Chapter 23
Just as Cahillro was about to leave the Duke’s residence, Amelia called out to him.
“Sir Cahillro!”
Startled by the unexpected voice, Cahillro paused and immediately offered a polite bow to Amelia, who had rushed toward him. Amelia swallowed hard, catching her breath as she looked at him.
“Hah… Hah… Thank goodness. You haven’t left yet… I’ve been looking for you.”
Cahillro glanced around. Strangely, none of Amelia’s handmaids were present.
“Is something the matter, my lady? If you had summoned me, I would have come.”
“There’s something I wanted to say… in private.”
After finally steadying her breath, Amelia met Cahillro’s eyes and spoke clearly.
“I know how much you care about His Grace, the Archduke.”
“…Pardon?”
“You stayed by his side so that he wouldn’t be alone, didn’t you?”
“That wasn’t my intention. He is simply… my master.”
“Still, the fact remains—you stayed. And I don’t think it was just out of duty or worry.”
Yes. It was never just that. If it had been obligation alone, Cahillro wouldn’t have risked his life by speaking so boldly to the head of House Fiore. He wasn’t merely a knight. He was family to the Archduke.
“I couldn’t let someone who was sincere leave without saying anything. I felt I needed to speak sincerely, too.”
Amelia had long been bothered by the fact that she’d never said anything to Cahillro.
“His Grace is my husband now. Of course, our relationship began out of necessity, but still—we’ve chosen to walk the same path. So until the very end, I’ll be the one to protect him.”
Cahillro widened his eyes at her declaration. Then, with a slightly colder tone, he asked,
“Weren’t you concerned about His Grace’s secret? It could be something terrifying. It might even put you in danger.”
“It won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because he’s not that kind of person.”
“…I see.”
“His Grace would never hurt me. He wouldn’t do anything to wound me.”
Amelia’s voice grew firmer, filled with resolve.
“Rather… I hope I won’t be the one to hurt him.”
“…”
“You once said that keeping that secret was the only way to protect him. Then it doesn’t matter if I never learn what it is. It hasn’t been long, but I’ve been with him—and I’ll continue to be. That alone makes him precious to me. I believe in who he is now.”
She gave Cahillro a faint, confident smile.
“So don’t worry. I won’t try to find out. That’s all I wanted to say. I thought you wouldn’t be at ease unless you heard it from me.”
Cahillro stared at the woman standing tall before him, composed and unshaken. At first, he had thought that if he couldn’t stop His Grace, he should at least stop this woman. A delicate lady raised in comfort, like a flower in a greenhouse—he feared she might become His Grace’s weakness and endanger him. At the very least, he had intended to warn her to stay out of it.
But now, he realized he had been wrong.
She was far stronger and more resilient than he had assumed. Speaking openly to someone who hadn’t shown you favor was no easy task—but she had done just that.
‘In the end, she even moved my heart.’
After all, this was the woman who had defied all doubt and confidently taken the seat of House Fiore’s leader. She was never ordinary to begin with.
“Please… don’t be harmed.”
“I know. If I get hurt, His Grace will—”
“No. Not for His Grace’s sake—for your own. Please, don’t be harmed.”
“…Ah.”
Then, Cahillro formally knelt before her and bowed deeply.
“Please forgive my rudeness that day. You are also my master now. From now on, no matter what may come, I will protect you.”
Amelia simply smiled at his oath, offering no more words.
“Thank you.”
Cahillro allowed himself one earnest wish—that the Archduke’s desire was not mere longing. That he might truly love and be loved in return, and that he might one day live a peaceful, ordinary life.
‘Even now, I still hope that he finds happiness.’
His Majesty also wished for the secret to remain hidden, so he wouldn’t act rashly. The greater concern was—
‘Grand Duke Bastien.’
Of course, that man wouldn’t make any reckless moves either—not if he wanted to remain in the Emperor’s good graces. But even back then, the part Cahillro found most troubling was—
‘How did Grand Duke Bastien come to know the Archduke’s secret—something even His Majesty’s closest aides are unaware of?’
That question continued to weigh on Cahillro’s mind.
Meanwhile, Edzov had arrived at Solaris Palace, the imperial seat of the Solra Empire. He made his way toward the royal library. Though the place was usually reserved for sages, its emptiness meant only one thing—His Majesty was inside.
Asran had always cherished knowledge and learning, believing that all the power he sought could be found in wisdom.
As always, Edzov stood before the library with a composed expression and a gentle smile. Then, Ariel—Asran’s personal advisor—approached and bowed respectfully.
“Please, go inside.”
Edzov stepped cautiously through the slowly opening door. The imperial library unfolded before him like a vast forest—books stretching endlessly from ceiling to floor. Only the faintest rays of sunlight were permitted to enter, to avoid damaging the precious volumes. The atmosphere was dim and heavy, with a faint chill in the air. And in the middle of it all, buried in books, sat Asran.
Edzov quietly approached and stopped before him. Even with Edzov standing there, Asran didn’t lift his gaze from the pages. Though rumors claimed his illness had worsened, not a trace of frailty showed in his appearance. His striking face, more refined than aged, and his cold blue eyes beneath snowy white hair still shone with unmistakable vitality.
Without preamble or flowery words, Edzov knelt before him and spoke with a calm and direct voice.
“Eclite has married the new head of House Fiore. Will Your Majesty simply sit back and watch?”
“…”
“It was a marriage to none other than House Fiore—the very heart of the military among the five ducal houses.”
“I will not interfere.”
Asran continued speaking in a flat tone, his eyes never leaving the book.
“The marriages of the five dukes are matters for them to decide and enjoy.”
“I see.”
Edzov didn’t lose his pleasant expression. But just then—
“What I find curious,” Asran said, “is why. Why would the new head of house take an interest in that man? I believe she’s the young lady of House Chezaret.”
For the first time, Asran looked past the book and directly at Edzov.
“I hear she possesses tremendous magical power. And you’re quite close to the Chezaret family, aren’t you? You’ve been visiting rather frequently, I’m told. Did you lose such an extraordinary woman because you were distracted by something trivial?”
For a brief moment, Edzov’s composed face cracked. His past relationship with Amelia was a secret not even the social circles were aware of. The same went for his involvement with Meysarina. To avoid any troublesome rumors later on, he had carefully maintained the illusion that his ties to the Chezaret family were merely political.
So… he knew after all.
Though the throne seemed weakened by recent political strife, Asran had never truly lost his grip. In reality, he had only folded his claws away, watching silently from behind the scenes. And that was exactly why Edzov could never let his guard down around him.
“I didn’t lose her.”
“At this rate, you might lose the throne as well.”
“I won’t.”
Edzov kept his composure to the end, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smooth smile. He knew better than anyone—especially before the Emperor—to never drop the mask.
“You must become Emperor.”
Asran’s tone could have been mistaken for one of trust or affection, but it was no more than provocation.
“If you can’t even handle that man, then I have no reason to wish for you to take the throne.”
And at that moment, Edzov understood Asran’s true intent.
So he really won’t step in—not now, not ever.
He had briefly hoped Asran might act upon Eclite’s growing influence—but no. The Emperor had no desire for Eclite’s identity to be exposed.
At the very least, His Majesty won’t be the one to reveal it.
Truthfully, Edzov didn’t want it revealed either. He hadn’t wanted to know that Eclite was a beastkin. He had learned it against his will—and it tormented him still.
“I’ll take my leave. May Your Majesty remain well.”
Only after Edzov had left did Asran finally set the book down. His gaze turned cold as he muttered under his breath:
“Foolish boy. So this is the best I can expect from my own blood? How strange. He doesn’t resemble me at all.”
For a fleeting moment, Asran’s unshakable eyes flickered.
“Nor does he resemble Chloe.”
His trembling gaze dropped back to the book he’d been holding—a volume about the Forest of Time.
“I have to find the key before I draw my final breath.”
But there wasn’t enough time. The beastkin had completely vanished, and forging the key anew would be nearly impossible now.
“Eclite…”
He bit out the name like a curse. The one he thought would rot away in the northern wastes had returned to the world. Something was changing. Whether that change would bring him what he wanted—he could only wait and see.
“I look forward to the Grand Council.”
As Edzov stepped out of the library, the smile faded from his face. He could endure many things, but the thought of Eclite becoming Emperor—he could not accept that.
He’s still just a filthy beast. Marrying into Fiore doesn’t change anything.
And to say Amelia had been taken from him? No. That woman was still his. She had never been taken.
“But I won’t keep watching his arrogant little face.”
Maybe this all stemmed from the excessive power given to the five ducal houses.
“I have to establish a stronger imperial authority. I must become an Emperor with true power.”
That’s the only way I’ll survive.
A shadow passed over Edzov’s eyes. He came to a halt before a corridor lined with portraits of former emperors. The hall was empty—no guards in sight. A chill wind swept through the silence, and it cut through his robes, cold enough to sting.
They called him the silver lion, the Emperor’s favorite. But even he didn’t know when—or how—he might fall from this cliff. There wasn’t a moment in this palace where he had ever felt safe.
I want to live. No—I have to live. Properly. Peacefully. And if it takes power to do that… then so be it.
If that man sought the throne to survive, then Edzov would seek it for the same reason.
“I will become Emperor. I will be the master of this palace. The true master—me.”
As he turned, Edzov’s face stiffened. Someone was standing at the end of the corridor—a woman.
She had matted, gray hair like a rat’s and murky golden eyes that trembled with unsettling intensity. She was rail-thin, her presence strange and unnerving. But her smile was bright, as if she hadn’t noticed anything amiss, as she approached Edzov with bold familiarity.
“You weren’t going to say hello to your old nurse? It’s been quite a while…”
Smack!
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on me.”
Her hand hadn’t even touched his collar before he struck her away. Yet she smiled as if nothing had happened.
This woman was Circe—Edzov’s former nurse. But his eyes, as he stared at her, were filled only with contempt.
Circe extended her hand again.
“It’s still not too late, Your Grace. My hand is always here for you. I’ve always stood by your side. That’s why I told you the truth about Eclite.”
“Silence!”
It was Circe who had told him about Eclite’s true identity. But she was also the one who had dragged out a truth he never wanted to know.
Her eyes gleamed with wild intensity as she looked at him.
“The workshop is still open. Just for you, Your Grace.”
At her chilling whisper, Edzov’s tone dropped even colder.
“Don’t presume to move me. Don’t think you can use me. I am a noble prince of this empire.”
Edzov turned away as if he could no longer bear to breathe the same air. Behind him, Circe chuckled softly.
“You’re still so adorable. Yes, yes… the noble imperial prince. My precious prince.”
Edzov’s steps came to a halt in front of the Empress’s palace. For the first time, the cold sharpness in his gaze faded into quiet sorrow. This place had once overflowed with laughter and warmth. Now, it stood locked and silent—abandoned.
With a trembling breath, he reached out and placed his hand on the closed door. From the narrow gap came a chilling breeze… and then, faintly, the sound of a woman’s scream.
“Bring him to me! I said bring him! Bring him now!”
The shrieking voice echoed like a curse, then suddenly fell silent. It was the anguished cry of Empress Chloe—the very woman who had once been endlessly kind, a person who had carried the warmth of the entire world within her.
Now, driven mad, she remained trapped in this palace like a prisoner, her title reduced to nothing more than a hollow shell.
Edzov squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw.
It’s all because of that beast. That monster ruined her. I’ll never forgive him—never.
I won’t let you take anything else. On the day I ascend the throne, I’ll tear your body apart and feed it to the beasts. That’s the ending you deserve. I’ll avenge my mother’s suffering… and return to her side.
“Please wait for me, Mother.”
“A royal decree has arrived from the imperial palace.”
At Mami’s announcement, Amelia tensed slightly as she reached for the letter. It was an invitation—to the Grand Council.
“It’s here at last. The chance to meet all five ducal houses.”
“It seems… it’s truly beginning now.”
The five houses who helped establish the Empire of Solra:
The House of the Sword—Portishe.
The House of the Gun—Fiore.
The House of Wisdom—Cartia.
The House of Healing—Hestine.
And finally, the veiled house—Ruberr.
Strictly speaking, Ruberr had not participated in the founding of Solra. In fact, they might still hold resentment toward the empire, as Ruberr was once an independent principality swallowed up by Solra’s expansion. Though they had resisted with everything they had, they lost the war. Even after defeat, they never swore true loyalty to Solra, and rebellious uprisings continued for years.
To end these meaningless rebellions, the former emperor granted Ruberr the title of a ducal house—along with the right to participate in selecting the next emperor. It was meant to instill a sense of ownership and unity.
Although the uprisings eventually ceased, Ruberr still remained distant—never once stepping outside their territory. Not even the current head of house was known. The entire family was shrouded in secrecy.
“Ruberr has never chosen a Solran emperor before. The other houses always reached a decision without them.”
Mami’s face darkened at Amelia’s words.
“But this time… it’ll be different.”
“Yes. We need Ruberr’s vote.”
Another military house, Portishe, was extremely conservative. They would undoubtedly support Edzov, given his imperial bloodline. Cartia was also known to be favorable toward him. The only remaining chances were Hestine—still neutral—and Ruberr.
“I don’t know if they’ll attend the council, but I need to go regardless. At the very least, I must meet the head of House Hestine. I’ve heard… she’s a woman, just like me.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Eclite, offering Amelia a glass of milk tea. Her face lit up at the sight.
“Wow! Thank you.”
“Your Grace, I could have done that myself!” Mami exclaimed, startled.
But Eclite shook his head.
“From now on, I’ll personally prepare the tea my wife drinks.”
“…Excuse me?”
“You’re really good at it. It’s so delicious,” Amelia added cheerfully.
Mami couldn’t hide her shock. This was the same man known as the monstrous archduke—and he was personally preparing tea for the lady? And it was good?
Are they really in a contract marriage?
At least… His Grace didn’t seem to act that way. Mami stared at Eclite suspiciously.
“Wait… did you just say you’ll go to the palace with her?”
“It’s been a while. I’d like to go.”
“Seriously?”
Amelia blinked, surprised.
I thought he would avoid it at all costs…
“There’s someone I’d like to see again.”
What?
At those unexpected words, Amelia’s eyes widened.
Someone he wants to see? There’s someone like that… in the imperial palace? Wait. Could it be… the person the archduke once held in his heart…?
As the thought crossed her mind, Amelia’s mood suddenly dropped. Distracted, she set down her teacup—only to knock it over by accident.
“Oh my!”
Eclite immediately reached out and caught her hand, his gaze sharp and concerned.
“Are you all right? It’s not hot, is it?”
“Oh, no—it’s fine. The tea had already cooled.”
“Please hold still, my lady!”
The spilled milk tea was quickly spreading across the table and looked as if it might drip onto her dress at any moment. Mami rushed to fetch a handkerchief, but before she could return, Eclite casually wiped the spill with his own sleeve.
“Your Grace!”
Amelia was flustered by his action, but Eclite responded in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
“I thought the dress would get stained if I didn’t wipe it up right away.”
“It’s just a dress—we can wash it! But now your sleeve is ruined…”
Distressed, she grabbed his hand. Eclite gave her a faint smile.
“It’s all right. This can be washed too.”
“No, it’s not all right!”
Mami’s voice suddenly rang out, firm and scolding.
“That’s not proper etiquette, Your Grace. Even if you were trying to help the lady, you can’t act like that!”
“…Ah. I apologize.”
“You’re going to the imperial palace, aren’t you? There will be a formal ball after the Grand Council. You need to learn imperial etiquette!”
Eclite lowered his head slightly, his large frame seeming unusually subdued. The expression on his face was so cautious and sheepish that Amelia nearly burst out laughing, but she held it back.
“Your etiquette might be a bit rough, but it’s okay. We can learn together. I’ll help you, Your Grace.”
Amelia tried to reassure him gently, but Mami shook her head.
“That applies to you too, my lady. You can’t dance at all!”
“W-well, that’s…”
Mami’s determination flared up once again, just like before.
“Don’t worry! As a maid of House Fiore, I’ve learned more noble etiquette than most. From now on, both of you are officially in training!”
