Something had gone wrong.

“His Royal Highness Crown Prince Claude Castarty has arrived!”

Once again, the servant loudly announced the Crown Prince’s entrance. The sound of pounding on the door resonated like thunder. A strong vibration shook the hall, making even the chandelier tremble, but the red sandalwood doors remained closed.

The nobles, who had been maintaining their manners while hiding their boredom from the long wait, looked at each other in bewilderment, trying to conceal their confusion. Could this possibly be part of the planned schedule?

However, that absurd thought was shattered by the sight of the Crown Prince’s father-in-law, Acting Count Gabe Esteban, rushing to the door with a pale face.

What in the world is happening? Some of the more delicate noblewomen touched their foreheads.

Who could have imagined that the wildly popular war painter Rusoir’s exhibition would turn out like this?

From the moment the Imperial Palace officially announced the Crown Prince’s attendance and sponsorship, this had been nothing short of a well-orchestrated play.

The nobles looked resentfully at the massive wall covered with white cloth.

It was obvious what kind of painting lay behind the crimson-tinted veil of the setting sun.

A painting emphasizing only the brutal aspects of the Hundred Years’ War that had ended in victory a decade ago, carrying a message to strengthen the current imperial authority that appeared stable.

If not for that, there would be no reason to hold the exhibition in this glass greenhouse-like place instead of a luxurious gallery, nor for the Crown Prince’s procession to the exhibition hall like a victory parade, nor for the actions of Acting Count Esteban, who was like the Emperor’s dog, officially sponsoring a painter who didn’t even show his face during the busy social season.

The Crown Prince needed to enter quickly, even if it meant breaking down the door.

Before the commoners who had been cheering while following the Crown Prince’s procession here noticed this strange situation where the door wouldn’t open right in front of the Crown Prince.

But.

Thud. It was then that the cloth covering the painting fell.

Even though the Crown Prince hadn’t entered yet…!

Everyone who hastily took in the painting with their eyes froze.

The expectation was wrong.

Under the blood-red setting sun, filling the canvas was a knight in shining black armor.

A person with long red hair fluttering in the wind, depicted in intricate detail. The unusually pale face amidst the dark background strangely captivated one’s gaze.

The hazy blue eyes created such a mysterious atmosphere that one couldn’t help but wish to make eye contact, even knowing it was just a painting.

Then they realized in shock that the red clumps on the pale face stepping on countless corpses were not strands of red hair but bloodstains, and that the knight’s hand was holding the head of an old man.

Graying hair, hollow eyes filled with terror as if witnessing the approach of death. Beneath the gushing blood from the neck, a faded crown of Gauwe rolled on the ground.

That chilling image was clearly…

“…Nerea Esteban.”

As the name was uttered with suppressed emotion, echoing through the hall, the nobles recalled the hero they had forgotten.

The shield of the Castarty Empire, Nerea Esteban. The true hero who had ended the Hundred Years’ War by announcing the death of King Gauwe to the world.

Thud—. The sound that shook the hall broke the icy silence. The nobles, who had been overwhelmed by the intense painting, looked around one by one as if awakening from a spell.

“He-here…! The lady has fainted! Quickly, call for a physician!”

Soon, suppressed screams and shock erupted. When urgent hands knocked on the door again from outside, the door that had been so firmly closed opened easily.

“What is this…!”

The Crown Prince’s face, red with anger, turned pale as soon as he saw the painting.

In the hall filled with confusion, the nobles who had risen unsteadily couldn’t help but glance at the painting. The crowd that had followed behind the Crown Prince did the same.

The dark background, the mountain of miserable corpses, and the terrified final appearance of King Gauwe. And the war hero, the Black Knight Nerea Esteban, in shining black armor with long red hair fluttering.

Naturally, on this day, all newspapers were dominated by Rusoir’s work ‘The Black Knight’. And before even a full day had passed, another article began to capture people’s attention.

“Extra! Extra! An extra about the Black Knight Nerea Esteban!”

– The hero who saved the nation, Black Knight Nerea Esteban. Where is the ill-fated hero who disappeared from what should have been the most glorious victory banquet?

From that day on, Redia Hall was always bustling with people.

Among those who saw this chilling and passionate painting, there were always people who screamed or fainted, but the more this happened, the more popular the painting became. There were many who came to see the painting dozens of times.

The only time Redia Hall became quiet was in the dim dawn. Visitors who wanted to see the bloody devastation soaked in the sunset did not seek out the painting shrouded in chilly darkness.

Except for one person.

“As expected of Acting Count Esteban, your response was quick. I couldn’t find any news in the papers about our dear Crown Prince fleeing hastily like a dog with its tail between its legs.”

In a dark corner of the second floor, the brown-haired man, Johnny Hamilton, tapped the rolled-up newspaper against his palm.

“Of course, sending reproductions throughout Castarty, breaking through the strict security of the Imperial Palace, was incomparably more difficult than just blocking a few articles!”

“……”

“I only did what was natural, so you don’t need to praise me too much, Count.”

Johnny, who had lifted his chin boastfully, quickly assessed the man’s mood. And he realized that the man hadn’t even glanced at him once.

It would be troublesome if he wasn’t listening when there was so much to discuss. There was a lot to report, from Rusoir’s next work presentation to guild business matters.

“Count? Boss? Are you liste…”

Johnny, who was calling out to the man urgently, closed his mouth. Under the dim light cast by the rising moon, the man before him was dazzlingly beautiful.

Even Johnny, who knew well how dry the man was beneath his gorgeous exterior, was momentarily speechless.

Large, intimidating black eyes within languid eye lines that seemed painted on. Below the deeply set eye sockets, those endless black eyes were wandering over the painting of the Black Knight.

Johnny, who had been absorbed in the longing gaze that made even the viewer’s heart ache, startled and turned around. He went down to the first floor as if fleeing, and muttered while looking at the edge of the painting with a pale face.

“…Anyway, there’s no one as obsessive as that guy. He was like this ten years ago, and now he’s following around even in a painting. Why doesn’t he just go and apologize like I said? What kind of solution does he think he’ll find by persisting like this?”

.

.

.

After even Johnny left, everything became quiet again. The man slowly blinked. His desperate gaze, which had been focused solely on the knight, now turned to the entire painting.

Details that could never be discovered by those who complained of the heat from mere sunlight passing through the glass windows were visible at a glance.

The scorching heat. How thin the soles of those shoes were, standing on corpses that emitted such a terrible stench that flies swarmed around them, how brightly that black armor gleamed under the sunlight.

Or.

In the bottom right that appeared to be a dark background, upon closer inspection, a black-haired child could be seen crying and following behind the knight, pulling something like a sled.

Or, upon closer look, that sled actually resembled a coffin very closely.

The man’s lips curved gently as he gazed at the painting full of memories so vivid he could see them even with his eyes closed. And he happily uttered the words he had always swallowed back.

“…Now, I’m ready. So.”

I’ll come to you.

It was a night when the black jewel of the necklace he habitually caressed shone particularly dark.

Fierce raindrops struck her face, obscuring her vision. The raging storm and muddy road, her two feet sinking deeply into the mire, making it difficult to take even a single step.

This was her present and future.

Nerea Esteban, from a hero who saved the nation to a broken knight who could barely lift her arms. All she could do now was leave. Only then would her squire not be hurt any further.

“Lady Knight, please take me with you!”

But amidst the sound of pouring rain, she could clearly hear a voice trying to hold back tears. How far has this fool come…! Nerea turned back reflexively and bit her lip.

On the rain-blurred muddy road, her squire was kneeling, rubbing his palms together and begging. Tears poured down his pale face, sickly and bedridden.

“You know, my lady. I don’t eat much.”

But Nerea saw more than just that plea.

“I can really sleep less too.”

Instead of the glossy, chubby cheeks, she saw cheeks covered in rashes.

“I can do laundry and cleaning and cooking better.”

A body that had suddenly become so thin that bones were almost visible.

“So please take me with you, my lady.”

At the same time, she saw her own powerlessness, unable to provide even a single dose of medicine during his illness.

“You’re my knight, and I’m your squire.”

So she had to ignore the pleas that pierced through the pouring rain. Turning her back on the black hair and crying face, Nerea took a step. The squire finally burst into tears and shouted.

“I’ll try harder. Don’t abandon me, my lady! I…”

It was just taking a step, but her breath caught. Her body, soaked by the rain, shivered not just from cold but from chills. But if she weakened now and turned back, her squire would be cold not just for a moment, but for a lifetime.

So Nerea clenched her fist tightly. She closed her eyes at the sharp sensation of nails digging into her flesh. And when she opened them again.

Beyond her blurry vision, she saw a red color spreading. At the same time, a cheerful voice chattered.

“Wake up, miss! It’s barely enough time even if you start preparing now.”

What is all this?

Nerea blinked her dazed eyes. As warm tears fell, the red color became clearer. It was her own disheveled hair.

This was on top of her bed.

So, she had just woken up from a dream.