes?”
Fertan thought it couldn’t possibly be ‘sometimes.’ He didn’t yet know her environment shielded her from excessive flattery about her beauty.
“Fertan is impressive too. No, beautiful.”
“Me? I’ve just grown taller without much elegance.”
“Really, it’s true.”
The crown prince’s appearance wasn’t something casually discussed face-to-face. Everyone praised Fertan for his brilliant intellect and qualities as a future ruler.
Feeling awkward under Eleanor’s innocent admiration, he didn’t know how to react.
“Thank you.”
He simply helped steady her juice glass, offering only a brief reply.
They exchanged small talk. Eleanor explained why she’d been playing by the lakeside garden. Since children rarely visited the palace unless for special occasions, Fertan quickly understood when she mentioned receiving permission for a tour. It made sense coming from the daughter of Duke Roland, who was especially close to the emperor.
He asked if she might come again. Hearing she planned to visit various parts of the palace over several days, he couldn’t hide his delight. He began contemplating whether he could reschedule tomorrow’s lessons to meet her.
The crown prince’s day was packed without a moment to breathe; even walks and exercise were scheduled. Their chance meeting today was possible only because it was Tuesday morning, his designated physical training time.
As they discussed timing, Duke Roland entered.
“Your Highness, I heard my daughter caused some trouble and came to apologize.”
At the title “Your Highness,” Eleanor’s eyes widened as she looked back and forth between her father and Fertan. Her small head shook rapidly.
Being a child, Eleanor hadn’t given much thought to Fertan’s status. She hadn’t felt the need to ask about it. Like most children, she didn’t know or care about the titles of her friends’ fathers or grandfathers—whether they were dukes or counts.
But “Your Highness” was different. Suddenly aware, she hesitated.
“Oh, Your Highness?”
Fertan straightened his posture and acknowledged Duke Roland’s respectful bow.
“Not at all. Thanks to Eleanor, I had a wonderful time.”
“Your graciousness is deeply appreciated, but my daughter wasn’t supposed to visit the Crown Prince’s quarters...”
Fertan hastily cut him off, subtly tugging Eleanor’s sleeve to change the subject.
“Eleanor and I get along so well. We’ve already become close enough to call each other by name, right, Eleanor?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. Fertan.”
Caught off guard upon learning his title, Eleanor nodded instinctively. Though his high status hadn’t fully sunk in, she clearly sensed her father’s discomfort. She realized she might have unintentionally caused quite a stir.
Rolling her eyes playfully, she met Fertan’s gaze. He leaned down to match her eye level kindly.
Even after suddenly realizing he was the future emperor, the warmth of their earlier interaction lingered. As he smiled broadly, puffing out the skin beneath his eyes, Eleanor quickly let down the guard she had begun to build.
“We did become close... Right?”
She reached out and gently tapped the tip of his nose. She had wanted to touch his glossy eyelashes but settled for his nose instead.
His long fingers enveloped her tiny hand. Unsure of its meaning, Fertan closed his eyes tightly, scrunching his face.
“Of course.”
With those words, he pulled her hand closer, pressing their intertwined hands firmly against his chest.
Eleanor was struck by the unfamiliarity of his tightly shut eyes and the tingling sensation in her own hand. It was strange, yet memorable.
Straightening up, Fertan, now towering over her again, stared past her at Duke Roland. A subtle tension still lingered in his expression.
“There’s plenty to see here in the palace. Would it be alright if I guided Eleanor?”
Unable to refuse such generosity, Duke Roland watched in astonishment as the Crown Prince held his daughter’s hand.
“I am deeply honored by Your Highness’s kindness.”
“I still have duties today, but if it’s alright, I hope you’ll come again tomorrow.”
Duke Roland escorted the Crown Prince out of the palace, maintaining a composed facade. But inwardly, he was astounded.
From birth, Fertan had been groomed as the heir to the throne, burdened by responsibilities that left little room for personal emotions. Some even remarked he seemed wise beyond his ten years. Yet here he was, completely smitten by Eleanor. While it was undeniable his daughter was exceptionally charming, Fertan wasn’t known to judge people solely by appearances.
What connection had drawn these two children together?
As Eleanor waved goodbye cheerfully, the Crown Prince awkwardly waved back. Duke Roland struggled to maintain his composure at this unprecedented sight.
---
The next day, Fertan cleared half his schedule. Rising before dawn, he completed all his tasks early to prepare thoroughly for Eleanor’s arrival. Though the model Crown Prince act felt stifling, he knew neglecting his duties would invite gossip later—a lesson learned through experience.
In the meantime, he gathered information about Eleanor, including the welcome news that no betrothal had been arranged yet.
Unaware of the boy’s secret dreams, Eleanor stepped out of the carriage with a bright, innocent smile. Spotting Fertan rushing downstairs, her hurried steps turned into a run. Despite her mother’s warnings not to run, seeing Fertan grin widely with his teeth showing made her legs move faster unconsciously.
Only when she got close did she remember to feign composure, walking on tiptoes.
“You’re here, Eleanor.”
Radiating obvious joy, he extended his arm to escort her like a gentleman. His kindness and goodwill were unmistakable.
Eleanor playfully hooked her arm around his elbow at a right angle.
Though she was always surrounded by admirers, she sensed something purer in Fertan. Instinctively, she recognized his genuine goodwill. Around this affectionate, smiling boy, she naturally felt at ease.
“I wanted to come earlier, but Mother said it would be rude to visit someone’s house too early. And my maid kept changing the ribbons on my dress, so...”
“I didn’t mind. You could’ve come earlier.”
Fertan led her to a different reception room than the one they had used yesterday.
There, she found a basket filled with fluffy fur blankets—and nestled inside were three wriggling kittens. The moment she spotted them, Eleanor let out a delighted squeal.
“Wow!”
“Do you like them?”
“I absolutely adore them! They’re perfect.”
Ignoring her mother’s warning not to sit on the floor, she plopped down in front of the basket. The tiny creatures were heartbreakingly adorable. Fertan joined her, sitting beside her as she examined each kitten. A soft blush spread across Eleanor’s cheeks.
These kittens were younger than the one she’d seen in the garden the day before. Their teeth hadn’t fully grown yet, so when they nibbled on her fingers, it only tickled. Their claws were minuscule.
“Would it be alright if I gave these to you as a gift?”
“Thank you, but... I’m not allowed to keep pets at home.”
“Why?”
“I’m still too young. My parents say I can have a pet when I’m old enough to take care of it myself.”
Cradling a kitten that fit perfectly in her cupped hands, Eleanor sighed wistfully.
“Then I suppose we’ll have to leave them here for now.”
“Will Your Highness take care of them?”
“Not ‘Your Highness’—just Fertan.”
With a bright smile, she chirped back.
“Yes, Fertan.”
He placed the other kittens onto her lap. The squirming babies were soon enveloped by the folds of her voluminous skirt.
When she waved a long ribbon, the kittens’ heads swiveled left and right, following the movement. Their tiny jewel-like eyes, no bigger than fists, tracked the ribbon’s fluttering ends. Their soft little paws batted clumsily at the ribbon’s tip before tumbling off her skirt.
“What do you think? Aren’t they just the cutest? They’re like living dolls.”
Leaning closer, Fertan propped himself up on one hand, his shoulder brushing against hers.
“Living dolls, indeed.”
As she turned her head, their eyes met immediately. His gaze had been steady and unwavering this whole time.
Though the kittens were undeniably adorable, Fertan’s striking features rivaled theirs. Even young Eleanor, with her budding sense of aesthetics, couldn’t help but admire him. His sharp, sculpted eyes reminded her of freshly painted doll eyes—dark and gleaming.
After what felt like an endless staring contest, Fertan lowered his thick lashes, which nearly covered half his cheek.
“If these little ones are going to remember you, you’ll need to visit often.”
“Mmm, but I don’t think that’ll be easy. Father said our palace tour would only last a few days.”
“If I clear the way for you to visit... will you come?”
Eleanor wanted to say yes. She loved playing with the kittens, and Fertan’s kindness made her feel warm. But memories of her father’s cautious demeanor around the crown prince held her back.
“I’ll ask my father first.”
She felt a pang of guilt saying this, but thankfully, Fertan didn’t seem disappointed.
“Of course, you should ask. Both your father and mine need to agree.”
In an ambiguous yet cozy atmosphere, he gently stroked the kitten Eleanor was cradling.
They spent the afternoon laughing and chatting over tea. They talked about close friends, favorite games, and boring lessons. When Fertan mentioned he was good at chess—a game Eleanor had recently started learning—they played a match together. Before they knew it, the day had slipped away.
On her second day visiting the palace, Eleanor still hadn’t properly toured much of it. So, she returned again the next day.
Time seemed to fly whenever she was with Fertan. Exploring just the lake adjacent to his quarters took ten full days. Her father quietly extended the dates she could visit without complaint.
At first, Fertan had promised to show her only his own quarters, but somehow, they ended up exploring other parts of the palace together. Back home, she usually played only with girls her age, so spending time with him felt refreshingly different. He was like an older brother four years her senior—someone who understood her better than Edwin, her actual older brother, who was already married and far removed from her world.
But gradually, something about Fertan began to shift.
His affection seemed to go beyond mere friendship.
One day, when they encountered muddy ground near the lakeside, he offered to carry her on his back instead of letting a servant do it. Remembering how her father addressed him so formally, Eleanor politely declined. Still, it felt strange that the crown prince would willingly dirty his shoes to carry her.
He also tried giving her gifts far more valuable than the kittens. Though Eleanor was accustomed to receiving presents from others who doted on her, her mother had drilled into her never to accept food or items above a certain value. So when Fertan tried slipping a glittering ring onto her finger, she subtly pulled her hand away.
Another offer came soon after. This time, Fertan suggested they attend etiquette lessons together at the palace.
This wasn’t jewelry or food, so she wasn’t sure how to respond. Besides, his proposal sounded convincing.
“There’s no place better than the imperial palace for mastering etiquette. Your parents won’t object, I’m sure. What do you say? Lessons with me won’t feel boring—I promise.”
Eleanor, tired of her etiquette teacher’s constant nitpicking, found herself intrigued.
“Can we really attend the same classes? You’re so much better at this than I am.”
“It’s one-on-one instruction anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Then it’s settled?”
“Mmm... If Mother agrees, then maybe. I’m not sure what she’ll say.”
“Leave persuading your parents to me.”
Fertan replied with quiet determination.
The etiquette lessons were his clever solution to ensure Eleanor could continue visiting even after the palace tour ended. It was a perfect excuse; noble children were expected to study etiquette until adulthood.
Though the curriculum for a future emperor differed from that of a duke’s daughter, Fertan was confident he could overcome any obstacles.
He had already discussed the matter extensively with his own parents. All that remained was winning over Duke Roland and his wife.
Fertan’s biological mother had passed away early, leaving the current empress with little influence over him. Convincing the emperor alone would suffice—and lately, Fertan had visited the emperor several times to discuss Eleanor.
“Is this about Lady Eleanor again?” the emperor asked during their fourth meeting, clicking his tongue between strokes of his beard.
“You make it sound trivial, Father. Deep down, you’ve considered my marriage prospects too. You yourself admitted Lady Eleanor is a worthy match. Why delay formalizing things further?”
“But you’re both still so young.”
“A neighboring empire’s crown prince married at a similar age. Isn’t now the perfect time to welcome a crown princess?”
“That was due to urgent geopolitical circumstances...”
The emperor slowed his speech, trying to soften Fertan’s stubborn stance.
“Fertan, remember: royal marriages are powerful tools. Wouldn’t it be wiser to choose a bride who strengthens your position further? Perhaps the Princess of Vainard Empire?”
“No!”
“Your Majesty!”
For the first time in his life, the normally obedient crown prince raised his head defiantly. His resolve didn’t falter.
“I cannot accept that. Moreover, the Vainard Empire is weaker than ours. Why lower ourselves to such a union? It would look like submission.”
The emperor chuckled despite himself, torn between amusement and exasperation.
“Our crown prince has grown quite ambitious. When did you become so astute about politics?”
“The princess isn’t even the sole heir of her empire. Bringing her here wouldn’t strengthen ties—it’d merely be a token gesture. If you’re using my marriage as leverage, at least aim to integrate Vainard entirely under our rule. Anything less is poor strategy.”
“You’re not wrong, but...”
Back when he assumed his marriage would simply follow tradition, Fertan hadn’t been this assertive. He’d imagined marrying a stranger, fulfilling his duty to produce heirs, and standing beside her at official events. That was all he’d expected—until he met Eleanor, the living doll who changed everything.
But now, everything was different. She had awakened in him the emotions of a lovesick teenager—something he had never felt before. Even if she hadn’t resembled an angel and instead had freckles and a mischievous face, it wouldn’t have mattered. Her lively personality and innate kindness were what captivated those around her.
Fertan was well aware that his father harbored subtle ambitions for matrimonial alliances. He noticed how Eleanor was just one of many candidates being considered for political gain. To the emperor, she was merely one option among several.
He needed to highlight her virtues persuasively. Fertan was desperate.
“Have you not seen how intelligent Eleanor is? There is no other crown princess as worthy as her. She’s more than just a vessel to bear imperial heirs; she will be a lifelong asset to this nation.”
“Fertan, I understand your feelings, but...”
“Do you know how strict her upbringing has been? I’ve never seen a six-year-old with such impeccable manners. Did you know she’s learning three languages? And...”
“Wait, Fertan. Calm yourself.”
The emperor waved his hands, trying to interrupt Fertan’s impassioned speech.
“I understand, alright? I understand fully.”
“Your Majesty, please...”
“I will seriously consider Lady Eleanor as your bride. Is that enough?”
“Please make this official. If her young age is a concern, let us first declare her my companion, and we can hold the ceremony later.”
This level of insistence was unprecedented in Fertan’s life. Until now, he had been like a stone—stoic and unyielding under his rigorous imperial training.
The emperor was witnessing Fertan’s hidden passion for the first time. He covered his mouth with a fist, suppressing both laughter and astonishment. The crown prince, who had always seemed so cold and detached, finally appeared childlike. It was the first time the emperor found himself needing to console his son.
Still, the emperor couldn’t completely abandon hopes of a more advantageous match. He subtly left room for maneuvering.
“Don’t rush things, Fertan. Didn’t I say I’d seriously consider it?”
But Fertan didn’t stop pleading. He repeated this struggle at every meeting, and even proposed a new idea.
“Your Majesty, may Eleanor join me in some of my studies?”
“Studies, you say?”
“I wish to take etiquette lessons together. It would help prepare her to become a member of the imperial family.”
The emperor was utterly dumbfounded, pressing a hand to his forehead as words failed him.
It was hard to reconcile this infatuated boy with the composed crown prince he thought he knew—a prince who had once seemed as emotionless as a statue.
Yet despite all his efforts, Fertan’s plans remained unfulfilled. The lessons he envisioned never came to pass.
Eleanor waited anxiously for his message at home. She longed for enjoyable lessons with Fertan far more than the scolding-filled ones she endured daily. But no matter how long she waited, no word came. With the palace tour over, she had no way to meet him again and couldn’t bring herself to reach out first.
She tried writing letters several times, but her father stopped her each time, advising her to wait. Her unsent letters ended up tucked away in a drawer.
She waited and waited, until eventually, she gave up hope.
She resigned herself to the fact that Fertan wouldn’t contact her. Perhaps he had grown tired of her. Maybe their brief time together had simply faded from his memory. That could happen—he was the crown prince, after all. A figure so high above her, it made sense that he might forget about someone as small as her.
I wonder how the kittens are doing...
She often thought of the radiant boy named Fertan and the three little kittens they’d played with.
Seasons passed, and when the next year arrived, she finally heard news from her father: the emperor had changed.
Fertan was no longer crown prince and no longer lived in the palace.
“Can’t I see him, even now?”
Though she didn’t fully understand her own feelings, she pleaded with her father, sensing that Fertan wasn’t like any ordinary childhood friend.
Duke Roland, bound by secrets he couldn’t reveal to his daughter, kept silent.
“You cannot see him. It’s best to forget.”
That was the only pang of pain she experienced during those otherwise innocent years. His command to forget pierced her tiny heart deeply.
Still unable to comprehend her own emotions, she spent many days quietly sobbing.
When she asked why she couldn’t meet him, her father offered no answers. Time and again, she tugged at his sleeve, insisting on visiting Fertan somewhere—even if not at the palace.
Perhaps because her absolute authority, her father, told her to forget—or perhaps because she was still so young—she eventually erased Fertan from her thoughts.
She doesn’t remember exactly when or how he became a distant memory. Was it because the silence hurt too much, and she forced herself to forget? Or was it simply because, as a dutiful child, she obeyed her father’s wishes?
She pushed him out of her conscious mind, and when they met again years later, she greeted him with indifference, as though he were a stranger.
Until one day, buried deep within her unconscious, the distant image of that bright-eyed boy resurfaced, pulling her back to a time she thought she’d forgotten.
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