Chapter 11
Natasha, knowing how shocked Kayeina must have been, sent her back to her hometown to rest. It meant she would have to endure this hell alone, but if it gave Kayeina even a moment of peace, it was worth it.
After returning to the duchy, Natasha came down with a fever.
“Ugh…”
Three weeks passed. Nearly a month had gone by, but she showed no signs of recovering.
Her forehead remained burning hot like fire, and a dry cough clung to every breath.
Wincing at the pain in her throat, Natasha reached out for the water glass by her bedside. Her fingers fumbled, knocking it over. The glass tipped, spilling water across the floor.
“Agh…”
She gasped, breathless. The unrelenting thirst was beginning to choke her.
Frantically, she reached for the bell cord to summon help—but there was no response from beyond the door.
At that moment, the sound of fireworks echoed outside.
Startled, Natasha slowly opened her eyes to slits. Her blurred vision drifted to the calendar on the wall. Her gaze slowly followed the days until it landed on the date—today.
It was Victory Day in the Letius Empire.
The day they conquered new territory, the day they signed peace with the Grand Duchy. A day the empire now celebrated with festivals across the land, beginning just the year before.
Even in the duchy, festivities would be taking place.
It seemed every servant had gone out to enjoy the celebration.
Ah…
As Natasha realized what day it was, distant voices began to echo in her head. Faded voices from old memories whispered at her side.
“Why were you the only one who survived?”
“Are you happy, being the only one left alive?”
“Help me… It hurts… it hurts…”
“Cut off their heads. Bring me the heads of those who killed me. It’s not fair… Why did I have to die?”
It was her family’s voices.
They resented her for being the only one to survive. They begged her for help. They cried out for revenge.
“No, no… stop… please…”
“Remember?”
“Do you remember how we died that day?”
“You left us behind, didn’t you? You ran away, knowing everything!”
“Ungrateful wretch! After everything we did for you!”
Covering her ears didn’t help. The voices only grew louder, deeper, and more suffocating.
As if furious at her resistance, they lashed out even more viciously.
“A blade of revenge sliced through my neck. Even after my head rolled, my body thrashed in pain.”
“It hurt—like a rotten apple planted in my heart. Want one too?”
“When our beloved home burned, my corpse burned with it. The smell of charred flesh made me sick.”
The memories she had tried to forget came rushing back.
That day, Natasha had turned her head to avoid the horror in front of her.
But it had already burned itself into her eyes.
The crumbling castle walls. Severed heads rolling by her feet.
Blood-soaked grass and ashes floating in the air.
And the silence—so terrifyingly still.
She had smelled the stench of blood through the cloth Sir Dante had used to cover her.
She had committed it to memory—the images she couldn’t afford to forget.
The day her family and her homeland were destroyed.
“I’m sorry…”
She would recall that day every time she wanted to die.
She told herself she must have survived for a reason. That her purpose was to carry on the royal bloodline of Charlié.
But she had failed.
She had loved someone. They had shared a moment. But it was all a lie.
Their marriage had begun and ended on their wedding night.
There had never been time for new life to begin.
And now, the future of the royal line was all but gone.
Natasha had failed to fulfill the final duty her family left her.
“That’s right, you fool! You ruined everything! This was our only chance to restore the royal family—and you threw it away chasing love!”
The voices of blame screamed in her ears.
Natasha cried out, clutching her sheets as her body trembled.
Thick veins rose along her throat as she groaned in pain.
Save me.
Please, someone—get me out of here.
Natasha wept loudly.
She yanked the bell cord over and over again, but no one came to help her.
Not even a shadow passed through the door.
Only after collapsing from exhaustion did, she finally escape the nightmare.
Her burning forehead throbbed like it carried another heartbeat.
And somehow… she fell asleep.
It was in that hazy space between dreams and reality that her door opened.
Soft footsteps entered the room.
There was the sound of a chair dragging across the floor…
And then, someone quietly sat beside her bed.
Who is it…?
She couldn’t tell.
Her eyelids were too heavy. She couldn’t lift them.
Her fingers twitched but wouldn’t move forward.
She had no strength left to find out who it was.
“Warm…”
At that moment, the person gently took hold of Natasha’s hand. Her weak fingers, which had been swatting at the sheets in restless pain, immediately stilled.
Even though the hand was gloved, the heat coming from it was searing—like a flame.
That warmth spread through her freezing fingers and lips, quieting their tremors like a miracle.
A cool, damp cloth was placed on her burning forehead.
Then, between her barely parted lips, a bitter powder—likely crushed herbs—was carefully slipped in.
It was unbearably bitter, but its effect was powerful.
“Th…”
As the pain faded, her lips finally moved.
She still couldn’t open her eyes, but she managed a faint whisper.
“…Thank you…”
She gasped for air between each word.
Speaking more would be difficult. So, she swallowed, took a breath, and continued softly:
“You… can go enjoy the festival now…”
Fireworks were still bursting outside.
The empire-wide celebration would continue for days. Day or night, it didn’t matter.
Anyone could go out and enjoy it whenever they pleased.
Natasha hoped that the person who had helped her—her savior—could now go and enjoy themselves too.
The man who heard her words let out a dry laugh. After a short, low chuckle, he mumbled something to himself.
“…Festival.”
He seemed to be repeating her word.
Then, in an even quieter voice, he continued murmuring.
It sounded like he had no interest in the festival at all.
Is that so… There really are people who don’t enjoy big celebrations.
It’s strange… but because of that, I was saved.
Natasha, unable to speak any further, let the thought fade in the silence as sleep washed over her.
The next day, Natasha’s condition had improved—shockingly so.
The bitter powder her mysterious visitor had forced into her mouth had worked wonders.
She wasn’t completely healed, but she could move around.
Aside from her body feeling limp and heavy, she had no trouble standing or walking.
Because the servants had all abandoned their duties in favor of the festival, Natasha had been left uncared for. She hadn’t eaten in two days and was starving.
She made her way to the kitchen and found some leftover bread and fruit to ease her hunger.
Only after eating did her thoughts begin to clear.
Sitting at the table, she picked up the divorce papers she had once clung to—and tossed them into the trash.
As long as the Emperor was alive, divorce was out of the question.
She needed another plan.
While considering how to escape safely, one idea came to mind.
Riskier than anything else, but possibly her only chance now.
Better a deal with Kshant than life under that mad Emperor.
Yes—she would turn to the Duchy of Kshant.
After the palace had fallen into ruins, Kshant had recovered and preserved the royal seal.
If she gave them the seal, all royal authority would transfer to them.
But there was one condition: it had to be passed on by someone of royal blood.
Since the royal family was believed to be extinct, Kshant had probably given up by now.
Which meant Natasha’s survival could be their only hope.
Perhaps they had stayed away until now because they feared her refusal—or retaliation from the Duke.
If that was the case, then approaching them first—on her own terms—would increase the odds of success.
Before they tried to use her, she would set her conditions.
“I’ll give you the chance to restore the Kingdom of Kshant.
Please save me—and those with me.”
The message was short. If the contents leaked, everything would be over.
She kept it brief to minimize risk.
“…Haa…”
Natasha let out a quiet sigh.
She was about to give up the last thing she had left.
Once the seal was handed over, her title and the royal bloodline would vanish.
She and the royal name would be buried in history, forgotten.
But that didn’t matter anymore.
If it meant escaping this living hell—then so be it.
She entrusted the letter to Sir Dante, who was currently staying in the annex.
She couldn’t go herself. Leaving the estate—even for a few days—would be impossible with all the guards watching her.
Conveniently, Kayeina was headed to the annex that day.
Natasha placed the letter along with some of Dante’s favorite treats and sent it through her.
“Please take care of this.”
“You can count on me. I just give it to Sir Dante, right?”
“Yes. And quietly ask him to pass it along to the Grand Duke of Kshant.”
Kayeina left, and in the early hours of the next day, she returned.
She handed Natasha a small note—a confirmation from Dante.
Received.
I won’t be able to meet the Grand Duke myself.
Once I cross the border, I’ll bribe someone to deliver it.
The Grand Duke knows where you are. If there’s a reply, it’ll come to you directly.
But ten days passed—and no reply came.
Natasha sent another message to Dante.
He kindly responded again, saying the letter had definitely been delivered.
He urged her to wait just a little longer.
But then the fifteenth day came.
This time, Dante’s note was more cautious.
At this point, it may be best to assume their silence means refusal.
Why…?
Natasha couldn’t understand.
The Grand Duke of Kshant had devoted himself to protecting what little remained of the ruined kingdom.
He hadn’t built the duchy purely for power or pride.
Why would he reject an offer to take full control of royal authority?
Surely a complete kingdom was better than a broken duchy.
Even if it took years to reclaim the land from the Empire, it was possible.
Something must have gone wrong… This has to be a misunderstanding.
I have to go to Kshant myself.
Natasha’s last hope was slipping away—and panic crept in.
In desperation, she made a reckless decision:
She would meet the Grand Duke in person.
She hurried to pack a cloak and some gold, preparing to slip out.
But just as she reached the door—
It opened on its own.
And someone stood there.
“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?”
A voice she hadn’t expected filled the room.
