Chapter 1
Anaide slowly opened her eyes.
A shaft of light slipped through the cracks of consciousness. Softer than lightning, cooler than sunlight.
It was the lamplight illuminating the dark bedroom of the princess’s palace.
Her blinking vision came into focus. As Anaide slowly sat up in bed after waking, something large and black stirred at the edge of her sight.
She hunched her shoulders and opened her eyes wide.
“Are you awake, Princess?”
The mysterious presence turned out to be a man she knew well.
As the man who had been sitting in a chair approached the bed, Anaide spoke in a voice thick with sleep.
“Um… Rir?”
“Yes, your Fernir, Princess.”
The man smiled upon hearing his childish nickname. She stared blankly at that smile as she looked him over.
Fernir Ris de Valor.
The duke who protected the northern territories, and also Anaide’s lover.
He had come down to the capital to attend the founding festival banquet held at the royal palace, and Anaide had taken the opportunity to secretly spend time with him.
She had pretended to wander lost through the maze garden she could navigate with her eyes closed just to hold Fernir’s hand, and laughed while comparing the nose of the statue in the center of the fountain to his.
It had been time in which she could feel fulfilled in such a brief moment.
…But she definitely didn’t remember entering the bedroom on her own feet. What could have happened?
Anaide pulled the blanket up, struck by an ominous premonition.
‘Wait, if Rir is here…!’
Only then did she realize she wasn’t even engaged to Fernir yet.
To be in a bedroom with an unengaged lover in the middle of the night… Had she drunk too much and done something inappropriate? But she had controlled the alcohol’s strength and amount, and her clothes were far too clean and neat.
She anxiously rolled her eyes as she fidgeted with the well-fastened buttons of her dress. Indeed, not only the buttons but also the ribbons—nothing was undone. Except for the absence of the tiara that indicated her status as princess, everything was the same as before.
Then her moon-like eyes met his gaze.
A thick silence settled between them.
Noticing that Anaide’s hand was placed over her chest, Fernir burst into laughter.
“I didn’t touch you.”
“What?”
“I’m saying I’m not such a shameless man. Not shameless enough to touch a princess who fell asleep exhausted in my arms.”
“…”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her face slowly flushed red.
He always acted like a pleasant gentleman for her sake. Now and in the past. He knew the line between rudeness and courtesy well, which proved his exceptional sense.
To suspect him based on just one ‘what if’ scenario was shameless. Embarrassed, she bit the inside of her lip and blinked rapidly.
‘But still… isn’t it rather inconsiderate that he’s been sitting there smugly without giving any explanation until now?’
She was dying of curiosity about how he had managed to enter the bedroom.
Of course, she knew this was an embarrassing excuse. She couldn’t say anything now to the man who had brought her, half-unconscious with sleep, into the princess’s palace.
By the time he shrugged his shoulders cheekily, her face felt like it might explode from shame rather than just flush.
Finally, she threw a pillow at him with a silent cry. The pillow settled in his arms like a feather.
“Oh my, that was almost a disaster.”
“What disaster? You’re holding it just fine like you’re coddling a baby…!”
She lowered her voice worried someone might be outside, causing a strange metallic sound to come from her throat. Hearing the discord from her vocal cords, Fernir laughed aloud and began gently rocking his arms as if he really were holding a baby.
Even when Anaide shot him incredulous looks, he paid no mind. Rather, as if delighted by her gaze, Fernir even stroked the top of the pillow.
She shook her head in exasperation. Just how old was he, still enjoying teasing her like this?
‘When we first met, he didn’t seem like someone who could joke around like that.’
Fernir was a man she had known since she was eighteen, from when Anaide had her debutante ball upon reaching adulthood.
A fierce man who knew nothing of gentleness. That had been her first impression of Fernir.
His hair was so black it seemed to gleam with blue undertones, and his irises—pale gray crossed with bright yellow streaks like lightning—were eerily inhuman. Indeed, the rumors that he had been a knight rolling around the northern territories since boyhood weren’t false, as Fernir had a scar near his right eye.
Everyone either approached him like appraising a rare gem or backed away as if witnessing some repulsive monster. Yet their vulgar curiosity toward this mysterious being was needlessly abundant, so there wasn’t a single person who didn’t spare him at least a glance.
Of course, unlike those people, Princess Anaide hadn’t acted cowardly.
She had simply greeted even Fernir, who had rarely shown his face in social circles until then, with appropriate respect and politeness as if welcoming him.
“I am Anaide Tina de Rutilans, the Moon of Rutilan. Rutilan welcomes the Lakies Duke, protector of the north.”
The beginning was simple, but their connection ran deep.
Fernir was the man she had loved while practically confined to the royal palace, and would continue to love.
If her father had known this fact, he might have been angry with Fernir for daring to seduce his young princess, but fortunately her father didn’t know that she and Fernir were lovers.
Weren’t she and Fernir the perfect match to become husband and wife anyway? Fernir was a duke. She was a princess. Their status was comparable, and their ages appropriate. Coincidentally, it was so.
Though the northern territory he ruled was barren and suffered from erosion and monsters, she could supplement that with her dowry as a princess. That much wouldn’t be difficult for the sake of someone she loved.
The problem was that Fernir was busy with monster subjugation.
Anaide slowly rubbed her eyes as she watched Fernir put on his uniform coat. It seemed he had intended to leave as soon as he saw her wake up, as there was no delay in his preparations.
Though she tried not to show it, she was truly disappointed inside. Anaide grabbed Fernir’s fluttering coat hem.
“You have to leave right away…?”
She wished monsters didn’t appear so frequently in the north.
Then she could spend more time with Fernir.
Anaide wanted to be with him. She didn’t want to see more people die from monsters. No matter how strong Fernir was, he wasn’t immortal either.
Anyone could die in such a dangerous place. Even the Lakies Duke, called the kingdom’s strongest–no, the continent’s strongest–was no exception.
Fernir smiled slightly as if he knew her worries well. He gently caressed Anaide’s cheek as he softly added:
“It won’t take long to return to your side, Princess.”
“Really…?”
“I promise you. I plan to return to the capital within a few months. Don’t worry.”
At those words, her lips curved upward following his.
Though her face felt flushed, as soon as she heard his voice, a strange firmness filled her heart.
Her lover always returned, so this time too he would return victorious. He would bring honor for her and the northern territory and protect people from danger.
Anaide closed her eyes, reassured.
Fernir tenderly stroked her eyebrows. His low voice touched her ear and broke apart, and he took her hand as if making a knight’s oath.
“I will definitely return, Princess.”
“Mm-hmm…”
“With the enemy’s head.”
It was a reassuring voice. Her lover’s breath scattered across her face, lukewarm with body heat. She gradually succumbed to drowsiness like an animal in sunlight.
She didn’t understand why he would bring back ‘the enemy’s head’ when going to subjugate monsters though…
Anaide woke from her dream and opened her eyes.
Gray bricks came into focus in her blurry vision. The air, cold from the completely burned firewood, clung to her skin. As if serving as an indicator for her to recognize where she was now, the painful reality.
‘It was a nightmare.’
She bit her lips and hid the wretchedness that had become familiar. Anaide’s pale yellow eyes wandered aimlessly in the air before fixing on the window.
Anaide slowly sat up on the old bed.
“Ugh…”
Her head hurt. Had she been struck on the back of the neck by a knight who invaded the palace, or had someone fed her paralysis poison?
…In any case, what did any of that matter? It felt like her brain was being randomly torn apart, and every movement felt burdensome as if she were wearing wet cotton.
Anaide’s eyelashes trembled. Her sunken eyelids were pitifully bloodless.
Then the bell announcing the start of the day rang.
The vibration burst like an electric current. The heavy sound spread through the air, and chaotic shouts scattered between the densely packed capital buildings.
“Bring the criminal to the guillotine!”
It was the voice announcing the beginning of an execution.
Her body stiffened like a tree struck by lightning. Her pounding heart squeezed like wringing out a rag, and her limbs became heavy as rocks.
Rubbing her aching head as she walked toward the voice coming from outside the window, she felt even her remaining strength reach its limit. She leaned her heavy body against the window. All she could manage with her remaining energy was to barely move her eyes toward the scene outside.
This was the stone tower above the underground dungeon where criminals were imprisoned. Below was hazily distant, and the cold wind struck her cheeks sharply as it passed. She could easily fall out the window if she wasn’t careful.
Yet she stuck her face out the window. Because among the angry people, there was a man sitting in the place of honor, looking ahead with a bored expression.
A man both very familiar and at the same time terribly strange.
Hair black as the night sky.
Gray irises of low saturation with yellow marks like scars.
Fernir Ris de Valor.
No, since he had defied her father and ascended to the throne… now the royal surname would be attached after his name.
Anaide stared blankly at her former lover who had become a traitor. Just as she opened her mouth to speak his name, the executioner’s booming voice exploded forth.
“Wendel Chrisy de Rutilans, great traitor of Rutilan, hear this!”
Wendel Chrisy de Rutilans. The name of Anaide’s father and the man who had been King of Rutilan. And…
“The crime of living in luxury by bleeding the people dry!”
“…”
“The crime of turning a blind eye to the people’s deaths and throwing the country into chaos!”
“…”
“The crime of failing to properly care for the nation’s territory as king and making the country desolate!”
The name of the criminal to be executed this dawn under the morning dew.
Anaide watched Fernir without even blinking. Despite being the very person who had attached all these charges to her father, his face was chillingly expressionless. Perhaps he even found this entire situation boring.
Anaide trembled and bit her lips.
Shouldn’t he be laughing broadly, drunk on ecstasy by now?
Becoming lovers with her, a princess, whispering love to her—it had all been lies crafted for this moment… Everything had gone according to plan, so why wasn’t he showing even a hint of joy? She couldn’t understand.
Had he gone insane from being two-faced, or was he truly bored?
“For all these crimes, we execute Wendel Chrisy de Rutilans, great traitor of Rutilan!”
Fierce cheers swept through the square. At the same time, the guillotine’s blade glinted in the dawn light.
When the crashing sound of the blade hitting the frame exploded.
Tears also fell from Anaide’s eyes down her chin to the floor.
Like killing a mosquito that had sucked blood, a small red puddle formed on the square’s floor in the distance. Tear marks dotted the shabby wooden floor with its protruding thorns.
Her kingdom, Rutilan, had been overturned.
From this moment today, Rutilan’s king would change from her father to the man who had once been her lover.
