“Get in, will you?”

The voice from beyond the darkness was far too polite for an assassin, and far too dry to be a woman seeking a one-night stand.

“You’re not getting in?”

As he hesitated, the silhouette seated upright inside the carriage tilted her head slightly—
as if welcoming a guest into her own home.

He let out a scoff.

“How ridiculous.”

Since arriving in the capital, he had dealt with countless women trying every method imaginable to create some kind of connection with him.

Sitting inside his carriage like this it was blatant, but he had to admit, refreshingly bold.

Still, no matter how crafty or strange the approach, there was one thing none of them ever dared to do.

“Who are you?”

No one—not a single soul—ever spoke informally to Grand Duke Cassion Pathsbender.

Her clothes, plain white fabric without a single adornment, told him enough—this woman’s intentions were different from the rest. On top of that, there were what looked like stains smeared across various parts of the fabric.

Which meant—this ghost-like woman sitting silently in the dark carriage likely had no idea who he was. And she wasn’t here to seduce him, either.

Then why?

Just as Cassion’s hand quietly reached for the dagger he kept on him for protection, the woman spoke again.

“Get in, Cassion Pathsbender.”

She urged him, watching the time.

Based on her experience from a previous life, it took the Cambria household roughly two hours to discover Lomia in the basement and send people after Irynsis.

She could’ve simply run. That would’ve been the easier choice.

But Irynsis still had things to do in Cambria.

So she intended to be caught eventually. Which meant… she was short on time.

“There’s no time.”

She knows who I am.

Cassion clicked his tongue unconsciously and let out a faint scoff.

How was he supposed to deal with a woman who didn’t wait for him to reach an answer—but trampled straight over it instead?

A gust of wind slipped through the open carriage door behind him, brushing past the woman’s face.

Her hair, darker than the night itself, rippled like a waterfall’s crashing stream. 

Her shoulders and frame, briefly revealed, were so slender it made the heavy cascade of hair seem burdensome.

Her pale face, visible between the strands, was so bloodless he wondered if she was even alive.

“Tell me why I should get in.”

His low murmur met her gaze head-on.

The only hint of color in her grayscale figure was in her eyes.

A piercing blue, so clear they almost stung—a hue like cold skies, sharp enough to see right through.

His golden eyes, like sunlight breaking at dawn, tangled with her blade-like stare.

“Ha.”

Irynsis let out a small sigh.

If a low mist had a sound, it would be that.

“Evelina Pathsbender died today.”

Her voice was flat, dry to the point of scattering like feathers.

But the moment those words landed, it felt as if a boulder had slammed down on Cassion’s chest.

A beat of silence passed.

Footsteps clicking on the carriage steps. The creak of the door closing.

The soft thump of someone dropping into a plush seat. The snap of a flame,
the inhale of a deep draw from a cigar.

Only after all of it passed did Irynsis find herself sitting face to face with Cassion—now cloaked in a cold, simmering fury.

“Where to, Your Grace?”

The coachman’s voice could be heard from outside, but no answer came in return.

Inside the carriage, where even the flow of air seemed to have stilled, silence lingered thick and heavy.

“You’ve succeeded in getting my attention. Congratulations.”

It was Cassion who finally broke the silence.

Clenching his jaw slightly, he glared at Irynsis, whose expression hadn’t changed in the slightest.

“Now, before that attention turns to snapping your neck—start talking.”

Cigar smoke billowed thickly, filling the carriage.

It was something he usually refrained from doing when someone else was present, but sitting across from this woman, he simply couldn’t help himself.

It was also a subtle attempt to crack her unnervingly cold composure. But not even the slightest fissure appeared in that frozen mask of hers.

“Form an alliance with me.”

The words were meaningless at first. An alliance.

That was something people proposed only when they shared a common goal.

Setting aside the question of what on earth he could possibly have in common with this woman—he was now more curious whether she even knew what his goal was.

“Speak clearly.”

“I plan to drag the Imperial Family, the Temple, and Cambria into the filthiest pit imaginable.”

“…”

“And I’m sure you plan to do the same.”

Flick, flick.

Ash from the burning end of his cigar fell out the window.

Cassion remained silent for a moment—then let out a short laugh.

So that’s what she was. Just a madwoman.

Sure, the Emperor and Cambria had their hands all over each other and made for a disgusting sight, but they were cowards who at least knew where the line was.

They were too busy keeping an eye on the nomadic tribes always itching to rebuild their lost kingdom, and well aware that even the smallest spark between the Imperial Family and the Grand Duchy could turn into a full-blown fire.

And as long as the Imperial Family didn’t cross the line first, Cassion had no intention of touching them either.

No matter how sound the justification, war only drained land and ruined people.

So—she was just a lunatic.

“Not interested.”

Leaning back against the seat, Cassion crossed his long legs.

Smoke rose once again from the end of his cigar.

Through the thick haze hanging like clouds, Irynsis easily found those golden eyes, glowing like a beast’s in the dark.

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

Arrogant to the point of rudeness—and yet, it suited him.

Having met him immediately after her regression, she noticed he was a little healthier than the version she remembered from her previous life, a little more feral.

Perhaps this was the most true version of him.

“You’ll start to feel like it soon.”

Irynsis reached out her hand. Something rested in her palm.

“A gift.”

Cassion stared at her for a moment before holding out his hand. A small piece of cloth fluttered down onto his palm.

The moment he recognized what it was, a strange glint flickered in his eyes.

“Ha!”

He let out something between a scoff and a breathless laugh, then straightened from his reclined position and crushed out his cigar.

Flames danced in the depths of his golden gaze.

“Ugh!”

It happened in an instant.

Like a swift beast, Cassion lunged and grabbed Irynsis by the throat.

Her neck, caught in one hand, looked delicate enough to snap with the slightest pressure—
yet the eyes that met his were unyielding, solid as iron.

“If you don’t tell me who sent you, I’ll kill you.”

His grip tightened, leaving no doubt that he meant every word. Irynsis let out a choked cough.

Tears welled faintly at the corners of her icy blue eyes.

“Please, kill me.”

Her voice trembled, and tears rolled down as her eyes curved into a smile—as if she’d been waiting to hear those words all along.

She meant it.

More than revenge, more than anything—what she longed for most was rest. The end of a brutal, ceaseless life.

If she had to trade a life that would no longer repeat for the sharpest revenge, she would give it up in a heartbeat.

“You.”

His voice, ragged with fury, began to tremble quietly—and his hand slackened slightly.

Hidden by the dark before, her face, now seen up close, was a mess.

Wounds scabbed over in places, bruises just beginning to bloom, chapped lips, and smears of dried blood left uncleaned.

He had thought the stains on her white clothes were just dirt—but now it was clear. They were blood.

She was a wreck.

A woman in that state, smiling as she begged to be killed—It was anything but normal.

And the sheer madness of it made Cassion’s mind grow cold instead of hot.

He sank back into his seat, fingers fidgeting with the item she had handed him.

“How did you get this?”

As he looked down at the object in his hand, his gaze grew distant, like it was being swallowed by the dark.

Familiar yet sorrowful, painful yet impossible to let go—the complex emotions clawed at him.

It was a blue silk ribbon.

Cassion’s fingertips found the familiar rough pattern embroidered in gold thread. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like a strange symbol—but he knew exactly what it was.

A low, sharp voice pulled his fading consciousness back to reality.

“Just so we’re clear, Evelina didn’t die of the plague.”

“What?”

“Cambria kidnapped her. The Imperial Family imprisoned her. And the Crown Prince killed her.”

“…Why.”

She even knew that Evelina had been infected with the plague. There was no longer any point in doubting her words.

He had spent years chasing Evelina’s trail. Even if this clue had fallen into his lap out of nowhere—even if it was a lie—it was still worth following.

“Because of her divine power.”

And just like that, the possibility of it being a lie vanished.

“You knew?”

“So did I. So did the Imperial Family. And so did Cambria.”

At that, a bitter laugh slipped from his lips.

What the woman said was true—Evelina had divine power. It wasn’t particularly strong, but it was real.

She hadn’t seemed to know how to control it, but sometimes she would heal a wilted flower, or a bird’s broken wing.

He had never completely dismissed the idea that another force might be involved.

From the moment the power of his house began shifting in his favor, he had begun searching for Evelina’s whereabouts.

He had begun a full-scale investigation only after securing complete authority.

But nothing ever surfaced. 

Not until this woman appeared.

“So stop trying to meet with Lomia.”

“What?”

The sudden jab in another direction made Cassion’s brow crease.

“You came to the capital to meet the saintess, didn’t you?”

“…And why would I do that?”

Irynsis stared at him, calm and unblinking.

Her red lips parted, and the words she spoke struck like an arrow.

“You’re ill, aren’t you.”