Chapter 4
It was a proposal like no other.
“Heh.”
Michalis, beyond surprised and now bordering on utter disbelief, let out a dry, humorless laugh.
‘I’d rather face pirates than this.’
The marriage proposal had already been signed and sealed. If it were pirates, he could just beat them down and toss them overboard.
‘This is insane.’
Staring at Eliana’s harmless, smiling face, Michalis felt genuinely cornered. She didn’t look threatening—if anything, she looked so fragile, as if a rough touch might break her.
She didn’t provoke the kind of resistance that inspired fighting spirit. There was no way to scheme or intimidate her into giving up.
Since persuasion and fear hadn’t worked, Michalis had no choice but to retreat—for now.
“If this is truly your wish, I will proceed as scheduled.”
He had to withdraw strategically.
‘Damn that old man…’
Reluctantly stepping back, Michalis couldn’t help but think of his deceased father—the so-called genius strategist, who had led countless naval victories.
And now, in his final scheme, he’d ensnared his own son perfectly.
Unbeknownst to Michalis, the wedding arrangements had already been set—two months from now.
“If your feelings change after the marriage… let me know.”
Michalis glanced at Eliana, his voice cool but firm.
“Divorce is always an option.”
She didn’t know what she was asking for now, but regret would come soon enough.
He had no intention of ruining a woman’s life. His father had divorced three times. Michalis wouldn’t hesitate to do the same if needed.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
Eliana’s eyes lit up at his unexpected generosity.
A cool-headed Duke with this kind of personality?
She was starting to think taking him from the heroine had been a brilliant move.
CRASH! BOOM!
A violent thunderstorm raged outside, the sound of lightning and rain shaking the night.
“Nanny!”
A six-year-old Michalis, startled awake by the storm, hid under his blanket, shouting loudly.
“Nanny!”
BOOM!
His small, frightened cries were swallowed by the roar of thunder.
“Nanny, where are you?!”
No response came. Hugging his pillow, Michalis ran into the hallway, desperately opening the door to the adjacent room.
‘I’m scared…’
The empty room only deepened his fear. His legs trembled, but he didn’t cry.
‘I’m the heir of House Ascher—the Empire’s Shield.
I can’t cry over something like thunder.’
‘I want to see Mother.’
Fighting back tears, he clutched the pillow tighter.
‘I’m not scared… not of thunder. I just… don’t want to be alone.’
BOOM. RATTLE.
A howling wind rattled the windows, and lightning seared the dark hallways.
‘Why is no one here…?’
He managed to climb from the second to the third floor without crying, but he hadn’t seen a single servant—a fact that only heightened his dread.
“Aaah!”
A scream pierced through the storm, shattering his fragile courage.
It came from the direction of his mother’s room.
“Mother!”
Without hesitation, Michalis ran toward the door.
“Mother!”
He didn’t knock. He just burst in—and immediately froze at the horrific sight before him.
His beloved pillow fell from his arms.
“Ah…”
He stumbled backward, instinctively recoiling.
The room was more devastated than the storm outside.
“A… Father…”
His mother lay naked on the bed, pinned beneath his father—who was strangling her.
“You… why are you out of your room?!”
His father’s eyes glinted with madness, locking onto Michalis with a glare that cut like knives.
“I-I… I was just…”
Terrified, Michalis took another step back, stumbling over torn fabric—his mother’s shredded gown.
“Cough… M-Michalis… cough Go back… to your room…”
Taking advantage of her husband’s distraction, the Duchess struggled to speak, her voice hoarse, her breath barely stable.
“Mother…”
Her body shook with coughing, her back streaked with red marks, like the bite of a serpent.
“Father! Please, stop! Don’t hurt Mother!”
Seeing the bruises around her neck and the countless wounds covering her body, Michalis was overwhelmed.
He threw himself at his father, clinging to him.
“Father!”
Those were whip marks—not something a Duchess should ever endure.
Tears he had fought so hard to suppress now poured down his cheeks.
“Father, please—please!”
Smack.
A flash of light exploded before his eyes.
A bolt of lightning had struck Michalis’s cheek.
BOOM!
Right after the flash, a deafening roar of thunder shook the entire castle.
“Michal!”
The Duchess screamed, unable to stop what had just happened.
“Hhngh…”
The force of the blow sent Michalis flying nearly a meter. He struggled to rise, metallic blood filling his mouth. Blood from his nose dripped onto the carpet, staining it in deep red spots.
“What do you know?! You dare lecture me?!”
The Duke’s rage hadn’t yet cooled. His killing intent bore down on the boy like a weight.
“Hgh…”
Michalis’s eyes blurred with tears. It was the first time in his life he’d been hit—struck with a hand—and he fought desperately not to cry.
“Get out of my sight! Back to your room!”
“……”
Silenced by the Duke’s wrath, Michalis turned without a word, his steps heavy as though slogging through mud.
Thunder and lightning no longer frightened him.
‘Disgusting…’
The man once hailed as a hero who saved the Empire from Jaiphen’s invasion a decade ago. A man respected by all, whom Michalis had admired and loved until just yesterday.
What terrified him more than the storm was the realization that he could no longer respect his father—his once unshakable idol.
“Michal… my son… I’m so sorry…”
The Duchess, her face pale with illness, held Michalis’s hand tightly, tears streaming down her face.
“This is not your fault, Mother.”
Barely seven years old, Michalis looked down at her with a calm that belied his age.
Even on her deathbed, she wore clothes that covered her entire neck, clothes that seemed suffocating tight.
“I never should have let you see that…”
Perhaps the emotional shock of that night had worsened her illness. It had been six months since she’d taken to bed.
“Mother…”
Michalis gripped her hand, desperately trying to keep her fading life close. He didn’t cry—not because he wasn’t sad, but because his rage burned hotter than grief.
‘I cannot forgive him.’
He was angrier at himself than at his father—the man who, using naval training as an excuse, hadn’t come home once despite her failing health.
Michalis hated his own weakness, his inability to protect her.
“I’m so sorry…”
Her final words faded, and her eyes closed.
A single tear trailed down her lifeless cheek—the lonely end of the Duchess, Michalis’s mother and the Duke’s third wife.
“A response has come from the northern barony.”
“You shouldn’t have done this.”
After weeks of silence, his father was at it again.
Michalis sighed as the Duke burst in unannounced.
“This time, you will marry.”
“I refuse.”
Without hesitation, Michalis’s sharp response made the old Duke’s brows twitch.
“What is it you want, you ungrateful wretch?! Cough! Cough!”
Enraged by his son’s defiance, the Duke coughed violently, the taste of blood bitter in his mouth.
“I’ve told you before—I have no desire for marriage.”
Michalis glanced at the portrait his father shoved in his face.
A young girl, with silver hair and fair skin, delicate and pretty.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Sensing Michalis’s gaze on the portrait, the Duke’s fury waned slightly. Perhaps his son would change his mind. She was the best match he’d found—a rare beauty.
“I feel nothing. Put it away. I’m busy.”
Michalis’s expression was that of someone irritated by an obstacle blocking his work.
“Ungrateful brat.”
The Duke trembled, leaning on his cane.
His son had become a constant source of frustration. If only he’d married him off before he grew a mind of his own.
“Will you run off to the north this time?”
Every time the Duke arranged a marriage, Michalis would rush to the bride’s house and politely annul the engagement.
“Is that why you dumped all your responsibilities on me?”
Something didn’t sit right. The man who had clung to power for decades had suddenly used his illness as an excuse to make Michalis the acting head of the house—overwhelming him with administrative work.
Normally, he’d have rushed off to break off this new engagement, but a mountain of paperwork held him back.
“You’re my only heir. Passing things on a bit early—what’s the harm? Cough, cough!”
The Duke growled, then coughed again, ribs aching as his ruined lungs tore inside him.
“If you’re done, go rest. Standing too long is bad for your health.”
Michalis watched dispassionately as his father wiped bloody spit with a handkerchief.
“You insolent bastard…”
To think the son he’d had so late in life would cause this much trouble.
If only he’d had another. Even a competent distant relative—then Michalis could’ve been discarded long ago.
“This time, you won’t be able to interfere.”
“What do you mean?”
Michalis, resuming his work, narrowed his eyes at the Duke.
“I didn’t use your name on the proposal.
She probably thinks she’s marrying me.”
The Duke had changed tactics—exploiting Michalis’s past meddling.
Without his name on the document, Michalis had no excuse to cancel it.
“What have you done?!”
“I sent the bridal gifts already. Told them to depart as soon as she’s ready.”
