Elise checked Jane’s face several times.

Her face turned pale as if she had seen a ghost.

The low voice that came out soon had a trembling that was uncharacteristic of a duchess.

“That woman……”

Unable to continue speaking, she eventually covered her mouth.

Clearly, the woman on the stretcher was a face she knew.

The platinum blonde hair flowing luxuriantly, the long eyelashes, the uniquely pure atmosphere……

Although there were clear bloodstains on her face, Elise could be certain.

That woman was undoubtedly the ‘Rose’ her husband had been searching for so desperately.

To think that the woman her husband, Duke Deviron, had been pining for so long was right here in the capital.

Moreover, that this woman was the birth mother of Yuriel, the wench who had seduced her son.

Elise was dumbfounded.

It would be more correct to say that the situation was so dubious that she doubted how such a crude coincidence could occur.

However, the puzzle pieces fit perfectly.

‘The emerald eyes possessed by the wench named Yuriel must also be embedded in that woman’s eyes.’

Such words were written in her husband’s diary that she had peeked at one day in his drawer.

That he wished he could be reflected in those emerald eyes as beautiful as the deep sea, even just once.

Suddenly, Yuriel’s face, which she had thought resembled that woman, flashed quickly through Elise’s mind.

‘I should have noticed then….’

Was it a mistake to have overlooked it so carelessly?

Elise’s hand clenched into a tight fist.

As anger began to consume her, the carriage arrived at its destination.

Normally, she should have gotten off there to leave the medicine and persuade Yuriel, but Elise instructed to depart again immediately.

The interior of the carriage returning to the Blanchet mansion was filled with nothing but silence.

Deep wrinkles settled between Elise’s brows.

The clear-faced mother and daughter circled her mind like a calamity.

Taking the medicine she had been holding, she strode purposefully towards the fireplace.

The medicine instantly turned to ashes, burning pitch black.

There was not even the slightest movement at the end of Elise’s gaze as she watched this scene.

Only after seeing the medicine burn completely without a trace did she move again.

As she was passing through the garden, she raised her hand, leaving the guards there and walking alone towards the warehouse.

Soon, the warehouse came into Elise’s view.

Pulling the door handle with a click, she quietly looked at the unremarkable warehouse and lit a fire.

A bright and hot light cast shadows over the dark space, making them flicker.

After setting fire to the wood, she quietly watched the flames spread and grow larger, then poured oil onto it.

After watching the spreading flames, she quickly fled from there.

Elise’s face as she left the warehouse was calm.

As if nothing had happened.

Several servants soon rushed to the space where smoke was rising, followed by urgent murmurs.

Despite the noisy sounds, Elise didn’t look back even once as she strode towards the garden.

Returning to her room after passing through the corridor, Elise quietly gazed at the smoke rising in the distance.

The blackened and collapsed warehouse would have disappeared without a trace.

The fate of that wench’s birth mother would be the same.

It would probably burn forever in her husband’s heart, but that was no longer Elise’s concern.

She had given up on such things long ago.

All that mattered was for Yuriel, the wench blocking her son’s path, to disappear.

Elise had completely changed her mind about not caring whether he took a mistress or not.

She couldn’t allow Yuriel, if nothing else.

The scene she had passed by outside the carriage window flashed through Elise’s mind.

Yuriel, clinging to her mother with a terribly shocked face and whimpering, that wench would never be able to properly face her son.

She wouldn’t be such a ridiculous wench as to take the hand of the man who killed her mother.

Unlike the expectation that it would be a long war, the flags of the Lisetium Pantheon Empire were planted faster than expected in various places.

As more territories were subjugated, the steps of the Pantheon army progressed more solemnly than ever, and morale was sky-high.

The Nortens Gorge, which was occasionally visited by the rainy season, boasted a blue and clear sky as if cheering for Pantheon’s victory.

Everyone knew that at the foundation of all this was the well-disciplined Blanchet army and Cassian’s excellent strategy in commanding them.

At the very least, anyone who participated in this battle had to agree with that.

Young Lord Cassian’s foresight, which seemed to grasp and penetrate everything in advance to the point of wondering how he knew, elicited admiration from the nobles.

They couldn’t simply stop at admiration.

The way he thrust his sword into traitors with an indifferent face carried an intimidating presence like that of a grim reaper crossing the river of death.

He overwhelmed his surroundings just by walking, and even his breathing was extraordinary.

Despite the participating nobles being of an older age group, everyone held their breath in front of him.

Even those who initially distrusted him soon began to acknowledge and follow Cassian.

“Indeed, blood doesn’t lie.”

“As expected of the bloodline of Blanchet. To think each and every word carries such weight.”

“From the previous traitor issue, and now… how did he know there would be an ambush in this gorge?”

“In any case, he’s clearly an extraordinary person.”

Opinions circulated among the nobles, completely opposite to when they first entered the gorge.

The only one frowning among them was Westernroad, the head of the Peridot family.

Recently, when he visited Cassian’s tent, he had to hear a simple but clear refusal.

From Westernroad’s perspective, it was something he said using his own wits.

Piocel hadn’t given him any direct hint about the situation, and naturally, Westernroad expected that much would be accepted by him.

However, Cassian, who just nodded curtly, never wore that handkerchief the next day, or the day after.

As if ignoring even the gesture of goodwill.

Everything he had done, even swallowing his pride, was trampled under that man’s feet.

Westernroad observed Cassian today as well, entering the tent indifferently without wearing anything.

Although he thought the rush to war surely had something to do with the marriage issue with his daughter.

It seemed that such things were not in his consideration at all.

Westernroad recalled a letter that came to him this morning.

Although it was an anonymous letter, he immediately recognized the sender.

Count Alton.

When the Count boasted a fairly good position in Blanchet, Westernroad had exchanged with him several times.

Of course, there was no particular meaning to it.

It was just that they were in the same social club, so they had exchanged greetings a few times, that was all.

Anyway, the Count Alton he knew was quite a sly person.

It meant that while he wasn’t someone who kept faith, he would be a perfect match if their interests aligned.

Westernroad also knew why Count Alton had reached out to him directly, risking danger.

In his position of being pushed to the periphery, overshadowed by a young heir, he probably wanted to raise his standing within the family and be reinstated by grabbing onto his hand.

If it were before, Westernroad would never have taken his hand. But at this point, his thoughts had changed.

He stared at Cassian while inwardly holding a knife.

The afternoon’s schedule ended as usual with the generals’ reports being laid before the expressionless Cassian.

Despite several pieces of news that should have been quite pleasing, Cassian didn’t show even a flicker of expression.

He just nodded slightly, and when the generals’ reports were over, he stood up.

At that moment, Tiobe quickly entered and prostrated himself before Cassian.

“The Kingdom of Nortens has surrendered.”

The kingdom’s flag held in Tiobe’s hand was transferred to Cassian’s.

As he raised the flag, the generals let out a unanimous cheer.

The steps of the generals facing their return were lighter than ever.

Tiobe, who was watching their departing figures with excitement, was happily organizing the luggage when he received a report and froze on the spot.

He quickly moved his steps and hurriedly headed towards Cassian.

Nothing remained in Cassian’s neatly arranged tent.

Because of that, only the toy-like object hanging from his fingertips caught the eye.

With a click, a woman’s voice leaked from the hawk that bounced off his fingertips.

Whispering words of love, it looked like a talking teddy bear that only children would play with, completely unsuited to him.

Cassian’s red gaze, which had been flickering as if lost in thought, only lifted when Tiobe approached right in front of him.

“What’s the matter?”

Tiobe’s movements were urgent, unlike usual.

A deep trembling was engraved in the gaze that met his.

“It’s… a big problem.”

A big problem in a situation facing the end of the war.

“Is there an issue at the entrance of Nortens?”

“No. It’s not that……”

The words that the pale Tiobe barely spat out were unexpected, deviating from Cassian’s expectations.

“They say there was a fire in Blanchet’s Warehouse No. 1.”

“A fire?”

Tiobe hurriedly continued his report towards Cassian, who frowned.

“It’s said to have been completely burned down with nothing left.”

“……!”