“No one will come, Astaire.”

The voice that had whispered gently in his ear. Astaire’s eyes shook. His blue eyes met Valentine’s.

Those violet eyes, having lost their light, remained calm as ever. No, they were closer to indifferent.

“We’ve done things, haven’t we? We laughed at, mocked, and deceived those who came running frantically to protect you.”

It was true. He had mocked the Imperial Guards he had personally selected and trained to protect himself. All just to see Valentine’s smiling face.

‘That was all… for you!’

There were words that couldn’t come out as his lips stiffened and his tongue went numb. Astaire’s lips moved. Sensation gradually disappeared from his fingertips.

“Today, when the bell rings…”

The same gentle voice fell over the bedchamber. The nostalgic tone was beautifully chilling.

“I told them not to come to the bedchamber but to open the Imperial City gates wide instead. After all, that would be much more valuable for them.”

“……”

In a moment when he didn’t know what words to utter, Valentine spoke cruel words in a calm voice.

“Astaire, my time with you has been absolutely horrific.”

It was Valentine’s first true confession. Despite having clipped her wings and cut off even those stumps before possessing her, a terrible sense of betrayal came over Astaire.

His lips trembled. With his unresponsive tongue, he barely managed to form words.

“You… you…”

“You’ll never know how hellish it was every time you touched me. What hell I had to wake up to, breathe in, and live through. What kind of demon I’ve been struggling beside until now.”

A smile finally appeared on Valentine’s face. It was the genuine smile that Astaire had so desperately wanted to see.

“Astaire. You should have died the day we first met.”

“……”

The calm verbal abuse poured over Astaire.

Even in this moment, she was dazzling to him. Her white smile, her eyes filled with laughter, that light dreaming of a different future — it hurt his eyes. He finally realized.

The tyrant had loved his consort more than he thought,

“Back then, I shouldn’t have blocked your path.”

And she had despised him more than he thought.

Ah.

So please, just one more time, her─

“Goodbye, Astaire.”

“Val…entine…”

With his last strength, he barely called out her name. What was it he had wanted to say?

Just then, crash, the crystal wine glass caught on Astaire’s fingertips shattered. The light of life faded from his eyes burning with betrayal.

“Goodbye.”

The farewell to someone she despised was fleeting and brief. The final moments of the tyrant who had commanded the world were nothing but pitiful.

* * *

The wide-open Imperial City welcomed the armed rebels. It was a completely bloodless occupation.

Liam, who led the rebels, headed toward the Emperor’s chambers.

As the sun was slowly setting. Valentine, bathed in the red sunset, was sitting there.

Those who faced Valentine drew in deep breaths. Valentine, blooming with the intoxication of anticipated joy, was truly dazzling.

Her eyes meeting Liam’s spoke of hope. The expectation of escaping the hell of being by Astaire’s side. The wish to be together with her beloved Cassian.

“Brother.”

Click, click. The sound of shoes striking the marble floor was incomparably clear. To Liam, this being who was more precious than anything else in the world was, at this moment, more radiant than ever before.

“I’ve been waiting.”

The voice that reached him, the warmth that caressed his cheek, completely tore his heart apart. Valentine, knowing nothing, asked in a voice full of joy.

“Where’s Cassian?”

Facing this profound light of life, Liam barely muttered.

“…I’m sorry.”

Along with his barely maintained resolve, his sword cried out to the world. The reality that he had to be the one to shoot down the sun of his most beloved person was crueler than anything else in the world.

“Tina.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Do you know your sins?”

Those words quietly pushed into her ear. Valentine blinked once.

…Sins?

Though they shared no blood, Liam had always been like a father figure to Valentine. Yet now, what was this brother speaking of?

Valentine’s sins?

“While you wore expensive dresses and indulged in luxury and pleasure, the people of Sehera barely maintained their impoverished lives.”

Valentine’s hands stiffened at these words spoken quietly.

“Exhausted from hunger, they had to eat the corpses of those who starved to death just to barely survive. That’s how they breathed, enduring day by day dreaming of a slightly better tomorrow.”

So what?

Valentine too had lived through hell. She had to appease Astaire while worrying sick about whether her maids and servants would die, and had to forcibly give herself to someone she didn’t love. All because she had caught Astaire’s eye.

“They throw stones at you.”

Her brother spoke of the hatred of the angry crowd. He whispered of their terrible hatred, their resentment. Towards Valentine, the tyrant’s consort.

Liam’s tightly contained voice continued.

“They say only seeing your final moments, spitting on you… seeing your bones and flesh crumble will calm their angry hearts.”

“Brother, now…”

“Living as a parasite on the tyrant’s power and oppressing everyone. Being drunk on extravagance and pleasure without thinking of the people. Thus plunging this land into misery.”

“……”

“Those are your unforgivable sins.”

After finishing his words, Liam took a couple of steps away from Valentine. Her eyes, pale with shock, stared at Liam. They held. They embraced.

The hope she had embraced shattered. The lamp that had blazed up went out.

Liam, staring at her mournful gaze, barely extended his trembling sword. Liam struck Valentine as if killing himself.

Thud, her fragile body fell helplessly to the floor. Tears of blood dripped from her eyes turning pitch black.

Her trembling hands moved no more. One of Liam’s tears soaked into her back.

‘…Why?’

Being pulled into the distant abyss of death, Valentine wanted to ask back.

‘For what reason?’

Were all those things Liam spoke of really just her fault alone?

From the beginning, it was Astaire who committed tyranny and made Sehera decline. It was the numerous nobles who lived in luxury and pleasure. It was Cassian who instigated pushing the already impoverished Sehera further into the abyss.

Everyone alike had failed to think of the suffering of the exploited people.

All Valentine, caught in between, wanted in the first place was─ just to be with the one she loved. That pure wish alone had kept her alive until now.

Thus, Valentine’s dead soul could go neither to heaven nor hell. Her fallen vengeful spirit wandered the Imperial Palace alone.

* * *

That day, Cassian, entering the Imperial City as Emperor, refused people’s requests to quickly hold the coronation ceremony and receive the Holy Father’s approval.

“We don’t need unnecessary formalities. Now is the time to stabilize Sehera.”

People applauded Cassian’s choice. In the Imperial family where authority was important, deciding not to hold a coronation ceremony wasn’t an easy decision to make.

Liam, who belatedly sought out Cassian, knelt before him.

“Your Majesty.”

“Yes, Duke Blumir.”

At the title ‘Duke Blumir,’ Liam’s body trembled once. Because the owner of Blumir was Valentine, not the adopted son Liam.

It was an acknowledgment of Liam as the rightful owner of Blumir. As if he had been watching what happened between Liam and Valentine.

Then Cassian asked.

“What happened to Belle?”

Liam drew in a deep breath. Clutching his chest, he barely whispered.

“…Valentine is dead.”

Cassian’s eyes looking down at Liam were cold. Liam barely swallowed his rising tears.

“I… killed her.”

“Is that so.”

It was an surprisingly calm response. Cassian, who had spoken of love and whispered of eternity, didn’t show a single tear at the news of Valentine.

However, as that night grew late…

Sitting alone in the Emperor’s chambers, Cassian raised his wine glass to the moon. As the red wine captured the moon’s reflection, his voice dropped,

“…Belle.”

Was it about the beauty of the moonlight, or was it a voice calling for Valentine?

That yearning voice spread like ripples. Valentine, watching this scene as a spirit, cried out.

Cassian slowly twisted his wrist. The wine that had been swirling at the rim of the glass spilled onto the floor. He bowed his head toward the red-stained floor, as if mourning the dead.

‘Cassian, Cassian, Cassian…’

Only unreachable calls echoed on Valentine’s tongue. The ceaselessly weeping spirit reached out. Her tender touch merely passed through his back.

“……”

Not a single word flowed from Cassian. Time passed and the carpet absorbed the wine. The dark red traces dried black.

Even until then, he showed neither tears nor mourning, nor any emotion at all. Cassian simply kept his head bowed, lips sealed, through the long night.