1. She

At the northernmost tip of the Krania Empire, in the northeastern corner of Lysenford, there was an abandoned tower where criminals were confined, bordering the realm of evil dragons that must never be crossed. Inside lay the Duchess of Lysenford. At just twenty-five years old, she was waiting for death, her hair falling out, reduced to skin and bones.

It was cold. And so very painful.

When was the last time food had been brought in? Her strength was so depleted from not eating that even thinking was difficult now. She had melted snow to drink water, but even that had reached its limit.

Kaela, the traitor of the North, the imperialist’s puppet, the cunning witch – the Duchess of Lysenford with such nicknames would end up starving to death in a tower that let in drafts but didn’t allow escape.

Since her husband, the Duke of Lysenford, had personally confined her to this tower, the cessation of what little food had been coming was probably also by her husband’s order.

‘What did I do wrong?’

Hunger was such terrible agony, and her head and stomach hurt so much that it was hard to think, but Kaela kept asking herself. Because she didn’t know what she had done wrong. If so, it seems her very existence itself was wrong. She had tried to overcome the severe prejudice of the northerners as the Duchess of Lysenford, and struggled watching the back of a husband who loved another woman.

Her crime was said to be leaking information from Lysenford, a military operational area and border checkpoint, to the Emperor, and sowing discord between the Duke and the Emperor. Though the Emperor did greatly dislike the Duke of Lysenford, her husband, Kaela had no memory of such things. So it seems Kaela had been completely set up.

By whom?

‘…As if there was anyone here who liked me.’

Kaela didn’t know. She was so thoroughly isolated that she didn’t even know who had framed her.

Throughout her marriage, she had been treated as an outsider and ostracized here in the North, being from the South. Even though her father, the Emperor’s half-brother, had been killed by the Emperor’s hands, Kaela was still the Emperor’s niece after all.

The people of Lysenford had to fight against the harsh climate, rampaging evil dragons, and frequent invasions by foreign tribes, and they had to rely on supplies sent by the Emperor at such times. And they deeply hated the Emperor who wielded those supplies to bully them in all sorts of ways. So how much must they have hated Kaela, who came instead of the one originally chosen to be Duchess.

Hyperion Sabrand Ferraro, the Duke of Lysenford who had lived miserably, exiled to the border while being hated by the Emperor his whole life as the illegitimate child of the Empress, even failing to marry his beloved – he abhorred having Kaela de Chasseur’s name engraved beside his own.

Hyperion Sabrand Ferraro. That name was still vivid to Kaela even now as her consciousness faded after unbearable pain. The name of the man she had liked since she was very young is hard to forget, it seems.

‘There will be war.’

Kaela’s death, who wasn’t even treated as a niece by the Emperor who kept watching and suspecting Peon, would be a good excuse. How dare they kill the Emperor’s niece and break the marriage the Emperor had arranged – for that bastard with no father, that mongrel, whom they had graciously allowed into the imperial family by marrying him to royalty out of consideration for the Empress’s face! They could add various crimes all at once like this.

The relationship between Peon, the illegitimate child born between the Empress and an unnamed man, and the Emperor had been the worst from the beginning. For the sake of his mother, the Empress imprisoned by the Emperor, Peon would eventually wage all-out war against the Emperor.

Yet even now, to be concerned about her husband who would plunge into war – there was no greater fool. Powerless, with no strength at all, a stupid girl whose efforts amounted to nothing, yet her ideals were too lofty, liking a fine man, another woman’s man.

‘…Ah. I did one thing wrong.’

If there was one thing Kaela did wrong, it was not giving up on a man who had only looked at one woman his entire life. Hyperion, no, since they first met as children when he was Peon, he had cherished and loved Beatrice Lavalle, the Duke of Monde’s daughter who was his childhood friend.

Peon kept Kaela at a distance while passionately loving Beatrice, who was tightly held by the Emperor for the sole reason of being close to Peon. That love was truly strange and blind. As if, though it’s not quite comparable, it resembled the Emperor’s obsession with the Empress, Peon’s stepfather.

Peon held not betraying Beatrice as his lifelong creed, almost worshipping it like a religion. Such a man naturally treated Kaela as if she didn’t exist, and eventually came to hate her. Yet she presumptuous continued to like him – isn’t this the very sin?

She didn’t know. Now it was all useless, and everything was so painful that she just wished to die quickly. Her mother had passed away when she was young, and her father was senselessly killed by his half-brother, the Emperor. Having even her father’s title stripped away and forcibly married off like property, only to be framed as a traitor and die – it was a miserable and unhappy life.

In Lysenford, Kaela had truly done her utmost to try her best, but received no reward at all. In the end, only death came, as if it were natural, or even a comfort. Ah, her vision was going black. The cold and hunger were so severe that she rather welcomed it. She wished she would die quickly. Hurry, quickly. She wished this pain would end.

Just then there was a creaking noise and the heavy door that had been firmly shut opened.

“Let’s check.”

A voice was heard too. Lying on the stagnant filth and foul stench, Kaela couldn’t even turn her head in that direction. Reduced to just skin and bones, she no longer had the strength to move. Though she had been an honored member of the imperial family as the granddaughter of the former Emperor and niece of the current Emperor, her end was this miserable. The sound of women’s boots hitting the floor was heard.

“Oh my. This is troublesome.”

The stench was swept out through the opened door. In Kaela’s blurry vision, she saw a woman leaning towards her.

‘Beatrice?’

“You’re still alive, Kaela. You can see who I am.”

Kaela continued her hazy thoughts as she looked at the woman speaking in a mocking tone.

Why is this woman here? Did Peon call her? Well, since his wife became a criminal confined to a tower, Peon and Kaela’s marriage is over. So he must have thought it was alright to call the one love he had longed for all this time. May they be happy.

But wasn’t Beatrice being held hostage by the Emperor? How did she come here? Ah, I don’t know.

Kaela, who had suffered from illness, starvation and pain to the point of near death, no longer had the strength to think.

“Poor thing. To become so unsightly. But still alive.”

Beatrice muttered in a clearly mocking tone. She had always felt inferior to this irritating girl Kaela, the Duchess of Ostain who was of higher status than herself as the daughter of the Duke of Monde.

“How troublesome.”

As if implying Kaela shouldn’t still be alive.

“You know, Kaela. They say the last organ to shut down before death is the ears. Shall unni tell you an interesting story? And then you’ll die after eating this.”

Beatrice Lavalle smiled as she took out a small vial from inside her clothes. Kaela, who was suffering from all sorts of complications due to the severe cold and hostility, couldn’t even resist.

“Don’t want to die?”

Of course not. The pain was so severe that death would rather be a release. Kaela wanted to die. In fact, she had wanted to die for a long time. Perhaps she had wanted to die even before coming to this tower.

“But it can’t be helped. The innocent Kaela de Chasseur must die for the noble and righteous Duke of Lysenford to become a criminal.”

Beatrice spoke gleefully, as if tremendously pleased.

‘I was deceived.’

Kaela sensed it. She had been deceived, and her husband had been deceived too. They had all been played by Beatrice.

But it was too late. Kaela could only watch as Beatrice opened the vial and dripped the poison onto her parched lips. Rather than feeling resentful at the thought of being deceived, she welcomed the poison sliding down her throat. She was so hungry she could eagerly drink even poison. If this pain could end even a little sooner, she would be glad. She could meet her father and mother. She was no longer in her right mind.

“It will be over soon. I’ll tell you an interesting story until it’s over.”

As death flowed down her esophagus that hadn’t allowed anything to pass for days, Beatrice, that lovely woman, spoke as if singing.

“Poor, poor little Kaela. Noble granddaughter of the former Emperor and daughter of an illegitimate child, Duchess of Ostain. You know what? About the Duke of Ostain, your father.”

Was the pain numbed by the cold? Why were this woman’s words, the words of the woman she could never catch up to no matter how hard she tried her short life, so clearly audible now?

“He died by my love’s hand. His Imperial Majesty, I mean. Our Vincent shot your father, bang, didn’t he?”

The woman her husband had been hung up on called the Emperor, her husband’s stepfather, “my love”. Had her ears already lost function and she misheard? But Beatrice continued speaking in a dreamy voice.

“Do you know why Vincent happened to be cleaning his gun when he was with your father that day?”

The official cause of death for Kaela’s father, the Duke of Ostain who was the beloved illegitimate child of the former Emperor, was a gun accident. That the Emperor had “accidentally” killed his half-brother the Duke of Ostain while cleaning his gun.

Beatrice poured poison not only into the dying Kaela’s mouth, but also into her ears. In Kaela’s blurry vision, she looked extremely pleased.

“That gun was brought by ‘your husband’ Peon.”

Emphasizing “your husband”, Beatrice was satisfied to see shock settle in Kaela’s lifeless eyes. She was most gratified to see this irritating girl, who had always been of higher status than herself, receive such a shock in this wretched state.

“Well, it may not suit your taste, but he had to play the good stepson for Lysenford to be at peace, for the esteemed Empress to be well, and for his beloved me to be safe.”

Meanwhile, Beatrice spoke as if badmouthing the Empress, but when referring to herself, she spoke as if mocking Peon.

“Your husband personally gifted it to Vincent, knowing what it would be used for. Well, where else would a decent gun come from? All from this cold place.”

Lysenford was famous for weapons production. Its ornate decorative pistols were also famous.

“Since it started that way, well, the end would be like this too, right? You tried quite hard for 4 years? Too stupid to realize everyone hated you.”

Beatrice laughed gleefully, as if unbearably delighted.

“Idiot. It was so easy it wasn’t even fun. The harder you tried to be a good duchess and use your authority, the more suspicion I cast on you. How could you fall for it so pitifully?”

Ah. Kaela, listening with her nearly stopped brain, at least knew who had framed her. It was Beatrice behind it. So I’m dying because of her.

“Well, since Peon is on my side, it can’t be helped. He’s been my slave since childhood. I brainwashed him that way. So he could never escape. You two are a pair of fools. Well, I did make you foolish.”

Beatrice shrugged as she looked down at Kaela.

“Poor Kaela. Marrying the man who killed your father, receiving no love at all, dying unjustly?”

Kaela could not refute those words. Rather, a welcome sleep came over her.

It is death.

She was happy that the exhaustion and pain that was too much was ending.

*

“…Miss, Miss!”

At the unusually clear, sharp voice, Kaela flinched and opened her eyes with a gasp.

“Oh my, I’m sorry. You were startled. …Are you alright, Miss?”

Cecil, a maid working in the Duke of Ostain’s household, looked worriedly at the young lady who was breathing heavily and looking around.

“Miss, are you unwell? Did you have a bad dream?”

She acutely sensed her surroundings flooding in with crystal clarity. The voice, the warm temperature, the feel of the velvet sofa and cushion she had briefly lain on, the softly falling dress enveloping her body, and arms with a pleasing amount of flesh. Everything was so naturally vivid it was rather eerie.

“Goodness, look how pale you’ve become. You must have had a bad dream.”

Kaela gasped for breath and grasped Cecil’s outstretched hand. A rough, dry hand with thick calluses. That hand was warm. Too warm.

“Are you alright, Miss? Calm down. You had a bad dream. Were you scared?”

Scared? She had been tormented by terror to the point of agony. But now she felt no pain, cold, or even the terrible hunger from before.

Kaela looked around the unfamiliar room that she hadn’t seen in so long. This was clearly her bedroom in the Duke of Ostain’s townhouse that she had used before marriage. A four-poster bed with white curtains and clean, fluffy blankets, sturdy cabinets and sofas full of cushions with subtle patterns. And on the wall opposite the bed hung a mirror.

Kaela abruptly stood up and went to that mirror, still holding Cecil’s hand.

“Miss?”

Cecil was startled to see the Duke of Ostain’s only daughter glare at the mirror and then suddenly slap her own cheek hard with her free hand.

“Oh my, Miss! Miss!”

The Duchess of Ostain, who had fiercely struck her still chubby, milky cheek with a loud smack, shook her head and roughly fixed her disheveled hair. Then she took a deep breath and turned to look at the panicked Cecil.

“Why did you wake me? What’s going on?”

Her cheek was burning hot. The brief sensation of pain was normal. Did it snap her to her senses? Her mind had always been sharply alert. It always had to be in the North, which was like walking on a knife’s edge. And even then she had died, so what was this now?

“His Grace, His Grace the Duke is calling for you, Miss, your cheek is red. At least apply a cold compress.”

“It’ll go down on its own if I leave it. You did well to wake me. Thank you!”

“Miss…!”

Though the hand that had mercilessly struck her own cheek was trembling, Kaela left the room for now. She needed to carefully consider whether she had just had an terribly long dream, or if this was the dream now.

‘A dream? Don’t be ridiculous. How could there be such a long and detailed dream?’

How could the torturous days spent in the northern Lysenford be a dream? Either Kaela had gone mad, or this was some terribly wicked magic.

‘Or it might be a hallucination.’

Tears welled up suddenly, and Kaela quickly rubbed her eyes. This current situation might be a momentary vision seen by her dead self out of desperate longing. It was the time when she was somewhat happy.

Ah. This corridor with large windows regularly spaced, filled with sunlight, was familiar. The forgotten path revived in her memory. Kaela found her way to her father’s study, somewhat unfamiliar yet skillfully. The enormous staircase, the open terrace, and the corridor paved with warm beige stones instead of carpets. All in the Ostain style.

She was afraid even as she knocked on the study door. Was this a well-crafted dream? Or was it something the people of Lysenford had concocted to mock her?

“Come in.”

Her heart dropped. That voice heard from inside the door was so distant in her memory, yet clear. How on earth did this happen? Kaela carefully opened the study door with a tumultuous heart.

“I have to go to the Imperial Palace today, so you’ll have to eat dinner alone. I might be late, so go to bed first.”

It’s Dad. It was Dad. The father who had been so horribly disfigured with his head smashed that he was barely recognizable, was standing there perfectly fine, adjusting his collar. Kaela stared at her father, dumbfounded.

“You’re, you’re going to the Imperial Palace?”

“His Majesty has summoned me.”

Déjà vu, is it? The situation unfolding exactly as Kaela had experienced in her memory was ominous and strange. She knew the navy blue coat, gray vest, and light tan pants her father, her living father, was wearing right now. And she knew how they would be drenched in blood. Yes. This was exactly what her father was wearing when he passed away.

“Why?”

Kaela didn’t know why her father had gone to the Imperial Palace that day. So she asked.

“Well, I’m not sure.”

His gruff response betrayed his reluctance to go. Kaela grasped her confused head.

“But why does your face look like that? No, did you get hit somewhere? Why is this part like this?”

The face Kaela last remembered approached her, full of worry, and held her reddened cheek.

“It’s nothing.”

She said that and began searching the study. There was no time for reunions or reminiscing. Even if this was a dream, if she didn’t move properly, she would wake up and deeply regret it.

“What do you mean it’s nothing, your cheek is all red! But why are you taking that out?”

Duke Adeo de Chasseur of Ostain was surprised to see his daughter, with one cheek swollen, open the study safe and take out one of the heirloom protective magical items. His daughter, bringing a gold necklace, earnestly said to her father.

“Just in case, please wear this when you go.”

“But, why so suddenly…”

“It protects the body once, right? You never know when or how something might happen, so please wear it. Don’t take it off. Okay? Please, Dad.”

The father couldn’t stop his daughter who stood on tiptoes to put the magical item on him, much taller than her, and tucked it inside his shirt. Originally, he was just an ordinary father who was very weak to his only daughter.

“And…”

There was no time. Kaela, before her father left, said almost pleadingly.

“Don’t trust His Majesty, Dad. Never. Please.”

It’s a fact everyone knows. The Emperor was a madman wearing a mask of nobility. Kaela, having seen off her father who couldn’t refute, chewed her lips nervously before finally jumping up.

If she intervened in the meeting between the Emperor and her father, both father and daughter might be in danger. The Emperor was a fearsome man. Despite being the legitimate heir, he was so suspicious that he had slaughtered all his siblings born from the same womb over trivial issues, and after breaking off all prearranged engagements with other countries, he had practically kidnapped the current Empress into marriage and kept her confined until now.

His cruelty reached its peak in tormenting Peon, the illegitimate child born to her. The Emperor mentally abused Peon when he was in his early teens, took the Empress, his mother, hostage, and then banished him to the barren Lysenford to face evil dragons.

Do you want to see your mother? Then bow down and obey like a dog.

He abused a child, insulted the Empress as a filthy whore one day and praised her as a noble lady the next. And yet he himself had fathered a string of illegitimate children, and enjoyed watching them compete over who would inherit the throne among his children from different mothers. He was a madman wielding his overwhelming imperial power recklessly.

But Kaela had to do something to protect her father against such a madman. That magical item, the one that blocks an attack just once, would stop one bullet. But would there be just one bullet?

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Kaela sprang to her feet.

“Prepare the carriage!”

In truth, she had been desperately hungry since earlier. There were so many things she wanted to eat. Soft cake, melt-in-your-mouth lamb, well-boiled vegetables, anything would do. But forgoing the food she wanted to grab and eat with both hands, lacking etiquette, as she couldn’t even remember when she had last put anything in her mouth, Kaela headed straight for the Imperial Palace. If she were to die, it would be better to die with her father. Dying lonely and unjustly in the North was something she was sick of, even in dreams.

“We’re going to the Imperial Palace.”

The Ostain ducal carriage once again passed through the main gate of the Imperial Palace in the evening. As soon as the carriage stopped, Kaela tumbled out and ran towards the ‘Sacred Forest’ where her father had been murdered. Everyone except the Emperor called it the Monster’s Garden.

If she were to die, better to die together with her father by the Emperor’s bullet. Or at least, she had to stop the Duke of Lysenford, her husband, who would be there.

Sure enough, in the distance at the entrance to the garden, she saw a giant man with an incredibly tall stature and broad shoulders. In his hands was the box containing the gun that would kill her father.

“Your Grace, the Duke!”

In this nightmare, she ran wildly and stopped the man she had never dared to even touch before.

Kaela de Chasseur, the daughter of the Duke of Ostain, burst in front of Hyperion Sabrand Ferraro, the Duke of Lysenford, as if spilling over.