He saw the Imperial Princess half-reclining on a red canapé. Count Glastia approached her in one breath.

“Mademoiselle Sehera.”

“Oh my. It’s been a long time, Count Glastia.”

Lumière widened her blue eyes. As she said, it had indeed been a long time since he had faced Lumière. Lumière, who had brought the rumors, was sitting alone on the wide canapé, gently fanning herself.

“You haven’t changed at all. Just as I remember.”

“Those are the words I wanted to say. Your Highness is also exactly the same as in your childhood, unchanged in any way.”

Count Glastia kissed Lumière’s hand. Was that action displeasing? Lumière’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

Count Glastia immediately got to the point.

“Where is the mademoiselle of the rumors?”

“Did you come here so hurriedly, not out of concern for my well-being, but curious about our Belle?”

Our Belle. It was a phrase that clearly showed her affection for the subject of the rumors.

Lumière smiled sweetly and gently rebuked him.

“I don’t think the young and beautiful Mademoiselle would be particularly pleased to see you, Count. Don’t we have separate generations that suit us?”

“The treasure of Sehera is still overflowing with wit.”

Count Glastia also narrowed his eyes, following Lumière. This level of sarcasm didn’t even itch. The eyes of the two people who clashed criticized each other.

‘Old raccoon.’

‘You sly fox.’

Eventually, Lumière opened her folding fan and pointed to a corner.

“She seemed quite shocked, so I told her to rest for a moment. She’s sitting over there.”

Following her words, Count Glastia turned his head.

Most of the people in the salon now were blonde. It was a trend that had spread due to the Emperor’s gentleness towards blonde women. Nevertheless, her bright golden hair stood out distinctly.

Despite having a very glamorous impression, the words ‘white and transparent’ suited the woman well. The woman was sitting quietly in her seat with a man of completely opposite image to herself.

At that sight, Count Glastia narrowed his eyes. She resembled Valentine to such a degree that it was immediately understandable why the Empress had been startled and dragged her away.

“It seems the Empress was so uncomfortable that she committed a great discourtesy to Your Highness. I will apologize on her behalf.”

“Count, you are Madame Glastia’s brother, not Madame Sehera’s brother, are you not?”

The implication was, ‘What are you to the Empress?’ Count Glastia, Astaire’s maternal uncle, was now a person with no connection to the current imperial couple.

In response to this sharp attack, Count Glastia smiled leisurely.

“We have in common that we are wary of Madame Marguerite.”

“Madame Marguerite.”

Lumière’s voice was acrid as she rolled that name on her tongue. Her fan fluttered. The white feather attached to the fan head swayed limply.

“I did hear various rumors in Tristan. Wasn’t she greatly cherished by your violent nephew?”

“Violent, you say?”

Count Glastia, who had some pride in Astaire, bristled. But weren’t the rumors about Astaire and his consort famous enough to sweep across the entire continent in the first place? There was nothing more to add.

Rather, Lumière’s voice was sharp as she asked back.

“I fail to understand what this has to do with the current Empress. It’s about the past of people who are already gone and dead.”

“Madame Fleur.”

Count Glastia’s voice sank low. His tone was contemptuous, as if to say, ‘Don’t you even know this?’

“If one loves Sehera, one could not have liked Madame Marguerite. Think about the meaning of the honorific ‘Madame Sehera’. Isn’t it as natural as breathing?”

“Would you care to explain in more detail?”

“If Madame Marguerite had been even slightly more wise and sane, would Astaire have strayed down the wrong path?”

It was an utterly blatant defense, covering up his grand-nephew’s sins.

At that moment, the woman in the distance turned her head. A spark flew in the violet eyes that glanced briefly at Count Glastia.

“Astaire would not have indulged in luxury and pleasure, nor would he have mercilessly killed people. Above all, would he have harmed poor Madame Ingrid like that and given her such a cruel end that cannot even be spoken of?”

The crime Astaire had committed against Solice de le Ingrid could not be covered up with any words. Thus, Count Glastia sincerely believed that his disposal of Valentine’s corpse was the most merciful act.

Valentine had met a death far too peaceful compared to the sins she had committed. Considering the plight of poor Solice, who was murdered by her husband’s hand and whose corpse was further violated by being turned into alcohol, even her rest was not peaceful.

Cassian had been excessively merciful.

“Madame Marguerite was a witch of the century. If she had been a decent person, Astaire would never have earned the infamy of being a tyrant.”

Count Glastia paused briefly. The blonde woman clenched her fist. Pitifully, it trembled.

“There’s no guarantee that the same thing won’t happen again.”

“The same thing, you say.”

Lumière chuckled softly.

“Cassian might become like Astaire… Is that what you’re trying to say now?”

It was a statement that could get one’s head cut off if it reached Cassian’s ears. Count Glastia quickly chose his words.

“The possibility of one in a million exists.”

“One in a million, you say.”

“It’s wise to prepare in advance for unforeseen circumstances. Isn’t it natural for the Empress, who loves and cherishes Sehera, to worry and be cautious? Without that level of patriotism, how could one sit in that position?”

“If we start judging right and wrong like that…”

Lumière’s voice was utterly cold.

“I think Madame Glastia, who gave birth to Astaire in such a way, bears the greatest sin.”

Lumière lashed out with her sharp tongue at Count Glastia, who was trying not to acknowledge the sins of his blood relative.

“It seems that Madame Sehera should worry about Bastian’s future instead of persecuting someone who resembles her out of needless anxiety. From now on, to avoid following in the footsteps of the deposed emperor, she should cultivate her own education and focus on raising her child, shouldn’t she?”

At that moment, the woman in the distance abruptly stood up from her seat. Covering her mouth as if about to vomit, she quickly ran out of the salon. The black-haired man followed her.

She moved her steps to the dark garden. In the darkness where no one was present, she turned to look at the man.

“Lu…”

A trembling voice called out to the man. A delicate hand grasped his clothes.

The man only asked back in a calm voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I want to love Sehera.”

It was a voice filled with tears. Her eyes, looking up at the man distantly, were brimming with tears.

“This land, this country, this beautiful homeland where I was born and raised… I want to love it without regret. I’m sincere. But… hahaha.”

She suddenly laughed. It seemed as if even that momentary earnest feeling would fade away and disappear.

Swiftly, her sharply bent hand pointed towards the salon.

“Why should I listen to such words?”

Count Glastia’s words echoed in her ears. If Madame Marguerite had been a decent person, Astaire would not have committed tyranny.

A voice shouting, like it was struggling, split the darkness.

“Astaire was committing tyranny even before he dragged me into this hell! He would kill people at the slightest provocation, exploiting his subjects and sucking their blood! It wasn’t me who made him that way, he was like that from the beginning!”

It wasn’t just Count Glastia from whom she had heard those words. Countless people mockingly called Valentine de le Blumir ‘Madame Marguerite’ and pointed fingers at her.

Madame Marguerite, once called the Black Rose of Sehera, had at some point become a witch who ruined the once-wise Astaire. They threw stones at Madame Marguerite, who stayed by Astaire’s side, rather than at Astaire III, who actually committed tyranny and enjoyed all sorts of cruel acts.

“……”

The man looked down at her, at Valentine, with cold eyes. There was no comfort, no affirmation, no denial.

She was greddy to expect human understanding from him. She merely trembled, her hand grasping his clothes.

Because this ‘thing’ before her eyes was a demon.

* * *

That day, the one who extended a hand to Valentine in the thick darkness was a demon who ruled over the denizens of hell.

— State your wish.

The demon who stepped into Valentine’s hell held her fragmented soul in his red eyes. The demon, beautiful enough to dazzle the eyes, recited in a voice sweeter than anything in the world.

— With the power of hell, three things you desire will bloom from my hand.

Some say that they would willingly sell even their soul to the devil for revenge against their enemies.

— On the day your fourth wish is granted, your soul will become mine.

Valentine became that person. She willingly sold her soul to the demon.

— Will you come with me?

‘Of course!’

An answer close to a struggle echoed vividly. The dark gloom seemed to smile.

— What is your first wish?

‘Bring me back to life.’