Yuriella sat on the bed with her knees pulled up, deep in thought.

Though occasionally distracted by the sound of water coming from the bathroom.

The words Frost had said to her in the carriage on the way back to the mansion kept weighing heavily on her mind.

[The Emperor hinted to me that he has a secret ‘fang’ he’s preparing. I wonder what gives him such confidence.]

When the Duke mercilessly smashed the Emperor’s head at the war memorial, Yuriella already knew that the war with the Emperor had begun.

For Duke Frost Ielheim, whom she knew, was not one to ever make mistakes swept up by emotion.

She also didn’t think that Justin Della Ponti would have been unprepared against the Duke.

For the Emperor’s jealousy and checks against Frost Ielheim were already sufficiently deep and intense even before Solas Moretti appeared before the Emperor.

‘But……’

The Justin she knew was skilled at thoroughly hiding his sharp claws beneath a beautiful face until the very last moment, and stealthily biting the opponent’s throat.

He was not one to readily reveal his hand, swayed by emotion. So for him to reveal it like this…

It surely meant he already had a sure way to tear out and kill his opponent.

‘Just what could that be?’

Yuriella recalled the moment when the holy sword Flamma, engulfed in dark magic, lost its light on her final battlefield.

It was a holy sword imbued with the primordial power of fire. Was that something possible with just the power of a holy maiden candidate?

‘If not that, then…?’

If not, what more could there be?

Yuriella felt anxious and restless, unable to fathom what more those who turned the holy sword Flamma into a demon sword could do.

There was still no word from Cassandra, imprisoned in the underground dungeon of the Imperial Palace.

Knowing well the torture the nobles imprisoned there endured, Yuriella’s heart grew as heavy as lead.

‘Please hold on, Dark Mage.’

As she buried her face in her knees and let out a deep sigh, the bathroom door opened.

Frost, drying his wet hair with a towel, saw Yuriella’s extremely furrowed face and threw the robe he was wearing onto the floor.

Yuriella was startled and her eyes went wide.

Though she saw his body every day while receiving acupuncture treatment, Yuriella blushed at the sight of his robust muscles with droplets of water still clinging here and there.

“I heard a decent, chaste woman would cover her face with both hands at a time like this. Yet my rain’s eyes grow even wider at the sight of my naked body. Do you wish to see more?”

As Frost slowly placed his hands on the waistband of his pajama pants, Yuriella cried out.

“Your Highness!”

Frost smiled brightly. As expected, the dark clouds lifted from his wife’s face, flustered by his mischievous joke.

“But I’m sorry. I have a lot of work today, so you may have to sleep alone.”

“Th-there’s no need to be sorry. I was planning to sleep alone tonight anyway since I have a lot to think about.”

Frost approached the stammering Yuriella and took her hand, politely kissing the back of it.

“That’s a relief. I was worried you might be disappointed and scan my body from head to toe.”

Yuriella blushed and pushed Frost’s chest away with both hands. She felt as if she would get drunk on the Duke’s refreshing scent after his bath.

“You-you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not someone who ever forgets or breaks a promise I made.”

“That’s also a relief. It seems I’ll be very busy for a while and may have to keep having you sleep alone. Will that be alright?”

Frost gazed at Yuriella intently as he brushed back her hair that had fallen forward, entangling it between his fingers all the way to the ends. His heated touch, unlike his nonchalant words, was dripping with lingering attachment.

“That-that’s fine. More than welcome, in fact!”

Even as she said it was fortunate and sighed in relief, Yuriella’s lips protruded slightly, feeling strangely disappointed.

“Good night.”

Frost got up and left the bedchamber without looking back.

Yuriella stared blankly for a moment, then slowly raised the two hands she had used to push him away and looked at them quietly. It felt as if the Duke’s warmth still lingered faintly on her palms. Along with his refreshing scent.

Yuriella let her head fall onto the pillow as if collapsing.

She tried to return to her thoughts about the Emperor’s ‘fang,’ but her mind kept drifting to the Duke who had left the bedchamber without a shred of lingering attachment.

Her eyes were already only looking at the firmly closed door of the bedchamber.

‘Is he very backed up with work? Usually he would look back at least ten more times with eyes dripping with attachment…’

Feeling strangely disappointed, Yuriella tightly wrapped herself in the sheet and rolled to the edge of the bed.

The bed felt too big today. The room was too large…

*

Frost entered his study and went straight to open the door leading to the terrace without even glancing at his desk.

It was true that he had a lot of backed-up work to do. His desk was piled high with stacks of documents he had yet to approve and new matters from the territory that kept flying in without rest.

Frost leaned against the railing and let out a long sigh as he tightly clenched his right hand. It seemed he could still feel the sensation of his wife’s long, soft hair.

‘I miss her already. To think I have to sleep alone for a while. It’s absurd.’

But to hold onto his wife, he had to be patient.

A skilled fisherman slowly releases and reels in his line, making the fish gradually come to him.

His wife was Solas Moretti, the undefeated flame of the battlefield. The warrior most skilled in tactics. She could never be won over with shallow tricks.

He couldn’t just reel her in recklessly. And he definitely couldn’t let his guard down.

Frost let out a deep sigh.

[I will restore your identity. I will clear your name of treason.]

The Emperor’s words to his wife at the war memorial still rang clearly in his ears.

[That is hardly a welcome development for me, the lady of the North. Solas Moretti committed an unforgivable crime against the North. The sin of staining the northern lands with the blood of innocent people will never disappear.]

As did his wife’s sorrowful voice.

He had guessed it would be like this. It was with that possibility in mind that he had given separate secret orders to the Dark Mage as well.

But after hearing the conversation between the Emperor and Yuriella, everything became clearer, and his heart grew more complicated.

From the moment they first met, his wife was full of strangeness.

The way she skillfully handled his prized stallion Mars when it was thrashing about after being shot with an arrow during the assassination attempt in the inn alley.

The distinctive marks of the Imperial Knights left on the body of the assassin found dead in the room of the Duchess, and the wounds left on his wife’s hands.

The detailed information about the Emperor’s first shadow that his wife carelessly let slip while drunk.

The Archmage’s excessive interest in her and the Emperor’s strangely persistent obsession.

If he assumed his wife was Solas Moretti, it all made sense.

But Frost had deliberately excluded that possibility from his thoughts and withheld judgment.

When the people of Colina Rosa tried to save her with empty fists and emaciated bodies.

[They… Colina Rosa… saved me…]

Yuriella fell apart.

She cried and cried until his chest was completely soaked.

Knowing how deep a wound and source of guilt Colina Rosa was for Solas Moretti.

Seeing how agonized Yuriella’s expression was each time as she treated their wounds.

Frost had desperately hoped his assumption wasn’t true.

[I, Yuriella, your subordinate, swear to serve Duke Frost Ielheim as my lord and pledge my loyalty. Your will shall guide my every step.]

His wife’s intention to leave once her usefulness ran out was clear. That’s likely why she deliberately omitted the name ‘Ielheim’ and took a vassal’s oath instead.

To her, the marriage vow was merely a falsehood to deceive others’ eyes.

Her true promise was the knight’s oath she pledged to him.

And that oath was possible because he knew her as Yuriella Grande.

If she found out he had discovered her real identity…

She may mercilessly shut the door to her heart that she had barely opened to him.

The unadorned smiles she showed him and the occasionally provocative touches would likely vanish like bubbles.

Even if he pretended not to know her identity until the end, if he just kept pushing like he had been, she would surely feel burdened and take steps back.

“This is maddening.”

Frost trudged over to the sofa, tucked in his long legs, and sprawled out.

[Frost, my son. If you ever find a woman you love, express your love to her without reserve.]

His mother had his nine-year-old self sit beside her and stroked his fine silver hair as she said those words.

[Don’t hold back in saying ‘I love you.’ Even if you said it yesterday, her heart will need to hear it again today. Expressions of love are something you can never give enough. If you don’t want to be abandoned by your wife, be sure to remember that.]

He wanted to tell her he loved her over and over again. He absolutely didn’t want to be abandoned.

Yet he had to say with his own mouth that she would sleep alone for a while. Frost cursed profusely at the root of this situation, feeling unbearably irritated.

Justin Della Ponti, that damned bastard. Trash of the world.

But Frost clicked his tongue, feeling like he was only dirtying his own mouth.

Instead, he thought of his lovely wife. Recalling her blazing eyes made his heart ache.

His wife was lying in his room, on his bed.

He could bury his face in the soft nape of her neck and freely inhale her sweet scent to his heart’s content.

He could hold her tightly in his arms as she fit perfectly against him…

Frost abruptly sat up. Right, acupuncture!

He should at least make the excuse of giving her a treatment.

Frost ran to the door, but grasped the handle and groaned. He remembered that he had already excessively sought his wife’s attention using acupuncture as an excuse as soon as they returned from the capital.

Frost slouched his shoulders and returned to the sofa, plopping down.

The undefeated knight, who could sleep just fine on the gravelly ground of a battlefield, had to spend a long, long night wide awake, missing the presence of his wife beside him that he had grown accustomed to.

*

The next morning.

[Nero. Tell me honestly. You remember, don’t you?]

Airy circled around Nero, who was sitting by the window in the guest room, pressing him.

But Nero only licked his front paws primly, not showing the reaction Airy wanted.

Popo flew over and perched his little feet on Nero’s plump front paws, his beady eyes shining like a seasoned detective as he interrogated.

[Nero. There was definitely a faint flow of Flamma’s energy coming from the Imperial Palace. In that moment, you ran in terror to the Golden Hall where Yuriella was. You felt something then, didn’t you?]

– Meow.

Nero twisted his body as if annoyed and swatted Popo to the floor with his tail.

[Ugh. Nero, you!]

Popo, who had fallen on his back, struggled and cried out.

But worried he might hurt the powerless little kitten, he hurriedly contained the energy of the earth that had instinctively surged out.

[You remember, don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you?]

Airy fluttered down and landed on Nero’s head, mercilessly pulling out tufts of his fluffy fur with his little hands.

– Meow! Mew!

Nero swung his front paw at Airy, but only hit his own head and bristled his fur like a hedgehog, very upset.

[Airy. It’s clear Nero’s memories have not returned. It seems Nero was unable to sense the energy of Flamma that we felt yesterday.]

As Popo spoke solemnly while struggling, Airy flew over and flipped Popo right-side up.

Just then, the door burst open and the Archmage rushed in, panting heavily as he shouted.

“It’s terrible, Popo! Yuriella, Yuriella collapsed!”

[Yuriella collapsed? What in the world happened?]

Popo asked, his head held high.

“I don’t know. She won’t wake up no matter how much I try.”

[Her soul didn’t pop out like last time, did it? What if she dies… No, what if she dies again!]

Airy shot up into the air, sobbing.

Nero, who had been crouching by the window, leaped down and dashed toward the open door.

But unable to cross the threshold, he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and lifted up by Ricarion.

– Meow! Mew! Mew!

Nero unsheathed his claws and desperately flailed, his scruff caught.

Ricarion, who had been silently watching Nero, quirked the corners of his mouth.

“Nero, calm down. Yuriella is fine. It was a lie.”

Nero instantly stopped struggling and looked at the Archmage with bewildered eyes.

“Nero. Got you. You understood everything I said, didn’t you?”

Both Airy and Popo clearly saw Nero’s body flinch.

– Meow?

Nero tilted his little head as if he couldn’t understand.

“You understand but pretend not to. You remember but pretend not to.”

– Meow?

“It’s for Yuriella, isn’t it? You’re doing it for Yuriella, Flamma?”