176. Don’t Go

2024.03.24.

After a wave of monstrous beasts swept through the entrance of the canyon, barely calming the chaos, Sir Muriel, who had been frantically searching for Bollonico, spotted Yuan collapsed upon the white snow and rushed toward her.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

He supported Yuan, nearly lifting her up as if embracing her.

The Crown Princess, twisting her body painfully and vomiting blood, looked terribly agonized.

“Are you all right? Please endure a little longer. Where did you part with the Prince?”

Looking around desperately for his master, he found no trace.

The face of one who had long carried the suffering of countless lives, now pouring out satisfaction upon the one who rightfully deserved to receive that suffering in return.

The radiant, ecstatic face of one who had once again ascended beyond the limits of their abilities.

***

The Beast Hunting Festival was held every winter in the ‘Valley of Hunters,’ known as the roof of the Empire.

It was a place where eternal snow blanketed the mountains and valleys, and strange thickets grown from land tainted by magical energy flourished between them.

This was the time of year when magical beasts, most active in winter, migrated south in large numbers beyond the valley in search of prey.

At this time, the Euphris Imperial Family held the hunting festival to eliminate the beasts and prepare for the coming spring—a crucial event.

As important as the Empire’s Founding Day, nobles from all over the nation arrived, carrying banners of every color.

Families invited by the Imperial House brought their private soldiers and gathered at the ‘Hunters’ Plaza’ beneath the valley, a site steeped in Euphris history. Families not invited could still apply to participate with a small number of individuals on a personal basis.

The winner of the competition usually received a modest estate, a title, or a single reasonable wish from the Imperial Family, so even fallen nobles clinging to a mere knighthood participated in great numbers.

Among this massive gathering this year were the brothers Clade and Marquis Rev.

The eve of the Northern Beast Hunting Festival.

Atop the highest platform in the Hunters’ Plaza.

The Emperor and Empress had personally traveled north to deliver the opening speech for the festival’s eve, when they received news of the disappearance of First Prince Bollonico.

Unlike the Empress, who was visibly startled, the Emperor remained silent, merely scanning the participants steadily arriving at the plaza.

He saw the colorful banners, the stern faces of the nobles, and Yuan, who should originally have stood behind Bollonico.

A faint smile appeared on his otherwise expressionless face.

When the Emperor’s gaze turned toward the Third Imperial Knight Division—responsible for guarding Bollonico—the group, including Yuan, knelt in unison.

Sir Muriel prostrated himself completely on the ground like a criminal.

“Sire! Execute me!”

“An unexpected beast attack,” the Emperor murmured, as if struggling to believe it.

Beasts, seemingly driven mad by magical energy, had surged into the canyon entrance and just as suddenly poured back out, witnesses from all around now confirmed.

In the blink of an eye, several attendees, led by Bollonico, had been severely injured or killed, and Bollonico himself had vanished.

Having heard the report once already, the Emperor now turned his gaze not to Muriel, but to Yuan, whose face remained eerily calm.

“How frightened you must have been,” the Emperor Igor said gently.

Empress Marilyn’s face stiffened at the Emperor’s unusually kind tone.

Still wearing the imposing armor of his youth, Emperor Igor approached his niece-in-law and personally comforted her.

“You must need comfort.”

The assembled attendees were greatly unsettled by these words. They alternated their gaze between the Empress Marilyn, now pale as a corpse, and Yuan, who rose holding the Emperor’s hand.

The Emperor calmly surveyed the surroundings as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.

“My sons do not die so easily. Do not worry about Bollonico—Solen Racha, the Captain of the First Knight Division, the pride of the North and my own sword, will find him. Prepare yourselves for tomorrow’s hunt.”

The crowd bowed their heads in unison.

Yuan looked up at the Emperor, who showed her nothing but boundless kindness. It was clearly a grave breach of etiquette, yet no one present seemed to care.

Perhaps they all already knew.

That Emperor Igor would comfort Yuan Pelliese, his nephew’s wife and his own son’s lover.

And that no matter how absurd and disgraceful the situation might be, no one could stop it.

When the Emperor quietly laughed and returned to the platform,

Yuan met Clade’s eyes across the plaza—eyes that were silently watching her among the crowd.

Unlike her, frozen in place, Clade’s face remained utterly calm, more composed than any noble present.

His noble and resolute features seemed impervious even to the sharp, biting northern wind.

Yuan instinctively turned her gaze away from the sight of that proud, beautiful man.

***

The Imperial family’s grand villa near the plaza.

Silence filled the lavish bedroom.

Tasha stood stiffly, attending to Yuan’s bath.

She had been sent personally by the Empress to assist Yuan with her grooming, yet she could not comprehend the current situation at all.

The countless nobles gathered at the plaza had remained silent, as if their eyes and ears were sealed shut.

Though Tasha had often heard tales of Emperor Igor’s conduct over the past decade, such matters had always seemed distant from her world.

She recalled Noel’s wide, disbelieving eyes and Eugene Kimfri’s rigid expression. And the Crown Prince himself, standing close to the Emperor.

She remembered how, after a brief pause staring at Yuan, he had bowed his head along with the others—she never saw his face beneath that lowered head.

His head never rose again, not even when the Emperor laughed heartily and walked away to his private quarters.

“I just don’t understand any of this?”

Tasha whispered, her face twisted in disbelief, as she helped dry Yuan’s wet body and applied fragrant oil to her dry back.

“This might sound reckless, but… run away now. I can help you escape to another country. You alone, Yuan. We’re close to the border anyway. Don’t worry about money. I’ll lend you a carriage if needed, and even my brother…”

The word “run” barely left her lips when Yuan’s small shoulders began to tremble.

Her soft laughter, as clear and bright as always, felt even more unnatural.

The Yuan before her no longer seemed like the Yuan she knew.

Her shoulders, trembling faintly at first, soon shook violently. A cough resembling nausea began.

Startled, Tasha wiped the oil from her hands and quickly rushed to Yuan.

The white towel used to dry her body was now filled with clots and streaks of blood.

Tasha stared down at the blood-soaked towel lying on the floor, her face frozen in shock.

Yuan, dressed in a light, gauzy dress like dragonfly wings, staggered to sit at the vanity. Tasha watched her through the mirror as she began, with great effort, to groom herself.

“The Empress is suffering.”

The hand coloring her pale cheeks flushed paused briefly, then continued. That stubborn motion made Tasha’s eyes flare.

“Yuan, why are you doing this? You hate it too, don’t you?”

“Thank you for everything until now.”

“What do you mean?”

Tasha froze completely at the voice, whispered as if speaking to someone she would never see again.

Yuan calmly finished her grooming, wiped a trace of blood from the corner of her lips, then quietly turned to meet Tasha’s gaze.

“I’ve never had a friend before. Having someone called a friend in my life made me happy. I’ve felt so many emotions I would have lived my whole life never knowing.”

“But what do you mean?”

“I’m glad it was you, Tasha. I’m glad it was Noel.”

“You keep saying things I don’t understand!”

“Our paths are different.”

At that soft yet firm voice, Tasha could only stare, speechless.

Yuan’s face looked fragile, as if near death; her transparent attire, damp hair, and artificially radiant complexion—everything was strange. Tasha was furious, yet somehow unable to express her anger. It was just… strange.

“But I’ll always support you. I truly hope you and Noel will be happy.”

“Will we never see each other again?”

“…”

“Hah.”

Yuan’s downcast eyes turned toward the bloodied towel on the floor.

The blood clots she coughed up grew larger, and she could feel her life force steadily draining away.

A few months? No, perhaps not even one more month. Her tightly clenched fist trembled.

She had endured until now, all for this moment—for a private audience with Emperor Igor.

What use was there now in clinging to the desire to live?

The brief peace, fleeting joy and happiness—today marked their end.

The best she could do was say the words she had never dared to say, so that those left behind would not regret her death.

“Do as you wish.”

Tasha, deeply hurt, gathered the grooming items—including the blood-stained towel—and opened the door.

“You’re not in your right mind, Yuan. Talk to me again tomorrow, at least.”

Tasha’s tearful voice soon faded beyond the closed door.

Alone in silence, Yuan casually wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks and turned back to the mirror.

Inside the mirror, a familiar yet unfamiliar woman stared back at her.

Perhaps this chance would come only once.

She never learned what truly happened in the Emperor’s bedroom.

But tonight, even if the Emperor did not embrace her, she must let him embrace her.

On the day she absorbed the suffering of animals from Bollonico’s paradise and freed them all, she had sent every seal taken from the opened cabinet back to its rightful owner. Perhaps the world after her death would fall into great chaos.

Among them, many would no longer fear Bollonico’s gaze and instead openly support Clade.

Yuan hugged her trembling body over and over, steadying herself.

Images of her final farewell with Tasha, and of Noel and Eugene, whom she hadn’t even properly said goodbye to, flashed suddenly into her mind, forcing her to bite her lip again and again.

It’s greed. It’s selfish.

She could not give everyone a farewell without regret.

Yuan rubbed her damp cheeks and raised determined eyes to meet her own reflection squarely in the mirror.

She painted her lips red. The elegant woman in the mirror wore a faint smile, like a mask.

Preparations were complete.

After swallowing the symptom-relieving medicine made by Enoch Pelliese, Yuan looked at the clock hanging on the wall with a composed face hiding her anxiety and rose from her seat.

Emperor Igor had kindly sent word that she could take her time, rest well, and prepare thoroughly before he arrived—but she was in a hurry.

Pulling a robe over her light, translucent dress, Yuan took several deep breaths before the door and grasped the handle.

And instantly froze.

Instead of the Emperor’s attendant, who should have been waiting patiently, another person stood there.

Clade—his face unnervingly calm, yet his eyes bloodshot as if about to burst.

“Don’t go.”

A pitifully trembling voice blocked her path.

“Don’t go, please.”