It was a strange thing to say.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been an incomprehensible and unbelievable nonsense that one would repeatedly question and view with suspicion.

But strangely, at this moment, not even a single doubt arose. Merche unconsciously muttered under her breath.

“What I must do…”

[You, who were born with an inescapable destiny.]

Splash-! The fierce sound of waves, as if heard before, resounded in her head.

[Dominate.]

The sound of the waves intensified with each exhale and inhale.

Overwhelming all distractions and reason, paralyzing even the smallest nerves, the violent stream of water that had grown in size rushed through her entire body.

Merche slowly rose to her feet.

Even though until just a moment ago, it had been difficult to move even a single finger due to the pain, there was no hesitation in sitting up straight as if it had never happened.

“Grrrr…”

Shakar bristled its black fur.

Iller, who had been quietly observing Merche, also held his breath and waited for the moment to come.

Before long, Merche had completely straightened her body and turned around.

Where her light-filled blue gaze fell, a man riding a black wolf like her had stopped.

[This is the timeline separator]

“…Merche.”

The snowfall was heavy enough to obstruct the view.

The pitch-black darkness and the contrasting pure white snowflakes, and within it, he faced Merche.

At this moment, neither the bone-chilling cold nor the wolf’s frightened whimpers could stimulate his senses.

What bound and stimulated Rude more intensely than those things was solely Merche, that woman over there.

Merche. His companion who had abandoned him and ran away.

The woman he would never forget, engraved in his eyes until the moment of death, raised her head with utmost elegance.

The moment their eyes met, there was an overwhelming sense of intimidation that made his stomach churn, but he dismissed it as his own delusion.

It was the end anyway. He had been running day and night, relentlessly pursuing Merche without even a wink of sleep.

That was also the reason why the pursuit team sent by Genovefa could not catch up with him.

With that sluggish speed, there was no way she could ever escape from him.

With that conviction, the moment he was about to move the wolf to approach Merche.

“Stop.”

Just a word. It was nothing more than a monotonous voice that did not sound like an order in any way.

But with just that single utterance, his entire body froze as if suppressed.

The strange phenomenon was not limited to just that.

Other soldiers and knights, even the wolves, were unable to breathe properly and stood frozen in place.

Rude instinctively sensed the cause of this absurd situation.

It was Merche. Her command to stop had literally made everyone ‘stop’.

Although it could not be explained in words and had no visible form, some kind of intangible force was felt, forcing his movement.

It was a force that was difficult to resist and even induced fear.

However, it was still clumsy.

Through his instincts, he realized that this unidentified force was not entirely complete and perfect.

If he struggled, albeit with difficulty, he could move.

Trusting his senses, Rude exerted force to the point of numbness in his body and resisted. Slowly but surely, his stopped feet began to move forward.

“Merche!”

Desperately calling out, he grabbed Merche, who had turned her back. He shouted with all his might, to the point where the veins in his neck bulged.

The pressure weighing down on his body was still considerable, but the more he rebelled, the weaker the restraining force binding him became.

Then at one point, Rude began to run.

Unable to ride the wolf, he ran with his own two feet. Burning with determination, spite, and obsession, he ran as if he had lost his mind.

Noticing his sprint, Merche, who had been indifferent all along, turned around once more.

From a closer distance than before, Merche’s blue eyes captivated Rude even more vividly.

“Rude.”

No, this won’t do. Swallowing the unfinished curse in his mouth, he brutally persevered.

But in the end, his legs buckled, and his knees touched the ground.

Again. That damn force was crushing his body.

Gritting his teeth, he rebelled like a madman.

Clenching his jaw so hard that he cut his own flesh with his teeth, a faint taste of blood lingered.

“Merche! Please, stop right there… Right now!”

Don’t go. Please stay by my side.

The words that came out of his mouth were all such pleas and threats.

It was the most familiar and utterly natural and proper way for Rude.

But only with Merche, it did not work on her.

It was as if Merche was whispering in Rude’s ear.

This won’t do. Your way is wrong.

The sand slipped through his fingers.

No matter how much he struggled to hold on, thrashing and writhing. In the end, nothing remained in his grasp.

Mine. My possession that I must have. Merche, you are my companion.

He glared at Merche with bloodshot eyes. Merche, looking at Rude like that, slowly blinked.

It was then. The color that had been absent from Merche’s face at some point seeped in, and a smile like a gentle wave bloomed within.

Rude gazed at that lovely thing that was tearing him apart, unable to take his eyes off.

“You still don’t understand. You have no qualification or right to force me.”

So Rude.

“Don’t give me orders.”

The pursuit was called off not long after.

By Genovefa’s order to avoid wasteful efforts that would be useless even if they died, all pursuit teams returned to the castle without any success.

Gone was the sight of him thrashing like a crazed colt, and Rude’s vigor upon returning from the failed pursuit was utterly quiet.

The servants attending to him were simply delighted, but his appearance of locking himself in his room without a word was ominously and eerily unpleasant.

Only Elizabeth, who noticed this, hastily sought out her son to check on his condition.

“Your complexion is dark. …I see, Rude. Are you in despair for failing to catch Merche in the end?”

At the mention of Merche’s name, the submerged pupils flared up like a burning flame.

“…Merche…”

What was it, that damned power?

Merche had gained some strange ability.

It made it impossible for Rude to force her, and conversely, it forced Rude.

“If you want Merche to return to you, there is only one way, Rude. Push aside your father and rise to the position of the family head. Become strong enough that no one can ignore you.”

Elizabeth’s hand brushed over Rude’s hair.

Her son. The child who clearly could not live without Merche, already distorted beyond repair.

In the end, Elizabeth was a selfish mother.

To save her son, she could utter any lie without hesitation.

“If you become so noble that everyone has no choice but to acknowledge you, Merche will also look back at you.”

“If I become the family head. If I kill that bastard and take his place, then.”

Suddenly, Rude opened his dry lips. His eyes, soaked in twisted desire, shimmered and flashed strangely.

“How strong can I become? Can I make anyone I want kneel before me?”

She won’t return to me of her own accord anyway, so that’s how it is in the end.

It’s a problem that can only be resolved by dragging her back by force.

He no longer expected Merche to return to him of her own volition.

So, to bring her back by force, he needed power, no matter what.

How could he turn his father into a corpse as soon as possible and claim that position for himself?

“My clever mother… My mother who loves me endlessly…”

Rude knelt before Elizabeth, letting out a vulgar, low laugh. What couldn’t he do?

If this woman paved the way for him and at the end of that path lay the answer to snatch Merche, then yes. That was enough.

He was always ready to expose his belly and pant like a loyal dog.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Target, entered the Venenum main castle.”

“Venenum succession dispute concluded. Carla Venenum appointed as the successor. Target’s well-being, no issues.”

“Target, registered as a branch of Venenum. Well-being, no issues.”

–
–
–
“Ardor successor scheduled to visit Venenum main castle. Marriage proposal sent to the target. Well-being, no issues.”

Clang!

The silver cutlery flew onto the plate with a sharp, shattering sound.

It was quite an ear-piercing commotion.

Even so, not a single person among the servants waiting to attend the meal showed any agitation.

Half a year ago, since Rude had newly become the head of the Lupinus family, such large and small commotions had become common in this castle.

Those who initially trembled with trepidation had come to dismiss it as ‘the chronic ailment of the lord’ over time, well aware of his foul temper at a glance.

Having just shattered the tableware like a madman in the middle of a meal, Rude picked up a napkin with a nonchalant face as if nothing had happened.

“Call the butler.”

The order was concise and short.

By the time he had wiped his mouth with the soft cloth, the butler, who had been running with all his might to the point of breaking his legs, barely caught his breath and bowed his head.

“Did you call for me, my lord?”

“Prepare for a trip to Venenum.”

“Yes. Understood.”

To avoid incurring the wrath of the lord who disliked being questioned, the answer always had to be affirmative and agreeable.

Once an order was given, it was to be followed; that was the absolute rule of this castle.

“I heard you decided to go to Venenum.”

Elizabeth never lost her temper with her son.

She had personally learned over the past year that such petty education or discipline was as useless as a passing insect.

Instead, she gently probed Rude’s intentions.

“What do you intend to do?”

“Mind your own business. Just spend money lavishly and quietly buy and hoard dresses.”

Although it was clearly a provocative remark, surprisingly, it was quite a gentle response from Rude.

Watching Rude instruct the servants to do this and that, Elizabeth thought of her husband, who would be rolling around as a rag in the basement by now.

As soon as Rude surpassed his father’s power, he pulled down Genovefa without a moment’s delay.

No matter how much Genovefa struggled and flailed, it was to no avail.

Rude, whom Elizabeth had personally taught and raised, had grown splendidly and eliminated everything that could have supported his father.

Her once so despicable companion. The husband she had vowed to trample miserably someday, her son had personally crushed him.

Considering the merits of such a son, it would be alright to offer a piece of advice.

“Propose to Merche, darling.”