Boom!

A tremendous explosion rang out.

Celia shut her eyes against the piercing tinnitus, then opened them again.

What followed was the sight of Dietrich blocking Arthur’s attack head-on with his sword.

The blade of mist blooming from Arthur’s hand reached toward Dietrich’s throat.

But just before it could, Dietrich moved one step faster, swinging his sword to cleave Arthur in half—forcing Arthur to halt his attack and leap far backward.

As a result, the hood covering Arthur’s face slipped off due to the recoil, fully exposing his bare features.

Pale skin, as if never touched by sunlight, and sharp golden eyes came into view.

“…So it’s you, Duke Servantes.”

Recognizing him, Dietrich furrowed his brow.

“You were the one who murdered the imperial family.”

Instead of denying it, Arthur grinned wickedly.

“So the Sword Master is real after all.”

Arthur’s golden eyes repeatedly dilated and contracted like a serpent’s.

“Your Grace, Duke Calypso!”

Sir Anderson drew his sword and rushed to support Dietrich.

Arthur glanced at him with irritation.

“…I really hate men.”

Muttering softly, Arthur turned his head and stared at Celia.

His long silver hair, reaching down to his waist, fluttered and danced in the light breeze.

Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gazed at Celia.

Arthur felt an intense urge to preserve Celia forever inside a sealed room.

To bind her delicate wrists and make her sing only for him.

His eyes, fixed on Celia, grew thick and sticky like a swamp.

Under that persistent gaze, Celia finally looked back at Arthur.

Merely meeting his eyes made Arthur shiver violently.

“Arthur Servantes, you will face a three-day trial for suspicion of royal assassination. At that time, the imperial court ministers and the other two dukes may also attend. The trial will be conducted fairly.”

As if not hearing Dietrich’s words at all, Arthur’s gaze remained locked on Celia.

He blinked as if even that were a waste, staring at her with bloodshot eyes.

Celia turned her eyes away from Arthur. Only then did Arthur roll his eyes toward Dietrich.

“Me? On trial? By what right?”

“By the authority of the Captain of the Imperial Knights.”

“Hey.”

Arthur thrust his neck forward toward Dietrich.

His gaze swept over Dietrich’s black hair, red eyes, and high nose bridge in turn.

After observing Dietrich for a moment, Arthur smirked.

“You’re not from Abelon, are you?”

“…”

“What exactly are you? How can someone not born in Abelon become the Captain of the Abelon Imperial Knights?”

Dietrich stared back with an emotionless expression.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you just spouting nonsense because you don’t want to face trial?”

“No one can put me on trial. Not even a god could judge me.”

“Anderson, take Duke Servantes away. Send him to the tribunal.”

Anderson nodded.

The moment Anderson grabbed Arthur’s wrist, Arthur’s body melted like liquid, collapsing limply.

“What in the world…?”

Anderson made a strange sound, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Dietrich pressed his forehead and said,

“We’ve been completely tricked.”

“Tricked, my lord?”

Anderson looked at his master with confusion.

Dietrich glared at the remaining liquid residue and muttered,

“The duke was never here to begin with. This was merely his clone.”

“Clone?”

At Anderson’s question, Dietrich murmured lowly,

“Yes. He sent this clone to test my full strength.”

Arthur, fiddling with a black earring, frowned.

“…Surprisingly clever fellow.”

When he stopped touching the earring, the vivid scene before his eyes vanished without a trace.

At the same time, Balt sat before him, wearing a terrifying expression.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing sneaking into my palace? Get out.”

Balt gestured toward the door with his chin, clearly annoyed.

“Let’s help each other, Balt. Unlike Ileon, you’re actually decent.”

Arthur placed his hands together like a flower and smiled sweetly, making Balt scowl.

“Get lost. Fuck off. You and that bastard are the same to me. Locked up in your sealed room for years without coming out.”

“What do you know! Can a muscle-headed brute like you understand my passion for beauty?”

Arthur shouted furiously. Balt scratched his ear and raised his middle finger.

“Leave nicely now, before I slice your face off.”

“I just got some good intel. Want me to tell you one piece?”

At Arthur’s words, Balt narrowed his eyes.

“If it’s pointless, you’ll die.”

“You know Dietrich, right? That man.”

Arthur lowered his voice further as he continued.

“He’s not from Abelon.”

“…What?”

Balt raised one eyebrow.

“I’m an absolute genius, you see—I can read a person’s unique vibration and scent. His was extremely strange. Pitch-black. Dark. Now that I think about it, my Celia’s was the same.”

“?”

Balt didn’t understand why Arthur was calling Celia “mine,” but since Arthur was never sane to begin with, he decided to pretend he hadn’t heard it.

“…Tell me more details.”

“Then, in exchange, let me stay here.”

“Fuck it, fine.”

Arthur, having achieved his goal, grinned wickedly.

Celia looked at Dietrich.

Dietrich had remained completely silent all the way back to the mansion.

His expression was unchanged, but Celia, who had been nearly inseparable from him, immediately sensed that his mood was far from good.

The fact that he had forgotten even to maintain their fake lover act and was lost in thought suggested he was replaying the recent events in his mind.

Entering the mansion corridor, Celia took Dietrich’s hand.

Only then did Dietrich, deep in thought, turn to look at her.

“…Will brooding bring answers?”

Celia said, placing her hand over his.

“Sorry. I’ve been too absorbed in my own thoughts.”

“We’re in the same boat. You don’t have to bear it alone.”

Celia gave him a smile.

The corners of her eyes curved gently, and a faint warmth spread across her face.

Dietrich silently watched Celia smile.

With the hand not linked to hers, he gently stroked her hair.

Her soft silver strands wound around his fingers before slipping away.

It felt as though pure white snow had briefly rested in his palm before vanishing—filling Dietrich with unease.

He couldn’t understand why he felt so restless, or where this restlessness came from.

Dietrich felt the need to clearly define what Celia meant to him.

An ally.

Nothing more, nothing less—that’s what he believed.

But then, why did he feel a twisting in his gut when Arthur’s clone looked at Celia with eyes tangled in possessive desire?

That emotion felt excessive even to himself—more than what one should feel for a mere collaborator.

Even if she had once been his fiancée, Celia was, to him, merely someone to be used.

So why?

“Dietrich? What’s wrong?”

At the sound of Celia’s voice, Dietrich finally snapped back to reality.

Instead of revealing his inner turmoil, he changed the subject.

“I must bring Duke Arthur Servantes to trial.”

“You have to do it yourself? Can’t someone else handle it?”

“There’s no one else. And besides…”

Dietrich trailed off.

“The three dukes will coordinate their stories in advance. Even if brought to trial, he’s likely to be released.”

“Then why insist on the trial?”

“Because that’s the only moment when all three dukes will be gathered in one place.”

Celia gave a slight nod, as if understanding.

“I’ll ensure he’s brought to trial. When that time comes, use your ability. Can you do it?”

“I’ll try.”

At Celia’s reply, Dietrich turned and said,

“And from today, we’ll sleep separately.”

“…”

“Since we’re not real lovers, sharing a room must be uncomfortable for you too.”

Contrary to his words, Celia didn’t find sleeping with him uncomfortable.

In fact, it was comforting. Whether because he possessed a healing ability or not, she could sleep deeply and peacefully.

But since Dietrich seemed uneasy about sleeping with her, Celia didn’t try to stop him.

“Alright.”

“…If there’s anything to discuss, I’ll come to your room.”

With that final remark, Dietrich turned and walked up the stairs.

Left alone in the corridor, Celia realized Dietrich was drawing a line between them.

‘After being constantly together, am I actually feeling regret now?’

Celia laughed bitterly to herself.

From the beginning, Dietrich had only spared her life to use her.

If it was a mistake to believe, even for a moment, that he had protected her without expecting anything in return, then so be it.

Without even realizing it, she had become completely dependent on him.

The way he personally fed her food, the gentle look he gave her unlike how he treated others.

How he never hesitated to place his mouth over her wounds to heal her.

—…Are you okay?

That cautious voice asking if she was alright.

She had believed it all to be genuine.

‘I almost got fooled.’

Celia smiled silently.

She knew better than anyone that the only one she could trust was herself.

Yet, because Dietrich didn’t desire her like other men did, she had unknowingly expected too much.

Because they shared the same goal, she had foolishly assumed he was like her.

But that was impossible.