Chapter 6

Plop. Drop.

Letricia blinked slowly at the red drops falling within her field of vision, feeling unreal.

What is this? Where is this blood coming from?

‘Could this be my blood…?’

Letricia unconsciously touched her face.

“Ah…!”

When she felt something slick on her fingertips, she hurriedly covered her lower face and threw her head back, a beat too late.

Her expression naturally twisted in disgust at the metallic taste flowing down her throat.

And that disgust intensified when the blood that hadn’t been swallowed pooled in her cupped hands around her chin.

As her brows naturally furrowed, Killian’s face, wearing Winston’s appearance, suddenly appeared before her with an even deeper frown.

“What are you doing!”

His expression hardened further when their eyes met, and then his large hand quickly grabbed the back of her head and pushed it forward.

Following gravity, the blood pooled in Letricia’s hands scattered downward.

It seemed the bright blue dress would inevitably be dotted with distinct drops of blood.

But whether by coincidence or intention, Killian’s arm was placed where the blood fell.

Because of this, it was his gray jacket, not Letricia’s dress, that was being stained red.

Not only that, but red liquid remained on the back of his other hand as well.

“What were you thinking, throwing your head back!”

There was a hint of anger in Killian’s voice, which had been full of composure even while dealing with Isis’s temper, causing Letricia to unconsciously shrink her shoulders.

Thinking the reason for his anger might be because his clothes were dirtied by her blood.

So Letricia apologized in a nasal voice due to her blocked nose.

“I’m sorry. I’ll compensate you somehow for the ruined clothes.”

“…What?”

But apparently she had misread the situation, as Killian’s voice dropped even lower at those words.

He let out a scoffing laugh and then wordlessly pressed a handkerchief under Letricia’s nose.

As if he had experienced such situations before, there wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation in his series of actions.

But unlike his actions that seemed habitual, Killian’s voice kept getting lower.

“Compensation? I have no reason to refuse if you’re offering. Yes, how will you compensate? Will you reimburse me for the clothes?”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do that.”

“Huh.”

Though it wasn’t clear what displeased him, Killian’s attitude became even more crooked.

“I’m not particularly short on money. I’d prefer compensation in another form. For example…”

“Oh my, who do we have here? Winston, is that you? When did you return to the empire?”

Killian, who seemed about to suggest something else he wanted, wrinkled his brow muscles at the boisterous voice calling him.

But the man who called out Winston Hilton’s name seemed oblivious – not only did he abruptly cut off Killian and Letricia’s conversation, but he even rode his horse over and made a fuss.

“This is perfect timing. Your father agreed to invest in our mines this time, but we couldn’t get in touch… Wait, why are you with Lady Esta? Oh! Come to think of it, isn’t that blood on your clothes? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Please be quiet…”

“Hey, you there! Call a healer immediately! Mmph?”

As all eyes quickly turned to him due to this, Killian, clearly displeased with the situation, tensed his forehead and covered the man’s mouth.

“I hate when people crowd around. Could you please be quiet?”

“Mmph? Mmph!”

The man, his cheeks deeply pressed by the large hand, rolled his eyes and nodded vigorously.

Then he rustled through his clothes and pulled out a piece of paper – it was an investment contract stamped with the Hilton family seal.

It was a wordless gesture suggesting they discuss the investment matter if he stayed quiet.

Seeing his determination to follow along otherwise, Killian pressed his temples as if getting a headache.

Then he nimbly jumped off the horse.

“Haa… Lady Esta, please go ahead inside. Let’s continue our conversation in the hall.”

* * *

While Letricia was having this peculiar journey with Killian in disguise.

A different kind of commotion was occurring in the western palace where Isis and Mark had been taken.

“No! I really didn’t know this person was the Grand Duke!”

“I understand, so please be quiet.”

“Would you stay quiet if you were in my position? Being detained without any reason?”

Seeing the guard captain seemingly ignoring his words, Isis beat his chest in frustration.

Today’s luck had been absolutely terrible.

As if meeting that unlucky Winston Hilton wasn’t enough, who could have guessed that the owner of that black carriage without proper insignia would turn out to be the Grand Duke.

Isis angrily stomped his foot on the imperial floor in indignation.

But regardless of Isis’s circumstances, such things weren’t important to the guard captain. After all, Isis was just extra baggage brought along because he had been next to the Grand Duke.

So he continued his duties steadfastly, ignoring Isis who was outside his concern.

“Your Grace. We received reports of forces attempting to attack you and are investigating, so though it may be inconvenient, please wait here briefly.”

“Attack?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Please understand this is a measure for Your Grace’s safety.”

Pfft.

Mark, disguised as Killian, barely swallowed a laugh that threatened to escape.

Who could have come up with such a crude lie?

In this empire, there was no one with greater military might than his master Killian, yet who was protecting whose safety?

Look at that. Even the guard captain avoids eye contact, embarrassed by his own words.

Finding it so ridiculous, the laugh he had swallowed finally burst out.

The guard captain hurriedly cleared his throat and concluded his words.

“It-it was Her Majesty the Empress Dowager’s order. We should complete the verification before the second dance begins, so…”

“Fine.”

“What? Ah, yes!”

Though it was a lie so poorly crafted it was embarrassing to even pretend to believe it, Mark simply nodded.

While it wasn’t particularly pleasant feeling like a stupid knight who couldn’t see through such an obvious lie.

Still, they would lower their guard only if he stayed here obediently.

‘Just like that.’

Mark’s face turned grim as he glared at the soldiers exchanging glances busily through the closing door gap.

Just before the door closed completely, he heard them whispering crude epithets about Killian – “bloodthirsty war demon,” “terrible prince.”

“These disgusting imperial bastards, as always.”

Words full of hostility leaked from Mark’s mouth.

This place hasn’t changed, then or now.

Among the Silvano Knights, mostly composed of mercenaries, Mark was the only one from the capital’s nobility.

Though his family had fallen so far that not even their name remained, Mark had been by Killian’s side since he was a prince, and thus could pride himself on knowing Killian better than anyone.

“War demon my ass.”

Could there be anything more absurd?

Enjoying slaughter? Being incredibly cruel?

The rumors spread about Killian were all maliciously created false rumors.

‘…Though it’s true that our lord doesn’t have the best personality… ahem!’

Well. In any case, most of the rumors about Killian were false.

And the source of those lies was probably from the deepest, most intimate part of the palace – the Empress Dowager’s palace.

It was like this in the past too.

After the death of the previous Empress, mother of Killian and his older brother Crown Prince Kashar, due to illness.

The current Empress Dowager, Astara, tried to place her son on the crown prince’s position by both recruiting ministers and subtly undermining Kashar and Killian’s positions.

Then, when Crown Prince Kashar, who had gone on an outing outside the castle with Killian, died in an accident, she blamed Killian who had been present at the scene and finally succeeded in driving him from the palace.

Without any support, to the North, a land so barren it was called the land of death – a child who had just turned eight.

Therefore, Killian took up the sword only to survive and to feed his people.

He knows. Normally, it wouldn’t have been possible to drive out a prince so easily.

But at that time, the previous Emperor was so infatuated with Astara that he showed no interest in his own children, and in such a situation, Astara had even won over the ministers.

So driving out one young prince who had no power to protect himself wasn’t a particularly difficult task for her.

Of course, some nobles who weren’t won over by Astara tried to protect Killian, but their power alone wasn’t enough to stop Astara.

Mark’s father was also one of the nobles who tried to protect Killian, and one of those who was sacrificed in the political struggle.

‘Damn that Empress Dowager.’

Grinding his teeth in barely contained anger, Mark glared at the Empress Dowager’s palace visible through the arched window.

In any case. Before the soil on the previous Empress’s grave had even dried, Astara became the new Empress and her son ascended to the crown prince’s position.

Things seemed quiet for a while after that.

But from a few years ago, the Empress Dowager’s checks on Killian started intensifying again.

Whether it was because movements to reunite the scattered forces of the previous Empress’s faction were detected, or because Killian’s presence in the empire had grown stronger due to successive military victories.

At first, she seemed content with spreading malicious rumors to damage his reputation, but apparently not satisfied with just that, she started attaching surveillance, and now it seems she plans to monitor Killian’s every move.

“The Empress Dowager is looking for Grand Duchess candidates who will be her eyes and ears. It seems our lord’s marriage will be announced at the victory banquet, so please prepare accordingly.”

“Huu…”

Mark sighed, recalling the secret message delivered by their spy in the palace while returning to the capital after ending the war.

The long exhale contained worry for Killian.

‘I hope our lord handles this situation well.’

While listening to the distant music announcing the start of the banquet, Mark stroked his rough jaw with a calloused hand.

Anyway, his assigned duty for today ended here, and now all he could do was wait quietly here as per Killian’s orders.

Hoping that tonight would pass without incident.

* * *

“Please go into the banquet hall first. I’ll… come after getting rid of that fool, then we can continue our conversation.”

Blink.

Letricia removed the handkerchief he had left from her face while staring at the dark corridor beyond where Killian had disappeared.

Fortunately, the bleeding had stopped quickly.

“…So this must be the symptom Piril mentioned.”

Heh.

Letricia let out a hollow laugh while wiping her blood-stained lips.

How absurd. Even though she had always been weak, this had never happened once in her life.

Could symptoms appear so readily just because she received a terminal diagnosis?

It felt like she was an actor performing a well-written script – this whole situation felt both realistic and quite unrealistic at the same time.

“…I wonder if this will become familiar after a while too.”

With this barely audible self-mutter, Letricia slowly began walking.

The corridor was quite quiet, probably because most people had already entered.

As she walked through the space so silent that even the sound of her dress dragging on the carpet seemed loud, voices leaked from a rest area on one side.

“Are you really alright? Your fiancée should be arriving soon. You should at least escort her.”

“Ah, I told you I’m fine.”

“…?”

Letricia unconsciously turned her head toward the familiar voice that stopped her steps.

Sure enough, she saw a familiar profile.

Sitting crookedly with crossed legs while holding a cigar, habitually sliding cards between his index and middle fingers – it was none other than…

Letricia’s fiancé who hadn’t shown his face the entire way here, Petrick Godwin.

Perhaps he had a good hand, as Petrick’s eyes were curved alluringly.

“Well. It would be a bit embarrassing to walk through the hall arm in arm with a commoner adoptee, wouldn’t it?”

Heh.

Petrick’s thin lips curled up as if agreeing with his friend’s words.

“Well, I can’t exactly deny that.”

Then someone stuffing a biscuit in their mouth joined the conversation.

“Why, your fiancée’s face is quite something though.”

“Hm? Well, Letricia is pretty. She’s pretty, but…”

Petrick, who had been dragging his words as long as the cigar smoke he exhaled, tapped off the ash and took a sip of champagne.

Then he shook his head as if thoroughly unimpressed.

“That’s all there is to it. There’s no excitement, no thrill.”