Half-empty bottles rolled across the parlor table. Leon glared at the bedroom door he had just kicked open and stormed out of, his burning throat clenched in his fist.

Two years ago, when he crossed over to the Urcheka Empire, he had no idea how long he waited for this moment. To kill the King of Valent, the man who drove him and his entire family to ruin, and to watch the downfall of Adela, who spouted love from her despicable mouth.

“…Hah.”

Leon’s red eyes, cast down at his glass, grew unfocused.

Born the second son of the distinguished Fershtein earldom, Leon lived a life without want. That was true until the day he was branded a traitor overnight, lost his family, and fled alone to the Valent Kingdom to keep himself alive.

Just thinking back to that time made his head feel like it would split open.

‘Leon, never trust anyone. And you must survive and protect the family.’

His brother’s face, the moment he pushed Leon into the secret passage and closed the door behind him, was still vivid. His brother said he would rescue their parents and follow soon after, but of everyone who bore the Fershtein name that night, Leon was the only one who survived.

When Leon arrived in the Valent Kingdom, he was seized by a slave trader and dragged to the slave market. He attempted to escape several times, but was caught every time, and paid for it with brutal beatings.

It was while he bit back his tears, his back torn open from the whippings. A small girl appeared and said she would buy him.

‘Does it hurt? Why aren’t you crying?’

He was in poor condition and could not answer. He learned later that the girl who bought him from the slave trader was the kingdom’s one and only princess.

She bought him, beaten half to death, and made him the child who would take beatings in her place.

At the time, Leon did not care either way.

He swore to keep his promise to his brother, but it seemed like he would not be able to. So what difference did it make whether he was beaten to death by the slave trader or died here?

But Adela Valent treated him not as a lowly slave, but as a person. She was still young and small in stature, nothing but adorable, yet the look in her eyes when she regarded him was truly warm.

Not knowing that her kindness was closing around his throat, Leon willingly gave himself over to her.

And naturally, he came to harbor feelings for Adela. Not knowing that it was the beginning of a tragedy.

Two years ago, on that day, Leon was on his way to meet Adela. The two of them, who long nurtured a young love, were at the point of sharing their true feelings with each other.

Leon’s steps, with a bundle of wildflowers he wove together to give her, were light as walking on clouds. He was thinking of Adela’s bright smile and quickening his pace when a man appeared like a shadow and blocked his path.

The man introduced himself as someone sent by Emperor Abarus.

‘One of the forces that brought ruin to the Fershtein family is none other than the King of Valent. Not satisfied with completely destroying the earldom, he bound you here as a slave, you who should rightfully have become the next earl.’

At first, he could not believe those words.

Even after crossing into Valent, he tried to uncover the truth behind his family’s deaths.

But there was a limit to the information he could obtain as a slave.

There had been a clash between a faction among the Urcheka nobility that opposed his father, and it seemed his family suffered because of it. He quietly bided his time here, waiting for the day he could take revenge.

But the target of his revenge was not only in Urcheka.

The Emperor’s messenger showed him not just words, but a wealth of supporting evidence, including numerous letters. The moment Leon saw the King of Valent’s clear seal, he clenched his fist.

When he saw Adela’s name, briefly mentioned in one of the letters, he nearly collapsed on the spot.

If he never learned the hidden, ugly truth, Leon would have gone on blind all this time.

‘I believed your words when you said we should run away together.’

Because he was sincere with Adela, Leon had to endure a betrayal that much harder to bear.

She merely took on the role of a watchdog, keeping Leon permanently bound as a slave in the Valent Kingdom on her father’s orders.

It was too horrifying to want to believe, but thinking of his family who died unjustly, he had to steel himself.

“…Hah.”

Leon was now older than his dead brother.

If only all of this were a dream.

Leon let out a sigh and fixed his sharp gaze on the bedroom door again.

While he was in Urcheka, intelligence on Adela never stopped coming in. Reports that she kept new men by her side came in endlessly as well.

Duke Tilbury was just one name among them.

What drove him mad above all else was the back of the man in the canvas hanging in the bedroom. Adela in the painting was depicted in profile, wearing a happy smile, but for some reason the man’s face could not be seen at all.

“D*mn it.”

A low curse ground between his teeth as the glass slammed into the wall. Shards scattered to his feet, but Leon did not blink, tracing the shape of the painting in his memory.

How precious could that man be, that he could not even leave his face behind? The jealousy was pathetically childish, yet it stirred an impulse close to murderous intent.

“…No one else can have her.”

He knew from the start that she was never his.

He could not be with her, either.

And yet he could not let her go.

The thick veins on the back of Leon’s hand rose as he gripped the arm of the sofa.

* * *

Adela was busy from morning.

For several days now she helped sort through items brought out of her late father’s storeroom. She was assigned to work with Leon’s strategist Hardt, verifying valuables and organizing the inventory.

“These are pearls sent from Ceres.”

“Ah, I see.”

Hardt, who was adjusting his monocle, set down his pen.

Adela knew better than anyone the provenance and value of these jewels, where they came from and whose hands they passed through. She was the most qualified person for this work.

“Thanks to your help, we got through it smoothly.”

“I’m glad I could be of help.”

Adela fidgeted with the bracelet Leon fastened on her wrist and asked, “By the way, should this bracelet be recorded as well? The Count said he brought it from the storeroom.”

Hardt showed a moment of visible discomfort. He adjusted his monocle and spoke awkwardly.

“Since the Count gave it to you himself, I think there’s no need to record it separately.”

Even with Hardt’s answer, Adela was still uneasy. She worried that it might be used against Leon later by Emperor Abarus and cause him harm.

After finishing her work, Adela made her way to the small pond inside the castle.

On one side of the pond, a great zelkova tree stood in solid watch, and beside it, willow branches drooping toward the water cast their shadows. It was the place she loved most since childhood.

“It’s still here.”

Passing through the shade of the willow, Adela found the swing hanging from a branch of the zelkova tree.

A few years ago, Leon hung it himself as a gift for her birthday.

On days when Adela was scolded by her father, Leon would silently push her on the swing without a word. Each time, it felt like her tears were carried away by the wind and flew far into the distance.

After she came of age, she never rode it once. But today she suddenly wanted to sit on it.

Perhaps it was because the events of the night before left a deep wound in Adela.

The Leon who drove her roughly last night seemed like a strange monster. And yet, glimpses of the boy she once knew kept breaking through, making everything more confusing.

She carefully took hold of the rope and settled herself onto the swing board. The rope pulled taut with a satisfying creak.

She pushed off the ground with her toes and the swing surged upward. Each time she rose high, cutting through the wind, willow leaves brushed against her face.

At the peak, her view opened out beyond the pond and she felt her body lift into the air.

“…Ah.”

Each time the swing came down, her toes skimmed just above the surface of the water.

Adela bit her lip.

The swing Leon used to push her on as a child swept away every worry, but today’s swing only made the tightness in her chest worse.

‘Witch of Valent.’

More painful than the world’s ugly reputation was Leon’s misunderstanding.