A shabby inn in the capital.

A man wearing a black robe burst breathlessly into the room.

Click, click, crackling—Gabriel, leaning sideways on the sofa beside the fireplace in the dimly lit room, asked the man.

“Brother, did you handle the task properly?”

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Vincent answered Gabriel’s question.

“Of course.”

Vincent flung off his robe and lay down on the bed.

“But… do you really think Celia will come back if we do as you said?”

“If her reputation is ruined, she’ll have nowhere else to go. Now that she’s been branded a witch, if no one else accepts her, won’t she walk back home on her own?”

Vincent swept back his disheveled hair and smirked.

“You seem to have been waiting for this day, don’t you? Anyway, how did you even find me here?”

“No matter how vast the capital is, it’s obvious where you’d be. You might save on lodging, but you never skimp on spending money on prostitutes.”

“…Not bad?”

What an idiotic brother.

Gabriel’s lips twitched faintly.

“But what about Brother Kane?”

Only then did Vincent recall his younger brother Kane’s existence.

He was so inconspicuous that Vincent hadn’t even noticed he’d been gone for days.

“I don’t know. Probably lurking somewhere, doing his creepy little things again.”

“Hmm.”

“What about you? Where’ve you been and what’ve you done? Why are the knights so frantic about arresting us?”

Gabriel shrugged.

“Celia must’ve personally asked her esteemed lover, Duke Calypso, to throw us into prison.”

“…What?”

“Otherwise, why would the knights try to imprison us when we’ve done nothing wrong? Don’t you agree, Brother?”

Vincent scowled in irritation.

“Damn it!”

He abruptly sat up from the bed and glared at Gabriel.

“If you and Mother hadn’t sent Celia to the palace in the first place, things wouldn’t have come to this!”

“…”

“Sending us off to a resort while selling Celia to the old emperor? Can you even call yourself her family after that?”

Family. At that word, Gabriel’s eyes turned cold.

“But you’ve never treated Celia as family either, Brother.”

“…”

“I saw it. One dawn, I saw you, half-naked, picking Celia’s door open and sneaking in.”

Vincent’s expression stiffened.

“You saw? When?”

“When Celia was still at the mansion. Probably on a rainy night.”

Vincent swallowed hard. He hadn’t known that Gabriel, like his father, was aware of what he’d done.

“Relax. I’m not blaming you. You were in the prime of your youth, after all.”

Gabriel smiled faintly. Vincent’s jaw trembled involuntarily.

“…You.”

“But I saw something strange. A little later, I saw you stumbling out of the room, dazed and half-dragged, your ankle gripped in Celia’s hand.”

At Gabriel’s words, Vincent narrowed his eyes.

He barely remembered anything from that dawn.

He recalled forcing his way into Celia’s room, overcome by lust, but everything after that was a blank.

And when he woke up, he was back in his own room.

It was strange, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone.

No matter how close they were, if word got out that he’d tried to violate Celia, he had no idea what accusations would follow.

“…Was what you saw really true?”

“Why would I lie to you? What would I gain from it?”

“Tell me properly. What else did you see?”

“Celia shoved you into your room and then staggered out into the corridor. Leaning against the wall to catch her breath, she eventually returned to her own room.”

Gabriel widened his eyes and added,

“Brother, isn’t that strange?”

“…What is?”

“Everything. Celia. Could she actually be a real witch, when you think about it?”

Popo, who had briefly lost control of her body to Arthur, soon returned to normal.

No longer shrieking about “female, female,” but trembling in fear, Popo was tightly embraced by Celia.

“It’s okay, Popo?”

At Celia’s words, Popo sobbed pitifully, calling out “Princess, Princess” over and over.

“I’ll never leave you alone again. I’m sorry, Popo.”

Feeling the comfort of Celia’s arms, Popo drifted into a deep sleep, still cradled in Celia’s embrace.

“Sleep well, Popo.”

Celia gently stroked Popo’s feathers and closed her eyes.

Dietrich gazed quietly down at Celia, who was sleeping with Popo nestled in her arms.

His hand gently brushed aside the strands of silver hair resting on Celia’s soft forehead.

There was never a moment’s respite—crisis always seemed to find Celia.

And this was even when she was with him. How had she endured when he wasn’t there?

Dietrich caressed her cheek.

‘If only I had met you a little earlier…’

He hadn’t even tried to search for her. On the day his homeland turned to ashes, everyone, himself included, had assumed all others were surely dead.

In truth, it could be said that Celia had been the one to find him.

Entering the emperor’s bedchamber despite her terminal illness, she had ultimately killed the emperor and revealed herself by using the hidden power she’d kept secret.

When Dietrich first met Celia, he had no idea she was his fiancée.

He simply thought her ability was somewhat useful.

Since she was going to die anyway, wouldn’t it be better to use her for his own cause?

That was his initial thought.

He whispered promises to protect her, binding her to his side.

He made no effort to understand her feelings.

Because she always smiled, the image of her silently weeping through nightmares felt alien to him.

– If I don’t take revenge, who will? Mother, Father… how can I face our people who died… I have to do this… with my own strength alone…

A wound that had festered and burst open.

The grief and the time she had endured alone.

Now, Dietrich truly wanted to protect Celia.

He wanted to hold her pain close.

– When everything is over, let’s travel together. Let’s go somewhere no one knows us, live freely, do everything we want, see everything we wish to see.

What Celia desired was an utterly ordinary life.

Originally, Dietrich had lived only for Abelon’s destruction.

But now, he dreamed of a future with Celia.

If she allowed it, he would immediately use his healing ability to fully restore her body.

“Anastasia.”

Dietrich softly called Celia’s real name.

Celia exhaled steadily, deeply asleep.

Visible through the thin negligee were red marks left by him.

Traces of his animalistic urgency, unable to restrain his boiling desire.

‘Thank goodness it was raining. Otherwise…’

Celia’s trembling form, responding to his every touch, wouldn’t leave Dietrich’s mind.

Her fluttering eyelids, her fresh emerald eyes filled only with him.

Not a single thing about her wasn’t endearing.

Dietrich withdrew the hand that had been caressing her cheek.

Instead, he kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

At that, Popo, nestled in Celia’s arms, fluttered her wings slightly.

Blinking a few times, Popo confirmed Celia was still asleep and then stilled her wings.

Frowning, Dietrich quietly gestured to Popo to stay quiet.

The clever Popo understood instantly and bobbed her beak up and down.

After confirming Popo had fallen asleep again, Dietrich carefully rose from Celia’s bedside.

Before him, as he opened the door, stood Sir Anderson.

Dietrich had sensed Anderson’s presence for a while—hesitating to knock, pacing anxiously outside the door.

Thud.

Closing Celia’s door behind him, Dietrich lowered his voice and asked Anderson,

“You have something to say to me?”

“Duke Calypso.”

Anderson’s Adam’s apple twitched as he spoke Dietrich’s title.

When Dietrich gestured for him to continue, Anderson lowered his gaze.

His face was cast in deep shadow, perhaps by the moonlight.

“…I have something urgent to discuss.”

“Something that can’t be said in the hallway?”

“Yes, it might take a while…”

Dietrich slowly closed and reopened his eyes.

“Very well.”

Dietrich entered the room right next to Celia’s sleeping chamber, with Anderson following closely.

The two sat facing each other across a solid wooden table placed in the center of the spacious room.

The flickering light of an oil lamp on the table illuminated their faces.

Anderson began to speak, his expression lost in memory.

“Being here like this reminds me of the first time I met you, Your Grace. I was a royal knight trusted by the late emperor, and you were just a stable boy in charge of the aging, sickly horses owned by the royal family.”

Dietrich corrected him gently.

“Anderson, I am no longer a duke. Ileon stripped me of my title.”

At Dietrich’s words, Anderson smiled softly.

In his youth, Anderson had unintentionally stolen many hearts, but even he couldn’t escape the relentless passage of time.

Though wrinkles lined his eyes and his hair had turned gray, traces of his former handsomeness remained clearly etched on his face.

“…Then I shall call you as I once did—my lord.”

“If that is your wish.”

Hearing Dietrich’s calm reply, Anderson allowed a gentle smile to touch his lips as he gazed at the flickering lamp.

“In my life, I’ve never once regretted a single thing—the day I began teaching you swordsmanship, the day I pledged myself to you, and every task you assigned me, which I carried out without ever questioning.”

Anderson shifted his gaze to Dietrich.

In Anderson’s dark eyes, as he looked at Dietrich, swam countless indescribable emotions.

“But now, there is one regret I cannot ignore.”

“…”

Dietrich remained silent.

Seeing Dietrich listen quietly, without asking what he regretted, tears welled up in Anderson’s eyes.

“Why didn’t I try harder to understand your heart earlier? I acted like a pitiful fool, unaware that you wished not for Abelon’s revival, but its destruction…”

A single tear finally rolled down Anderson’s cheek.

“I deeply regret having learned the truth through someone else’s words.”