Chapter 1.2

Just as a satisfied smile appeared on Otis’s face, Frances raised her head.

“Do I really have to take off the mask?”

Frances’s green eyes trembled with anxiety. The burn mark left by Valeria could not be erased with money or power. The brand of flames, reminiscent of magic, was a blemish that Frances could never remove, even as Empress.

“You can’t hide it forever, can you?”

His touch on the mask he had given her was rougher than usual today. However, Frances, excited about the upcoming wedding, did not notice the change in Otis.

“But… everyone will be disappointed.”

Frances sighed softly as she touched the mask. She lacked the confidence to reveal the hideous burn scars beneath the mask to others.

“Once the wedding is over, you’ll be my wife. You’ll be the Empress.”

Otis’s voice was calm. There was a hint of irritation, causing Frances to swallow nervously. At some point, it had become routine for her to be wary of his mood.

“…I’m sorry.”

In the end, it was Frances who apologized first. She worked tirelessly to strengthen the imperial power, but all the glory belonged to Otis. Yet, Frances did not resent him.

‘My fame is your fame, Frances.’

When he kissed her forehead and smiled gently, Frances chastised herself for ever resenting Otis.

Frances believed his words. She could never forget how he appeared like a knight from a fairy tale, kneeling before her and proposing when it was revealed she was a woman and faced fierce criticism from the nobles.

“You’re so timid. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Otis laughed as he brushed Frances’s eyes.

Frances looked up. Her heart sank at the words “it doesn’t matter” that escaped his lips. Her voice trembled with an inexplicable anxiety.

“Otis?”

Her voice trembled so much it was hard to believe it came from a bride in the most beautiful wedding dress.

“Yes, you might be right.”

Otis’s lips curved into a smile.

“Otis. I was just worried. Please don’t take it to heart.”

Frances hastily apologized to Otis.

Otis traced his fingers over Frances’s mask. His movements across the hard mask were as sharp as a knight’s sword.

The hand that had been touching Frances’s mask slowly moved downward. Frances inhaled sharply.

Wherever his fingers touched, goosebumps rose.

She was frozen, caught in his cold, violet gaze.

“No need to apologize. I thought you were completely unaware of your place, seeing how you’ve manipulated the nobles to your whim, but fortunately, that’s not the case.”

Otis grasped Frances’s chin, turning it this way and that.

“…”

Frances’s face twisted at Otis’s cold assessment.

“What kind of place is this to make a woman with hideous burn scars an Empress? I can’t let someone like you leave a stain on my perfect life.”

Otis’s voice turned icy. His cold, disdainful gaze was directed at Frances.

“What do you mean, Otis?”

Before she realized it, the wrist caught in his grasp began to ache as if it might break. Frances twisted her body, trying to free her wrist from his grip. She struggled to make sense of the situation that had changed so suddenly, but her mind felt foggy, as though shrouded in mist.

“Ah, the drug seems to be taking effect now. It’s time for you to exit the stage.”

“…What are you talking about?!”

“How could I possibly take the murderer who killed my brother as my bride, Frances?”

Otis’s unrestrained accusation left Frances speechless. 

The white half-mask fell away from her face as Otis pulled it off, and at the same time, knights wearing iron masks burst into the bridal waiting room. 

Shrrk.

The chilling sound echoed as blood spurted from both her wrists. The pure white wedding dress was stained red in an instant. 

This all happened just an hour before the wedding was set to begin. 

* * * 

Drip.

Red droplets of blood from her body splattered across the white wedding dress. Frances, who had been guarding Otis against the knights in iron masks, stared blankly at her hands. 

“What is this?” 

Her expression turned vacant as she looked at her wrist, which had vanished in an instant. She blinked at Otis, who was shaking off the blood from his sword. 

When the knights suddenly stormed in, Frances’s first thought was of Otis’s safety. But once she realized that they were targeting her and not him, the surroundings had already turned into a sea of blood. 

“What? Oh, are you talking about them?” 

Otis turned his gaze briefly toward the maids, who lay lifeless on the ground. 

“They knew your true face. I couldn’t let them live.” 

Looking down at Frances’s pitiful state, Otis shook his head. If she hadn’t been cautious, it might have been Otis’s own wrist that had been severed. He seemed deeply displeased as he glanced at the bloodstains on his own wrist. 

“You killed them just for that reason?” 

Frances sat on the floor with a dazed expression, looking up at Otis. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll be joining them soon. By the way, your skills with a sword are truly impressive. I almost lost my wrist because of you.” 

Otis frowned as he finished stopping the bleeding with a handkerchief. 

“…So, this was your plan all along.” 

Frances slowly stood up. 

Her left face, revealed after the mask was removed, was covered in burn scars. Tears streaked her disfigured face as Otis pushed her face away with his hand. 

“Get that disgusting face out of my sight.” 

Frances fell to the floor, pushed by Otis’s hand, and raised her head. Her green eyes were filled with deep despair. 

“…Otis.” 

Frances weakly called his name, her bleeding arms trembling. 

“Every time I see your face, I feel like I’m going to vomit. Every time I kissed that hideous face, I thought of this day.” 

“…” 

“The day I’d throw you down like this. Ha.” 

From outside the window came the constant chatter and laughter of the wedding guests. The soft music played by the imperial orchestra floated in on the breeze. 

Heaven and hell. 

Only a single wall separated them, yet the difference was stark. 

“Ah! Don’t worry about the wedding. My bride is safe and sound.” 

Otis laughed as he looked at Frances sprawled on the floor. 

“Bride? I’m your bride!” 

“What have you been listening to all this time? Ah, it’s better to see for yourself. If you’re still alive by then, that is.” 

Otis smirked as he looked down at the despairing Frances. He approached the mirror where Frances had admired herself in her wedding dress and manipulated something. 

With a clicking sound, the hidden side of the mirror was revealed. 

“Begin!” 

At Otis’s command, several knights rushed toward Frances. 

“Let go! Let me go!” 

Frances resisted belatedly, but having lost her wrists, she could do nothing. 

“Tch.” 

Otis clicked his tongue as though looking at something filthy, while Frances hurled curses at him. 

“I won’t let you get away with this, Otis! I’ll kill you!” 

Blood continued to drip from her unbandaged wrists. The once pristine white wedding dress was now soaked red with her blood. 

Otis chuckled incessantly at the sight of Frances, who looked like a vengeful spirit. 

“You look quite fitting as you are now.” 

“What… what did you say?” 

“You seem to be mistaken. You’re the one who killed them, Frances.”  

His jewel-like violet eyes suddenly gleamed with intense desire. Even after claiming everything, Otis’s gaze was one of wanting something greater.

“…”

“Did I ever ask you to kill Kailen? Did I ever request you to eliminate Noah?”

“…”

“It was all your doing, Frances.”

“…That was for you!”

Frances’s voice trembled as she swallowed her excuses. Her voice grew smaller, while Otis’s voice grew louder.

“I never wanted it.”

Otis spoke with a somber look at Frances. Her eyes drifted to the black formal suit he was wearing.

Only then did Frances realize.

The black suit he wore was not for their wedding but for death.

“…What?”

Frances asked, stunned.

“Was there no other way for me to become emperor than through such cruel means? In truth, I wanted to be a good brother to Noah. Despite being ostracized by the nobles as a bastard, Noah called me his brother.”

Otis shrugged. Frances could say nothing in response to his words. As he said, Otis never asked her to kill Noah, who was in competition for the throne.

He never ordered the death of Kailen Duvel either.

It was just that.

‘If only Kailen Duvel wasn’t around, I could become emperor.’

That was all he had said.

At Otis’s words, Frances, who had been resisting the knights, went limp. The knights dragged her away as she hung listlessly.

“Farewell, Frances. See you in hell.”

Otis waved at Frances as she disappeared into the darkness. Frances turned her head to capture that image of Otis in her eyes.

There had never been love.

No, there was only Frances Wiblow, begging for love.