After finishing her words, the Empress rose from her seat and walked toward the window.

A breeze drifted in through the slightly opened window, causing the feather ornament pinned in her hair to sway gently.

Edan’s expression darkened as he watched her back.

The artificial smile he had maintained until now had vanished.

“The Emperor wishes for a friendly relationship with the Eastern Empire. Do you understand what that implies?”

Ignoring Edan’s silence, the Empress gazed serenely at the garden beyond the window, wearing a tranquil smile.

“It’s fortunate, really. The Eastern Empire happened to have Princess Ciela in their custody, and they’ve proposed her as your marriage partner.”

The moment the princess’s name was spoken, Edan’s brow twitched for the first time.

Though the Empress faced away from Edan, staring out the window, she could predict his reaction without seeing it—and smiled even wider.

“Though she was held hostage from the defeated kingdom, she’s not an unsuitable match for a Grand Duke.”

A bastard, or a pitiful princess from a fallen kingdom.

The Empress’s muttered whisper brushed past Edan’s ears like a slap.

“Now she’s officially elevated to Imperial Princess—there’s nothing lacking in her status. Therefore, you must marry Princess Ciela.”

Turning around abruptly, the Empress spoke with resolute finality, as if refusal were utterly unthinkable.

Seeing Edan’s hardened expression, she accepted a rolled letter from her handmaiden.

Click-clack. Standing confidently before Edan, she extended the letter toward him.

“You owe me this much, at least, after all I’ve done to raise you.”

Her violet lips, brimming with delight, twisted upward in a revolting smirk.

Edan’s gaze fell upon the neatly rolled parchment.

The deep brown scroll was tightly bound with a crimson ribbon.

“I believe I’ve already repaid you in full,” Edan replied.

Instantly, the Empress’s eyes turned icy cold as she snapped her fan shut with a sharp clap.

At that signal, the maids and servants bowed in unison—as if rehearsed—and swiftly exited the room.

Thud. The moment the door shut firmly, the scroll dropped to the floor, followed by a sharp sound echoing through the reception room.

Slap—!

The Empress struck Edan’s cheek with the handle of her fan. His previously flawless cheek reddened with a dull thud. Yet Edan remained motionless, standing firmly in place without the slightest tremor.

“Must be your mother’s influence. You’re utterly repulsive.”

The Empress glared fiercely at Edan’s flushed cheek.

Edan, numb as if accustomed to this, opened his mouth indifferently.

“If this diplomacy is so vital, perhaps it should be entrusted to my elder brother—”

“How dare you even speak that word—‘brother’!”

Before he could finish, the Empress’s fan struck Edan’s cheek again.

Edan didn’t dodge; his lip grazed the fan’s decorative handle and split open, bleeding.

A hollow chuckle escaped through his slightly parted lips.

“I didn’t give you a choice. That was merely to remind you of your position.”

“Yes. Of course.”

It had always been this way. Edan lowered his empty gaze to the tip of the Empress’s fingernails.

He recalled those nails from the day he’d been banished to a corner of the Imperial Palace as a child.

Perfectly manicured, unnaturally white—as if never touched by even a drop of water—and adorned with lavish decorations plated in real gold. Even then, he’d thought:

Unlike my mother, the true Empress—born noble from birth—even her fingernails reeked of arrogance.

The Empress hadn’t changed one bit since then.

“Princess Ciela will arrive soon. It’s a ceremonial visit, but receive her properly.”

“…….”

“I hear she still desires marriage with you after all these years. Now that she’s an Imperial Princess of the Eastern Empire, ensure her attention doesn’t wander elsewhere.”

With an irritated sigh, the Empress tossed her fan aside and turned her back to Edan.

The dangling fan ornament jingled faintly as it tumbled to the floor, rolling away with a clatter.

Imperial Princess of the Eastern Empire…?

It was such an absurd lie, it wasn’t even worth a hollow laugh.

Though prettily worded, her status in the Eastern Empire was nothing of the sort.

It was obvious: after her kingdom’s defeat, she’d been taken hostage and later adopted merely to be used for such political schemes. Surely, this marriage wasn’t requested by her own will. That’s simply how empires interact. Diplomacy through marriage held no special meaning—it was merely one of the common methods.

‘Better to abandon everything and run away.’

Edan recalled his last conversation with Ciela, long buried in memory.

Those were the words he’d spoken to her. Of course, even as he’d said it, he fully expected she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—do it. But he never imagined they’d become entangled like this again.

When Killian hears this news, he’ll surely try to kill me this time.

Thinking that, Edan almost felt like laughing hollowly after all.

“If I refuse—”

Edan wiped the blood from his hand with the back of his knuckles, dropped his smile, and stared directly at the Empress.

“Will you threaten me again, just like last time?”

At those words, the Empress pivoted sharply to face Edan.

“What?”

Edan let out a faint sneer as he observed the deep wrinkles now creasing her distorted face.

“The Imperial Princess has nothing left to lose, thanks to Your Majesty. What exactly do you plan to threaten her with this time?”

The Empress’s eyebrows trembled briefly, then she regained her composure. With a casual flick of her foot, she kicked the scroll lying on the floor.

“Read it yourself. See what choice the Princess has made.”

Edan picked up the scroll.

At the very end, beneath the unfurled parchment, lay the signature: Ciela Hestina. Edan’s gaze darkened. Beside her name was Ciela’s signature—consenting to the marriage proposal.

“For the sake of my son, is there anything I wouldn’t do? Disposing of foolish princesses or vermin like you is hardly difficult.”

Ha. Edan let out a hollow chuckle, then fell silent.

“Don’t forget—it’s thanks to me that your expedition to the North earned you the title of Imperial Hero.”

“…….”

“You’re nothing but worthless trash deserving of death.”

“…….”

Edan’s face remained dry and expressionless, as if long accustomed to enduring such baseless abuse.

Further conversation would be pointless and meaningless.

He knew better than anyone that the Empress had dispatched him to the North hoping he’d succumb to the agony of his abilities and take his own life.

Silently gripping the scroll, thick veins bulged along the back of Edan’s hand.

Knock knock.

At the sound of the knock, Killian lightly waved the pen he’d been holding.

At that signal, the door to Killian’s office—located on the highest floor of the Crown Prince’s Palace—swung open.

Killian’s masked subordinate entered, and the servants standing nearby swiftly withdrew.

Though it was early dawn, Killian sat rigidly upright in his impeccably neat uniform.

His expression remained cold and impassive as he signed the stack of documents before him.

“Did you find out?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Killian paused his square-tipped pen.

“Report.”

After concluding his conversation with Ivy, Killian had ordered his subordinate to investigate recent events:

Whether Edan had indeed infiltrated the Temple, whether he’d made contact with Ivy, and whether Latieana Merigold had arrived and been taken away by the Grand Duke.

His subordinate, who had swiftly gathered the requested information, now began his report.

“There is no confirmed record of His Highness Edan infiltrating the Temple.”

From the very first point, the report felt unsatisfactory. Killian pressed the tip of his pen firmly onto the paper.

“No confirmation?”

“It’s uncertain. However, given His Highness Edan’s abilities, he could certainly have infiltrated the Temple undetected—even if no witnesses have come forward.”

“Is that all?”

“One of the Holy Knights reported witnessing Lord Hillstain Mathias escorting a woman with cherry-blossom-pink hair. Strangely, Lord Hillstain personally ensured her silence.”

Tap tap. Killian tapped his pen twice.

“Hillstain himself?”

“Yes.”

What’s his game? In preparation for his eventual ascension to the throne, Killian made annual diplomatic visits to neighboring empires. This year’s destination had been the Southern Empire. During the month-long journey together, he’d encountered Hillstain multiple times—yet Hillstain never once mentioned Latieana.

Was it due to disinterest?

Or because the Empress—his mother—was present?

Or perhaps he harbored some other hidden motive.

Recalling Hillstain’s fox-like eyes, Killian set down his pen with a dry gaze.

He’s an opportunist—a shrewd, slippery man.

Even absent from Ivy’s Imperial Ball, he’d apparently been up to something—he’d returned with a shattered shoulder, smugly brushing it off as a mere accident.

Though he behaves like a loyal, powerful hound and enjoys the Empress’s favor, Killian sometimes found it irritating. A man who could so thoroughly captivate his mother—the notoriously demanding Empress—couldn’t possibly be a decent human being.

Perhaps his greed led him to attempt seizing the Great Saintess’s privileges—and upon failing, he chose to keep it secret.

“And next.”

“We’ve located the hidden castle belonging to Prince Edan.”

Killian himself owned a hidden castle or two, so this was hardly noteworthy.

He dipped the tip of his quill into ink.

“Location?”

“A rural village in the East, right beside the Central region. Sparsely populated and quiet.”

Killian gave a slight nod, signaling him to continue.

“Latieana Merigold is living there with Prince Edan.”

The pen paused momentarily, then resumed its smooth motion as Killian finished signing.

An unpleasant smile spread across Killian’s lips as he slid the document aside.

He’s certainly keeping himself busy.

“Does he know what privileges Ivy promised in exchange for bringing Latieana Merigold?”

“My apologies. We couldn’t uncover that detail. However—”

The masked subordinate paused briefly to catch his breath before continuing.

“Northern Knights are stationed densely around the castle. Hidden discreetly, the villagers likely remain unaware—but there are at least twenty of them.”

Thud. Killian set down his quill as if tossing it aside.

The Northern Knights’ combat prowess ranked above average even within the Empire.

No matter how well-trained the capital’s knights might be, they still fell short compared to Northern Knights—who frequently battled monsters in real combat.

To station such knights in a quiet rural village—

And no fewer than twenty of them.

It was as if they were protecting Latieana Merigold.

Killian leaned back against his chair.

His headache today was particularly severe, grating sharply on his nerves.

His temples throbbed painfully, tightening around his skull—rendering concentration on official duties impossible.

Closing his eyes, he made a light gesture; his subordinate withdrew, and a servant entered immediately afterward.

“Your Highness, Her Imperial Majesty the Empress requests your presence for breakfast.”