“Even if the sky falls and the earth collapses, I have no intention of forgiving you. No, at this point, forgiveness or anything like it doesn’t matter—I just want you to disappear from my sight. Please.”

Her contemptuous gaze felt like sharp ice picks piercing holes through my entire body.

Even filthy refuse wouldn’t be looked at with such disdain.

“Kasallin. Don’t do this.”

As if your words no longer reached her ears, she thoroughly ignored you, packing her bag with resolute indifference.

“Kasallin. Are you really… really going to treat me like this?”

The single sentence I barely managed to utter toward her back as she climbed into the carriage bound for the Rnel Empire sounded pitifully desperate, even to myself.

In that moment, it truly felt as though tears I’d never shed in my lifetime were about to burst forth.

But she, whose blood and heart must surely be made of cold ice, trampled my feelings like rags and ultimately turned her back.

Even though the king of the great Khan Kingdom was casting aside all pride to hold her back.

What was so remarkable about her that she wouldn’t even give me a chance to start anew?

.

.

.

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty Shallen.”

At someone’s call, Shallen escaped the sweet yet cruel dream and returned to reality.

Inside the familiar bedchamber, adorned with a magnificent ceiling painting.

Maids were tying back the curtains, letting harsh sunlight flood the room, while Rose sat by the bedside, gently shaking the still half-asleep Shallen awake.

Seeing her long, curly hair swaying right before his eyes, Shallen briefly overlapped her with the Kasallin from his dream.

But as his senses returned, he realized it was not Kasallin, whom he chased in his dream, but Rose Riche.

“…Water, please.”

Shallen spoke with a hoarse voice, waving his hand vaguely in the air.

Rose quickly stood, poured a glass of water, and handed it to him.

Tormented all night by her phantom, his throat felt as parched as a midday desert.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

Rose didn’t know.

That her husband dreamed of her at least three or four times a week.

That those dreams endlessly repeated the moment she rode away in a carriage from the Robepon marquessate.

Yet Shallen had not the slightest desire to stop having those tormenting dreams.

To see her venomous gaze even in a dream, to touch the black hair swaying at her waist—it could hardly be called a nightmare anymore.

“Didn’t I say I’d wake up on my own?”

Shallen spoke in a curt tone, subtly pushing away Rose’s touch.

Despite everything, he knew in his mind that, as she carried the royal heir, he ought to treat her kindly for the time being, yet he wanted distance for now.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t resent Rose, but he didn’t want to sever their bond either.

The affection built over years doesn’t vanish overnight like ice melting after a harsh winter.

Still, he couldn’t fathom the source of this uneasy feeling that surged in his chest whenever he saw Rose’s face.

He wished she wouldn’t chatter unnecessarily unless it was essential, or come to him with trivial matters, seeking attention with coy gestures.

They were no longer newlyweds fresh from their vows; wasn’t it time to focus on their respective duties and quietly tend to their household?

“Have you had your regular checkup with the court physician?”

Shallen asked as he changed clothes with the maids’ assistance.

Rose, standing awkwardly to one side, forced a smile and nodded.

“Yes. They say the child is growing well.”

“Make sure to eat properly. You know this is the most critical time, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

Many things had changed.

When they were newly married, they couldn’t bear to be apart for a moment, clinging to each other like one body.

Now, they greeted mornings in separate beds.

Shallen had suggested it for convenience, citing their different schedules and sleeping habits.

The days of giggling at a mere glance and sharing love daily had become a distant memory.

“Very well. You may go now. I have a lot to do today. Let’s have dinner together later.”

Without fully checking Rose’s expression, Shallen hurried toward his study.

The chief steward of the palace, Count Aster, was waiting to deliver the morning report.

“I greet Your Majesty the King. Have you had a pleasant morning?”

When Shallen first appointed Aster as chief steward, it was merely to test him.

But over time, Shallen’s trust in him grew steadfast.

Aster was the epitome of a perfect aide.

He carried out every order swiftly and accurately, never hesitating, no matter how complex the directive.

Without needing to be told what was needed or where discomfort lay, he acted one step ahead.

Above all, the kingdom’s finances, which had been plummeting, were recovering thanks to Aster’s efforts—enough said.

“Well, you seem in particularly good spirits today.”

“Me, Your Majesty?”

“Something good must have happened. Or perhaps you’ve found a lady?”

At the playful jest to lighten the mood, Aster laughed heartily, saying it was an amusing remark.

“Where in the world would there be a woman who’d take a liking to a man like me?”

“Why not? To me, you lack nothing as a prime candidate for a husband. Your appearance is decent enough, you have grand ambitions like a true man, and you’re capable with plenty of boldness. What’s missing?”

“That’s exactly the problem. My ambitions and goals take precedence over everything, so I tend to put women second.”

“Women, you know, tend to admire men devoted to their work. If you’re open to it, I could introduce you to a fine match.”

“Are you trying to marry me off? I have high standards, you know.”

Aster responded jokingly, placing something on the desk.

It was an elegant envelope tied with a velvet ribbon.

“What’s this?”

“Just open it, and you’ll see.”

Shallen casually broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter inside.

As he read, the playfulness in his eyes vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock.

His breathing grew ragged.

Shallen slowly crumpled one corner of the paper, clenching and unclenching his fist in silence.

Then, as if to confirm what he’d just read was true, he carefully unfolded the letter and read it again.

“Miss Kasallin is to be formally crowned Empress this time. The Rnel Imperial Family has sent an invitation.”

Looking down at Shallen, still caught in a whirlwind of shock, Aster continued quietly.

“They plan to hold a grand engagement banquet and wedding at the end of early spring.”

“…”

“It says they request your attendance, but it’s merely a formal invitation. I’ll decline with a suitable excuse.”

“No. If she’s asking me to come, I must accept.”

Aster’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Your Majesty. Are you truly planning to go? This isn’t a heartfelt invitation…”

“Is there any reason I can’t go?”

“There’s no reason you can’t, but there are reasons you shouldn’t. Hardly any noble is unaware of the complicated history between Your Majesty and Miss Kasallin. Rumors spread like wildfire, growing more sensational, and they’ll only torment your heart.”

“Let them talk as they please. I need to see with my own eyes as she walks into the grave she’s dug for herself.”

“A grave she’s dug?”

Aster asked, puzzled.

Leaning against the window with both hands, Shallen gave a cold smirk.

“How long do you think her marriage will remain peaceful?”

“Well… I suppose it depends on how devoted they are to each other.”

“No. You’re wrong. It depends on when her brazen lies are exposed. She’s hiding the fact that she can’t bear children from Emperor Parnes. It’s obvious.”

One of Aster’s eyebrows arched upward, then slowly lowered.

“If that weren’t the case, there’s no logical reason Emperor Parnes would crown her Empress. Taking a woman who can’t produce an heir as the mistress of the imperial family? No one in their right mind would make such a choice. Don’t you agree?”

“Indeed.”

But if it’s that Emperor Parnes, he’s just mad enough to make such a choice.

You can tell by the look in his eyes.

How utterly besotted he is with her.

Swallowing his private thoughts, Aster slowly nodded, agreeing that His Majesty’s words were entirely correct.

“…This is this month’s share.”

Rose pulled an elegant pouch from her inner pocket and placed it down.

The heavy clink of gold pieces colliding always filled the heart with satisfaction.

Aster naturally untied the pouch, counting each piece, and soon gave a pleased smile.

“Received in full, Your Esteemed Majesty the Queen.”

“Despicable man…”

Trembling with humiliation, Rose stood from her seat.

“My business here is done. I’m leaving.”

“Your Majesty the Queen received an invitation as well, didn’t you?”

Rose’s steps slowed on the cold marble floor as she was about to leave.

It seemed he’d struck a nerve.

With a slightly apologetic smile, Aster took dried tea leaves from a canister and steeped them in hot water.

As the sweet yet bitter aroma of floral tea filled the room, Aster offered Rose a teacup.

Her gaze lingered on the delicate petals, battered and soaked, colliding within the round cup.

“How does it feel? To have lost your husband’s affection and seen your social reputation shattered, while your sister marries the world’s greatest man and becomes Empress?”

“…What are you trying to say?”

“His Majesty the King has accepted her invitation.”

“What?”

Rose’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

Stirring the tea with a spoon, Aster murmured.

“So, what will Your Majesty the Queen do now? Will you simply stand by and watch as His Majesty reunites with her?”