Chapter 1.3

With every step she took, red blood fell like petals on the floor. The crimson path, taking her life, led to the highest part of the imperial palace.

“Aah!”

A knight’s rough hand threw Frances onto the cold stone floor.

“You won’t be lonely. You have companions to cross the River Lethe with.”

The knight sneered as he mocked Frances, who lay on the hard stone floor. But having lost both hands and bled profusely, Frances could not easily escape the shock. Like someone out of their mind, she kept repeating the names of Noah and Kailen.

“Neither will survive today, so they’ll be good companions.”

The knight gave Frances one last look before turning away.

Bang!

The heavy door of the tower slammed shut.

Frances was suddenly trapped in the highest tower of the imperial palace. It had been less than 30 minutes since she dreamed of happiness in the waiting room prepared for the bride. The demonic sword she offered was used to take her wrists. Perhaps due to magic, the skin where blood dripped turned blue.

The wedding dress was stained red with the blood that flowed so profusely, and her neatly arranged hair was disheveled. Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor in place of the shoes that had been removed somewhere.

Despairing at the unbelievable reality, Frances turned her head.

“Gasp.”

She held her breath.

Kailen, with a large iron ball chained to his leg, leaned against the cold stone wall, looking at her.

Time seemed to stop.

The voices of the bustling wedding guests and the beautiful music were no longer audible. Frances stared blankly at Kailen Duvel.

“…Were you really a woman, cough?”

Kailen’s hoarse voice, somehow filled with resignation, made Frances’s eyes widen. She could never forget the last moment she faced him with a sword.

Every time she brought her sword down on the towering Kailen, Frances had to cross the threshold of life and death several times.

And now, he spoke to Frances in a pitiful state unlike any she had ever seen.

“Why are you here?”

Frances’s voice trembled. Her eyes, filled with disbelief even as she looked at him, were shadowed with deep guilt.

Kailen Duvel, the guardian of the northern sea.

The supposed murderer who, out of jealousy of Prince Noah, drove him to his death.

These were the crimes Frances had imposed on Kailen. And now, Frances stood before him, betrayed by Otis and having lost her hands.

“Does it matter?”

A faint breath escaped, carrying away the last remnants of life. She had never thought he would still be alive. The companion of death left behind by Otis turned out to be Kailen Duvel.

It was truly a cruel twist of fate.

“Duvel…”

“That night… I wasn’t mistaken. The woman I saw… was you.”

Kailen muttered between fits of coughing. Frances, however, was too stunned by his appearance to respond.

“…”

“…Don’t look at me with such pity, Frances Wiblow.”

His voice, damaged from prolonged torture, sounded like metal scraping against metal. Yet his gaze was sharp, far from the look of someone standing at death’s door.

Frances looked up at Kailen with dazed eyes. Even now, Kailen Duvel seemed like an insurmountable mountain.

“…Pity you? That’s absurd, Duvel.”

Frances lowered her gaze.

A wave of dizziness made it hard for her to even stand. She steadied her trembling body with sheer willpower. She had to witness the final moments of the man she had ruined.

“You followed your lord, and I followed mine. Cough, cough. So wipe that expression off your face.”

Each time Kailen spoke, he coughed up blood. The filthy, hard stone floor was quickly stained red as their blood mingled. Frances stared blankly at the scene.

“I thought you were dead, Kailen Duvel.”

“The wound you left me with was indeed severe.”

Even on the brink of death, Kailen joked nonchalantly, leaving Frances speechless.

“Are you not angry at me?”

Frances knew it was absurd to be the one asking such a question. But she couldn’t understand how Kailen could remain so composed, even in this situation.

His name, Duvel, had been erased from the empire’s history, tarnished by false accusations of coveting his lord’s woman and driving her to death out of jealousy.

And it was Frances who had orchestrated it all.

Yet Kailen, standing before her now, showed no trace of resentment toward her.

Kailen’s eyes narrowed slightly at her provocation. His eyelids, half-closed from the torture, struggled to stay open. Blood from his head wound trickled down, covering his face entirely.

Just looking at him conveyed the extent of his suffering.

But Kailen acted as if he couldn’t feel any of it. His dark eyes slowly turned toward Frances.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“At least I was never betrayed by my lord, Frances Wiblow.”

The conviction in his black eyes made Frances lower her head to the ground at his feet.

“Hic… Ugh.”

Her sounds were more like the gasps of a beast than tears. It was the final, desperate sobbing of a creature that had abandoned its humanity, choked by the weight of its sins.

Though she could never be forgiven, she still had to say it.

“…I’m sorry, Duvel. I’m so sorry.”

Kailen stared blankly at Frances, who was bowing at his feet, begging for forgiveness. In his blurred vision, he noticed her arm, now missing a hand.

“Otis Baien has lost a fine knight.”

His voice grew slower and weaker, like his fading life.

“…”

“I won’t accept your apology, Wiblow.”

Frances bit her lip at Kailen’s words. Blood welled up in her mouth as her teeth broke the skin.

“…”

“Otis was desperately searching for this.”

A red gem rolled into Frances’s line of sight as she lay with her face pressed to the ground.

Frances raised her head. The gem, soaked in Kailen’s blood, was the very thing she had been desperately searching for—the Mermaid’s Tear.

“You had it all this time?”

Frances looked at Kailen in disbelief. His face, covered in blood and taking his final breaths, somehow seemed at peace.

“I always wanted to give it to you. If I had known we’d meet like this, I would’ve given it to you much sooner.”

At Kailen’s words, Frances bowed her head again. Everything blurred in her teary vision.

“I’m sorry.”

Kailen’s calm apology made something hot and overwhelming rise in her chest.

“Why… Why are you apologizing to me?” 

Frances, unable to lift her head after Kailen’s apology, muttered in a low voice. The layers of regret weighing on her chest clogged her throat, preventing her from speaking properly. 

She couldn’t blame Kailen for not giving her what was his. 

“…If you had it, maybe you could’ve been happy.” 

Frances’s tear-streaked face twisted in disbelief. 

“…How far do you intend to drag me down, Duvel?” 

All of this misfortune had started with Frances. And the greatest victim was undoubtedly Kailen Duvel. Yet, even after meeting her at the end of despair, he hadn’t uttered a single word of resentment or blame. 

He merely spoke of how he had stayed true to his convictions, loyal to his lord. Even now, in this moment, he was taking the blame upon himself. 

“If I had given this to you, maybe… just maybe, this tragedy wouldn’t have happened.” 

Kailen coughed violently, spitting out a large clot of blood. Frances stared at him blankly. 

His life was as fragile as a candle flickering in the wind. 

And yet, Kailen Duvel’s gaze remained unyielding—like a flame that refused to be extinguished. 

“Next time you make a wish, make it for your own happiness, not for someone else’s, Wiblow.”

Speaking as if he knew the truth about the Mermaid’s Tear, Kailen offered Frances his advice. 

“What…?” 

Frances lifted her head at Kailen’s mention of a “next time.” Their equally battered appearances were reflected in each other’s eyes. 

Even in this dire situation, Frances couldn’t understand Kailen’s talk of a “next time.” 

Ding— 

Ding— 

Ding— 

The sound of bells announcing the Emperor’s wedding echoed through the air. Frances, as if entranced, turned toward the window, its iron bars firmly in place. 

Her pale cheeks, devoid of blood, now turned a sickly shade of blue. She looked as though she might collapse at any moment. 

Summoning the last of her strength, Frances staggered forward. Her blurred vision and faltering steps made it seem as though she might fall flat at any moment. 

Following her movements, Kailen slowly turned his head. His eyelids, growing heavier, seemed to bother him as he frowned in irritation. 

Frances looked out the barred window at Otis’s wedding. 

The woman standing beside Otis, holding his hand before the archbishop, wore the same white half-mask that had concealed Frances’s face just an hour ago. She looked exactly like Frances. 

The white wedding dress of the Kingdom of Benita, the veil woven by a craftsman over several months, even the wedding shoes that peeked out briefly—all of it was identical. 

And the one who had prepared it all was Otis. 

“It was never mine to begin with.” 

Frances looked down at her own wedding dress, which stood in stark contrast to the bride’s pure white attire. She could feel her senses fading, one by one. Instinctively, she realized her time was running out. 

Cheers erupted— 

As Otis reached out to remove the mask from his bride’s face, the crowd roared in excitement. Finally, the mask was lifted from the woman holding Otis’s hand. 

“This… This can’t be…” 

Frances staggered and collapsed to the ground upon seeing the woman’s face. Her horribly twisted expression gradually faded into lifelessness. 

Her pale face, devoid of hope, seemed to lose even the will to live. Her vision swam as though half the blood in her body had drained away. 

“Valeria Wiblow.” 

Her half-sister, who had tormented her endlessly, was smiling as she faced Otis. Frances slumped to the ground, her body limp. 

“…Duvel. What have I been living for all this time?” 

The Kailen she had been speaking with just moments ago didn’t answer. His gaze, in his final moments, had been fixed on Frances. 

Tears streamed down Frances’s cheeks at his silence. 

“What… What have I done? What did I do to you?” 

No one answered her, but Frances couldn’t stop asking. Even atop the high tower, the cheers of the crowd below were deafening. 

The air was filled with praises for Valeria’s beauty. 

The very person who had ruined Frances’s face now stood before the nobles and citizens, wearing her mask. The entire capital resounded with Valeria’s name. 

Having lost everything, Frances crawled toward Kailen. 

Blaming herself for being so distracted by Otis and Valeria that she couldn’t even witness his final moments, she brought her lips to his eyelids. 

With no hands to close his eyes, she used her lips instead. 

“Ah!”  

Frances’s eyes fell on the Mermaid’s Tear. 

‘Next time you make a wish, make it for your own happiness, not for someone else’s, Wiblow.’ 

Kailen’s final words to Frances became his dying testament. 

“How could I ever wish for my own happiness, Duvel? If there is a next time, I will wish for your happiness instead.” 

Frances lowered her head and swallowed the Mermaid’s Tear that had fallen to the ground. The sharp edges seemed to tear at her throat, but she didn’t care. 

The burn scars that had tormented her throughout her life no longer mattered. Without hesitation, Frances wished for Kailen’s peace. 

“Ha…” 

Collapsed at Kailen’s feet, Frances exhaled her final breath.