The firewood in the old fireplace crackled and burned fiercely.

“It’s only a matter of time. Celia, branded as a witch, will return to us.”

Vincent, half-sprawled on a chair by the fireplace, flashed a crazed look in his eyes.

Gabriel, perched on the edge of the bed, pursed her lips.

It had been several days since Gabriel arrived at this shabby inn.

A creaking bed, an old fireplace, faded green curtains.

Having lived lavishly off the money from selling Celia to men, staying in such a place felt utterly uncomfortable.

“There’s no way Celia’s coming back. At least not to the viscount’s estate on her own.”

At Gabriel’s words, Vincent furrowed his brow.

“Didn’t you say that when Celia had nowhere else to go, she’d come back to us?”

Gabriel clicked her tongue.

“You believed that? Knowing what you did to her at night, you think she’d return to the viscount’s estate? With her temper, she’d sooner end her life.”

“…You!”

Vincent stood up and approached Gabriel.

With an angry face, he grabbed her by the collar.

“You deceived me, you vile thing!”

Gabriel burst into shrill laughter.

Stopping her laughter abruptly, Gabriel looked at Vincent and said,

“Brother, did you know? All the men shouting that Celia’s a witch secretly want to possess her.”

“…”

“You’re just one of countless men, like grains of sand in a desert. You’ll never have Celia forever.”

Vincent slapped Gabriel’s cheek hard.

Slap!

Gabriel’s head turned to the side from the sudden blow.

“I’ve known Celia the longest! What gives you the right to spew such nonsense?”

Vincent slapped Gabriel’s cheek again.

“If you hadn’t sold Celia to the palace while I was away, we wouldn’t be hunted by that damned imperial knight commander!”

Vincent raised his hand to strike Gabriel’s cheek again, but she was quicker, kicking him in a vital spot with her knee.

Excruciating pain washed over him.

“Agh!”

Vincent screamed and collapsed to the floor.

Gabriel, rising from the bed, grimaced at the sight.

“Not ashamed of lusting after a sister who doesn’t share a drop of your blood, but you take it out on me?”

“…!”

“If you were going to sneak into that wretched room, you should’ve done it properly. Useless and impotent, yet you dare hit my cheek.”

Gabriel, rubbing her slapped cheek, curled the corner of her mouth.

“All you know is whoring around, so you’re clueless, aren’t you? We’re all doomed. Because of Celia.”

Gabriel recalled the last time she met Dietrich.

It was a day when rain poured as if the sky had been torn open.

Soaked and trembling, she acted pitiful, but Dietrich’s gaze held not a trace of emotion.

A weed by the roadside, a pebble kicked by a foot, dust floating in the air…

His eyes on her were worth less than those.

Dietrich had even tried to throw her into prison.

She might have ended up not in this shabby inn but in a rat-infested cell.

Gabriel bit her lower lip until it bled.

Celia had Dietrich, something Gabriel could never have.

Despite barely escaping prison, her stomach ached with rage.

So, she took to the streets far from the palace, loudly proclaiming Celia a witch.

When she incited her family, the effect was doubled.

Whether Celia had any powers didn’t matter to Gabriel.

Celia, whom she always thought beneath her despite her pretty face, looking down on her from above was unbearably infuriating.

Gabriel spread the witch accusations, hoping Dietrich, mindful of public opinion, would abandon Celia.

It would be even better if Celia were tied to a stake and died in agony.

But things went the opposite of Gabriel’s wishes.

Far from abandoning Celia, Dietrich was imprisoning anyone who called her a witch.

The prisons were so full they could hold no more.

Gabriel realized Dietrich would never abandon Celia.

Only now, with things in such a mess.

“We’re doomed, brother.”

Gabriel muttered, looking down at Vincent writhing at her feet.

“Only us? All of Abelon will fall. The lecherous emperor will die, the crown prince will die, and even the clever new emperor from the Gredrick ducal family is missing…”

Vincent, kicked in a vital spot, seemed too consumed by pain to care.

“You’re too stupid to understand what I mean.”

“…Ga…briel!”

Vincent roared coarsely.

At that moment, the sound of multiple footsteps came from beyond the door.

The sound crossing the hallway stopped right at the door of Gabriel and Vincent’s room.

“430 Ventamin Street, the shabby inn with no sign and an old green roof. We searched rooms 302 and 303, but no one was there.”

At Sir Anderson’s report, Dietrich narrowed his eyebrows.

“Any signs of people?”

“The firewood in the fireplace was still warm, and the room was in disarray.”

Dietrich looked coldly at the unconscious Viscount Brillion.

“They either fled quickly or someone nearby got to them first. Lock this one up somewhere he can’t escape.”

“Understood.”

Dietrich slowly closed and opened his eyes, continuing,

“Any news from Ileon?”

“No, none. We’ve searched every likely place in the capital, but where could they be hiding… The Portman ducal side is quiet too. Could they be working together?”

“Probably. They’re both from the three ducal families, so they’d have some connection.”

Despite searching all day, no clue about Ileon’s whereabouts was found.

Dietrich and Celia returned to a mansion in the palace to discuss future plans.

Celia, having removed her armor, entered the bathroom to wash.

Splash.

Soaking in a round tub of hot water eased her stifled feelings.

Knock, knock.

Startled by a knock on the bathroom door, Celia turned toward it.

“It’s me.”

At Dietrich’s voice, Celia relaxed her guard.

“…What’s the matter?”

“Is the bathwater too hot?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Anything uncomfortable?”

Celia thought Dietrich was overly protective.

Of course, the journey here had been full of twists and turns.

Celia looked down at her body.

Her fair skin was mottled with reddish marks from Dietrich’s touch.

The Dietrich who once pushed her to the brink of fainting seemed unlike the man who used to look at her bare body without a change in expression.

“Would you prefer if I were uncomfortable?”

Celia asked, narrowing her eyes, and an immediate reply came from beyond the bathroom.

“No. I want you to always be at ease.”

“…”

“No one should threaten you, and I hope all misfortune passes you by.”

Celia felt warmth in her chest.

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to join you.”

At Dietrich’s words, Celia glanced at the tub. The marble tub was large enough for two with room to spare.

“Come in.”

Only after Celia’s permission did Dietrich enter the bathroom.

He wore a robe that revealed his bare upper body.

His firm chest muscles and well-defined abs were visible.

Celia realized she had completely fallen for Dietrich.

Meeting her gaze, Dietrich smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling.

“You planned to come in from the start, didn’t you?”

Celia said, sinking deeper into the tub, and Dietrich replied casually,

“Yup.”

Dietrich rubbed rosemary soap in his hands, creating foam.

“I’ll wash you. Give me your arm.”

Celia entrusted herself to Dietrich.

The foam from his hands spread from her arm to every part of her body.

Celia gazed quietly at Dietrich as he carefully soaped her entire body.

How wonderful it would be to fully enjoy this moment without worry.

This anger and anxiety would only vanish after Ileon, who destroyed her kingdom, and this wretched Abelon Empire were gone.

Even now, Ileon was likely scheming something sinister.

Noticing Celia’s troubled expression, Dietrich met her eyes and smiled gently.

“Celia, I’ll make everything you want come true. So don’t worry too much.”

At Dietrich’s reassuring words, Celia smiled brightly.

“You’re right. Instead of wasting time worrying about things that haven’t happened, I should make the most of this moment with you.”