“Valentine de le Blumir with someone else? Would someone like me exist in even a corner of her heart?”

And the question that ate away at Liam. The clear answer.

“I wouldn’t exist.”

The words poured down roughly like a sudden rain.

“She would receive another man’s name, promise eternity with another man before God, and laugh and cry while holding that man’s hand. While I just watch hopelessly. Poor Liam de le Blumir.”

Lightning struck and thunder rolled through the downpour. She paused briefly and drew a grin.

“Ah─.”

Valentine’s eyes flashed.

“Then rather, it would be better to kill her.”

It was a moment that could only elicit a genuine scream.

“Valentine!”

“Because I would never be able to have her. But if I killed her, at least, she wouldn’t be taken by someone else.”

“Stop, stop!”

The reason Liam, who was shouting roughly, couldn’t deny Valentine’s words was probably because all those words were true.

He was jealous as much as he loved. Of everyone by her side.

He hated as much as he was jealous. Those who could have what he could never have.

He didn’t want to lose her as much as he hated. Her, whom he had never stopped loving for even a moment.

Everything meshed together like gears to create the current Liam. Such a base self existed in Liam’s abyss. To the one he never wanted to expose it to, even the other side of the bottomless pit was completely laid bare.

Shameful, shameful, shameful.

Yet this heart that still couldn’t let go.

“Well?”

The hand that had been quietly resting on Liam’s shoulders slid off. When the hand without warmth left his skin, only complete emptiness embraced him.

“Am I wrong?”

“I…!”

Liam, who tried to shout something, struggling, froze just like that. What words had he dared try to utter just now?

Would he swear by the names of the previous Duke and Duchess of Blumir, his adoptive parents? That such things never happened? That he didn’t betray her because of such petty feelings?

─Lies.

“Brother.”

She, who called Liam sweetly, took a couple of steps back.

“Will you kill me again?”

At those words, Liam doubted his own ears. Frozen in bewilderment, he asked stupidly.

“…What?”

“Hmm? It’s an easy thing. You’ve done it once before, can’t you do it twice?”

The mockery continued. Clang, the sword that had fallen at Liam’s feet by now, cried out most sorrowfully. His sword that he always carried.

Valentine bent down and picked up the sword. Golden afterimages scattered. She slowly drew the sword from its scabbard.

Finally, screech, the heavy sword that was difficult for her to handle scraped the floor. The metal mass that had rubbed against the stone floor wailed wetly.

With her white fingertips, she handed over the sword gleaming with a sharp extreme light.

“Go ahead.”

“……”

“This is something I’m allowing only you, brother, okay?”

Liam’s gaze that had only held Valentine wavered. His blue eyes dropped pitifully. Blankly, endlessly staring at the sword. And then.

─Clang.

With trembling hands, Liam pushed away the sword. The metal that left Valentine’s hands fell to the floor. Creating an unbearably heavy noise.

Clang, clang, clang…

Along the walls, the screaming sound of the sword thrown onto the stone floor echoed chaotically.

“Hypocrite.”

In the gaps between the endless noise, Valentine, containing a sneer, turned around. She began to take one step, two steps away.

“Cowardly and weak.”

Between the hollow echoes of her heels clicking, her voice was heard.

The woman who returned whispered of the past, and the man who waited denied the present.

“A fool who couldn’t say anything for fear of breaking a relationship like child’s play, yet chose the worst method while anxiously fretting about losing to others.”

The dead person walks toward the future, and the living person lives in the past.

Liam collapsed right there. Thud, only a dejected sound remained. His empty eyes, having lost even a single point of light, captured Valentine’s gradually retreating back.

Valentine left Liam like that. Slowly, and also eternally.

* * *

“Mademoiselle Laure.”

In the Empress’s salon. Amaryllis’s voice addressing Mademoiselle Laure wetted everyone’s ears with interest.

A few days ago, rumors had already spread widely that Amaryllis had dragged away Mademoiselle Laure, a member of Lumière’s household, and humiliated her. The nobles each had their own stance on this incident.

Those who took Amaryllis and Count Glastia’s side spoke like this:

— It’s true that Mademoiselle Laure bears a chilling resemblance to Madame Marguerite. Like the war of words between Mademoiselle Sehera and Count Glastia, it’s right that as Empress she should be wary.

Those who viewed them unfavorably countered:

— Even so, treating a noble from another country carelessly should not happen. When this story reaches Tristan, there will be friction, big or small.

— Sehera has no reason to fear friction with Tristan.

— Don’t forget about Astaire III. External prestige shouldn’t be taken lightly. Now Sehera might be called a tribe of heathens who don’t even know courtesy.

— That’s too much of a stretch.

Of course, even the nobles who took Amaryllis’s side couldn’t hide their unease.

To begin with, on the day of that incident, Cassian had disciplined Count Glastia. Though the exact details weren’t known, it couldn’t be unrelated to that incident.

Because of this, among those who knew some circumstances, unfavorable talk was spreading that Cassian was obsessed with Astaire III’s royal concubine.

At Amaryllis’s call, the woman who looked bright but also innocent at the same time rolled her frightened-looking eyes. It was natural for those nearby to look at her with pity.

“Yes, Madame Sehera.”

“I was rash the other day.”

Amaryllis whispered with a gentle smile. Unlike when she had caused a scene, she displayed dignity and composure befitting an Empress.

Perhaps relieved by the Empress’s attitude, the woman showed a pure smile.

“Ah, if it’s about that incident, it’s fine. I heard about Your Majesty the Empress’s circumstances from His Majesty the Emperor.”

If only the following words hadn’t come. A noble who had been pitying Mademoiselle Laure clicked their tongue quietly.

Unfortunately, that was a sound that touched Amaryllis’s nerves. Though the relationship between the Emperor and Empress wasn’t particularly bad, not being bad meant it wasn’t good either.

Amaryllis’s eyebrows twitched, having already heard from Cassian.

“His Majesty?”

“Yes. His Majesty said there was someone who resembled me in Sehera before, and that it was natural for Your Majesty to be concerned, so I should understand generously.”

The nobles pricked up their ears at the continuing clear words. It was an ambiguous statement. Did the ‘Your Majesty’ Mademoiselle Laure mentioned refer to the Emperor or the Empress?

Amaryllis just looked at her for a moment. The image of her tearing up in front of Amaryllis, screaming and running to Lumière flashed through her mind. She realized immediately.

‘It was an act.’

Was it pretense for Lumière, or pretense for Cassian? Amaryllis realized this woman with an innocent face was not to be taken lightly.

If that was the case, there was no reason to go easy on her either.

“Mademoiselle is quite fluent in Seheran. Wasn’t Mademoiselle Laure from Tristan?”

It was a pointed remark about how well she spoke such ambiguous words. The woman whispered cunningly while pretending not to know.

“I am… Madame Fleur’s lady-in-waiting after all.”

The implication was that it was natural to be fluent since she learned from Lumière, who was Sehera’s princess.

“But even before that, isn’t Seheran a dignified language that everyone in the continent wants to learn? Any noble in Tristan puts in great effort to master Seheran perfectly.”

It was a quick retort.

Though its prestige had fallen somewhat due to Astaire’s tyranny, Sehera was originally a country that exerted its influence over the continent.

Now even the residence of the Holy Father, who was the representative of the almighty God and head of the continental religion, had moved to southern Sehera. This meant that the Holy Father, who was essentially the spiritual leader of all people on the continent, had no choice but to move according to Sehera’s will.

So much so that among the rulers of various countries, there were those who, seeing Astaire’s tyranny, recited that he was an ideal emperor who could wield power freely. While burying the bloody tears shed by their subjects in a distant corner of their hearts, they envied only the glory.

In such a situation, Seheran was packaged as a beautiful and cultured speech. Like the island country next door, there were cases where the common language was used by commoners while Seheran was used for communication in court and upper class.

Though it was considered difficult with many changes in endings, it was widely used in arts and academics. It was true that there were many advantages to learning it actively.

“Thank you for viewing our country so favorably.”

“Not at all. Who could view beautiful Sehera negatively?”

“We started off the wrong track in that beautiful place. I’m just sorry to you, Mademoiselle.”

Amaryllis offered an apology in the most gentle voice possible.

“I hope Mademoiselle Laure will take good memories from this Sehera.”