Chapter 6
The silver musket she had placed on the golden table gleamed as strangely as Amelia herself. Her shocking declaration had left not only Meysarina but the other two house heir candidates utterly speechless. Meysarina barely contained her rage.
“She said she’d make me cry. Has she lost her mind? Become the head of the house? She can’t even use a musket. With that pathetic, frail heart of hers, what does she think she can do? Then again, anyone planning to marry that monster Grand Duke must have gone completely insane.”
On second thought, there was nothing for her to be worked up about. The position of House Fiore’s head couldn’t be inherited through bloodline alone.
“Acting recklessly like that is actually better for me. Amelia, you have no idea how foolish you’ve just been. Let’s see who ends up in tears.”
As Eclite’s gaze remained fixed on Amelia, Edzov shot him a venomous glare, stepping deliberately between them to block his view. Then, without warning, he grabbed Amelia’s wrist—the one holding the musket—and yanked her forward.
“Come with me.”
All eyes turned to them at once. Amelia was more confused than intimidated by his sudden behavior.
‘Still barking orders. And in front of all these people? I thought he cared more than anyone about his reputation.’
As Edzov attempted to drag her out of the hall, Eclite stepped in front of them, blocking their path. Edzov’s bottled-up fury leaked through in a low growl.
“Get out of my way.”
Instead, Eclite took hold of Amelia’s hand—the one Edzov gripped tightly.
“And where exactly are you taking my fiancée, brother? With such disrespect?”
“You dare lecture me?”
Edzov was losing all control. Eclite’s insolent composure only enraged him further. To Edzov, Eclite’s very existence was enough to make his blood run cold. Sensing the tension rise, Amelia stepped in to stop them.
“Your Highness, I’m fine. It’s just a conversation.”
“But—”
“This is something I must handle alone. You don’t need to step in.”
At her words, Eclite reluctantly released her hand, his eyes lowering in quiet resignation. Yet he couldn’t tear his gaze from her retreating figure.
“It’s not that I don’t want to… I just don’t want to let her go.”
As Amelia disappeared with Edzov, murmurs spread among the nobles like wildfire.
“What’s this? She knows Duke Bastien too?”
“She might. Isn’t she the Grand Duke of Fiore’s granddaughter?”
“Goodness, with such a strong background, why have we never seen her at social gatherings?”
“Wasn’t the second daughter of the Chezaret house expected to inherit? Is everything about to change now?”
Even without wanting to hear it, Meysarina caught every word—and it twisted her insides.
‘She’s going to die soon anyway, so what does it matter!’
Amelia wouldn’t last long in high society, not without Meysarina lifting a finger.
‘Still, letting her taste just a bit of this world before she dies… not such a bad idea.’
With something in mind, Meysarina curved her lips into a cold smile.
“She said she’d make me cry. Fine. I’ll cry… because I still care so deeply for my beloved sister.”
Outside the banquet hall, on the balcony.
Amelia, her wrist still gripped by Edzov, smiled coldly at the man before her.
“So… is this appropriate, here of all places? There are many eyes watching. Even if I’ve already seen Your Highness’s wretched face, surely you still care how others see you, don’t you?”
Suddenly, Edzov tightened his grip and shoved Amelia against the wall.
Thud!
With a heavy impact, Amelia let out a stifled cry of pain.
“What the hell are you—!”
Before she could escape, Edzov trapped her between his arms, glaring at her with burning eyes. Amelia’s back tensed beneath his furious stare. She had never seen him like this—so consumed with rage. Was it Eclite who had driven him to this point? To make him lose all sense of propriety, all awareness of watching eyes… to provoke him into this?
‘Seems I made an excellent choice.’
“Even with all those eyes on us, some things need to be corrected. My woman should know when to stop throwing tantrums, but you’ve completely lost it!”
“Your woman? Last I checked, I rejected your proposal. Isn’t it you, Your Grace, who refuses to face reality and insists on acting like a spoiled child?”
“So the man you chose is that bastard? That wretched monster?”
“Don’t you dare insult the man who will be my husband.”
The word husband, spoken from Amelia’s lips, made Edzov’s gaze freeze over—cold as ice.
“What the hell are you planning with that monster? Suddenly trying to claim the title of House Fiore’s head—you?”
“Planning? There’s no grand plan. We’re getting married because we love each other. And as for the title, I won’t let someone else have it. I’ll take it for myself—and choose with my own hands.”
Her voice dropped, cold and deliberate.
“I’ll choose the next Emperor.”
At those thunderous words, Edzov faltered—then broke into maniacal laughter.
“Ha… Hahaha! Amelia, you’re truly insane. So you’re going to become the head of House Fiore and make that lowborn monster Emperor?”
He couldn’t stop laughing. The fact that she even entertained the idea disgusted him.
“Even if your heart is pathetically weak, I thought you had more sense than this. Wake up, Amelia. He’s not even a prince. He’s a monster. A creature even His Majesty disowned. And that thing is going to be Emperor? Which noble house in their right mind would choose him?!”
“I told you already. I will choose.”
Her grip tightened on the musket in her hand.
“You and Meysarina tried to deceive me, to take everything from me. But I won’t lose a single thing—not anymore. I’ll take it all. And I’ll make sure you never become Emperor.”
Edzov sneered and whispered mockingly.
“And how, exactly, do you intend to do that?”
Suddenly, he snatched the musket from her hands and pressed it against his own head. Amelia’s eyes widened in shock.
“Go ahead. Shoot me.”
His voice was calm—almost amused.
“You want revenge, right? Then don’t make it so complicated. Just kill me. Right here. Isn’t that what you want? To take everything from me? Then start with my life. Unless you’re scared of being called a traitor for murdering a Grand Duke.”
Without hesitation, Edzov pulled out a small writing instrument from his breast pocket and began scribbling rapidly. As a noble, he always carried his family’s seal with him—no one could predict when one’s life might be at risk.
“Here. A will. If I die here, it won’t be your fault—it’ll be ruled a suicide.”
“……”
“It’s perfect, isn’t it? My handwriting, my seal—not forged. So shoot. If you can use that musket.”
Amelia froze, unable to respond. Edzov, satisfied, laughed bitterly.
“Of course you can’t. With that heart, it’s impossible. That fragile thing can only beat from loving me.”
She couldn’t use a musket—not with no magic, and certainly not with that weak heart incapable of sustaining mana.
‘That fool Eclite must’ve grabbed her hand, thinking he could “save” her by dragging her out of the North.’
Just the thought of her breathing the same air, standing in the same room with that bastard, filled Edzov with disgust.
‘Time to make her remember her place. That man should have stayed locked away in the North—vanished from this world forever.’
Edzov’s burning gaze gradually dimmed as he slowly lowered Amelia’s hand and clasped it with feigned tenderness.
“Amelia, it’s not too late. I know how deeply you loved me… how hurt and betrayed you must feel right now. I understand it all—and because of that love, I’ll forgive you. So come back to me quietly… become my Empress.”
He reached out, attempting to cradle her face.
“Just fall into my arms and submit to me.”
But Amelia knocked his hand away with her musket, the gesture cold and sharp, and smiled.
“It’s quite a sight, Your Grace—watching you get rejected again and again.”
“What?”
“You’ll have to get used to falling from here on out.”
Edzov’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding. She hadn’t frozen in fear from his provocation—she’d never intended to yield in the first place.
“You think I’d pull the trigger just to take your life? No. I’ll pull it when I claim the title of House Fiore’s head.”
She was eerily composed—unshaken and cold. Edzov couldn’t fathom what gave her such unflinching confidence.
‘Is this just one last desperate act before she dies?’
“And if my heart races for anyone now, it’s for Grand Duke Clio—not you.”
The moment Eclite’s name crossed her lips, Edzov’s eyes wavered violently. It was she who had landed the sharper blow—her provocation struck true, just as she’d intended.
“Even as Empress, I’ll remain at his side.”
“The next Emperor is me! Not that monster!”
Nothing enraged him more than that. His greatest vulnerability—his obsession with the throne—had been exposed. Losing control, Edzov seized Amelia’s shoulders with both hands and shouted.
“He was never the same as me! I am the true prince! I am the rightful heir to the throne!”
“Let go of me! I said—let go!”
Suddenly, a hand gripped Edzov’s shoulder and shoved him back with force.
“Ugh!”
In an instant, Edzov crashed to the ground, and Eclite Riot Clio stood over him, chest heaving slightly, eyes cold and lifeless as he glared down. Amelia gasped at the sight, her breath trembling.
“Eclite… Your Highness…”
Hearing her voice, Eclite immediately turned to her and stepped closer.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
“N-No. I’m not hurt, just…”
“Eclite!”
Edzov’s roar drowned out her words. Eclite tensed his jaw, forcing himself to turn toward him, his voice low and void of emotion.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Edzov’s voice twisted with rage.
“You should be the one answering that! How dare you lay hands on what’s mine!”
As he lunged again to grab Amelia, a fierce wind suddenly howled across the balcony. The sharp wind swept through, slamming into Edzov and halting his steps.
“W-What is this wind?!”
It was a violent gale, pinning him in place so forcefully he couldn’t take a single step. Even Amelia, standing behind Eclite, had to shield her eyes.
‘What… what is this?’
The air felt icy—each gust like a blade slicing across her skin. Amid the chaos, Eclite gripped his collar and leaned toward her, his voice a soft murmur.
“I’m sorry. Please endure it… just a little longer.”
‘Your Highness…?’
He looked entirely unaffected. In fact, it felt as though the storm centered around him.
And it wasn’t unfamiliar…
‘Yes… That strange earthquake in the mountains…’
By chance, he had been there then, too. Could it be… magic? Was this something he had conjured with magic?
‘No… impossible. Magic can’t do this. Pure magic like this doesn’t exist in this world anymore.’
In ancient times, yes—but in the present, true magic that relied solely on mana had long vanished from the land. Modern spellcraft required a medium to activate mana: muskets, swords, magical artifacts. Direct manipulation of mana would overwhelm the heart, and the caster would die. Amelia looked at Eclite, doubt flickering briefly in her gaze.
‘He has nothing with him. No tools. So it’s not magic. Just coincidence. Unless… he’s some ancient sorcerer.’
At last, the fierce wind began to subside. Eclite looked down at Edzov, who appeared utterly drained, and spoke calmly.
“This is where I stop listening to you, brother.”
Edzov forced strength into his legs and glared up at him.
“What…?”
Eclite wrapped an arm around Amelia’s shoulders, drawing her gently to his side.
“We’ll take our leave now.”
As Eclite turned away, Edzov summoned the last of his strength and shouted.
“Amelia! Don’t do something you’ll regret—come back, now! That bastard will never be Emperor—he’s just a monster!”
At his venomous curse, Amelia linked arms with Eclite—deliberately, proudly. Eclite’s expression shifted, his face flushing with tension in a different way, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. Amelia didn’t notice. She looked directly at Edzov, her voice unwavering.
“This is where I stop listening to Your Grace as well.”
“Amelia!”
“Don’t command me again. If you want me, you’ll have to submit to me.”
At the word submit, Eclite’s flickering gaze settled into something unreadable—quiet, but not entirely pleased. Behind them, Edzov seethed as the two walked away. The sensation of losing something right before his eyes, of having it taken by Eclite, was vile.
‘No. I won’t let you have anything—not even the smallest, most worthless thing.’
Leaving the balcony, Amelia cast a remorseful look toward Eclite.
“You didn’t have to hear all that. I’m sorry.”
But Eclite said nothing. His silence weighed heavier than words. Feeling guiltier by the moment, Amelia tried to pull away, to see his face.
“Next time… I’ll handle it myself… somehow.”
Yet Eclite grasped her hand again—firmly, this time. The sudden pressure made her feel something strange.
“Didn’t I say I was glad you weren’t alone?”
‘You don’t have to be alone anymore.’
“Ah… right, you did.”
“So stay with me. Even if it’s only because we need each other.”
When Edzov had touched her, she’d felt sick with disgust.
“Which means—don’t let go of this hand on your own. Because I won’t let it go.”
A subtle warmth spread from where their hands met—an unfamiliar but steady heat.
“Stay here. By my side. Together.”
