The audience chamber was filled with a chilling atmosphere, as if the air itself had frozen.

This was the first time Killian had openly displayed hostility toward the Empress face-to-face.

The Emperor glanced once at Killian, standing stubbornly in place, then once at the Empress, blinking in stunned silence.

“Haaah.”

A deep sigh burst forth from the Emperor’s lips, as if forcibly expelled.

What on earth was going on?

What events had transpired behind his back, and how had they unfolded?

He had always avoided matters that caused him stress or concern, yet now his head throbbed painfully.

Julius Dietrich was born the only son of the previous Emperor.

As the sole heir, he ascended the throne without encountering any significant opposition.

Even his marriage partner had been predetermined, but he held no particular complaints—after all, he had been raised this way since childhood, and Empress Henzela was objectively beautiful and came from an excellent family.

The only deviation he had ever attempted in his life was bringing Edan’s biological mother into the imperial palace.

She, possessing a face close to Julius’s ideal of beauty, was unlike anyone else in the palace—free-spirited, lavishing him with praise and affection, making him feel like the greatest man alive.

She was the woman who illuminated him, increasingly overshadowed by Henzela’s growing influence as Empress. She was not something handed to him effortlessly—he desired, for once in his life, to actively claim something as his own.

And the outcome had been tragic.

“She has passed away.”

Though she had seemed no match for Henzela, she unexpectedly engaged in a fierce struggle for succession—and ultimately died from illness.

It was not illness caused by political strife. She had simply been frail.

What he had thought of as a harmless dalliance ended up shaking Julius’s predetermined path.

Afterward, Henzela’s psychological torment toward him intensified.

She scorned him for choosing a woman whose status had not even been properly verified, among countless noble daughters, and berated him for staining his own life with disgrace.

The Emperor, who had lived a tranquil existence, found such burdens overwhelming.

“Your Majesty, you agree with this proposal, do you not?”

“Do as the Empress wishes.”

Thus, he withdrew one step from state affairs. After all, maintaining the Empire’s peace was sufficient, and he intended to abdicate early once the Crown Prince came of age.

Coincidentally, both his sons awakened as exceptionally gifted individuals, bringing Julius considerable renown merely through that fact alone.

It had been a time when everything proceeded smoothly without him needing to act or intervene.

But that peace had now shattered.

A few days ago, Killian had come requesting the cancellation of the council, revealing that the Empress had cunningly manipulated Ciela, and made a request that was no mere request.

“I am not asking you to decide punishment for Mother’s actions—I know you are not the sort of person who could do that. But I beg you, at the very least, annul the marriage between Edan and Ciela.”

“But what of relations with the Eastern Empire? Killian, you are the next Emperor. The Eastern Empire continues to aggressively expand its power by frequently warring against surrounding small nations. Considering the distant future…”

“That is my responsibility to handle.”

“Must it truly be this way? What occurred between you two is regrettable, but in my opinion…”

At that moment, a torrent of resentment poured from Killian’s eyes.

“This is not something that can be dismissed with mere regret. Though the marriage failed at the time, it also involved matters of trust between the Kingdom and the Empire—we even recalled dispatched troops and retracted our word. Had the Kingdom not fallen, Father, you would have turned every single person in that nation into your enemy.”

“…”

“Not holding you accountable for this matter—despite your near-abandonment of imperial duties—is solely because you granted me Edan as my younger brother.”

Dereliction of duty. An undeniable truth, with no room for excuse. Killian understood better than anyone else that Julius, seated upon the throne, cared only for preserving his own favorable image.

“If you refuse to grant permission, I will seize the throne by force.”

“What did you say…? What do you mean by that!”

“Exactly what you understood.”

“You intend rebellion? How dare you speak such words in my presence!”

“Indifference is also a crime, Your Majesty.”

The young Crown Prince, once tender-hearted like his father, had grown cold enough to speak openly of rebellion before his very eyes.

In the end, Julius agreed to follow Killian’s wishes.

He did not wish to become the unfortunate Emperor who abdicated only because his son staged a rebellion.

He had been surprised during the previous council when nobles opposed the marriage—Henzela’s will had never been thwarted before.

Though he had bought time for the Empress’s sake, he knew Edan was behind it.

His sons had already grown strong enough to stand against the Empress.

“Your Majesty! What do you intend to do!”

Seeing the situation turn dire, Henzela snapped sharply at Julius—clearly demanding he oppose Killian forcefully.

“The matter of the political marriage shall be treated as if it never occurred.”

The conclusion had already been decided. Julius pressed his fingers to his forehead and declared with a sigh.

“Your Majesty!”

Henzela shrieked so shrilly it seemed her ears might tear off, but Julius shut his ears to her—as he always had.

At that moment, as he tightly shut his eyes to avoid the situation, a bundle of papers thrown by Killian thudded onto the floor.

“What… what is all this?”

Sensing instinctively a bad omen, Henzela glared fiercely at Killian.

“These are records of the mischief you’ve been orchestrating among the nobles.”

“What did you say…?”

“I collected them over a long time. I anticipated you would try to control my future as well, grasping and wielding everything to your will. I kept them as insurance—and now, I find I must use them.”

“Crown Prince! Killian Dietrich!”

Though she tried to maintain composure, arrows now striking directly at her forced the Empress to spring violently to her feet.

Killian turned lightly and looked toward Ciela, who stood beside her.

“Ciela Hestia, Imperial Princess.”

Already trembling, Ciela appeared as if she might collapse at any moment.

Her delicate, well-proportioned features had turned deathly pale.

‘W-what did I do wrong, after all?’

Though everything had now been exposed, she had never once acted with malicious intent.

She had obeyed the Empress’s command to drive a wedge between Killian and Edan for the sake of her Kingdom’s people; and even after the Kingdom’s fall had ruined everything, she had withheld the truth merely to survive.

She had even thought their bond must have been shallow—if they truly cherished each other as brothers, shouldn’t they have trusted one another no matter what? As an only daughter herself, she imagined that was how it should be. Therefore, she bore no fault—she had only sacrificed herself for her Kingdom and her parents.

“Two days ago, I dispatched envoys to the Eastern Empire.”

“…What?”

“How dare a patchwork Empire, clumsily stitched together like ragged cloth, send us a hostage princess?”

His lowered gaze and heavy, sinking voice pressed down upon Ciela like physical weight.

“For having the audacity to insult the Second Prince of the great Alkedania, I have demanded the Eastern Empire take responsibility.”

Even seeing Ciela grow as pale as if she might shatter at a touch, Killian continued speaking indifferently.

“Your parents will be executed.”

At that instant, Ciela collapsed to the floor, screaming.

“No! Please! Please spare them!”

She crawled desperately and clutched at Killian’s legs.

“I did it to save my parents! It wasn’t my fault! I only did as Her Imperial Majesty commanded! Please spare them! Please, Killian!”

Killian shifted his leg lightly, pushing her away.

Weak as she was, she was easily shoved aside, and looked up at him, face smeared with tears.

“Someone once said something.”

Though his face was obscured by backlighting, it was clear that contempt filled his sharp red eyes.

“Do you think polite, gentle words are always the right words?”

Ciela’s hands dropped limply to the floor.

“Lack of ill intent does not absolve wrongdoing.”

Having spoken calmly, Killian stepped back one pace.

Watching nearby, Empress Henzela sank heavily onto her seat and hurled her walking stick savagely toward the bundle of papers on the floor.

Though fury boiled within her like molten lava, she could not rashly speak out in this moment.

She had wished for Killian to become utterly heartless—so merciless that no needle could pierce his compassion.

She had desired him to become cold enough to unsheathe his blade without hesitation against anyone.

The problem was, she had never imagined that blade would be pointed at her own throat.

Shortly afterward, Ciela was dragged away like a criminal, her arms seized tightly. The sparkle in her eyes had vanished entirely, her gaze unfocused and empty.

The Emperor remained silent, then quietly departed. The Empress followed suit.

Though her crimson lips twitched several times as if to speak, she ultimately uttered nothing, instead storming out by violently flinging open the door.

The audience chamber, having weathered a tempest, now fell silent as if entering the eye of a hurricane.

Only Edan and Killian remained.

Killian faced the door, while Edan stood by the window, staring fixedly at his brother’s rigid back.

In the flowing silence, one of Killian’s eyebrows twitched.

‘Where should I begin? How should I speak?’

Guilt over distrusting his younger brother, resentment toward Edan for acting without instruction, regret over time wasted through misunderstanding—all these emotions churned turbulently within him. He could not speak carelessly.

Moreover, he had strangled the woman Edan cherished. At the time, he had done it knowingly.

He had used her to wound Edan—because it was the first time Edan had ever kept a woman so close.

But now, he felt nothing but regret.

It was then—

“Brother.”