The silver moon set and a tender dawn broke. A dazzling red sun slowly illuminated the world.

Though he had stayed up all night, Cassian showed no sign of dishevelment. Just as pristine and beautiful as the day he first met Valentine, he rose from his chair and threw open the windows. Fresh morning air filled the room.

It was the first day the new sun rose over Sehera.

The dazzling sunlight dyed Cassian’s brilliant golden hair red. His deep blue eyes gazed at the new world.

Cassian blinked once. At that moment, the door opened. Count Glastia stepped in.

“I have come at Your Majesty’s summons. Did you rest well last night?”

“Yes.”

It was a voice buried deep in the night. Cassian, gazing at Count Glastia, narrowed his eyes heavy with fatigue.

“Count, there is something you must do first.”

“Command me.”

“Give Astaire a proper funeral without any shortcomings.”

The first thing Cassian I attended to as Emperor was showing respect to the deposed ruler. Justification followed.

“He did rule Sehera until his death, and as he is my nephew, I should show this much courtesy as family.”

“I will carry out your orders.”

Count Glastia bowed and stepped back. Though Count Glastia had ultimately abandoned Astaire, he seemed pleased with Cassian’s treatment, as Astaire was still his blood.

Cassian, who had been staring blankly at this scene, opened his heavy lips once more.

“Also, Belle…”

The name he uttered like a groan was full of tender feeling. Hearing once again the nickname only Cassian called her, Valentine wept in her heart.

Count Glastia stopped in his tracks. His action was heavily tinged with an unfavorable air.

“Bury her with proper respect beside Astaire.”

“…Yes.”

Count Glastia replied stiffly and turned around with a rather displeased face.

Soon after, Astaire’s funeral was held. The departure of the tyrant who had commanded the world was tumultuous.

“Good riddance!”

“Fall into hell!”

“A funeral for a murderer, what luxury is this!”

“Even this is too extravagant! The bodies of the tyrant and witch should be thrown to the crows!”

Instead of mourners, citizens who spat on the grave gathered around the modest funeral procession. What decorated the departed’s final moments was not reverence but terrible anger.

After several days, the finally erected grave was meant to be for a pair.

Was it because he found in Valentine the cause of his nephew becoming a tyrant, ultimately being driven from the throne to meet a miserable end? Or was it because he harbored resentment toward Valentine for killing Astaire?

Count Glastia put the lie on his lips that Valentine’s body was buried together with Astaire. And amid the chaos, he disposed of her poor body in a place unknown to anyone.

The funeral of the tyrant and his maîtresse-en-titre seemed to end like that.

However, Liam, purely by chance, learned the truth that Valentine was not buried with Astaire. He went to Count Glastia, pale as death.

“Tina… what did you do with Tina?”

Though he had no choice but to kill Valentine with his own hands, his love for her was sincere. No one in the world could love Valentine more than Liam.

Count Glastia’s cold lips gleamed.

“You need not know.”

“I am that child’s brother. How can it be right that even her brother doesn’t know where she is buried?”

“You dare call yourself brother when not a drop of blood is shared?”

Count Glastia sneered. It was a cold truth. Liam, his face twisting fiercely, shouted.

“Count Glastia!”

“Duke Blumir.”

At Count Glastia’s cold attitude, Liam momentarily moved his lips. Now that Valentine, the rightful master of Blumir, had closed her eyes, everything of Blumir became Liam’s possession.

Because he was not blood family, his title was demoted from Your Highness to Your Grace, and now he had fallen to the pure nobility rank, no longer even treated as nominal royalty, but the current Duke Blumir was undoubtedly Liam.

Therefore, no one in the world would understand Liam’s sincerity. They would only think of him as an adopted son who coveted the title, who had disposed of Valentine, the rightful heir.

Because Count Glastia’s point was clear, Liam bit his lip and clenched his fist.

“His Majesty personally handled Madame Marguerite’s body.”

Count Glastia, thinking his point had been understood, put another lie on his lips.

“Whether His Majesty had her body preserved, or dances with it, I do not know. If you wish to know more about this matter, ask His Majesty.”

“……”

Liam bowed his head deeply. In any case, it was he and Valentine who had chosen Cassian. It was Liam who had pledged loyalty to Cassian, and ultimately, it was Liam who had killed Valentine.

Thus, he could not bring himself to question Cassian. Liam could only swallow his tears, not knowing the whereabouts of poor Valentine.

The new dynasty, Pendragon, opened thus.

* * *

Cassian I was a diligent monarch.

In fact, compared to the unprecedented tyrant Astaire III, even maintaining a moderate appearance would not have drawn harsh criticism. If he had just killed fewer people, indulged in less luxury, kept his distance from women a bit more, everyone would have praised the new Emperor.

But Cassian I was an excellent ruler in many ways.

He carefully looked after the groaning citizens. First, he opened the national treasury and distributed private property to fill the hungry citizens’ stomachs.

Was God watching over this scene?

While every misfortune overlapped during Astaire’s tyrannical rule, no calamities occurred under Cassian’s reign. Good harvests came, the plague subsided, and the entire land was steeped in abundance.

Before long, milk and honey flowed in Sehera, which had been starving and destitute. Valentine watched his good governance with quietly settled eyes. And she thought,

‘Was this what you really wanted to do all along….’

Not enjoying luxurious noble parties while turning his back on citizens suffering from poor harvests. Not tearing up silk when the prices had skyrocketed.

Cassian rose to become a perfect and ideal Emperor. In this process, except for Astaire’s death anniversary, he never visited their graves nor spoke Valentine’s name. Yet he didn’t seek other women either.

But every night…

Cassian would sit for a while in the places where he had secret meetings with Valentine, caressing items that still held their warmth. The warmth at his fingertips was the same as when he had desired Valentine.

The garden where he secretly met Valentine. The fountain in the densely wooded forest. In the late night when only moonlight dimly illuminated the world, his footsteps would stop there.

The water stream defied nature’s laws and shot upward. The clear sound of water droplets colliding rang out. Insects sang in chorus with distant high voices.

Hidden in darkness, he gazed up at the fleeting beautiful world with eyes tinged with faintness and sorrow. Valentine’s heart broke, being able only to watch this scene.

His longing, his love for her was visible. If he lived loving only Valentine as he had sworn to her, that feeling alone would be more than enough.

Even though she was dead. Even though she could not live together with Cassian, sharing breaths by his side…

‘Yes, Cassian…’

For her who had dreamed of pure love, that alone was enough.

‘You… walk your path.’

Valentine just wanted to become a lighthouse for the path Cassian wanted to walk. Because she loved him, because she still loves him. Because the voice that swore love, the air that whispered love, still lived vividly in Valentine’s heart.

Valentine’s soul, unable to leave Cassian, stayed by his side. Through long nights, she caressed his hair and prayed only for his well-being.

Thus time passed and turned into years, until one day.

“Your Majesty, we cannot delay the coronation ceremony any longer.”

Cassian furrowed his brow at his ministers’ stern advice.

“Is such a thing important?”

“Of course it is. Your Majesty must also receive the Holy Father’s approval. You must be acknowledged by God as the true ruler of Sehera, and firmly establish your position before the people.”

Declaring it to everyone was a significant matter. Thus, despite his strong refusal, the coronation ceremony was finally held.

As if to show off Sehera’s restored national power, Cassian I’s coronation was held magnificently.

Cassian, wearing golden ceremonial robes, knelt before the Holy Father. The Holy Father, who had once spewed terrible curses toward Sehera, placed the Emperor’s crown on Cassian’s head while reciting blessings.

“God’s blessing upon Cassian I, master of beautiful Sehera.”

Cassian rose gracefully. Valentine, watching this scene, smiled with tears in her eyes.

At that moment, Cassian suddenly reached out his hand.