BWG - 16

“Haah...”

He gently stroked her forehead, damp with beads of sweat.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

At twenty-seven, Fertan’s gaze had grown much deeper than in his youth. His thick lips pressed softly against the edge of her hair, now moist with perspiration. With the same pitch-black eyes that blinked so earnestly in his boyhood, he gazed intently at Eleanor, who had blossomed far more radiantly since those days.

“Was it a dream? It felt... so real.”

There was no sign that he had slept during this precarious night after their union. He hadn’t closed his eyes for even a moment.

“What was the dream about?”

“We were playing with kittens.”

“You dreamed of that time? When you were little, there really were kittens.”

“What do you mean, ‘that time’? Was it real? The lake, the white flowers, the promise to take lessons together...”

“Yes, etiquette lessons. I promised, but I couldn’t keep it.”

Naked except for her nightgown, Eleanor felt his bare skin press against hers as he rubbed her calves, deliberately tangling the hem of her gown upward.

The kisses he planted on her were tender, just like the young Fertan from long ago.

“How can you still remember? You were just a child back then.”

His voice brimmed with wonder and admiration.

Fertan had always assumed Eleanor wouldn’t recall those memories. After all, he was ten at the time—old enough to fervently beg the emperor for her hand in marriage—and naturally, the memory stayed etched deeply in his mind. But for a six-year-old, such recollections usually faded over time. If Eleanor had forgotten him later on, he wouldn’t have blamed her.

As adults, when private meetings became possible again, he didn’t bring up the past. It seemed awkward, and their connection had long been severed.

The Duke Fertan of today was different from the Crown Prince Fertan of old. Bringing Eleanor away from Roland Manor, now under Edwin’s control, wasn’t easy.

Which made this moment all the more precious. Her unwavering resolve leading up to now filled him with gratitude and awe.

“No, I’m sorry I forgot.”

“That’s not true. Not at all.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t. Just the fact that you chose someone like me, insignificant as I am, fills me with overwhelming gratitude. What gave you the certainty to come to me, the leader of such a small faction?”

He pressed his thumb lightly against the delicate point of her chin, endlessly praising her. Sensing this could go on forever, Eleanor redirected the credit back to him.

“Maybe I saw something. That no matter what path you took, you were destined to become emperor.”

His narrowed eyes rested quietly on her, shimmering faintly with unshed tears.

“Thank you, Eleanor. Did I tell you how grateful I am?”

“Many times. This is the hundred-and-first.”

Her sensitive tone made him exhale softly.

When she settled between his elbows and straddled him, she caught the faint scattering of light across his face. His eyelashes, wet and glistening, looked even more radiant than usual. Handsome in every way, but Fertan pretending not to cry was breathtakingly beautiful—a sight she wanted to cherish forever.

As they recounted every detail of the past, he thanked her another hundred times. When she tried to apologize, he stopped her. They weren’t a pair who needed apologies.

Eleanor remained nestled in Fertan’s sturdy embrace until Herod, temporarily serving as an attendant, cleared his throat outside the door.

---

All the heads of noble families in the capital gathered in one place. The Great Hall, where grand banquets were occasionally held, now buzzed not with music but with palpable tension. Fertan’s stern soldiers replaced the royal guards, maintaining strict vigilance inside and out, leaving no room for even a cough.

Only those wielding authority in their respective houses were present, making the gathering smaller than a typical banquet. Yet the decisions made here would shape the futures of individuals, families, and the empire itself.

Seated on the throne atop the dais, Fertan received pledges of loyalty and obedience from each attendee.

“Stephan Atten de Ginédien. I swear to serve Your Majesty with all my strength.”

“Luke Baron de Russell. I swear to serve Your Majesty with all my strength.”

Those like Count Ginédien and Count Russell, who had always supported Fertan, knelt willingly, almost tearfully.

“Albert Dean de Edwards. I will do my utmost to follow Your Majesty’s will.”

“Allison Schutz de Beryl. I will be a steadfast pillar for the empire and the imperial family.”

Others merely feigned submission. These were individuals who had formed tight bonds with the late Emperor Maximilian, securing various privileges. For now, they bowed their heads, but dealing with them remained a task for Fertan’s future. Some might be absorbed into his sphere of influence, while others, whose crimes ran deeper, would require firm measures.

Some seized the change in emperors as an opportunity to flaunt their strengths or make excuses to cover their misdeeds.

A considerable amount of time passed.

Eleanor stood to the right of the throne. Unlike others, she couldn’t kneel confidently and pledge herself as Fertan’s subject. She wasn’t the head of House Roland, and her situation was entangled with countless complications.

Instead, her position clearly marked her as the new emperor’s most cherished confidante. She stood closer to him than even Herod, who served as the temporary herald calling out names for the oath-taking.

When about half the nobles had knelt before Fertan, he raised his hand and beckoned Eleanor with a slight nod.

It was an invitation to come closer.

The hall, packed with spectators, watched intently, curious about what might unfold.

Amid the tense atmosphere, Eleanor bowed her head to Emperor Fertan. He continued curling his fingers, urging her nearer. Their distance closed until her cheek nearly brushed his face, close enough for whispered words.

A secret murmur flowed into her ear, unheard by anyone else.

“Does standing for so long hurt your legs?”

With an expression so serious it seemed he was discussing matters of grave importance, this was the ridiculous thing he chose to say.

Eleanor’s eyebrows twitched upward. If they were alone, she wouldn’t have let him off so easily. Such antics bordered on absurdity in this setting.

In a way, it was so quintessentially Fertan, yet she couldn’t play along.

“Is this really what you called me over to whisper in front of everyone?”

She muttered softly.

“I’m the only one sitting here, so I was worried about you.”

His casual grumbling, heard from far below the dais, appeared to onlookers like a secretive discussion of national significance. Unable to continue chatting freely, Eleanor grew anxious, but Fertan remained utterly relaxed, wiggling his fingers idly.

A subtle twist formed at the corner of the emperor’s lips.

Only she understood what that expression meant: playful mischief laced with delight.

With another flick of his finger, he drew her ear closer still. In the inescapable atmosphere, their lips nearly touched as he whispered cheerfully, like the boy he once was:

“And I wanted to show off our special bond.”

Unexpectedly profound words. Taken aback, she glanced at him sidelong.

“Fertan...”

“Look. Everyone’s dying of curiosity about you.”

The hall, silent as water, seemed poised to eavesdrop on their whispered exchange. The nobles, hands clasped solemnly, betrayed clear signs of bewilderment. Their piercing gazes fixed on Eleanor, eager to decipher the nature of their discussion.

To them, Eleanor was highly suspicious. Edwin, the head of House Roland, hadn’t shown up, and here she was, glued to the side of the new emperor.

Moreover, she was the woman who should have married the deposed Crown Prince Leonard yesterday.

“Stand right next to me.”

Enjoying the atmosphere, Fertan tugged at her gown, urging her closer despite there being no space left between them.

“But I’m already right beside you.”

“Am I? It doesn’t feel enough. Maybe we should create some dramatic scene?”

“We’re already drawing too much attention!”

If she didn’t snap at him, Fertan might have kissed her right there. He was exactly the kind of man capable of flaunting a passionate kiss in front of the entire citizenry of Solcherton if it suited his purpose.

“I want to show everyone how much influence you have over me.”

With such a specific goal in mind, he’d become even more unstoppable. Eleanor’s face paled with sudden urgency. She had to stop him.

“I think that’s enough, Your Majesty.”

She clenched her teeth and spoke in a low voice.

She had thought that once the coup succeeded, there would be no more crises. But Fertan, whom she had trusted, turned out to be the crisis itself. His sly, narrowed eyes clearly hinted at some ulterior motive. It seemed better to retreat before things escalated. Without waiting for an imperial decree to allow her to leave, she straightened her bent back.

This coronation ceremony was meant to announce the new emperor’s reign to the empire.

As Fertan faced the nobles and officials, he dismissed those who spoke too long and kept the proceedings to introductions and pledges of loyalty. However, issues of rewards and punishments would soon arise. Many noble families would face upheaval, and as emperor, Fertan would inevitably have more headaches to deal with.

While the rest of the ceremony proceeded, Eleanor pondered the new structure of the empire in her mind.

In the afternoon, news arrived from Roland Castle, where the 7th Division of Count Maxium was stationed. It was a welcome relief.

Evelyn, unharmed, appeared before Eleanor and informed her of the situation at the estate.

“After the duke fled yesterday, it wasn’t just his private soldiers—it was a full-blown band of thieves. They beat anyone in their way and stole whatever they could...”

“How many were injured? What about the damage to the estate?”

“Quite a few were injured, but thankfully, no one is in critical condition. As for the estate, most of the furniture was ransacked. The valuables were safe in the vault, and the duke’s study was locked with a thick door, so they couldn’t get in.”

“That’s within expectations. It seems the rioters couldn’t touch the truly valuable items.”

The Roland estate, befitting a family of long-standing prestige, had always been meticulous about protecting its wealth. Even Eleanor’s relatively small vault was embedded in the wall, and breaking through the iron plates would require specialized tools and days of effort. Thanks to this, the losses were less than expected.

Edwin’s study and vault likely contained many important documents, and it was a relief that they remained untouched. Silverware and crystal glasses were nothing compared to the ownership documents.

“How is Duchess Adelle doing now?”

“The duchess has been confined to the estate. She can’t take a single step out of her room. Soldiers are guarding the estate and keeping an eye on her.”

Given Adelle’s involvement in the assassination of the former emperor, it was necessary to secure her custody to extract her confession.

“Not bad. Once I return home and sort things out, things should return to normal. Please ensure the injured servants receive proper treatment.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Then the most concerning person is Liam. Fertan brought him to the palace, but he’s still hovering between life and death.”

Evelyn’s eyes wavered, unsure of how to react.

“Liam? Was he badly hurt?”

“I heard he stopped breathing at one point. He’s still in a critical condition.”

Eleanor exaggerated a bit. While Liam had been in danger when they rescued him from the brothel in Brellyn Street, he had since stabilized. He hadn’t actually stopped breathing. The imperial physician had taken charge of his treatment and remained by his side.

“Oh no, what should we do? Liam is that badly injured...”

“Do you want to visit him?”

“Can I?”

Trying hard not to smile, Eleanor sent Evelyn to visit Liam. She hoped this would be an opportunity for the two, who had made no progress in their relationship, to finally connect.

Next, Eleanor began drafting a proposal regarding the personnel changes among the imperial officials.

Though Fertan likely had his own plans, as the emperor’s right hand, it was only right for her to present her opinions and proposals.

As she filled the third page, Fertan sauntered over.

“What are you doing?”

Without stopping her pen, she replied over her shoulder.

“Not done yet. I’ll present it when I’m finished.”

Even though the person who would receive the proposal was right beside her, she steadfastly continued filling in the details. Fertan, resting his chin on her shoulder and skimming the contents, didn’t exude much imperial dignity either.

“Not this...”

He even whined in a nasal voice.

“Your Majesty.”

“Drop the formal titles. Pay attention to me.”

Reluctantly, she stopped writing, and he quickly snatched the pen and tossed it aside. He lifted her from the chair and carried her to another spot.

“If you call me ‘Your Majesty’ when we’re alone, I won’t let it slide.”

“You’ve changed now. How can I treat you so casually?”

“I’m the same as always. I’ve always been your man.”

He didn’t care about the lingering gazes of the palace staff as they passed through the corridors. After kicking the bedroom door shut, his steps quickened. He hurriedly drew the curtains of the bed prepared for them.

“Fertan, it’s broad dayli—mmph.”

In broad daylight, he pressed his lips firmly against hers as he climbed over her hips.

His hands were impatient as they undressed her. He ruined several strings and buttons, tearing her dress off with a ripping sound. Like someone rushing to enjoy a clandestine affair, he quickly stripped off his own clothes. He pulled down his pants with his knees and kicked them off.

His parted lips persistently sucked on her lower lip. The rough skin of his palm trailed down her neck, sending a ticklish sensation through her. She flinched as his thumb pressed against the hollow beside her collarbone, and he chuckled mischievously. His breath, warm and heavy, brushed against her skin.

His thick tongue slickly explored the inside of her lips, rolling around in the saliva caught between her gums.

“Fertan, now’s not the time for this.”

With a mountain of work piled up, it wasn’t the time to indulge in midday lovemaking. Though it felt good to be held, they shouldn’t be idly playing around when there was so much to do.

“Is it about that ‘Your Majesty’ thing again?”

“What do you mean ‘thing’?”

Eleanor twisted her waist, trying to escape. Fertan tilted slightly to the side but instead grabbed her from behind. His chest pressed firmly against her back, as hard as her spine.

“I’ve decided I need to start acting more like an emperor.”

A large hand spread over her navel.

The hand pressed firmly against her lower abdomen, gradually moving downward. Though her much smaller hand squirmed on top of his, she couldn’t remove even a single finger.

“Then start by letting me go.”

“Letting you go is out of the question. But I might start speaking more politely, like a dignified emperor.”

“Speaking politely?”

For a moment, Eleanor paused.

Seizing the opportunity, his thick fingers parted her center. Familiar with her body, he explored the soft mound between her thighs and entered the moist valley.

“Ellie, if I may... May I touch you here?”

An exceedingly polite voice flowed from his lips as they brushed against her delicate skin.

“Mmm, Fertan.”

The sensation of his fingers brushing through her pubic hair was stimulating. Unlike usual, his hesitant movements drew a faint moan from her.

Taking that as a cue, his fingers slid in deeper.

“Thank you for allowing me. I was worried you might refuse.”

Fertan seemed like a different person. Though he was likely pretending. His devilishly smooth tongue hadn’t gone anywhere.

But the change in his tone made the physical contact feel entirely different. Even the lightest friction made her more sensitive.

He straightened his middle finger while using his other fingers to spread her labia wide. Carefully, he explored the small sensitive spot hidden by the hood.

His rough fingertip circled the tiny bead, smaller than a bean. Treating the engorged area with care, he gently pressed the tip of her clit, slick with her arousal. Her slender legs trembled. He cherished the spot that elicited such a fierce response, lightly brushing against it before suddenly pressing down firmly.

“Hnn...”

The moment a yearning moan escaped her lips, Eleanor’s shoulder was bitten hard. A moist, warm mouth pressed heavily against her curved neck. The sensation of his hard teeth was distinct.

“Ha, my mistake. May I bite you here? I got carried away, and my mouth moved on its own.”

He licked the bitten area like a dog.

“I don’t like it when it hurts... uhn.”

However, the licking sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The skin, which had momentarily throbbed, was covered by the soft membrane of his tongue. She stretched out the area of her neck he was kissing, indicating he could continue.

“Please be gentle, haa...”

He stopped kissing and sucked with force. The surrounding flesh was drawn into his mouth. A different kind of tingling sensation arose, distinct from the bite. He sucked on her hollow neck, the protruding peak of her shoulder, and the flat bone of her shoulder blade. Fertan didn’t discriminate, consuming her flesh wherever he could, inhaling greedily.

Soon, her flawless skin was covered in a colorful array of bruises. Red, lip-shaped marks became a sensual display, an obvious sign that she had been devoured by a man.

Eleanor was unaware that she wouldn’t be able to wear low-cut dresses for a while. Each time he licked and left a mark, she let out small, whimpering moans.

There was one area he couldn’t touch roughly, despite his persistent biting and sucking. Fertan cupped his hand in a shield shape, protecting the area beneath her left collarbone.

“I need to reapply the medicine here.”

It was the only place he hadn’t touched with his lips during their intense intimacy. It was the area where Eleanor had self-inflicted small sword cuts.

“I’m applying it regularly. The doctor was so...”

The attending physician was so fussy about the possibility of scarring her precious skin that he applied medicine with excessive zeal, which was annoying. The wounds weren’t large, and their depth was negligible. However, she was thoroughly exasperated by his various concerns, such as the sharpness of the sword and the tendency of cuts to scar.

She had even worn bandages. Because the wound was between her shoulder and neck, half of her upper body was dressed in a sickle shape, which looked too severe, so she decided to remove it. The bandages didn’t speed up healing, and the over-prescription was excessive.

Fertan kissed every part of her neck except the wounded area, leaving his marks.

“It needs to heal cleanly. Ellie has such a precious body.”

Still clinging to his dignified emperor persona, he whispered in a strangely kind and gentle tone.

His hand, moving down from the wound, groped her full breast. He teased the peak of the mound with the knuckle of his bent finger. After a few touches, her nipple became erect. He pinched the raised nipple like a clamp and twisted it.

“May I... touch your breasts?”

He had been squeezing and shaking them all along, yet he asked for permission belatedly. Typical. How could someone’s nature change?

He spread his hand wide, gathering the flesh of her breasts. He kneaded them forcefully, like milking a cow or kneading dough in the kitchen. As he did so, he muttered as if he had made a mistake.

“Ah, not ‘breasts,’ but... ‘tits’... no, ‘bosom.’ Yes, beautiful breasts.”

It was clear he wasn’t ignorant. It was definitely not a mistake. His self-correction, as if he would refrain from vulgar language in the future, was infuriating.

While he cycled through crude expressions and refined words, Eleanor’s breasts swelled warmly. Though her mind was indignant, her body responded faithfully. She turned her head to glare at him, and Fertan blinked innocently, as if asking what was wrong.

“Haa... I didn’t expect anything anyway.”

“I can do it. I can be a good mouth.”

“No, don’t strain yourself.”

He was a perfectly normal man when dressed and standing on two feet, but he seemed to become a different person when naked and rolling around. The difference between his public and private personas was like heaven and earth.

His lips traced a line down her spine. It felt like a reverent ritual. He rubbed his lips against the occasional protruding vertebrae and blew warm air into the gently curving hollow of her waist.

The caresses between her legs, which had stopped for a while, resumed. He parted her labia with his fingers, smearing the fluids collected in the crevice. Two fingers probed her entrance slyly. He inserted them halfway, then moved back to the front of her vulva, rubbing the erect clit up and down.

“Look at this, you’re overflowing with fluids.”

Sticky juices leaked each time her soft vulva flesh was pushed up by his fingertips. Fertan raised his knees, spreading her legs. He pressed areas out of reach with his knees. The abundant fluids covered his knees and soaked her thighs and the sheets around her.

He rubbed her flushed inner thighs with his rock-hard knees. He kneaded her breasts as if to tear them apart, thoroughly teased her sensitive clit, and bit her neck like an animal.

Her breasts had been so thoroughly abused that the milk ducts hidden inside her torso ached. Though she didn’t know the origin of the sensation, she could feel that he had stirred her insides, not just her skin.

Her earlobe was gently chewed. She involuntarily let out a sensual moan, her tear-filled eyes unfocused.

“You’re so obvious, Ellie. You get excited when I say dirty words.”

She was completely disoriented. Eleanor clenched the sheets with her sweaty fists, panting.

“No, no... huh.”

His tongue entered her ear canal. A soft, rustling sound accompanied the wetting of the fine hairs around her ear. She felt the bumpy membrane of his tongue inside her sensitive ear. The chaotic sensation of his unrestrained sucking.

Her vulva, rubbed against his knees, reached its limit of excitement. She experienced a light climax as her inner flesh was pressed flat. Fertan’s bite on her shoulder caused her to shudder, spreading her shoulders like wings.

“Tsk,” he clicked his tongue.

“Even if I’m naturally like this, when will you regain your composure?”

He sighed in feigned exasperation and placed his cock between her legs instead of his knees. He then gripped the shaft and applied pressure.

The long shaft rolled back and forth. When he pulled his hips back, his fist-sized glans caught on the front of her vulva. When he pressed close, his taut testicles stimulated her buttocks. The cock, protruding far between her legs, was grotesque, as if a phallus had sprouted from her private parts.

“You’re already soaking wet, and I haven’t even entered you.”

A marveling exclamation poured into her wet ear. It was the truth. The wet sounds grew louder between her legs as the lewd activity continued. Their fluids turned a creamy white from friction and heat.

The intense caresses were almost painful. She curled her hands and feet in unbearable tension. Her hand, resting on his thigh, involuntarily dug in with her nails.

“Fertan, ha, you’re bad.”

Fertan also used his nails to torment her. He pulled her nipples taut and then released them with a snap. The next moment, he dug painfully into the groove beneath her nipple with his short fingernails.

It was painful, yet strangely thrilling. Pain and excitement elicited the same sensation. She made crescent-shaped marks on his thigh and released more fluids.

“And what about you, falling for a bad man? A little more, and you’ll piss yourself.”

She was honestly worried about how wet she was. She would be mortified if it wasn’t sexual fluid.

“No, never.”

Fertan grabbed her buttocks and lifted her up. Her white buttocks rose high into the air. He looked down at her voluptuous, rounded buttocks with captivated eyes.

His strong body completely surrounded her back. He seized her defenseless body with his muscular thighs and the erect cock at his center. The flesh bulged between his hands, which gripped her breasts tightly, and his lips, biting her neck, added another red mark.

“Tell me what you want. How can I please you?”

His cock, dripping with pre-cum, pressed against her tightly closed entrance. The large, rounded glans stirred her soft inner flesh.

The smooth, taut shaft moved back and forth in time with her trembling moans. Her engorged nipples, pulled and released, bounced with elasticity.

The tingling sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Her heart pounded as she anticipated the shaft swelling her belly. She wanted him to torment her with it.

“H-harder... haa, until I cry.”

Eleanor mustered her courage and expressed her true feelings. She remembered the times she had teared up when he thrust deep and moved his hips wildly.

However, Fertan interpreted it differently. He recalled the lewd stories he had occasionally heard during drinking sessions with other men. He imagined a scene where he enjoyed a special kind of play with Eleanor.

While she would have been satisfied with just a slightly harder thrust, Fertan allowed himself to indulge in dark and lewd fantasies. Though he had never actually tried it, his imagination was both naive and fiercely primal. His low voice sounded strangely ominous.

“You should be careful with your words. Hurting someone in bed is very dangerous. There’s a world out there that Eleanor can’t even imagine.”

He formed a small whip with three of his fingers.

“What’s that...”

Snap, her nipple bounced.

“Hah, huh... it hurts.”

Even though it was just a flick from his fingertips, the impact was immense. She was already being twisted and pulled, and now she was subjected to even greater stimulation.

The moment she shuddered, a thick cock slid into her from below. Her other nipple also experienced a sharp, pleasurable sensation with a crisp sound. Her vulva pulsed and trembled. A log-like shaft forced its way through the chaotic, wet passage.

Her nipples reddened and swelled. Her areolas also flushed and felt hot. Small bumps appeared all over her nipples and areolas, as if they had been pricked with needles. Now, even the slightest touch from his fingertips was painful. He flattened her swollen nipples between his fingers and then twisted them mercilessly.

“Ha, hnn... Fertan.”

A painful groan escaped her lips. Her supporting elbows buckled, and she leaned forward.

He caught her waist just in time, thrusting his thick cock all the way in. Like colliding carriages, their lower bodies pressed together roughly. She was pulled into a deep embrace, unable to tilt her body.

They remained completely joined for a moment, the throbbing sensation inside her vivid.

The veins wrapped around his cock pulsed intensely in time with his heartbeat.

Fertan then spread her knees wide. In a precarious, almost falling pose, Eleanor’s legs spread shamefully wide. Her entrance, now holding his cock, gaped open, struggling to pulse.

His fingertips, teasing her below, didn’t stop for a moment. He rubbed her clit up and down and rolled it in circles, giving it no chance to soften.

“Relax down there. If you tense up while I move, you’ll tear yourself apart.”

His calloused fingers traced a short arc.

Snap, a red sliver of flesh bounced.

“Hah!”

Her tightly closed entrance pulsed. Clear fluid spurted out like an arrow through a small gap.

Her hips twisted as she endured the climax. Her clit tingled as if electrified, and her insides were so full they felt bloated. His hard glans pressed against her cervix. The pleasure, which had reached a peak, lingered, leaving repeated tingling sensations.

The light flick, hardly a proper spank, was a huge shock to her. Her vulva, accustomed only to gentle caresses, couldn’t handle the impact.

“Hnn, huh... Fertan.”

A sob finally mixed with her moans. He placed his fingers gently between her labia and soothed her.

“Shh, did it hurt a lot?”

“Uhn...”

“You don’t like it? Should I stop?”

Eleanor didn’t say anything. She shifted her legs slightly, pretending to look away, as they were uncomfortably spread. She couldn’t bring herself to say she hated it, as she had climaxed too easily. Maybe she could handle one finger. Or even two.

Noticing her reaction, Fertan pretended not to notice and gently nibbled her earlobe. His broad shoulders twitched, and a sly smile was swallowed by the motion of his mouth chewing her ear.

“I didn’t get an answer, but I understand.”

Instead of flicking, he gripped her outer labia tightly. He kneaded them thoroughly, his middle finger dipped in her fluids.

His thick cock, which had been still inside her, seemed to have fused with her inner walls. Fertan increased the pressure on his hips. The tight, delicate ridges of her inner walls wrapped around the bulging veins of his cock, pulling them in.

Her inner flesh tingled as it stretched.

“Ha, wa-wait...”

The fused area of their bodies intensified the pleasure. Her body, teetering on the edge of climax, reflexively tensed. Another shiver ran through her.

As he repeated the piston-like motion with a squeaking sound, her passage gradually loosened. The seemingly glued state eased somewhat. Just as her trembling hips began to relax, Fertan whispered devilishly.

“I know your body better than you do.”

His rough hand gripped her outer labia tightly. At the same time, his long shaft withdrew completely. Her clit was sore from pressure, and her wet cavern felt empty for a moment.

“Soft and gentle, yet painfully thrilling, right?”

His thick cock plunged back into the empty space with violent speed. Though she had reached multiple climaxes, he remained unchanged, thrusting mercilessly. All the previous caresses and gentle insertions were nothing compared to this.

He scraped the ridges of her entrance as if to tear them off. Loud screams escaped her lips.

He pounded her cervix with his fist-like glans. The sharp pain caused a bulge to appear on her stomach. She felt like her insides were being destroyed. She tried to struggle in vain, but it only fueled his excitement. His cock scraped against the walls of her passage as her hips twisted.

Her legs were so wet that large drops of fluid dripped down. Just as she was about to snap, the soaring sensation of climax pierced her spine and numbed her head.

The taut wings of his glans caught on her narrow entrance and then plunged in with a thud. Fireworks exploded inside her. The shock that shook every sensitive point and the noise that rang loudly in her head left her dazed.

“This is just right for you. Being filled and made to cry by my cock.”

She didn’t even realize she was sobbing. Even as she cried, Fertan held her close, his heart pounding, as she raised her hips.

The vigorous movements caused his cock to sway. Eleanor was breathless from just swaying, lying on her stomach.

Even after several more climaxes, the destructive thrusting didn’t stop.

Her voice, which had been moaning, grew hoarse. He seemed to relent, quickening his final thrusts. After one last ejaculation, the room was already dim.

“Haa, please... I can’t anymore.”

Sleeping with Fertan was always exhausting, but tonight, he had attacked her as if to devour her.

As she collapsed onto the bed, she finally heard the noise outside. It was the sound of anxious footsteps. And there were many of them.

They were probably the servants. On the day Fertan ascended the throne, there must have been countless matters to attend to. But he had been so focused on conquering Eleanor that they didn’t dare to interrupt and were burning with anxiety.

Though she was embarrassed that her moans might have carried through the door, state affairs took precedence over her feelings.

“Fertan, it seems there’s urgent business.”

He calmly turned and positioned himself between her wet thighs. He then re-inserted his body, which had briefly retreated.

“Let them wait. They’ll just come back if I send them away.”

“Fertan.”

“I’ve already taken care of the important things. I’m not a sloppy emperor.”

“But they’re waiting outside.”

His hard cock, as if he hadn’t just ejaculated, was pressed against his lower abdomen. The only evidence of his ejaculation was the milky fluid still leaking from her entrance.

“The only thing important to me is Eleanor. Will you only focus on me too?”

He smiled seductively, his eyes crinkling, and thrust his wet shaft into her forcefully. No matter how much she hit his shoulder or pinched his chest, it was useless. All she got in return was a hearty laugh, and her legs spread wide again for the man who was now in a frenzy of new intercourse.

The lovemaking, which had started in the afternoon, didn’t stop until late at night, when the servants outside finally gave up and left.

---

Happiness seems to be fleeting, which is why it’s cherished even more.

The years of persecution had stretched on endlessly, and though the time spent carving away at their very bones was painful, the radiant victory they achieved was savored for only a brief moment. The citizens chanting “Long live His Majesty” and the nobles muttering “We pledge our loyalty” slowly began to accept Fertan’s ascension as reality.

In less than a single season, the atmosphere had completely changed.

Eleanor hurried through the falling leaves in the palace courtyard, her steps brisk and without pause. There was no time to savor the crisp rustling of autumn. The celebration had lasted just one day, but the responsibilities she’d taken on were daily burdens.

“Lord Roland, where are you rushing off to?”

She paused briefly and turned around. It was Marcron, the Minister of Finance.

“Oh, Lord Marcron.”

Once disguised as the owner of a jewelry shop who had handed Eleanor the late emperor’s seal, he was now revealed to be the person in charge of Fertan’s assets. Known for his sharp business acumen and precise judgment of market trends, Marcron had earned Fertan’s trust and was given significant responsibilities.

Thanks to this, many enterprises had been launched under the radar of Emperor Maximilian, and the profits were funneled into funding the resistance.

Instead of receiving a high noble title, Marcron was appointed as a key bureaucrat. He was suddenly promoted to Minister of Finance, overseeing the imperial finances.

Eleanor, who frequently met with Marcron regarding official duties, greeted him with her usual composure.

“His Majesty wishes to see me, so I’m on my way. I was finishing up some work, so I’m a bit pressed for time.”

“Oh dear, I’ve kept you. Please, go ahead.”

As Eleanor turned to leave, something occurred to her, prompting her to speak.

“Oh, and I’d like to meet with you separately tomorrow, if possible.”

“Is it about what we discussed last time?”

Marcron asked cautiously, and Eleanor launched into a rapid, detailed explanation.

“Yes, the job creation initiative is urgent. I’ve estimated how much funding we’ll need, so let’s discuss it. At present, establishing textile factories led by the imperial court seems most promising. Personally, I’d prefer to push forward with urban development projects first, but I’ve faced quite a bit of opposition due to concerns over high costs and low returns. Oh, revising the liquor tax law should take priority over what I just mentioned. So…”

“Lord Roland, didn’t you say you were short on time?”

Marcron, already exasperated, cut her off mid-sentence. Realizing she’d been rambling without pause about policies still in preparation, Eleanor snapped back to attention.

“Oh, right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With her usual elegance intact, Eleanor politely excused herself and hurried toward the emperor’s chambers.

Upon entering the Royal Gallery on the first floor, a cozy atmosphere akin to an afternoon tea party awaited her. Princess Lucena brightened at the sight of her. Though protocol dictated that Eleanor should have arrived earlier, their relationship was sweet and sticky like honeyed desserts, leaving little room for formalities.

Without hesitation, Eleanor sat beside Lucena, affectionately taking her hand.

“Lady Lucena, I heard the news. Congratulations on the good tidings, yes?”

Lucena, no longer the emperor’s daughter, was no longer addressed as ‘Your Highness.’ Though Fertan had offered her the title of duchess, her unambitious nature led her to politely decline. Now, she was a member of the imperial family without any specific title.

Being called by her name rather than a formal title delighted Lucena, bringing them closer.

“I’m not sure if it’s good news yet. We’ll know soon enough.”

The two glanced at a few covered frames tucked in a corner of the gallery. Those paintings were the purpose of this gathering.

Moments later, a solemn announcement heralded Fertan’s arrival. Though styled as an intimate tea party, this was still an official event, adhering to basic protocols.

Fertan, wearing a broad-shouldered coat, looked even more imposing with his already sturdy build. His fitted trousers accentuated his long legs. The maids working in the imperial palace often sighed over his physique, and each outfit seemed designed to highlight his best features.

Gone was the need to craft an image of a vain grand duke. Fertan now ordered custom outfits tailored to his personal aesthetic preferences. Several months into his reign, men in high society were now scrambling to emulate his style and physique.

With long strides, he approached, bypassing the seat reserved for the emperor to pull up a chair next to Eleanor.

“It’s rare to see your face, Eleanor.”

Ignoring the servants and Lucena as if they weren’t there, he casually pulled her close and kissed her shoulder.

“Your Majesty, I’ve repeatedly told you this isn’t appropriate.”

“Even if I have to rewrite the court etiquette, I won’t give this up. The emperor and empress should always be close. That’s the rule I intend to make.”

Though they hadn’t yet married, in his mind, Eleanor was already his empress.

“Fertan…”

Knowing she couldn’t curb his audacity, Eleanor sighed, giving him the chance to order a two-seater sofa from a servant. Only after they both settled onto the hastily arranged seat did the commotion subside.

Lucena busied herself sipping tea, pretending not to notice. Her flushed face hid behind a smile, avoiding eye contact altogether.

“Shall we review the letter, then?”

At the emperor’s command, Chief Steward Herod presented a lavish document adorned with golden borders.

Herod had become the closest person to Fertan. His once-fallen house had risen again, and he now held the title of count. Gone was the modest appearance of a hotel manager; his neatly combed-back hair and top-tier artisan-crafted shoes suited him perfectly.

After a light cough, Herod read the document aloud in a clear, resonant voice. It began with an elaborate greeting and quickly moved to the main matter.

“To the esteemed Princess Lucena of the Ratton Empire, Edinveil, second prince of the Beinart Empire, sincerely requests to spend his life by your side.

I deeply regret not expressing sooner that I have cherished you in my heart for a long time. Past tensions between our nations made it difficult to reveal my feelings.

If it’s not too late, I wish to devote myself entirely to becoming your companion. Please do not reject my request.”

The letter went on to introduce the prince. A year younger than Lucena, he was the second prince but had inherited considerable wealth and lands from the imperial family. Though the proposal mentioned only a few estates and trading companies, a thick book detailing his extensive assets accompanied the letter.

Finally, the names of various tutors who had instructed him were listed. Clearly, the prince had a keen interest in academics.

Unable to contain herself, Eleanor interjected with a delighted “Oh my!” during the reading of the marriage proposal. It was an exclamation of joy, celebrating her dearest friend Lucena finally finding happiness.

When Marcron brought the finished letter to the table, Eleanor noticed Lucena secretly catching her breath. The corners of her mouth had lifted slightly.

Determined to step in on behalf of the cautious princess, Eleanor resolved to take a proactive role.

“Prince Edinveil seems well-versed in various fields of study.”

“Yes, it appears so.”

“He seems like someone Lady Lucena would get along with well, don’t you think?”

From the way Lucena lingered on the proposal, it was clear she was pleased.

Everyone had been surprised when this unexpected marriage prospect emerged. Relations with the Beinart Empire had long been strained. The 7th Division stationed along the southern front was a measure to counter Beinart, and decades of conflict had persisted.

However, with the new emperor Fertan sending a conciliatory letter to Beinart, recent developments hinted at reconciliation. Thus, a prince who had never before been considered now boldly sent his marriage proposal.

Now came the most anticipated part of the process. Eleanor subtly nudged Fertan.

While half-listening to the reading of the proposal, Fertan had left the task of gauging Lucena’s mood to Eleanor. Only belatedly did he instruct a servant:

“Unveil the portraits.”

Three easels were set up in the center of the gallery. With bated breath, the sheets covering the large frames were removed.

“Oh, Lady Lucena!”

Eleanor couldn’t finish her sentence, clapping a hand over her mouth. A handsome man with a calm demeanor gazed tenderly out of the painting at Lucena.

Portraits sent to others are typically idealized. One should expect the real person to be less striking than depicted. Both Lucena and Eleanor, having seen many such paintings, could mentally adjust for the artist’s exaggerations. Even so, the second prince of Beinart seemed like someone whose real appearance might exceed expectations.

The second and third portraits were unveiled in succession. Common traits included lush golden hair, slender faces, and lean, athletic builds.

As Eleanor admired them, Fertan shot her a displeased glare.

“Eleanor, do you like that type?”

“No, it’s just… They seem like a good match.”

Could anyone dislike a frail, gentle appearance paired with a scholarly demeanor? If anything, the second prince was the complete opposite of Fertan. While the latter had a striking presence and concealed his muscular build beneath tailored clothing, the former exuded a calm refinement.

Eleanor let Fertan stew in his jealousy for a while longer. She didn’t mind this playful side of him.

Meanwhile, Lucena scrutinized the portraits carefully. Her evident fondness for the prince suggested that the marriage proposal would likely proceed smoothly.

“Lady Lucena, what are you looking at so intently?”

“That small, blurry painting in the background—could it be me?”

Behind the figure in the portrait, a faint image of a painting hung on the wall. The more she looked at it, the more familiar it seemed. It was likely a depiction of Lucena from her childhood.

How had they obtained a portrait of her, even though it wasn’t something publicly available? If their intention had been to secretly confirm her appearance, there was no need to subtly hint at it by incorporating it into the prince’s portrait. Was the expression of interest in the marriage proposal genuine? Or merely polite?

“Oh my goodness…”

Overcome with emotion, Eleanor impulsively clasped Lucena’s hands tightly.

“Now that I look closer, other details stand out too. That book on the table is one you’re interested in, isn’t it? And those flowers in the vase—they’re your favorites.”

Every inch of the three paintings was imbued with careful attention to Lucena’s preferences. While it might not have been exceedingly difficult to discover the books or flowers an empress-to-be admired, the meticulous effort behind these details spoke volumes about the prince’s sincerity.

In contrast, Fertan remained composed. He didn’t pressure her, leaving the decision entirely in her hands.

“Take your time to think it over. We won’t rush the marriage just for the sake of fostering ties with Beinart.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“That was our agreement, was it not? Consider it repayment of my debt.”

Eleanor chimed in supportively.

“Exactly. If you don’t wish to marry someone from a distant foreign land, you can choose someone closer to home. You know Lord Harion’s son has shown great interest in you, right? He follows you everywhere.”

With the hope that only days filled with fluttering flower petals lay ahead for Lucena, Eleanor meticulously compared the strengths and weaknesses of Prince Edinveil and Lord Harion’s son, sharing her thoughts in detail.

---

The matter of the emperor’s marriage remained at a standstill. It came up repeatedly during council meetings but made little progress.

This was because there were factions opposed to welcoming Eleanor as empress.

These were individuals who had profited immensely from corruption during the previous emperor’s reign. However, they had cleverly concealed their corrupt ties and maintained their influence. For Fertan, dismantling this web of interconnected nobles in a short period of time was no easy feat.

Lord Edwards, Margrave of the borderlands, was one such individual.

“Your Majesty, we can no longer delay the selection of an empress.”

“I share your sentiment. It’s imperative that we secure the stability of the imperial household.”

“In that case, I urge you to make a decision. As I previously recommended, I believe Lady Beryl, daughter of the Duke of Beryl, is most suited to become your consort.”

Fertan’s face briefly contorted, despite his attempt to maintain composure.

Today, the old guard seemed unusually insistent.

These remnants of the former regime sought to suppress the new emperor by exploiting the power vacuum left after the regime change. They had secretly united and already chosen their preferred candidate for empress. Though few in number, their financial resources and political clout made them formidable opponents.

Fertan, his expression hardened, glanced at Eleanor seated beside him at the table.

“I’ve made it clear that no one but Lord Roland will be considered as my bride.”

Lord Edwards pressed his case fervently.

“That cannot be allowed, Your Majesty. Please reconsider.”

“There will be no other empress. I ask you to abandon this request.”

“Lord Roland’s family carries a stain… and besides…”

Fertan’s hand resting on the table clenched into a sharp fist. He made no effort to conceal his barely restrained anger. One wrong word from the margrave, and he was ready to use it as grounds for punishment. But the margrave was no fool; he possessed cunning eloquence and harbored ambitions of manipulating the emperor.

The supposed flaw the margrave harped on was Eleanor’s familial connection to the house responsible for assassinating the late emperor. Despite Fertan’s approval, they invoked morality and ethics to challenge her suitability.

Each side exchanged veiled barbs, hiding ulterior motives. The meeting was steeped in Cold War-like tension.

“As both emperor and future husband, I have given my approval.”

“But there is such a thing as morality. How can you take as empress the sibling of the one who killed your father?”

“The person who contributed most to capturing Edwin was Lord Roland. That alone should absolve her.”

“No, many do not see it that way.”

Fertan gritted his teeth instead of continuing the argument, glaring at the margrave.

“Many?” What an absurd exaggeration. Only a handful of people, led by the margrave, opposed Eleanor. The problem was that they were among the most powerful nobles.

Over the past few months, Fertan had stabilized the political situation and uncovered the truth behind the late emperor’s death. Eleanor had strongly insisted that the incident should not be buried. Thus, Lady Adelle confessed her crimes in court, and the evidence—a faintly poisoned signet ring—was presented.

The House of Roland deserved annihilation, but thanks to Eleanor’s pivotal role in restoring justice, the family was spared. She received no grand reward but was allowed to retain her family name and inherited the title of Duke of Roland, taking on the responsibility of managing her chaotic household.

This was the result of balancing rewards and punishments.

Separately, Fertan had prepared the position of empress for Eleanor. Yet, he hadn’t anticipated obstacles to bringing her into the palace.

The root of the problem lay in how the old ruling faction had cleverly evaded severe punishment. Now that the early days of his reign had passed, he could no longer drive them out all at once. Instead, he had to slowly tighten the noose, tolerating their posturing and psychological warfare for the time being.

Eleanor, seated beside him, listened silently, her eyes lowered. The issue of selecting an empress was too delicate for her to intervene directly, so she silently supported Fertan as he fought back.

She waited for an opening amidst the heated exchange.

“Your Majesty, the meeting has gone on long enough. I request we move on to the next agenda item.”

She gently raised the pen in her hand, effectively cutting off the fruitless debate.

Lord Edwards glared at her, his expression daring her to speak further. Meanwhile, Fertan suppressed a grateful smile with a cough.

Eleanor’s voice rang out confidently.

“Progress on tax reform has stalled. I urge Your Majesty to actively push forward on this matter.”

“I’ve reviewed Lord Roland’s proposal. The idea of revising liquor and customs taxes to invigorate the cities appeals to me.”

“I’ve brought a new proposal today. It suggests adjusting the tax cap for lords. The current rates are excessively high…”

Interrupting before she finished, the margrave snapped at her.

“Listen here, Lord Roland. It’s an unwritten rule that noble-owned territories are free from external interference. Even considering youthful zeal, you’re overstepping.”

“If resistance is strong, perhaps formalizing that unwritten rule is worth considering.”

“A pointless endeavor.”

Ignoring the margrave’s dismissive click of the tongue, Eleanor explained the necessity of the matter to Fertan, presenting him with a thick proposal.

“Your Majesty, why not investigate the tax rates across the nation? Not based on documents submitted by the lords, but through direct investigation under your orders. Dispatch financial officers to key regions to assess the situation. Answers will surely emerge.”

With an impassive expression, Eleanor glanced at Lord Edwards, then at the Duke of Beryl, whose ambition was to place his daughter on the throne. Both were infamous for their exploitative practices in their territories.

They fiercely opposed Eleanor’s words, nearly shouting protests at the emperor. Naturally, this proposal targeted the old guard.

No matter how much the margrave barked, Eleanor stood firm, delivering her lengthy remarks in full.

If she was to serve as the emperor’s right hand, such resolve was essential. If Fertan wished to drive them out, she was determined to take on the role of confronting them.

---

Leonard and Edwin were never captured by the pursuing forces.

After failing to catch them, news arrived from the Pelos Empire: they had sought refuge under Emperor Bartonas. Their request for asylum had been made, and the emperor was reportedly deliberating.

Perhaps it was Edwin’s resourcefulness at work. While part of her admired his skill, Eleanor couldn’t shake the unease of not knowing what schemes he might be plotting in Pelos.

Not long after, the situation shifted again. A formal notice arrived: Leonard and Edwin would be coming as diplomatic envoys.

The imperial palace was thrown into chaos. The deposed crown prince and the assassin of the late emperor were now to arrive as envoys? Some were furious, others argued they should seize this chance to arrest them.

But from Fertan’s perspective, he couldn’t simply detain them outright since they represented Pelos. Moreover, Emperor Bartonas, who had orchestrated this meeting, likely had some ulterior motive.

As the season turned colder, the envoy arrived.

Unsure of what would transpire, an informal meeting was arranged. On their side, only the emperor and Eleanor attended, while the envoy indicated they too would come with a small group.

On the day they met—the very people they had fought tooth and nail against—the weather was unusually mild for early winter, with bright, warm sunlight. It stood in stark contrast to the oppressive rain that had fallen during the rebellion when the sky seemed to collapse upon the earth.

Eleanor’s emotions were complex.

It felt like encountering an enemy she’d once crossed swords with on the battlefield, but now under peaceful circumstances. For now, unable to touch them, this meeting was indeed calm.

Regarding Edwin, though she hoped he would face justice, a corner of her heart felt uneasy—perhaps the unavoidable bond of blood. As for Leonard, she wanted nothing more than to avoid him entirely. Regardless of status, he had always been someone she despised, someone who made her skin crawl. She wished he would just disappear from her sight.

Lost in such thoughts, her mind grew increasingly unsettled as the moment of their meeting approached.

She and Fertan arrived at the audience chamber first. As she gazed at the silk curtains embroidered with gold thread swaying gently in the pale sunlight, Edwin soon appeared, dressed in traditional Pelos attire. The exotic clothing didn’t suit him, and even heavy makeup couldn’t conceal his haggard appearance.

Unexpectedly, Edwin was alone. Though Leonard had been listed among the envoys staying at the palace, he was nowhere to be seen. After delivering a verbose diplomatic greeting, Edwin clasped his hands before the emperor.

“It’s been a while, Edwin.”

Fertan addressed him by name, ignoring his lack of title.

“Your Majesty, it is an infinite honor to see you again. I sincerely congratulate you on ascending the throne.”

The formulaic congratulations rang hollow. The tangled web between them was far from something that could be easily unraveled.

Fertan silently stared at him for a moment before deciding to hand over this emotionally fraught meeting to Eleanor. He wanted to give her—the sister of Edwin and someone who had faced him head-on—the power to decide.

Having exposed the late emperor’s wrongful death and reclaimed the throne, Fertan’s priorities had shifted. Now, Eleanor mattered more to him than revenge. If Edwin had been anyone else, execution would have been inevitable, but for now, considering Eleanor’s feelings came first.

“To meet you as Pelos’ envoy feels awkward. Given our mutual discomfort and unresolved past, I’ll leave this audience in Lord Roland’s hands.”

Eleanor’s fingertips trembled faintly beside him.

“Your Majesty…”

“The decision is yours to make.”

“This is too much to ask. How can I possibly make diplomatic decisions on my own?”

“The day I claimed victory was thanks to you stopping Edwin. If he had led his private army to strike me from behind, we wouldn’t be here today.”

His large hand gently gripped Eleanor’s cold, tense wrist.

Edwin stood motionless, his long sleeves hiding his hands, resembling a prisoner awaiting judgment in court. Though his attire was ornate, the atmosphere was unlike that of a typical diplomatic envoy.

Their eyes met, siblings staring at each other. Eleanor braced herself. Taking a deep, silent breath, she forced air into her slowing heart, steeling herself for the worst-case scenario where she might have to confront his crimes directly.

Edwin, still inscrutable, hid his deteriorating condition beneath layers of clothing and makeup. But as their regret-filled gazes crossed, he unconsciously tilted his head—a nervous habit that betrayed his agitation.

She could roughly gauge his state now. It was far worse than it appeared.

“Lord Edwin.”

She hesitated, unsure what title to use. He was no longer a member of the House of Roland, nor a noble.

“May I ask why you’ve come alone to see His Majesty? I expected Lord Leonard to attend as well.”

“Regrettably, Leonard is unwell. He’s resting in his quarters, so if you wish to meet him, arranging a separate time later might be best.”

“May I ask what ails him?”

Edwin paused briefly before speaking slowly.

“It’s a chronic illness. One I believe both of you are familiar with…”

She understood immediately. It must be the madness that had long plagued him, though it had been kept secret. Leonard, during his days as crown prince, had no publicly known chronic illness—this was the only plausible explanation.

Despite the shocking revelation that a mentally unstable man had come as a diplomat, Fertan still entrusted the judgment to her with unwavering trust.

Eleanor chewed her lip, then steeled herself and asked:

“If the need arises, I will arrange a separate meeting. But first, could you tell me more about Leonard’s condition?”

Edwin’s dry, parched expression flickered momentarily as irritation surged within him, which he quickly suppressed.

“His condition worsened suddenly when we crossed the border last time. By the time we sought refuge in Pelos, he could no longer recognize anyone—not even me.”

“That bad, huh…”

“He’s especially violent toward those around him. If he has a weapon, he’ll attack without hesitation. When we restrain him to prevent harm, he attempts self-harm. We’ve had no choice but to bind him frequently.”

“At this point, he’s hardly in any condition to serve as an envoy.”

“For the journey here, we turned the carriage into a makeshift cell. We had to immobilize him completely to bring him. Whenever he needed to appear in public, we administered doses of sedatives several times stronger than usual.”

Common treatments for mental illness often involved harsh drugs, used more to control patients than to improve their symptoms. Based on what she heard, Leonard likely couldn’t even speak properly, let alone pose a threat. This grim reality made her pause and reflect: Had she truly wished for him to deteriorate this far?

The outcome was undeniably shocking. She hadn’t expected Leonard to lose his sanity to the point of being unable to distinguish right from wrong.

Yet, her desire to avoid facing him remained unchanged. She didn’t want to endure the chill he instilled in her again.

Though she hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, she remembered the many lives he had taken—his role in sending assassins after Fertan.

Perhaps if he had surrendered quietly on the day of the rebellion, his mental state might have been somewhat better. Even if exiled to a remote province, he could have lived a quiet life.

“Leonard repeats one peculiar behavior constantly. He mutters someone’s name incessantly.”

A chilling sensation swept through her body. Even without specifying whose name it was or witnessing the scene directly, her stomach churned as if she’d swallowed something foul.

Edwin added politely:

“What do you think? Perhaps Lord Roland meeting Leonard might improve his condition.”

Despite the seemingly respectful tone, the underlying provocation was unmistakable.

The fleeting sympathy she had felt moments ago dissipated like smoke. Her misplaced pity collided with rising irritation. Edwin’s words carried an indirect pressure: it would be unethical to exile Leonard without attempting to treat his condition.

Was she now expected to help treat him? Would she feel guilty if she refused?

But did Edwin even have the right to present such options?

“The situation is complicated. I’ll need to carefully consider arranging a meeting with Lord Leonard.”

As she cautiously stepped back, Edwin’s gaze carried a subtle, meaningful glint. What was he scheming now? It was hard to fathom what he stood to gain by playing mind games over Leonard’s condition.

Eleanor had no choice but to tread even more carefully. Walking on the edge of a sharpened blade, she kept her guard up.

“Let’s move on to the main topic. What does Emperor Bartonas of Pelos wish to convey?”

She signaled her intent to focus solely on the purpose of Edwin’s diplomatic mission. Though she couldn’t pinpoint why, she sensed he was trying to provoke a meaningless argument, and prolonging the meeting wouldn’t be wise.

Even if they ended up imprisoning the envoy, consulting with Fertan separately would come first.

“Emperor Bartonas wishes for Ratton to honor a past agreement.”

“What agreement do you mean?”

“The arrangement to send Princess Lucena as empress to Pelos. While expressing regret over Ratton unilaterally nullifying the marriage talks, His Majesty understands given the change in emperor.”

Eleanor barely managed to cover her gaping mouth with her hand. The absurdity of the claim left her dizzy.

Was this the real purpose of the visit? Perhaps mentioning Leonard earlier was a deliberate attempt to unsettle her before revealing the true agenda.

She glanced at Fertan, seated beside her. He listened silently, chin resting on his hand, before his face twisted in clear displeasure. Such a reaction was fitting. Why should Fertan honor an agreement made arbitrarily by Maximilian, the usurper who had stolen this nation?

And just by his expression, Fertan’s decision was easily shared. Naturally, Eleanor felt the same way. There was no way Princess Lucena would be sent to the Pelos Empire.

While she had been contemplating whether to send Edwin away and discuss countermeasures among themselves, Fertan subtly flicked his hand under the table. A single arrow drawn with his index finger—it was the same signal he used to order a charge during battle.

There would be no retreat. She lifted her chin firmly.

“To cut to the chase, Lady Lucena will not go to the Pelos Empire.”

“Lord Roland, this is something that could invite significant criticism on the international stage. Especially since Crown Prince Leonard has fallen into such a state, and you show no intention of helping him—a fact that will also draw heavy condemnation.”

As expected, Edwin was using Leonard’s condition as leverage. He was still as cunning as ever.

Eleanor hesitated, unsure if she should make such a major decision on her own. But if Fertan disagreed, he would surely interject. Trusting in him, she glanced briefly at his broad, reassuring shoulders.

For now, she countered with sound reasoning.

“Our empire did not inherit the throne peacefully. The previous emperor was a usurper whose life we took, and His Majesty restored order to the nation. Therefore, it is only right that we correct the mistakes of the former emperor, including Lady Lucena’s marriage arrangement.”

“You cannot simply invalidate a marriage agreement based solely on Ratton’s decision. You must consider the position of our Pelos Empire as well.”

Only now did Eleanor realize why Edwin had appeared dressed in traditional Pelos attire. His intellect truly was remarkable. He was perfectly embodying the role of Emperor Bartonas’ spokesperson.

“No. His Majesty of the Pelos Empire must take a different empress.”

“This is no time for stubbornness. Can you really bear the consequences of what might follow?”

As he pressed her with threats, she couldn’t help but imagine the potential repercussions: deteriorating international relations, war—things of that nature.

“I asked if you can handle the consequences.”

The pressure mounted again, leaving her no choice but to hesitate. This was a matter involving countless lives.

At that moment, Fertan interjected with an indifferent tone.

“That is none of your concern.”

Edwin’s previously composed face crumbled instantly.

“Your Majesty, this could bring a grave crisis upon our Ratton Empire.”

“You need to pick a side. Didn’t you just refer to our Pelos Empire a moment ago?”

“...”

“And Ratton has no need for you. The only thing we need from you is your head. Once you’re no longer under Emperor Bartonas’ protection, you can look forward to us returning it promptly.”

Eleanor bit her lip, suppressing a smile. The harsh words she couldn’t bring herself to say flowed effortlessly from Fertan. It was oddly satisfying.

Though the emperor’s tone was rough for an official audience, coming right after her measured argument, it added a delightful twist. The situation called for abandoning normal diplomacy in favor of a more aggressive approach.

Edwin’s subtle psychological attacks had already been grating on her nerves. Threatening war as though it were a diplomat’s prerogative? While she had been mulling over how to respond, Fertan delivered a sharp blow.

Fertan rose from his seat, moving forward casually until he stood directly in front of Edwin.

Less than a handspan separated them. With his piercing gaze fixed downward, he stared straight at Edwin’s forehead.

Edwin, pale as ash, looked up, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen.

“W-why are you doing this...?”

It was a face she had never seen on him before—gray and defeated.

Cornered like a rat, Edwin tried to lash out.

“I am an envoy of the Pelos Empire! If you dare harm me—”

“I’m aware. That’s why I said I wouldn’t take your head right now.”

As Edwin faltered, fear evident in his steps, Fertan closed the distance further.

“Lord Roland’s decision is my decision. Lady Lucena will not be sent, so stop your pointless threats.”

“This isn’t a threat—it’s a real possibility.”

“Are you claiming that Pelos would raise an army because I refuse to honor the mistakes of a dead emperor who lacked legitimacy?”

“The change in regime is an internal matter for this country to resolve. Emperor Bartonas only seeks to uphold the agreement...”

Eleanor found Edwin’s excessive persistence irritating. His refusal to back down seemed unnatural. He appeared desperate, as though he had staked everything on this issue. Given his notoriously selfish nature, there had to be a compelling reason behind his fervor.

Fertan continued to press him, letting out a soft snort.

“Listen, Edwin. If you know anything about international affairs, you should realize this is futile. Why keep pushing for nothing?”

“It’s not entirely futile. Pelos is a powerful nation comparable to yours...”

“Do you know the recent developments?”

“Y-yes, of course. As an envoy, I’m required to stay informed.”

“Then you’ve heard about the letter I sent to Beinart in the south?”

Edwin’s eyes wavered violently. The once-calculating man was increasingly revealing his psychological breaking point.

“I’ve heard about it.”

“So you understand that relations with Beinart are rapidly improving. You’re also aware that I now have the leeway to redeploy the legions stationed along the southern front.”

This bombshell left Edwin unable to retaliate further. He seemed to have reached his limit.

As he stumbled for words, Fertan leaned down, pressing his chin against Edwin’s forehead.

“If you intend to use Lady Lucena as an excuse to meddle in my kingdom, then perhaps I should set my sights on Pelos territory while I’m at it.”

The slight brush of Fertan’s sturdy chest sent Edwin reeling backward. In a scene unimaginable from his days as Duke Roland, he collapsed onto the floor, bracing himself with trembling hands and scattering his gaze.

“T-that...”

This was it—the perfect opening. Eleanor seized the moment, delivering a pointed question.

“Lord Edwin, what did you promise to gain in exchange for delivering Princess Lucena to Emperor Bartonas?”

Edwin flinched as though waking from a nightmare.

“I am an envoy, and—”

“I know. You’ve been passionately advocating for Pelos. But if you fail to bring Lady Lucena, what happens to you, Lord Edwin?”

“That’s unrelated to the mission of the envoy.”

“But it’s highly relevant to you personally, Lord Edwin. And to me, who shares a complicated history with you, and to Fertan as well.”

Edwin clenched his eyes shut, unable to feign ignorance any longer. Deep wrinkles etched into his forehead, aging him years in an instant. The hand braced on the floor curled inward, disappearing into his sleeve.

The once ambitious Edwin, who dreamed of ruling the skies, was gone.

His demeanor revealed much. She could vaguely guess how the fugitive murderer, having lost everything, had been treated by those he sought refuge with.

“If I fail… it’s all over, isn’t it?”

“...”

His silence spoke volumes.

Even makeup and fine clothing couldn’t fully conceal Edwin’s haggard appearance, hinting at the poor treatment he’d endured in Pelos.

Emperor Bartonas, known for his cruelty, likely harbored no sympathy for him. He surely knew about the warrant issued for Edwin as the assassin of the previous emperor. What could his intentions have been when he welcomed Edwin into the palace? And why specifically choose Edwin as an envoy?

“Did Emperor Bartonas order you to succeed in this mission at the cost of your life?”

“That goes without saying—I must do my utmost...”

Interrupting his evasive reply, she struck at the heart of the matter.

“If you fail to bring the princess, will you die, Lord Edwin?”

Fine wrinkles formed around Edwin’s tightly shut eyes. It was a silent affirmation.

A chilling silence descended upon the audience chamber. Edwin’s eyes remained closed, as if already resigned to his fate. Eleanor approached quietly, like a ghost, and glimpsed the despair of a man standing on the executioner’s block.

She wanted to make him realize that the consequences he now faced were the result of his own accumulated misdeeds. Still harboring unresolved grief, she yearned to pour out all the sorrow she had suppressed over the years—the pain of losing loved ones, the anguish she had endured silently...

If only she could recount every detail of how her parents were murdered, just as a judge would in a courtroom—there would be nothing more satisfying.

Even now, it felt as though her voice might break into sobs, crying out, “Didn’t you kill my parents, Brother?”

The tears finally burst forth.

Turning away to hide her face, she sobbed uncontrollably.

Her trembling lips couldn’t form the words she so desperately wanted to say, leaving her to wallow in a swirl of resentment within her mind.

But this regret for the painful days of her youth belonged to her alone. Edwin, with a hardened face, wiped his dry cheeks and summoned the last dregs of venom. Brushing off his clothes, he rose to his feet and spoke with the sincerity of a man who had given up on life.

“It’s all your fault, Eleanor. If you hadn’t grabbed my ankle that day, I’d be thriving as the emperor’s in-law by now.”

There was no trace of remorse in Edwin.

“How could you betray the gratitude for raising you and reduce me to this? How could you do this to me, huh?”

It dawned on her anew: this man was irredeemable scum, someone who would never repent even if placed before a court.

Overwhelmed by injustice and sorrow, Eleanor turned to confront him, but Fertan firmly grasped her elbow. He too had lost his parents because of Edwin. Though anger simmered in his eyes, he was concerned about Eleanor’s fragile state. Pulling her closer, he steadied her.

To Edwin, the emperor delivered a decisive verdict.

“My resolve not to send Princess Lucena to the Pelos Empire remains unchanged.”

“If that is truly Your Majesty’s will, then at least send a small token to Pelos. I’m not begging for my life—it would benefit you.”

“No, you will leave empty-handed.”

It was clear Edwin was trying to scheme, attempting to secure some minor gain to survive. Seeing through his ploy, Fertan left no room for maneuvering and flatly rejected him.

“As a diplomatic envoy, I will not take your head. I won’t give you an excuse to spark conflict.”

He added, almost mockingly, that Edwin should go and die. Even the venomous Edwin couldn’t hide the ashen pallor spreading across his face.

“Edwin, I’m curious how Emperor Bartonas will punish you.”

With a deep sigh, Fertan pushed him away, creating distance. Once again, he had no choice but to let his enemy walk free. For Eleanor’s sake, personally executing Edwin himself felt inappropriate.

Still, unable to fully resolve his lingering grudge, he added:

“I’m somewhat curious. Perhaps Pelos will send me your head in an attempt to mend our strained relations. By the time it arrives, it’ll have rotted considerably during the journey.”

This wasn’t so much a curse as it was a plausible prediction of what lay ahead.

Edwin simply stood there, dumbfounded. His crafty eyes darted around as he frantically sought a way to survive, but no clever solution presented itself. Fertan signaled to the guards to escort him out.

“Well then… see if you can survive. From this moment on, you’ll be under close surveillance.”

It was clear this wasn’t protection but rather surveillance to prevent escape.

As the guards dragged Edwin out, his arms linked with theirs, his desperate cries echoed sharply through the audience chamber. Instead of repentance or pleas for forgiveness, they were the frantic shouts of a man demanding to be heard.

The weight of his own sins had transformed into unbreakable shackles, binding Edwin ever tighter.

The envoy delegation quietly stayed at the palace until their departure, slipping away without a trace.

On the day of their departure, Edwin and Leonard boarded two identical carriages side by side. The carriages were tightly sealed, allowing no light to penetrate—a design that might easily be mistaken for prisoner transport rather than diplomatic envoys.

Without attendants, they were locked inside like boxes, journeying all day toward their destination. With the carriage doors bolted shut, Edwin shared the same fate as Leonard—hands and feet bound, wearing diapers, rolling on the cold floor.

Much later, Eleanor would receive a letter from the Pelos Empire.

It bore news of the deaths of both men—news that was difficult to categorize as either tragic or celebratory.

---

Outside, a fierce snowstorm battered the windows, carrying biting cold.

The clear glass panes grew icy, and thick white snow framed the elegant mother-of-pearl patterns on the window frames. The cloudy sky and garden beyond turned the window into a living painting.

Though the day had fully brightened, the bedroom remained lively. Today, the emperor had declared he intended to indulge in laziness.

The servants had long been dismissed. As always, Fertan’s chambers were off-limits unless summoned.

The couple busied themselves with whispered conversations, as if deep in a secluded mountain cabin. Fertan occasionally tossed logs into the fireplace while Eleanor wrapped her bare feet in a blanket as white as snow. Cut off from the outside world, the emperor’s room was a perfect retreat.

From time to time, Eleanor glanced at the newly hung portraits on the wall. They pleased her immensely.

“You look better in yours. Mine makes me look like a hollow skull.”

The two frames held portraits painted by an artist they had both posed for in the past. Similar yet distinct, each featured different backgrounds.

Fertan’s portrait depicted him gazing almost sideways, while Eleanor faced forward but subtly turned her body to the right. Only the two models understood the subtle connection embedded in these paintings. Memories of last summer surfaced—sitting on matching sofas, stealing glances at each other, sharing intimate thoughts.

For Eleanor, it had been a time when she was losing weight and feeling mentally drained. Though her expression in the painting appeared composed, her face and figure looked frail. But through Fertan’s eyes, it seemed different.

“That’s right, Eleanor—you’re far more beautiful in person. To capture your likeness properly, we’d need to invite a famous painter from a distant land.”

His shamelessly cheesy words made her roll her eyes playfully.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I swear, I only speak the truth.”

“Even so, don’t actually invite anyone. These portraits are enough.”

“For now, maybe. Then shall we start after our wedding?”

“Start what?”

“One painting per year might feel a bit insufficient, don’t you think?”

“Fertan, you’re getting carried away.”

Knowing he would proceed as he wished regardless, she simply shook her head. What could she do to stop his enthusiasm?

“Why? It’s a lovely idea. I want to capture how you’ll change each year. Next year, you’ll blossom even more beautifully, and in ten years, you’ll exude elegance. In twenty years, perhaps you’ll look a bit like a mother.”

“In twenty years, instead of blooming beauty, I’ll be covered in wrinkles.”

“That doesn’t sound bad. I’ll grow old, and so will you—at the same pace.”

Upon reflection, it didn’t sound so bad. Imagining the fun of lining up portraits chronicling Fertan’s transformation over the years brought a smile to her face.

What would it be like to watch his current sculpted features gradually soften, with laugh lines forming and a more mature aura settling in? She even anticipated the day his black hair would fade to gray with age.

As she imagined Fertan growing older, he busied himself on the other side of the table. Rows of small boxes filled with cosmetics lined the surface.

This was another area where resistance had proven futile. True to his word, Fertan had taken a keen interest in Eleanor’s makeup routine.

At first, he casually asked the maidservants for tips, but soon he became serious. Recently, he even summoned a maid known for her expertise in the latest styles to give him lessons.

Consequently, the collection of cosmetics had exploded. It seemed he had gathered every tool and product modern women used. The table resembled a veritable treasure trove of makeup supplies.

Watching the array of toners and color products lined up neatly, Eleanor was overwhelmed.

“Isn’t this too much?”

“What do you mean, too much? Since you find doing makeup tedious, I’m trying to keep it simple.”

“And besides, it’s not like we’re going out anywhere, so why bother…”

“It works out perfectly. If I mess up a little, it won’t hurt your reputation.”

Though he spoke casually, Fertan had noticeably improved his skills lately. Never once had his work been sloppy enough to invite criticism. Naturally, with such focused enthusiasm, the results were bound to be good.

What an unusual hobby this was. Of all the hobbies in the world, he had taken an interest in adorning her. As he gently applied toner-soaked cotton pads to Eleanor’s face, he was practically humming with joy.

The fresh floral scent tickled her nose. Where had he gotten this new product?

“Is this a new cosmetic? It smells wonderful.”

“It’s imported from a pagan country in the East. Apparently, many women there use it. Made from apple blossoms. Does it feel irritating or uncomfortable?”

“No, I like it.”

Fertan always meticulously researched the origins of his growing collection. Many cosmetics contained harmful ingredients, and improper use could lead to serious illness. His dedication to memorizing the raw materials of each product was impressive.

After several rounds of skin preparation, it was time for eye makeup. He examined his tools with a solemn expression, carefully deliberating which ones to use. Watching him pick up and set down charcoal sticks and brushes made Eleanor feel as though her face had become a canvas.

Before adding color to her eyebrows, his cautious lips pressed lightly near the corner of her eye. The teasing proximity of his sensual lips caused Eleanor to close her eyes softly.

The gentle brush of the bristles against her eyebrow hairs tickled slightly.

“Eleanor truly has a face that rewards effort. Since your natural beauty is striking, you can pull off various looks.”

“The maids often say that too. Fertan, you’ve become quite the expert.”

Layering colors took a considerable amount of time. As they sat facing each other, they exchanged quiet stories about their daily lives.

Once she was fully made up, they planned to take a stroll by the palace lake. The lake, which the previous emperor had intended to expand but never started work on, remained a serene spot perfect for leisurely walks. Expanding it unnecessarily would have ruined its tranquil charm, so they were fortunate it had stayed untouched.

They often went out to admire the frozen lake. While the snow-covered white palace was stunning, in spring, clusters of buds would bloom on the trees. Though she now knew they were white peonies, in her childhood, she had simply remembered them as delicate white flowers.

Whether battered by blizzards or witnessing flowers bloom and wither, it didn’t matter. Whether Fertan adorned her beautifully or turned her into a monstrous face—it was all the same to her.

She surrendered her face to his artistry, trusting him completely. His careful brushstrokes traced her lip line.

When the two were alone, they generally avoided talking about work. Since Fertan disliked it, she had stopped bringing documents to the bedroom.

Yet, one issue kept lingering in Eleanor’s mind.

“Fertan, there’s something I need to tell you. About Margrave Edwards and Duke Beryl…”

“Can we talk about that later?”

As expected, he immediately showed reluctance. Though she didn’t want to spoil the mood either, she had something important to share.

“Well, it seems we’ll finally investigate the tax collection status in their territories. The pressure we’ve applied from multiple angles has been effective. Both the duke and the margrave are nearly ready to give up. I plan to summarize this and present it at the next council meeting, but I wanted to let you know in advance.”

She spilled the explanation quickly before he could stop her.

This was a policy initiated by Emperor Fertan but one in which Eleanor had actively participated. Moreover, it wasn’t just about achieving satisfactory results—it marked a turning point in curbing the influence of the old guard.

Upon hearing this, Fertan’s face lit up with joy. The corners of his mouth twitched, already preparing to shower her with praise. Setting down the lip brush, he geared up to commend Eleanor.

But she swiftly raised a finger to stop him. Her real message was yet to come.

“So…”

Her lightly rouged lips moved slowly, tinged with shyness. She had meant to say this earlier, but circumstances had delayed it until now.

“That thing you wanted to do… I’m ready now.”

“That thing?”

Fertan didn’t understand right away. His intense gaze made her nervous. Was he pretending not to understand? She hoped so. If only he’d step in on her behalf now.

But his jet-black eyes, clearly uncomprehending, remained fixed solely on her.

It was unbearably embarrassing to be more direct than this. Her trembling lips opened and closed repeatedly as she struggled to find the words.

“I don’t want to keep living in two places anymore… I want to stay here with you.”

His thick lips parted wide in shock, his jaw dropping comically before he finally clamped his hand over his gaping mouth moments later.

Coughing awkwardly, he couldn’t hide his astonishment.

“You… you… you mean… marry me? That’s what you’re saying, right?”

She didn’t answer outright, her lips half-parted. He eagerly grabbed her small hand. Though he touched her hands every day, he now fumbled nervously as he pulled her closer.

Until now, Eleanor had split her time between the Roland estate and the palace. In the early days of the regime change, when her household was chaotic, she tried to return home as much as possible. But as things settled, she spent more nights with Fertan.

Despite the inconvenience, she had no choice but to shuttle between the palace and the Roland estate, resting her head in both places. Every evening, she faced Fertan’s relentless physical and emotional advances. Conflicted, she wrestled with his blatant invitations: “Stay with me tonight.” When it was time to leave, she forced herself to tear away her reluctant feet.

There was another reason she couldn’t settle permanently in the palace: the resistance from the old guard. But thanks to the recent breakthrough, those who had opposed the new emperor’s will would soon lose much of their influence.

“Unless you want to pursue Lady Beryl…” she ventured softly. “By spring… yes, I want to.”

“What Lady Beryl? I don’t even know who that is. I… I…”

Finally leaping to his feet, Fertan bent low before her.

Without hesitation, he pressed his lips to her freshly painted ones. Gripping her nape, he deepened the kiss, invading her mouth completely. He left no room for breath, his tongue exploring every inch, caressing the roof of her mouth.

At some point, he slowly crumbled. Kneeling before Eleanor, he wrapped his arms around her waist instead of her neck. Burying his nose against her breasts, he released a passionate groan.

“I feel like I’m going to lose my mind with happiness. What should I do? It feels like my heart is rolling around under my ribs.”

His overwhelming excitement loosened Eleanor’s tongue. Struggling to find the words, she managed to murmur something heartfelt, buoyed by the intensity of the moment.

“It’s still embarrassing to say this, but seeing you so happy makes me want to confess too.”

“A little late, but now that I can finally hold your hand… I’m happy too.”

Fertan tilted his head back, his elegant throat stretching long.

“It feels harder to win Eleanor than to claim a nation.”

“Surely not.”

“To become emperor was step one. To gain Eleanor’s consent was step two. Isn’t that true? To become your man, I had to go through all of it.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. Even before becoming emperor, Fertan had reserved the empress’s position for her. After ascending the throne, he had waited anxiously for her heart to open up.

If you counted all the times he had mentioned marriage and the empress’s role, perhaps exaggerating slightly, it would reach a hundred. So it was understandable that Fertan now lamented the wait.

“There was nothing I could do. Pushing for a wedding date the moment I crowned myself emperor would have been too rushed.”

Her fingertips traced the line of his straight nose. Beneath his clear, smooth skin lay perfectly sculpted bone structure. His brow furrowed slightly, as if pleading.

“I wanted to rush it anyway. Even while thinking, ‘We’ll marry someday,’ I was still anxious. You wouldn’t understand that feeling, Eleanor.”

“I thought everything would fall into place once you became emperor, but it wasn’t that simple. There were so many obstacles.”

She fidgeted with her captured hand, exhaling softly.

“No matter who opposed us or how the situation stood, I wanted to push forward. But I held back because I didn’t want to seem pathetic. Anyway, now you can’t escape. You’ve decided to live with me in the palace.”

His face, lifted earnestly toward hers, was smudged with red rouge. The same color had transferred to her cleavage where his chin had rubbed. Subtly sensual, yet his expression revealed an inner purity like falling snow.

She recalled the boy who had begged her father to let him marry Eleanor. It was astonishing that the boy’s feelings remained unchanged. His eagerness to pair with her felt like a miracle.

“I’ve waited for this moment too,” she admitted. “To make this confession.”

It felt like completing a task she had long yearned to finish. Eleanor had resolved to give him her answer once the turbulent times passed. And now, finally, she had done so.

It’s remarkable that they both survived, and even more astonishing that she’d safely taken her place beside Fertan. When she thought of how he disguised himself as a prodigal son and how she remained oblivious to the truth back then, she can’t help but feel amazed. The people they were then and the people they are now seem like entirely different individuals.

Outside the window, snow continued to fall. Though the sun didn’t shine directly, the light was still bright.

Eleanor waited for the moment when the snow stops, the sun emerges, and they can stroll by the lakeside together.

She looked forward to the changing of the seasons and the arrival of spring.

[A Beast Without Grace — FIN.]

Thank you for reading!