BWG - 9

The villa that Fertan was using as a hideout was located in a place similar to the resort town of Rubellon Hills. The staff there moved briskly, attending to every need. Eleanor found herself quite fond of the modest yet well-equipped villa—it wasn’t overly luxurious, but it had everything she required.

She didn’t have to leave her bed until late morning. And it wasn’t just her who indulged in laziness; Fertan, too, rubbed his tousled black hair against her shoulder, still groggy from sleep.

But the cozy and relaxed atmosphere couldn’t last forever.

That was because this was Fertan.

“I want to have sex.”

With a single crude remark, he obliterated any semblance of emotional connection, whining like a restless puppy.

“I want to fuck. What should I do?”

He pulled her thigh toward his groin, rubbing it insistently. Treating her body like a masturbation tool, he worked himself into a frenzy, focused solely on inflating his manhood.

Eleanor shot him down firmly.

“Didn’t someone say absolutely not?”

“That’s one thing. But my hard-on is a physiological inevitability.”

Fertan, with his own peculiar philosophy about intimacy, believed that anything other than penetrative sex leading to ejaculation was fair game.

Of course, this rule applied only between the two of them. Eleanor was well aware of how resolute Fertan could be when dealing with members of the opposite sex outside their bubble. Beneath his guise as a night owl playboy, he was a man whose human emotions seemed almost entirely dried up—detached and clinical.

So this was just nonsense cloaked in bizarre values—a roundabout way of expressing his desire for deeper physical intimacy with Eleanor.

Fertan grinned mischievously, his sleepy face scrunching up like a playful child.

The plumpness under his eyes made him look oddly cute today.

Cute? Ridiculous.

How could this enormous bear of a man, capable of acrobatics that would put a monkey to shame, ever be described as cute? Shaking off the absurd thought, Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again.

Meanwhile, Fertan continued his lewd antics, slapping his erect groin against her while ensuring he didn’t push her stamina too far. His antics chased away any lingering drowsiness as they tossed and turned in bed.

And eventually, the time came to broach a topic that couldn’t be avoided forever.

“Fertan, there’s a reason I ran away from home yesterday. I just couldn’t stay put.”

Fertan, his face buried in her chest, remained silent for a moment, lost in thought.

“Hmm, sounds like something happened.”

“I got a strange feeling from my brother.”

“…”

He seemed ready to listen, though curiously, he didn’t appear particularly curious. Perhaps he was too absorbed in their earlier bedroom play, so Eleanor brushed it off as unimportant. Driven by her own impatience, she spilled the details.

“I started wondering if my brother might be connected to the incident involving the late emperor’s death.”

“Ah.”

“So I deliberately showed him the signet ring—to gauge his reaction.”

“What did Edwin do?”

“When he saw it, his expression changed noticeably. I’ve never seen my brother so tense before.”

Fertan lifted his head, gazing at her with an inscrutable expression.

The playful mischief that had filled his face moments ago had transformed into something colder, more unreadable. This was one of the many faces he possessed—the one others most often saw.

“Was your probing of Edwin because you’d already sensed something was off?”

Surprisingly, Fertan didn’t focus on Edwin, the subject of suspicion. Instead, he seemed more interested in Eleanor’s actions. Rather than questioning Edwin’s reaction to the ring, he asked about her provocation.

This struck Eleanor as subtly unsettling.

“A little… Actually, I’ve thought for a while now that Edwin has been acting strange.”

“In what way?”

With a reluctant heart, as though exposing a hidden sore, she slowly moved her lips.

“My siblings and I… we’re not as close as people think. The idea that Edwin dedicates himself to me and I, in turn, bring him glory—it’s not true. We’re… not very close. Outside, we pretend to be affectionate siblings, but at home, we barely exchange more than necessary words.”

“I see. I suspected as much, but without confirmation, I couldn’t act. Family matters are tricky to investigate.”

“What do you mean? Why would you even gather such information?”

“I needed to know how close you two really were.”

Eleanor tilted her head, puzzled. This development was completely unexpected.

She had been surprised to learn that Fertan, who seemed indifferent to Edwin, was actually paying attention. But this revelation shocked her even more. Why would he care about the psychological dynamics between her and her brother?

Before she could ask, Fertan spoke first.

“So, you’ve kept emotional distance from Edwin and recently even grew suspicious of him? What did he say?”

“He avoided talking about the ring or the late emperor, no matter how much I provoked him. He was very firm. All I could do was guess from his expression that ‘something must have happened.’”

“Hmm…”

“But when I put the ring on my finger, he became extremely serious.”

“What? You wore it?”

Fertan bolted upright in bed, his face turning pale. He grabbed her hand, flipping it over to inspect it closely.

“You promised not to touch that thing. Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“But I needed a drastic measure to shake my brother out of his pretense.”

“Even so, that was reckless.”

His grave expression confirmed that he, too, knew the ring was dangerous. She had already factored this into her calculations. It felt like scattered puzzle pieces were finally coming together to form a complete picture.

She decided to ask directly.

“Fertan, I’ve been suspecting this for a while now. Is there poison on that ring?”

He clicked his tongue in frustration, briefly stepping out before returning.

“First, let’s administer the antidote. Before it spreads further in your system.”

In his hands were two vials of medicine—clearly antidotes. With a grim expression, he asked where she had worn the ring and immediately uncapped the bottles. One was for drinking, the other for application.

Before applying the medicine, he checked the color of her sclera and compared her body temperature to his own with meticulous care.

A deep sigh of regret escaped Fertan.

“It’s as you suspected. The signet ring was coated with an invisible poison.”

Eleanor had doubted he would involve her in anything truly dangerous, but realizing it was poison left her inwardly flustered.

“It was applied 17 years ago, so by now, most of the venom has likely faded, and its potency is weak. Just touching it probably won’t endanger your life. Still, better safe than sorry—I prepared the antidote just in case.”

“If it’s poison from that era…”

Fertan’s voice grew heavy with despair as he continued.

“That’s right. It’s the poison that killed my father, the late emperor.”

The truth spilled from his lips like gold, weighted with solemnity. It was a revelation too sensitive to share lightly.

“And Eleanor, this… is a poison Edwin knows very well.”

Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotion, his dark eyes sank, and he clenched them shut tightly. Stunned, Eleanor could only stare blankly at him.

So, was Edwin the mastermind behind the late emperor’s assassination? Had he orchestrated the murder himself?

“Only halfway through the journey?” Eleanor’s voice trembled as she echoed his words, her heart pounding with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“Yes,” Fertan admitted, his tone tinged with regret. “At first, I thought it would be enough to bring you along until we reached a certain point—just far enough to ensure your survival while I pursued my revenge. But…”

He paused, his dark eyes softening as they met hers. There was something raw in his gaze, an unspoken vulnerability that Eleanor had never seen before.

“But what?”

“But then…” His voice faltered slightly, as if wrestling with emotions he rarely allowed himself to feel. “…you became more than just a means to an end.”

Eleanor’s breath hitched. Her mind raced, trying to process the weight of his confession. She had always assumed she was a pawn in his grand design—a necessary piece to secure his vengeance—but now, hearing him speak like this, everything felt different.

“You mean…” She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “…I wasn’t just part of your plan anymore?”

Fertan shook his head slowly, almost reluctantly. “No, you weren’t. At some point, without me realizing it, you became someone I couldn’t imagine leaving behind. Someone I wanted to stand beside me—not because of what you could do for me, but because of who you are.”

The room fell silent except for the faint sound of Eleanor’s uneven breathing. Her chest tightened, torn between the enormity of his words and the lingering guilt over her family’s sins. How could he look at her with such warmth when her bloodline was tainted by betrayal and murder?

“I don’t deserve this,” she whispered, tears welling up again. “Not after everything my brother has done. Not after how much I’ve benefited from his crimes without even knowing.”

Fertan leaned closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. His touch was firm yet tender, grounding her amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

“Deserving isn’t the issue here, Elly. What matters is what you choose to do next. You can’t change the past, but you can decide where you go from here. And I want you to choose me—to fight alongside me, not out of obligation, but because you believe in the future we can build together.”

His words struck a chord deep within her. It wasn’t just about redemption or survival; it was about trust, loyalty, and perhaps something more profound that neither of them dared to name yet.

“And if I say yes?” she asked hesitantly, her voice barely audible. “What happens then?”

A flicker of hope lit up in Fertan’s eyes, though his expression remained guarded. “If you say yes, then we move forward together. We dismantle the remnants of the old empire and create something new—something better. Something where people like us aren’t crushed under the weight of fate or forced into roles we never chose.”

He paused, letting the gravity of his vision sink in before continuing. “But make no mistake, Elly. The road ahead won’t be easy. There will be sacrifices, battles, and moments when you’ll question whether it’s all worth it. If you stay by my side, you’ll have to face those challenges head-on, just as I will.”

Eleanor stared at him, her heart torn between fear and determination. This man—this enigmatic, scarred, fiercely intelligent man—was offering her a chance to rewrite her destiny. To rise above the shadows of her family’s sins and carve out a place for herself in a world that had long since written her off.

Yet, beneath his bold promises lay a fragile truth: Fertan needed her too. Not just as an ally or a symbol, but as someone who understood the darkness he carried and still chose to walk beside him.

“What if I fail?” she murmured, voicing the doubt that had haunted her since the moment she learned the truth about Edwin. “What if I’m not strong enough to help you?”

Fertan smiled faintly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “You won’t fail. Because even if you stumble, I’ll be there to catch you. Just as you’ll be there for me when I fall.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Eleanor felt a glimmer of hope pierce through the suffocating despair. It wasn’t forgiveness or absolution—it was something far more powerful: purpose.

She took a shaky breath, steeling herself against the overwhelming tide of emotions. “Then… I’ll do it. I’ll stand by your side, Fertan. Not because I owe you anything, but because I believe in the person you’re trying to become.”

His smile widened ever so slightly, a rare crack in his otherwise stoic facade. For a brief moment, he looked almost boyish—hopeful in a way that made her heart ache.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You won’t regret this, Elly. I promise.”

As their foreheads touched, Eleanor closed her eyes, allowing herself to lean into his warmth. The path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but for the first time, she didn’t feel alone.

Together, they would confront the ghosts of the past and forge a new future—one born not from hatred or vengeance, but from the fragile, stubborn hope that love could transcend even the darkest truths.

The hand gently stroking the back of Eleanor’s head moved languidly.

He wiped away the moisture soaking into his chest multiple times, making soft shushing sounds as he waited for her to calm down. Even though it seemed she had done nothing wrong, she lowered the ends of her eyebrows as if seeking forgiveness.

“My original plan was to extract information about Edwin from you, and in return, grant you a new status that would exempt you from future punishment.”

“...”

“But now, I don’t want to let you go. That was just a thought I had when I felt nothing for you—now, I have no intention of sending you away.”

Not at all. Absolutely not.

He emphasized repeatedly, pleading that his initial plan was now completely different.

Fertan continued to assert his will until Eleanor’s erratic heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm and her tense shoulders relaxed.

He leaned his head closer, frequently peeking at her. Occasionally, he mixed in some of his characteristic nonsense and lewd jokes. When she paused her tears and looked at him incredulously, he deliberately engaged in light conversation and raised the level of innuendo to help her regain composure.

Fertan’s style of teasing provided her with great comfort. Although she should have been bowing her head over the situation involving Edwin, she found herself grateful for his soothing presence.

Fertan finally opened the vial he had been hesitant to touch and extended it to her.

“First, drink this.”

As Eleanor tipped the oral antidote into her mouth, she asked,

“What kind of poison is it? Is it very potent?”

“It’s a toxin extracted from southern venomous snakes. It wasn’t easy for me to track it down and analyze it.”

“So it came from a distant region.”

“For a while, the signet ring was in my possession before I gave it to you. After identifying the poison, I prepared an antidote just in case.”

From what he said, it was clear the ring had indeed been deliberately given to her by him. It had been useful both in uncovering Edwin’s hidden secrets and in helping her find emotional clarity.

“The antidote meant for emergencies was used on me so easily.”

As she sighed softly, he smiled without heaviness.

“I have plenty of antidote. Besides, the poison on the ring doesn’t take effect immediately. It’s a slow-acting toxin that accumulates in the body only after prolonged exposure to concentrated doses.”

“Ah... So His Majesty the late emperor must have worn the ring for a long time?”

“That’s likely.”

Fertan opened another bottle and carefully applied the liquid to her fingers. Like treating a child’s scraped knee, he blew gently on the unabsorbed liquid with warm breaths.

This situation should have been serious and solemn, but Fertan made it difficult to maintain that tone. Though someone had lost their life to this poison, his earnest application of the antidote, with furrowed brows, somehow appeared endearing and cute.

Ha, how awkward. To think of cuteness at a moment like this.

Realizing the spontaneous flow of her thoughts, Eleanor shuddered involuntarily. She bit her lip to ensure no careless words slipped out. Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions, she feared she might blurt out something she’d kept buried in her heart.

This was a moment when apologies should take precedence over confessions of love, yet here she was, her face swollen from crying, contemplating a confession.

That simply wouldn’t do.

Eleanor quickly shook her head to drive away such frivolous thoughts.

Unaware of her wandering mind, Fertan remained absorbed in treating her. After ensuring the liquid dried using both a hand fan and his breath, he carefully wrapped her hand with a clean handkerchief.

Though the likelihood of poisoning was extremely low according to his explanation, his restless expression betrayed his anxiety.

“His Majesty the late emperor, I suspect, was also exposed to poison through his clothing in addition to the ring. The process likely took several months, at the very least.”

“Meaning it would have been impossible without an insider.”

This was strong circumstantial evidence pointing to Edwin, who had been a royal attendant at the time.

“But no traces of poisoned clothing were found. Most of it was incinerated. A few ceremonial garments remain, but they’ve been meticulously preserved for long-term storage.”

“Then the poison on the ring is the only evidence left.”

Edwin must have worked hard to appear calm whenever he came into contact with the object. Acting suspiciously would have drawn attention.

It seemed the maid snooping around Eleanor’s bedroom had indeed intended to steal the ring. At the time, Eleanor had felt as though multiple pairs of eyes were watching her unknowingly.

Compared to Edwin, who desperately needed to seize the evidence, Fertan seemed to have a bit more leeway.

“Even without evidence, my pursuit of the throne won’t be significantly hindered. It’s just that the assassination of His Majesty the late emperor will be buried in history.”

“In that case, we must safeguard it carefully. The truth must come to light.”

Fertan revealed to her everything about how he had obtained this information. Since Eleanor now knew the secrets about Edwin that he had kept hidden, there was nothing left to conceal.

The imperial banquet where they had first formed a special connection also held meaning for him.

At the time, Fertan had infiltrated the emperor’s vault to search for evidence of the poisoning. After smuggling out a few heirlooms, including the ring, he fled and ended up hiding in Eleanor’s lounge.

Was it fate or coincidence that tied them together? Out of dozens of lounges, it just happened to be the one where Eleanor was resting.

“So now, focus on recovering and rest comfortably. Your part is done.”

With these words, Fertan hinted that Eleanor’s role was to survive the turbulent times and stand beside the next emperor. He brushed her pale, dry forehead gently.

---

Emperor Maximilian, enjoying prosperous days, had recently gained quite a bit of weight.

Facing him in the audience hall, Leonard felt his stomach churn. While he was seething with frustration over Eleanor, the emperor, whose life seemed devoted solely to indulgence, flaunted his plump, radiant face.

Perhaps it would be better to eliminate him altogether? After all, this emperor held almost no real significance for the empire or the imperial family.

Once Eleanor was found and securely placed in the position of crown princess, Leonard resolved to seriously consider this matter. But for now, he dutifully played the role of the obedient son, catering to the emperor’s whims.

The meeting proceeded in the form of a brief report.

“Let me begin with the matters requiring your approval. How does setting the departure date for Princess Lucena to the Pelos Empire for next month on the 10th sound?”

He also reported that several corresponding treaties were in progress. The emperor waved his hand dismissively, half-listening. Leonard, wanting to avoid dragging things out, omitted the detailed contents of the treaties.

Originally, the emperor had hoped Leonard’s marriage would take place first, but circumstances dictated that Princess Lucena marry ahead of schedule. However, since it didn’t hold much significance, it passed without objection, as everyone acknowledged Leonard’s determination to hold the ceremony once Eleanor recovered fully.

“Next is the lake expansion project at the palace that Your Majesty has been vigorously promoting. We are currently struggling to secure funding. We’re planning to revise the tax laws, so please review this section.”

A document briefly summarized by the chamberlain was handed over. The emperor barely glanced at the few pages of proposed tax reforms before setting them aside.

“So when does construction begin?”

The finance minister behind Leonard answered hesitantly.

“We intended to start this year according to His Highness’s wishes, but realistically, it may not be possible until next year, even at the earliest.”

“I’ll grow old and die before it’s completed. Begin this year.”

Unable to outright refuse, the finance minister could only bow deeply, promising to do his best.

Leonard avoided getting too involved in the lake expansion project. If the emperor faced criticism while overseeing the groundwork, the one who would reap the benefits later would be him.

Such large-scale projects typically took several years, and there was a good chance the emperor would step down before completion. If Eleanor could skillfully play her part, Leonard could ascend to the throne much sooner.

While the finance minister grimaced under the impossible order, Leonard feigned ignorance and looked away.

Just as the report was concluding, the emperor suddenly remembered something and lazily asked,

“Come to think of it, the crown prince’s wedding scheduled for autumn isn’t far off either. How is Eleanor’s health these days?”

Leonard discreetly drew a short breath, masking his surprise as he glanced at the emperor’s expression.

Could it be that the emperor knew something? Thinking of Eleanor’s disappearance, Leonard tensed internally.

No one could guarantee when—or if—they would find her. He had heard that all the search parties were struggling.

Judging by the emperor’s indifferent demeanor, it didn’t seem like he was aware of this top-secret matter or checking on Eleanor’s well-being. He appeared to be asking casually, without much thought.

The lazy emperor, with his pitiful lack of information-gathering ability, was oblivious to the affairs inside and outside the palace and showed little interest. He had ascended to the highest position purely by luck, lacking the competence to wield any real power.

Leonard often secretly mocked the emperor’s trivial capabilities. At the very least, he believed himself to be superior. If Eleanor fulfilled her role, he was confident he could build a much stronger imperial household.

As Leonard paused to gather his scattered thoughts, the emperor tilted his head with a puzzled expression.

“Is something wrong? Has Eleanor’s condition worsened?”

“No, Your Majesty. She has fully recovered.”

Since she had never been ill in the first place, it was clear she was in perfect health. Leonard concealed his anger toward her and responded firmly.

“She is well enough for the ceremony to take place at any time.”

Since postponing the wedding again would be difficult, he acted confidently to avoid revealing any weakness.

“Hmm, I see.”

It seemed that the emperor hadn’t heard about the recent incident at the crown prince’s palace a few days ago. If he had, he surely would have summoned Leonard and given him a piece of his mind. The fact that it had slipped by unnoticed meant the emperor remained blissfully ignorant.

Too preoccupied with indulging himself to pay attention to his surroundings, the emperor misinterpreted Leonard’s words entirely.

“How about moving the wedding date forward, then?”

Leonard was momentarily taken aback and couldn’t respond promptly.

“I’ve heard all preparations are complete. We only need to notify the nobles inside and outside the empire who will attend as guests.”

Though indifferent to most matters, the emperor was surprisingly well-informed about this marriage. The postponement had caused quite a stir, and Leonard’s adamant insistence on marrying Eleanor—refusing anyone else—had become widely known throughout the imperial court.

Seemingly considerate of Leonard’s feelings, the emperor generously offered his approval.

“If Eleanor is healthy, I will gladly permit it. It would be best if it happens before Princess Lucena departs. That way, appearances will be preserved.”

“Your Majesty...”

The emperor, mistaking Leonard’s tension for gratitude, nodded contentedly.

“The staff preparing for the ceremony may grow busier, but it will be a good thing for the crown prince.”

“...”

“Why no response? Is Eleanor still unwell?”

“No, Your Majesty. She is healthy enough to enter the palace immediately.”

He couldn’t say that even the autumn wedding might not happen or that advancing the date was impossible—it lacked justification.

He certainly couldn’t reveal Eleanor’s disappearance. How could he admit that the woman supposedly madly in love with him had fled in revulsion? 

To avoid suspicion, he had to respond immediately. Overwhelmed by impatience, Leonard clenched his cold, sweaty palms into fists.

“I am deeply honored, Your Majesty.”

And just like that, the wedding was moved up to the end of the month—without a bride in sight.

---

As soon as Leonard returned to the crown prince’s palace, he let out an animalistic roar. He felt the need to scream until his frustration subsided.

After shouting himself hoarse with cries that bordered on screams, he grabbed one of the nearby guards and punched him repeatedly. Even then, he refrained from anything more than punches—rumors of deaths during such volatile times would be troublesome.

His frustration mounted, dark circles forming under his bloodshot eyes.

“Any news about Eleanor?”

A quick-witted attendant reported from a safe distance.

“No updates, Your Highness.”

No matter how much pressure he applied, there was no use. Just before heading to the emperor’s palace, he had checked but found no trace of her. It was unlikely anyone had come or gone in the meantime. Doubts began creeping in about whether the Duroc intelligence network was truly capable of finding Eleanor.

Time was running out. Including today, there were only 18 days left until the wedding.

After waiting so long for the day he would finally marry Eleanor, reality was now a chaotic mess. His throat felt raw, as though it were closing up from the burning frustration within.

“Find other informants. I don’t care who they are or what conditions they demand.”

“Your Highness, we’re doing our best, but...”

“What about skilled foreign mercenaries? Make sure they contact me. I’ll pay whatever price they ask.”

Leonard’s hands had turned red from punching the sturdy guard repeatedly.

Though the guard bled from his nose and his face was bruised, Leonard’s own hands were swollen from the exertion. Unaccustomed to physical violence—having relied on tools to harm others in the past—he now suffered the consequences of using his bare fists.

Unsatisfied, Leonard scowled deeply.

Perhaps desperation sparked an idea. There was someone close by who might know where Eleanor could be hiding.

“What was her name... that maid with barely an ounce of mental fortitude?”

“Pardon?”

When the attendant didn’t understand, Leonard snapped his fingers impatiently.

“There was a maid who came to my palace with Eleanor. Where is she now?”

“You mean Evelyn. She’s still here. We were considering sending her back to the Roland household.”

“Bring her to the punishment chamber. I need to interrogate her immediately.”

Leonard waited impatiently in the punishment chamber, and soon a weary-looking maid was dragged in. Upon seeing him, Evelyn turned deathly pale.

Even before knowing what she’d done wrong, she began pleading for mercy. Her tearful babbling made it hard to understand her from the start.

Once she was tied to a fixed chair, Leonard began questioning her calmly.

“Evelyn? Stop crying and answer my questions clearly.”

“Sob, hiccup...”

Glancing fearfully at Leonard’s reddened knuckles, Evelyn burst into tears. Though she wasn’t injured beyond being tied to the chair, the sight of his battered fists sent her into a panic.

Fearing she might faint again like last time, Leonard softened his tone.

“Eleanor secretly left the Roland estate. She likely went somewhere to lay low temporarily.”

“I’m sorry...”

Leonard cut her off sharply, ignoring her irrelevant apologies.

“Not about your mistakes—only Eleanor. Where could she have gone?”

“Huh?”

“You must know. You served Eleanor for a long time.”

“I... I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything.”

Leonard fought the urge to flip the table in frustration. Behind him, the shelves held tools capable of inflicting pain worse than death. He debated whether using them would be effective or if coaxing her gently would yield better results.

For now, he leaned closer to Evelyn, maintaining a composed demeanor.

“Evelyn, you must have overheard something private about Eleanor’s life. You knew she had a man in her life, didn’t you? Yet you didn’t tell me. That alone is a grave offense.”

“Please spare me, Your Highness!”

“Tell me where Eleanor is hiding. If you do, I’ll let you go unharmed. Not a single hair on your head will be touched.”

“I don’t know...”

Evelyn’s ears turned bright red, her face flushed and pale by turns as she repeated her denial. Her exaggerated reactions made it impossible to discern truth from lies. 

As the interrogation dragged on, Leonard’s patience grew thinner.

“How can you not know? You must know something, right?”

He glared menacingly, pressing her further.

“Sob...”

The tear-soaked maid finally collapsed, losing consciousness.

Frustration boiled over. For a moment, Leonard considered dunking her in water to wake her up but restrained himself through sheer force of will.

In the past, one of the palace servants he had punished had gone insane from the pain, unable to recognize people or speak coherently, only emitting strange noises.

Looking at Evelyn now, he thought she might end up the same—a pitiful state of mental fragility.

Leonard splashed some water on her head to revive her.

“If you don’t talk, there will be no mercy.”

Evelyn, her eyes filled with despair, shook her head weakly.

The interrogation dragged on for a considerable amount of time. With nothing else he could do, Leonard continued tormenting Evelyn. Unable to search the city himself for Eleanor, he focused all his frustration on her.

As the day turned to night, and then dawn broke again, Evelyn finally uttered a name in her exhausted, collapsed state.

Fertan.

“Fertan?”

Leonard was immediately skeptical. 

Had this maid finally lost her mind? Despite his careful handling, had she gone insane after all? He hadn’t struck her much—mostly just pressured her with words during the interrogation. Yet here he was, faced with what seemed like an absurd answer, leaving him briefly consumed by frustration.

But upon reflection, it wasn’t entirely implausible.

“Fertan, you say?”

“Hic...”

Evelyn sobbed uncontrollably, her swollen eyes streaming with tears. Her reaction mirrored that of someone who had failed to hold onto their convictions—a mix of despair and resignation.

Her mind seemed surprisingly clear. She didn’t appear mad at all.

A flash of realization struck Leonard. The foggy circumstances surrounding Eleanor’s disappearance suddenly lifted with this single name. Beyond surprise, a thrilling sense of clarity washed over him.

“Yes, Fertan! Now everything makes sense.”

That man had supposedly died multiple times before, only to miraculously survive each time.

Leonard should have been suspicious when he heard about Fertan falling from a rickety bridge in the red-light district. Honestly, the idea that someone could die so easily was questionable, but Leonard had let himself be swept along by the emperor’s fervent wish for Fertan’s demise. 

The assassin Leonard hired was said to be the best in the empire, which had lulled him into complacency. It was hard to imagine Fertan defeating such a skilled killer in a one-on-one fight. Naturally, Leonard assumed Fertan had been fatally wounded and fallen alongside the assassin, while the latter somehow managed to escape.

Even the body had never been found. After the incident was ruled as death by drowning in the rapids, Fertan’s continued absence solidified the assumption.

With no further use for Evelyn, Leonard dismissed her, instructing that she be sent back to the Roland household under surveillance. This way, even if Eleanor learned of the interrogation, it wouldn’t cause significant trouble.

As Leonard stormed out of the punishment chamber, grinding his teeth, he muttered to himself:

“So, Fertan stole my woman, did he? My possession, taken by that bastard.”

Though enraged, the revelation of Fertan tied up all loose ends neatly.

It made far more sense than some obscure third son of a count seducing Eleanor. Leonard hadn’t personally met Adam, but based on reports, the man had nothing remarkable about him. Nothing that could possibly charm Eleanor.

Of course, Fertan wasn’t particularly impressive either. His physique might have been decent, but he was far below Leonard in terms of imperial succession.

Leonard scoffed, comparing his own unshakable position to Fertan’s precarious existence. “I’m a hundred times better than him,” he thought smugly. While Fertan merely scraped by, Leonard would place Eleanor in a position wielding immense power—managing the imperial household in place of the young empress, who merely attended to the emperor’s whims.

How dare anyone compare him to that lowly wretch? 

“He faked his death and hid like a rat. But now I’ve found him, and I can unsheathe my sword against him freely.” Leonard sneered, feeling a cruel satisfaction akin to crushing an ant under his heel.

It irked him that Fertan had gotten to Eleanor first, but since the situation had already unfolded, there was nothing to be done. That didn’t mean Leonard would give her up.

Throughout his life, if there was one thing Leonard desired above all else, it was Eleanor.

---

To address the newly uncovered truth, Leonard requested an audience with the emperor. The latter, clearly having spent the night frolicking with the young empress, waved his hand dismissively, signaling Leonard to make it quick.

Anticipating the emperor’s hazy pupils snapping into focus, Leonard began:

“Your Majesty, forgive me for startling you, but I’ve received intelligence that Fertan is alive.”

True to form, the drowsy emperor bolted upright from his chair.

Despite lacking nothing, the emperor had always been excessively preoccupied with Fertan. Leonard attributed this obsession to Fertan’s status as the late emperor’s legitimate heir.

“Regrettably, Fertan did not die on that bridge in the red-light district. Somehow, he survived and escaped.”

“How did you come across this information?” 

Leonard hesitated briefly, debating whether to tell the truth or fabricate a story.

“I stumbled upon it through my private intelligence network.”

He didn’t care if suspicion fell on him, but he couldn’t risk Eleanor falling out of favor with the emperor. Keeping her shocking romantic entanglements hidden, he stuck to the prepared script:

“It seems Fertan deliberately concealed his survival to avoid drawing Your Majesty’s attention. The assets confiscated by the imperial family weren’t all he possessed. He appears to have squirreled away his most valuable holdings—land and businesses.”

“No wonder the confiscated amount seemed so paltry.”

“And...” 

Leonard couldn’t help but hint at something more.

“There are indications that Duke Fertan approached Eleanor. From what I gather, his intention was likely to sabotage my marriage.”

“You mean Fertan and Eleanor grew close?”

“There was some contact, but thanks to Eleanor’s wise handling, nothing significant occurred.”

The emperor sank into deep thought, tapping the armrest of his chair while muttering under his breath. His agitation was plain to see.

Still, Leonard knew there was little substance behind the emperor’s muddled thoughts. Observing the emperor closely over the years, Leonard found it astonishing how this mediocre man had seized and maintained the throne from Fertan. Without assistance, it would have been impossible.

According to Leonard’s knowledge, the sudden death of the previous emperor due to overwork allowed Maximilian to maneuver himself into power. Even rumors of impending invasions from rival nations had originated from Maximilian, who used the threat to rally internal unity.

Before officially ascending the throne, Maximilian had skillfully manipulated public opinion and court dynamics, gradually consolidating power without holding a formal coronation. Yet, these cunning traits were nowhere to be seen in the current emperor.

“Leonard, are you certain Fertan and Eleanor’s relationship didn’t deepen?”

The question carried suspicion—perhaps fear of pregnancy.

“Absolutely, Your Majesty. My fiancée is a virtuous woman.”

“Then there’s no issue.”

The emperor smirked venomously, regaining his composure.

“Fertan is already dead in our books. Ensure his traces are erased completely.”

“Yes, I share the same sentiment.”

No doubt the emperor’s assassins would also attempt to locate and eliminate Fertan. Though limited by funds, they would act nonetheless.

But Leonard had already arranged foreign mercenaries to take care of Fertan and bring Eleanor back to him. With the emperor’s treasury soon becoming his own, Leonard saw no need to dwell on the matter.

Leonard tuned out the emperor’s continued ranting about Fertan. The aging ruler, content with fleeting pleasures and clinging to shallow comforts, was a shadow of his former self.

Leonard had no intention of remaining crown prince until the emperor naturally passed away. He planned to hasten the emperor’s abdication. And for that, he needed Eleanor. With her intelligence and capabilities, a little rough persuasion in private would surely compel her to secure the throne for him sooner rather than later.

---

The villa, cooled by the waning summer heat, exuded tranquility.

Cicadas buzzed loudly in the dense canopy of tall trees, their leaves forming an impenetrable green ceiling that blocked out the sky.

This hideout was virtually untraceable unless one intimately knew Fertan. A safe house for laying low before executing grand plans, its security was impeccable.

Few people came and went from the villa. During Eleanor’s two-week stay, only Herod had visited once.

Though disguised as the manager of Bluewing Hotel, Herod was actually a nobleman brought down by the current emperor. Learning this, Eleanor understood why Herod had staked his fate on Fertan.

Through Herod, Eleanor also thought of another person facing peril.

She worried about Princess Lucena. While she herself was safely hidden, the princess was on the verge of being sent away. Before Fertan could overthrow the empire, the bridal procession carrying Lucena might already depart for a neighboring country.

Eleanor had heard that Evelyn, the maid she left behind at the crown prince’s palace, had returned to the Roland household. Though under heavy surveillance, the news of her safety brought immense relief.

During a stroll around the villa with Fertan, Eleanor couldn’t shake off her worries.

“Is something troubling you?”

Fertan asked with a relaxed expression.

He usually went out in the evenings or late at night and spent most of his days at the villa. Despite the busy schedule, they somehow managed to carve out time together.

“I’m worried about what might happen to Princess Lucena.”

Under the shade of a large tree, Fertan stood still, his face bathed in the deep green shadows of late summer leaves. He appeared calm and unhurried.

Adjusting the wide-brimmed hat on Eleanor’s head, he smiled naturally, like a contented beast basking in the sun. Following the doctor’s advice to soak up plenty of sunlight, Eleanor took daily walks with Fertan.

“There won’t be any need for Lucena to go to the Pelos Empire.”

“Ah, so that means…”

“Yes. I plan to act before the bridal procession departs. The terms of our agreement with Lucena were clear from the start, and I intend to honor my promise.”

From this conversation, Eleanor could roughly guess the timing of Fertan’s planned uprising.

She had asked him directly several times about when the decisive moment would come, but he always replied that too many variables made it impossible to pin down an exact date. However, this time, she at least had a rough timeframe.

Princess Lucena was scheduled to depart on the 10th of next month. With today being August 27th, the uprising would likely occur within two weeks from now.

The thought that the final battle was drawing near sent shivers down her spine. Every time she contemplated it, tension gripped her, making it hard to stay composed.

Fertan leaned down to peer into her face, tilting his head slightly as if curious about what she was thinking.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Despite the heat, he kept holding her hand tightly, switching hands whenever sweat formed on their palms.

“I’m fine. Just a bit lost in thought.”

His narrowed gaze felt as though it pierced through her carefully concealed emotions.

We’ve always spoken with success as a given. They imagined the bright future where Fertan ascended the throne and Eleanor became a trusted noble. They discussed reforming the empire whenever they had a moment. Fertan even teased her playfully, urging her to accept the position of empress.

Neither of them ever mentioned failure.

In truth, they both knew failure was more likely than success, yet avoided voicing it.

This was true not only for Fertan but also for his other followers. Everyone gave their all for success, deliberately ignoring the possibility of failure.

They all knew the consequences of defeat without needing to spell it out: those of noble birth would face torture until death, while those of higher status would endure humiliation and public execution. The heads of traitors would line the city walls.

Part of Eleanor’s unease stemmed from the fear of failure. She suppressed her anxiety, fearing that speaking it aloud would only deepen her dread.

Still, she harbored no regrets about her choice. Even objectively evaluating the situation, siding with Fertan was the right decision. Imagining the miserable life she’d lead as Leonard’s wife only reinforced her resolve. If given the chance to decide again, she would still choose to stand by Fertan.

Yet, fear lingered.

All she could do was pray fervently for success.

They strolled slowly from one tree’s shade to another. Fertan fanned her enthusiastically, trying to cool her from the lingering summer heat. The frills on her shoulders fluttered in the breeze, and a few strands of hair tickled her cheeks.

He gently brushed away a strand of hair clinging to her face and impulsively kissed her lips.

“It feels good to be with you like this without worrying about prying eyes.”

At times, Fertan reminded her of a cunning charlatan peddling false cures. Somehow sensing her heavy thoughts, he playfully leaned closer, showering her with affectionate gestures.

She couldn’t bring herself to voice her fear of death. As always, they silently endured the gravity of their situation.

With a slight lift of his nose, Fertan grinned, and Eleanor could only respond with a faint smile.

“It’s true. Remember how we pretended to be escorts in Rubellon Hills?”

“It was hard just to walk side by side back then.”

Pausing their steps, he pressed his lips close to hers, brushing them softly. His kiss was gentle, meltingly so, as it lingered and deepened.

Though confined within the villa’s high walls, Eleanor didn’t feel particularly deprived. Compared to the times when they had to maintain distance or pretend not to know each other, their current freedom was luxurious.

Since arriving, she hadn’t stepped outside the gates once. Their “walks” were limited to circling the small garden, yet Eleanor’s mood remained consistently light.

Her condition had improved significantly. Eating well and staying active—combined with taking the antidote—had restored color to her cheeks in just a few days.

Awareness of the impending battle kept her vigilant. Physical strength might be crucial, and she didn’t want to become a burden. Though it was too late to learn swordplay or firearms, who knew? She might need to hike up her skirt and run someday.

She didn’t want to falter in a crisis due to neglecting her health. So, she ate heartily until her stomach protested and walked enough each morning and evening to make her legs ache.

“Shall we walk a little more?”

Switching hands, she gazed toward the trees where cicadas sang coolly.

“Eleanor, you’re overexerting yourself. You don’t need to push yourself this hard just to gain weight.”

“I don’t want to look frail at the most critical moment. I need to prepare as much as possible.”

He shrugged, pretending reluctance, but followed her anyway.

After circling the villa once more, they noticed unfamiliar visitors. Judging by their entry through the heavily guarded gate, they were expected guests.

A few people carrying simple luggage were being led inside by the villa staff. Seeing this, Fertan’s face lit up with recognition.

“They’ve arrived just in time.”

“Who are these strangers?”

“The artists who will paint us.”

“Artists?”

“Yes, I wanted to capture your likeness.”

Excited, he briskly led Eleanor upstairs to her bedroom. Calling for a maid, he instructed her to dress Eleanor beautifully.

“Why the sudden portrait?”

“We’ll talk later. For now, change into something suitable.”

He added an unexpected weight to her task, leaving her with a sense of anticipation.

Portraits were familiar territory for Eleanor; many paintings had been made of her before. After applying makeup fit for a canvas and donning an elegant dress, she was guided to the gallery.

Fertan, already there, was giving brief instructions to the artist and assistants. The atmosphere was bustling with activity. When he saw Eleanor, beautifully adorned, he broke into an immediate smile.

“You came faster than I expected.”

“I followed your instructions, though I was a bit surprised.”

“This is your seat.”

The setup was unusual: two sofas placed side by side, with drapes hanging in a way that didn’t conform to traditional portrait compositions.

One sofa was for Eleanor; the other, for Fertan.

“To everyone here, time is of the essence. Begin immediately. Our model can only pose today.”

As the charcoal in the artist’s hand began to glide across the canvas, Fertan stopped bustling around and regained his usual composure.

Interestingly, there were two teams of artists. Two easels stood side by side, each with its own artist and assistant. They were painting Eleanor and Fertan separately, which explained the unusual composition of the background.

“Surprised, Eleanor?”

For the initial sketch, it was best to remain as still as possible. She couldn’t turn her head and muttered softly.

“A little. But why are we being painted separately? If that’s the case, there’s no need for us to be here together.”

“For the memories.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle.

Fertan, this man. He always had to surprise her—it seemed to satisfy some part of him.

“This will certainly leave a lasting impression.”

He reclined almost fully on the sofa, tilting his body at an audacious angle. It was a pose far from the dignified stance expected of a nobleman. Clearly, he didn’t care what others might think of the finished piece—likely because it would never be publicly displayed.

Leaning over from the opposite sofa, Fertan teased her as if they were alone.

“Right? Something this unique will stay etched in your memory forever.”

In contrast, Eleanor maintained a modest posture. Her left profile was clearly visible, hands clasped gently in front of her.

“I assumed we’d be painted together since we’re both here.”

“Our portrait comes later.”

His abrupt, decisive tone startled her slightly, and she turned her head instinctively. But hearing the artist’s polite request not to move, she redirected her gaze, keeping only Fertan’s presence in mind.

From the start, Fertan had positioned himself to look directly at her. Unaware at first, Eleanor had simply faced the artist. Now, she felt a strange sense of disadvantage, as though she’d been caught off guard.

Her cheek tingled. For a while, she wondered silently why he kept staring at her without speaking.

“Us…”

His voice was so soft she thought she might have misheard.

“You never know what could happen.”

The velvet-like whisper wrapped around her ears, too faint for the distant artists to catch.

His words came in slow, sleepy fragments, trailing off before resuming.

“If things go wrong… the paintings will be hidden by the artists. They’ve agreed to keep them secret unless you or I come to retrieve them.”

“!”

“I’ll do everything I can to ensure you don’t get hurt. Even if things go south, Eleanor, you can return to being Leonard’s bride, just like before you met me.”

“Fertan, I’m not thinking about any of that.”

“If we fail, chances are I’ll die on the spot. Even if I manage to escape, I’ll never see you again.”

“We won’t fail.”

“This painting is my cowardly attempt to preserve your image for that day.”

“Fer…”

“No longer the Duke of Ablein, but as a traitor on the run, I wanted to grab at least one thing—your portrait. If I can’t take it with me while fleeing, maybe ten or twenty years from now, I’ll have another chance to see it.”

“No!”

With emphasis, she twisted her body slightly to glance at the other sofa. With a soft sigh, Fertan gestured toward the artists with a tilt of his chin. Reluctantly, she returned her gaze forward.

She didn’t want to entertain thoughts of failure. It was a topic they’d both avoided. Yet, no matter how much they disliked it, it was something they needed to consider.

Even Fertan calculated the high probability of his demise.

Could there be scenarios where he escaped instead? Eleanor hadn’t heard the specifics of their attack plan, so she didn’t know if he’d personally lead the charge into the palace or command from the rear. If he stayed back, survival might be more feasible.

The painting session continued. She couldn’t turn her head, and he stared at her unblinkingly, his gaze fervent.

“For now, please don’t look at me.”

His voice grew thick with emotion.

“As a man, as your lord… I’m showing weakness. Just let me wallow in this pitiful state for a moment. Once the sketch is done, I’ll return to being the composed, admirable Fertan you know.”

She couldn’t blame him. Nor could she casually offer empty words of empathy or understanding. The weight of countless lives rested on his shoulders as he prepared to leap into a war with uncertain outcomes. What must that burden feel like?

Deep down, Eleanor was drowning in fear herself. She simply hid it better than he did. If anything, her terror rivaled—or even surpassed—his.

She had spent countless hours deliberating the direction of her own life, weighing options and choosing the most advantageous path. In those moments, she prided herself on being wise and rational.

But was Fertan truly wrong for openly confronting his fears?

Was exposing vulnerability a sign of weakness? Was preparing for the possibility of failure less commendable than charging ahead with nothing to lose?

“I’m the same, Fertan.”

Her voice wavered as tears threatened to spill.

“There have been countless times my courage has shriveled.”

“Still, Lady Eleanor has always been braver than me. You handle emotions better.”

“Not at all. Don’t loud animals bark the most when they’re scared?”

If her face ended up looking tearful in the painting, it would be problematic. Yet, her eyes kept welling up. Perhaps her tear ducts were still recovering from the last time she cried so hard.

She briefly raised her head, trying desperately to hold back the tears.

With makeup on, wiping her face with the back of her hand would ruin everything.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“…”

She glared at the artist, silently willing the sketch phase to end quickly. This expression might look odd in the painting, but it was better than outright sobbing.

“I planned to joke around during this portrait session, but I’ve ruined it.”

His voice remained low enough that only she could hear. Though gentle, it carried an unmistakable tinge of melancholy.

“I like it. Being scared suits you.”

“Really? Then can I complain a little more?”

What harm could a few complaints do? Still, he sought permission.

“As much as you want.”

In many ways, Fertan defied the conventional image of a rebel. From books and imagination, she had envisioned conspirators as ambitious schemers driven by arrogance and greed. Men who believed themselves superior to the world.

Perhaps it was because this path was forced upon him by circumstance.

His character didn’t align with such devious plots.

His determination to uncover the truth behind the late emperor’s death was unwavering. She had often seen him seethe with righteous indignation over the unjust assassination.

Yet, when it came to his personal ambitions, he lacked fervor. There was no obsessive compulsion to claim the throne, no overwhelming desire for revenge. No gnashing of teeth or burning rage.

What if the current emperor had allowed Fertan to live peacefully as a duke? Would he have pursued justice for the late emperor without seeking the throne? Such speculation might be excessive.

Perhaps Fertan could have become a carefree noble, lounging in decadence. Instead, he sighed—a sound more suited to whispered intimacies in bed.

“I couldn’t just quietly offer up my neck.”

“Of course not. You’re making the right choice, Fertan.”

Somehow, she found herself fiercely defending him, pushing him forward as his ally.

“Uncovering the truth about the late emperor’s death is the most important thing.”

She nodded vigorously in agreement.

“People naturally gravitated toward me. Some, like Count Ginédien or Count Russell, bring power. Others, like Marcron or Herod, bear grudges against the emperor.”

“They all have their own goals.”

“Those who were loyal to the late emperor simply cannot accept these times. It’s not just the decline of the nation that troubles them—it’s the unbearable reality of serving a murderer as their emperor.”

“I see. In a way, he is their sworn enemy.”

“For people like Marcron and Herod, whose families fell into ruin, he truly is their nemesis. They lost everything—status, family, all of it.”

Eleanor was only now realizing how much unseen suffering had taken place. She couldn’t shake off her melancholy as she listened intently to Fertan’s words.

“There were moments when I felt pushed forward, especially when I was younger.”

“Just imagining what your life must have been like back then breaks my heart. Every time I look at you, I’m amazed by how far you’ve come.”

“I often think this role doesn’t suit me. Treason? That’s something villains do, isn’t it?”

No one could remain strong forever. In rare moments like this, when he bared his soul, wasn’t it her duty to comfort and encourage him?

“You’re a villain, alright.”

She echoed the same jest he always made.

“...Well, maybe you’re right.”

He chuckled softly, brushing it off, but she hoped her words offered some solace. Watching the artists’ progress, Eleanor carefully chose her next words.

“I don’t see you as some grand hero.”

“...I guess I haven’t been satisfying enough in bed. Maybe if I try harder, you’ll start calling me ‘Master Hero.’“

She shot him a playful glare.

“You’re not an unbreakable iron giant. You’re someone who bends and breaks, gets hurt, yet somehow survives against all odds.”

“Hmm.”

“The fact that you’re even here is a miracle. When I think about it, I realize just how incredible you are.”

“...”

“When the decisive day comes, of course, we’ll give it our all. This is our one chance—if we fail, there won’t be another. But even if things go wrong, it won’t make you any less remarkable. To me, and to those who follow you, you’ll always be the lord we don’t regret choosing.”

She turned her head toward him, disregarding the painting. She hoped her clumsy encouragement, however small, might ease his burden.

Rather than bottling up their fears and doubts, sharing them openly felt like the better path—for both of them.

Fertan’s darkened gaze shimmered with an unexpected calm. His composure surprised her.

Reflecting on him, Eleanor realized anew how much she had always pretended to be strong. Exposing one’s vulnerabilities took immense courage. Letting go and revealing weakness wasn’t easy.

“I’m terrified too, but knowing you feel the same makes me feel better.”

Perhaps she was overestimating Fertan, but even so, his fearful side seemed admirable to her—a stark contrast to her usual habit of holding her head high.

“I’m glad we’re having these portraits done. It’s like preserving a moment when we both let our guards down.”

The artists focused solely on their respective subjects, working silently. The man painting Eleanor moved his brush with powerful strokes across the canvas, while the older artist painting Fertan worked smoothly, his wrist flowing like water.

Even without comparing their styles, it was clear the two artists shared no connection. Should these portraits ever be discovered, there would be no link between Eleanor and Fertan. They exchanged no words, absorbed entirely in their work.

The two separate paintings hinted at the possibility that, should their uprising fail, their fates might diverge completely.

“We’ve roughly finished the sketches. You may take a short break,” one artist said politely, and the other promptly set down his brush.

Fertan, still lounging comfortably, kept his gaze fixed on Eleanor. He watched as she relaxed her stiff shoulders, his dark eyes unwavering. Without rising from his seat, he addressed the artists:

“Take a rest. Go ahead.”

“We’ll stay here to prepare for the next phase...”

Before they could finish, Fertan sprang forward like a fish leaping from water, lunging across the gap between the sofas. Stretching his shoulders and neck, he leaned over Eleanor, pulling her close by the nape of her neck. His lips crashed onto hers, hungrily claiming her mouth.

The artists awkwardly averted their eyes, hurrying out of the gallery.

Now fully focused on Eleanor, Fertan began exploring her with fervor. The rouge she had carefully applied smeared around her lips, spreading across her cheeks and jawline as his kisses rained down relentlessly. His tongue slipped through the neckline of her dress, tracing the curve of her breasts, causing her to squirm uncomfortably.

“Ah, wait... Fertan!”

This was the most intense physical contact they’d shared recently—and completely unexpected.

“Eli.”

He bit gently at the soft flesh hidden beneath her lace. Through the fabric, he teased her nipples, his warm breath sending shivers through her body. They hardened under his touch, straining against the silk.

“Fifteen days in this villa, and I’d almost forgotten what kind of man you are,” she thought, her mind racing despite her body’s delayed reaction. For weeks, he’d behaved so modestly—embraces limited to light hugs, kisses chaste and fleeting—that she’d begun to mistake him for some pious devotee.

But this was Fertan, after all.

He glanced at her peaked nipples visible through the fabric, flicking them mischievously with his fingertips. His hand slid up and down, teasing them to their limit.

“The artists will... return soon,” she gasped.

“They won’t catch us rolling around on this sofa.”

“Hah... pent-up frustration got the better of me.”

His slightly unhinged expression softened, returning to something closer to normalcy.

Eleanor’s hands hovered uncertainly over his chest—was she pushing him away or pulling him closer? Her fists clenched tightly around the fabric of his shirt.

The large hand supporting her waist gently stroked her back before seizing her wrist.

“You’ve gained some strength.”

“?”

“Your recovery is noticeable.”

Her delicate wrist was half the size of his, but it was regaining vitality, color returning to her skin.

He spread her palm wide, interlocking their fingers. Bowing his head, he pressed lingering kisses along the sensitive underside of her wrist, where faint veins showed through her skin.

“I’ve always liked strong women.”

Suppressing a laugh at his absurd remark, Eleanor teased, “That’s new. Since when did you develop this preference?”

“Since meeting you.”

“If I want to stay on your good side, I suppose I should leave just enough strength to hold a spoon.”

Retaliating for her cheeky response, Fertan opened his mouth wide. His lips parted, revealing a deep, crimson cavern as her wrist was drawn inside.

Cold, lascivious movements enveloped her skin. She felt his teeth grazing lightly—not painfully, but enough to send strange sensations coursing through her. His tongue slithered like a snake within the warmth of his mouth.

Eleanor tried to tug her wrist free, but he held firm. A playful struggle ensued, arms flailing as Fertan grinned unabashedly.

“Tonight.”

His cryptic statement hung in the air.

“What about tonight?”

Licking his desire-swollen lips, he whispered low, “A night visitor will come to your chambers.”

Finally understanding, she felt the meaning sink in as his tightened abdomen pressed against her.

“This visitor… could it be someone I’ve met before?”

“It might be. Perhaps the man you confessed to.”

Eleanor shot him a sharp glare, her gaze lingering at the corner of her eyes.

“I’ve never confessed to anyone.”

This time, he only responded with a mischievous grin, not bothering to counter her words. His demeanor was confident, as if he already knew she was bluffing.

Truthfully, Eleanor herself felt a flutter in her chest from the unexpected intimacy. 

She had come to realize anew how important physical connection was, having endured weeks of restrained and modest contact. Still, she teased him verbally, unable to fully embrace boldness despite her growing feelings.

“I’ll have to lock my doors tightly tonight.”

“I never said I’d come through the door.”

“The windows too!”

Noticing the artists preparing to return from their break, Eleanor quickly adjusted her clothing.

---

The emperor’s palace was a world unto itself, filled to the brim with rare treasures and lavish decorations.

For generations, the imperial family had flaunted extravagance beyond the reach of ordinary nobles to display their authority. However, the current emperor’s quarters surpassed even that level. It was a place almost entirely closed off to others, where he indulged in extreme hedonism alone.

The wealth of the empire seemed to be concentrated here—it wasn’t an exaggeration. The palace occupied half the size of the entire imperial grounds. Its exterior walls, constructed from flawless top-grade marble, resembled a heavenly citadel. Inside, even the columns in the hall were encrusted with intricate gold ornamentation.

One of the few people allowed into the emperor’s palace was Edwin. He arrived at the entrance just in time for his scheduled audience.

As usual, the emperor did not appear promptly.

It was common for him to be late or break appointments altogether, behaving as he pleased.

In fact, during Edwin’s last urgent visit regarding the late emperor’s signet ring, no matter how urgently he demanded an audience, the emperor had refused to meet him. Even though it was about witnessing Eleanor in possession of the late emperor’s ring, his pleas went unanswered.

“I have urgent matters concerning His Late Majesty to report,” Edwin had relayed through a servant, but the emperor never showed up. It was as if he believed there was absolutely nothing threatening his position. 

Now, after Eleanor had fled and the signet ring had disappeared, Edwin finally managed to secure an audience. He was so stunned by the irony that he found himself at a loss for words.

After a long wait, Maximilian appeared, accompanied by quite a commotion. And unsurprisingly, he wasn’t alone—he had the empress clinging to him as they entered the audience chamber together.

“It’s been a while, Lord Roland. I heard you visited last time, but I couldn’t spare the time to see you due to pressing matters.”

The emperor’s attire was disheveled, his shirt untucked and peeking out from under his coat.

Edwin clasped his hands in front of him respectfully, watching without a flicker of emotion as the emperor seated the empress between his legs.

To the emperor, there was only one thing more urgent than matters concerning the late emperor: his own indulgence.

“Your Majesty, I have urgent matters to discuss.”

By all rights, upon hearing this, the emperor should have dismissed the empress. But instead, his mind clouded with depravity, he continued fondling the woman. The young empress sat there like someone who had given up on everything, reduced to nothing more than a plaything for an emperor old enough to be her father.

“Speak.”

“Your Majesty, this is top-secret information.”

“I told you to speak.”

Clearly, he had no intention of dismissing her. Edwin clenched his teeth so hard he nearly bit through them. How could such critical and confidential matters be discussed within earshot of someone as clueless as the empress?

Edwin had never come here for trivial matters. Whenever he requested a private audience behind closed doors, it was always to discuss matters that could never leak to the outside world.

The emperor, utterly complacent, seemed to have lost all sense of urgency.

Suppressing his rising anger, Edwin had no choice but to proceed.

“To the point, I’ve located the late emperor’s missing signet ring. When I came to see you last time, I personally confirmed its existence and came to report it.”

He expected a strong reaction, and indeed, the emperor’s face immediately flushed red and purple.

“Is that true? How did it resurface?”

“It seems Eleanor purchased it from a jeweler in the city. It had been circulating as stolen goods and ended up in the hands of a jeweler associated with my brother.”

“Well, perfect timing. Retrieve it immediately and bring it to me.”

The emperor fidgeted anxiously, issuing orders. Yet, when time was truly of the essence, he hadn’t even bothered to meet Edwin. Now, belatedly, he rushed him.

But it was futile. Edwin hardened his expression and feigned regret as he slowly bowed.

“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, but the ring is no longer in my possession.”

“What do you mean, ‘no longer’? Why not?”

Before coming here, Edwin had coordinated with Leonard. They agreed not to let the emperor know that Eleanor had taken the ring.

Leonard was desperate for the marriage to proceed, and Edwin, too, wanted his sister to secure the position of crown princess. Though Edwin despised Leonard, he found Eleanor’s infatuation with him useful. Thus, they decided to omit any mention of Eleanor and report only on the ring.

“Someone broke into my house and stole it. I suspect it may have been the same person who previously robbed Your Majesty’s secret vault.”

“That… that man?”

The mere mention of “that man” was enough to identify Fertan.

“Who else would dare commit such an act?”

Blaming Eleanor’s theft on Fertan, Edwin inwardly mocked the emperor, who didn’t seem to harbor any suspicion. Moreover, since the emperor himself had been robbed before, Edwin’s false report about the Roland family vault being burglarized was easily accepted.

Edwin already knew that Leonard had informed the emperor of Fertan’s survival.

Fertan was everyone’s enemy, and Edwin claimed to be doing everything in his power to find him. But the emperor would be far more agitated. Not only was his nemesis alive, but now the ring had reappeared only to vanish again.

The emperor trembled with rage, his short beard quivering as he raised his voice.

“Find it! Find it and bring it to me!”

His attitude was strikingly similar to the crown prince’s. Both father and son were equally vulgar and unrefined, making life difficult for those around them.

But Edwin was different. Their predictability made them easy to manipulate. A slight nudge at their weaknesses was all it took to elicit the desired reaction. Especially with the emperor, whose long-standing ties to Edwin gave him insight into controlling him.

Edwin was adept at concealing his displeasure, maintaining a respectful demeanor as he addressed the emperor.

“I promise to retrieve it without fail.”

Just as he was about to request a private discussion for the remaining matter, the emperor blurted out an insult.

“Lord Roland, I can’t trust your promises. Haven’t you broken every vow you’ve ever made to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you assure me years ago, when the late emperor passed, that no evidence would ever surface?”

“Your Majesty…”

With the empress listening intently, Edwin was momentarily speechless. He had merely hinted at the ring’s whereabouts. The emperor could have phrased things more discreetly too. But to openly bring up the late emperor’s assassination? Only a fool would do such a thing.

Anyone with half a brain would connect the dots between the ring and the late emperor’s death, drawing a clear link between the two.

Though the young empress lacked significant presence, she was still not someone to be privy to such secrets. Every unnecessary pair of ears should have been avoided.

Yet the emperor carelessly brought up past events alongside the issue of the signet ring.

“For over a decade, I haven’t slept soundly because your handling of matters has been anything but clean. Do you know how much I’ve suffered because of Fertan? I’ve lived in fear of him seizing my throne at any moment.”

Edwin was utterly shocked. This incident had been buried deep in everyone’s hearts for years, never mentioned. Why was the emperor thoughtlessly dragging it up now?

Moreover, the emperor’s leap in logic was absurd. When had he ever lost sleep worrying about Fertan? He had hunted him down like a predator chasing its prey, almost reveling in it.

It was pitiful how the emperor still regarded Edwin as nothing more than a lackey to clean up his messes. While Edwin had been the one to push the emperor onto the throne, even after all these years, the emperor hadn’t outgrown his old habits.

At this point, Edwin no longer cared about the empress overhearing their conversation. Deciding to deal with any potential leaks later, he voiced his frustration.

“Precisely why I urged you long ago to destroy everything that belonged to the late emperor.”

“At the time, there were too many eyes watching. It was difficult to dispose of items officially declared part of the inheritance.”

“You should have secretly destroyed them later.”

“As time passed, their significance faded. Who could have predicted this would resurface?”

The emperor’s tone grew louder, like a cornered rat lashing out blindly.

“The real issue is that you failed to eliminate both the late emperor and Fertan. If you had done your job properly, the vault theft wouldn’t have happened.”

There was no reasoning with someone who placed all responsibility on others while boasting about stolen achievements. Accustomed only to taking what wasn’t his, the emperor’s arrogance knew no bounds. His shallow thinking and cowardice made him increasingly pathetic with age.

“Why are you silent, Lord Roland?”

Suppressing his rising irritation, Edwin responded calmly.

“You’re absolutely right. It’s my fault for failing to serve you adequately.”

“Since Fertan stole the ring, his head must come first. This time, don’t let him fake his death—bring me his head in a box.”

Edwin realized the emperor’s usefulness was nearing its end.

He had already planned to remove the emperor from power once Eleanor secured her position as crown princess.

His plans extended far into the future. After Crown Prince Leonard ascended the throne, Edwin intended for Eleanor to bear an imperial heir. Then, using Leonard’s mental instability as justification, he would force Leonard to abdicate, leaving Eleanor’s child as the sole remaining direct heir to the throne.

And Eleanor herself, being so frail, could easily be disposed of.

As an influential relative, Edwin would then assume regency on behalf of the child.

The day he would swallow the empire whole was fast approaching.

With the wedding just four days away, everything was set in motion. Despite Eleanor’s continued disappearance, the ceremony would proceed as planned.

If necessary, they could substitute a lookalike.

The bridal gown had been prepared with a concealing veil. They’d also identified a woman with a similar build to Eleanor.

Edwin had long awaited the day he could sever ties with the emperor. It was time to begin the final preparations.

As he had planned before entering the palace, Edwin presented his request.

“Your Majesty, though I promised to find the ring, the search isn’t proving easy.”

“What’s the problem?”

“A thorough search requires a significant number of troops.”

“Troops… Are you asking to mobilize the imperial army?”

The emperor frowned slightly, showing at least some semblance of reason. He wasn’t foolish enough to deploy the imperial army solely to hunt down Fertan.

“How dare I suggest such a thing?”

“Then what?”

“It would be proper to rely on the forces under my command. However, their numbers are insufficient…”

The emperor waited, not fully grasping Edwin’s implication.

Internally rolling his eyes at the emperor’s inability to connect the dots, Edwin carefully phrased his request.

“We lack the manpower needed to conduct a proper search for the duke. I believe it’s necessary to recruit more people.”

“Do as you see fit.”

“But, humbly speaking, hiring a large number of able-bodied men at once might raise suspicions. It could be misconstrued as raising a private army.”

This finally caught the emperor’s attention, his expression betraying alarm at the mention of a private militia.

Private armies were strictly forbidden in the empire. Any security measures exceeding household defense limits invited scrutiny. The Roland family had already reached the maximum allowed for guards and security personnel, leaving no room for further expansion.

Of course, Edwin had covertly extended his reach to various mercenary groups, but he couldn’t parade them openly through the city streets.

“Should we proceed slowly with our current forces, despite the delay?”

After a brief moment of contemplation, the emperor shook his head.

“That would be tantamount to giving Fertan a clear path to escape. Temporarily increase your numbers and conduct a full-scale search.”

Finally, the emperor gave his approval.

A triumphant smile spread across Edwin’s face. This was practically permission to form a private army under the guise of the emperor’s mandate.

The newly recruited mercenaries would be far more agile than the sluggish imperial army. Even if they scoured the city, the emperor’s authorization provided plausible deniability.

“I’ll move swiftly to locate the duke under your orders.”

“Hmm.”

“And when searching the city, I’ll need an excuse—a pretext under the authority of your name.”

“Handle the details yourself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Edwin planned to make use of this private army when the time came to force the emperor’s abdication.

Violence was always effective. Threatening someone with words took time, but pressing a bayonet to their throat worked much faster. Though the emperor had only granted temporary permission to recruit, disbanding the private army once assembled wouldn’t be easy.

The foolish emperor remained oblivious to how this decision would eventually push him off the throne, preoccupied instead with muttering curses about Fertan, his face creased with worry.

Edwin, too, had no intention of leaving Fertan alone. Eliminating him and retrieving Eleanor was urgent.