Chapter 17
The Emperor’s voice echoed with regal authority as he delivered his formal speech.
Charlize could feel the warmth of Achilles’ hand wrapped around hers. She glanced sideways at him.
“…Let everyone rejoice and offer their congratulations. The Imperial Family celebrates a joyous occasion today. My daughter, Charlize, has at last found her partner. Her marriage is now decided, and we shall celebrate it as one.”
All eyes were already on the Tower Master—Achilles.
And on Charlize, too.
Everyone seemed eager to confirm with their own eyes: Was it true? Had the princess truly accepted a marriage with the Tower Master?
But Charlize didn’t wear the expression of someone being forced into a political match.
Her face wasn’t cold, her eyes weren’t hollow.
They were glowing—with quiet joy.
And Achilles, who stood at her side, was gazing at her with a warmth no one had ever seen from him before.
…Guess the Bianchi heir was chasing shadows.
Someone whispered from the crowd, and the Bianchi couple visibly stiffened.
A nobleman coughed pointedly, as if to silence further gossip—but the damage was done.
Many had heard.
So humiliating!
The ballroom filled with quiet murmurs.
People muttered that this proved just how unpredictable love could be.
The Emperor brought his announcement to a close and encouraged everyone to enjoy the evening.
As the music swelled, Charlize took Achilles’ hand and led him to the center of the ballroom—the moment they’d practiced for together.
My heart is racing.
She’d danced in front of a crowd before—with Valter, at a similar event years ago. She had been nervous then, too, but she hadn’t made any mistakes.
Still, this felt different.
Looking up at Achilles from such close proximity made her nervous in a completely new way. His gaze felt like it could pierce through her.
Calm. Stay calm…
Charlize focused on the music and tried not to let the flush rise to her cheeks. She followed the steps gracefully, letting Achilles lead—his eyes never leaving her.
“Oh my… They look good together, don’t they?”
“They’re like a painting—such a beautiful couple.”
Even through the music, the whispers of the crowd reached their ears. Charlize glanced at Achilles—only to meet his eyes directly.
Those gleaming amber eyes looked at her as if nothing else in the world existed.
In that instant, the music faded into the background.
That look…
It was that raw, open gaze that disarmed her. That made her surrender, bit by bit. It made her feel—without a doubt—that he saw no one but her.
Even if his face didn’t show much, his eyes always betrayed him.
At some point, the crowd had grown quiet, fully entranced by their dance.
Achilles, who had never once accepted a dance invitation at any ball, moved flawlessly—leading Charlize with strength and elegance no one could criticize.
As the music neared its end, they released hands and bowed in perfect harmony. Applause erupted.
But before anyone could step in, Achilles moved again—stepping forward and reclaiming her hand.
It was as if he feared someone else might steal her away in the blink of an eye.
The event’s coordinator gave the musicians a discreet signal, and the melody shifted. Couples began gathering on the floor, seeking dance partners of their own.
“Your Highness, congratulations!”
“Tower Master, you must be thrilled!”
Nobles began to swarm around them. The Emperor and the Crown Prince were surrounded as well by guests eager to offer their congratulations.
Charlize accepted the greetings with grace, glancing now and then at Achilles.
He wasn’t used to such grand affairs—he could be uncomfortable.
He responded politely but curtly, his face blank as usual.
Then their eyes met.
“…Are you tired?”
“No. I’m fine.”
That brief exchange, and the gentle way he looked at her, caught the attention of nearby guests. People were surprised.
The Tower Master… was paying attention to someone?
He had never shown care for anyone—not even the Emperor, whom he occasionally humored. But this—this was new.
“Goodness…”
“Maybe the rumor’s true. That the Tower Master begged the Emperor to let him marry the princess.”
That rumor had, in fact, been quietly seeded by the imperial side—but the nobles had no way of knowing that.
The Crown Prince, Oscar, began to approach, and the crowd respectfully bowed.
“Your Highness.”
“I have someone I’d like to introduce. You’re all familiar with them to some degree, but now that they’re family, things are different.”
Behind Oscar stood a line of young nobles—most of them familiar faces, though Achilles hadn’t formed personal connections with any of them.
As he greeted them with his usual stoicism, Charlize felt a small sense of relief that Valter wasn’t among them.
Seeing him again after that night would have been awkward—maybe even unbearable.
Come to think of it… I never did tell my brother about that rumor.
She had meant to ask him where it came from, to investigate it.
She could’ve sent someone herself—but she didn’t want Achilles to think she doubted him.
If the rumor was false, they’d have to bury it.
But if it was true…
No. There’s no way it’s true. Achilles wouldn’t do something like that. He has no reason to.
Charlize looked up at Achilles.
He met her gaze—and didn’t look away.
She froze.
“…W-Why are you looking at me like that?”
Achilles paused, as if in thought, then leaned down and whispered softly in Charlize’s ear—
“You look beautiful.”
Startled, she glanced up at him, but her cheeks immediately began to flush, and she had to compose her expression.
Around them, the guests were curious, clearly wondering what the Tower Master had said to the princess.
Only a few individuals in the hall—those with the means or magic to listen in—had caught his words, and their expressions shifted slightly. Oscar, in particular, looked oddly taken aback.
…Since when could he say things like that?
Charlize met her brother’s eyes and sent him a sharp look that clearly meant: Don’t you dare say a word.
Oscar grinned brightly.
That’s fine.
“As long as you’re happy, Lize.”
He decided he’d tease her to his heart’s content later.
Meanwhile, Valter stood on a balcony, staring silently up at the moon.
He knew the Emperor would announce Charlize’s engagement to the Tower Master tonight. Every noble in that ballroom would witness her dancing in Achilles Illien’s arms.
“Lize…”
But she hadn’t looked uneasy. She hadn’t seemed uncomfortable around him at all. That was what grated on Valter the most.
The plan he’d prepared wasn’t guaranteed to succeed. At best, it might damage Achilles’ reputation—but the Emperor would never discard someone like him over the life of a low-ranking knight.
“His origins were questioned back when the marriage talks started.”
But despite extensive investigation, nothing had come up. That meant either Achilles had erased all traces of his past… or the Emperor had.
Even when Charlize had rushed to Valter’s side after he was hurt, he couldn’t find peace.
After all, it wasn’t like they had spent ten years together as lovers. Achilles, on the other hand, had already shown her more affection than Valter ever had.
Valter still remembered that night. Achilles, usually cold and unreadable, had spoken to Charlize with such warmth.
No… he—
When he looked at her, his eyes were different.
It shocked Valter—how that expression had gone unnoticed for so long.
And I never saw it coming…
He couldn’t change the past, but he also couldn’t hide the bitterness twisting in his chest. It was even worse because he’d believed she was already his.
Charlize had confessed to him more than once—had tried to pull away from him.
She was clearly trying to forget, clearly trying to move on.
He could have accepted her…
No. If he’d heard her confession back then, he probably would’ve rejected her anyway.
Frustrated and angry, Valter bit down on his lower lip. Just then, a dark shadow passed over the balcony, completely blotting out the moon.
He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sheer pressure in the air. Then instinct kicked in—he reached for his sword.
The shadowy figure floated down lightly onto the balcony, turning its head toward him. It was cloaked in darkness, like a living shadow.
“You don’t need your sword.”
“Who are you?!”
The voice didn’t come from its mouth—it echoed inside his mind, sticky and cold. The figure, dressed in layers of shifting black, wore a haunting smile. Their face was strangely elegant, almost beautiful… and yet, deeply unsettling.
Valter gripped the hilt of his sword and drew the blade. The sharp edge gleamed in the moonlight, pointing straight at the intruder.
“I said—who are you?!”
“Ah… impatient, aren’t you? I’m someone who shares your enemy.”
“Enemy?”
Valter could already guess who the figure meant, but he scowled, not letting his guard down.
The shadow’s eerie smile widened unnaturally.
“Achilles Illien… Don’t you want to see him dead?”
Valter’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re a demon.”
Everyone knew Achilles Illien was infamous for slaughtering demons. That reputation had earned him the Empire’s favor—and helped pave the way for his marriage to the princess.
Some nobles had tried to protest, but the Emperor had easily silenced them.
“Get lost. I haven’t fallen so far that I’d join forces with your kind.”
“But you already have.”
The voice slid into his thoughts like a whisper. “Your own greed has already taken root.”
The figure melted back into the shadows. Valter’s eyes darted around in alarm.
And then—emerging from his own shadow—the demon reappeared, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder.
“You already know, don’t you? That what you feel for the princess… it isn’t love.”
“It’s not about her. You just can’t stand the idea of losing what you thought was yours.”
“Shut up!” Valter shouted, rage flaring. “Don’t speak of my feelings with that filthy mouth!”
