“Falling in love is the stupidest thing in the world.”

Calix could still recall his uncle’s words from that day perfectly.

He had lost his parents in a sudden accident, but there had been no time to grieve. Thalia was under imperial attack, and resolving that crisis had taken precedence over everything else.

He was not just a child under ten years old. He was someone who had to shoulder responsibility for an entire nation.

Putting the fate of a country in the hands of someone who could barely manage their own life was an unbearable burden. It was Calix’s uncle, Rihardt, who stepped forward in that moment.

He took command of the battlefield in Calix’s stead and assumed control of Thalia’s governance. To the boy, his uncle was a deeply grateful figure — someone he had come to regard as a substitute parent.

“Yes… that’s how it was.”

But six years later, everything changed.

On his fifteenth birthday, Calix Silas, the Grand Duke of Thalia, stood on the execution grounds himself, looking down at the criminal kneeling before him.

His father’s only brother.

His uncle.

“Uncle. It turns out you were right.”

The man whom he had once believed to be his lifelong benefactor had finally been revealed to be someone blinded by ambition, seeking to murder his own nephew and seize the Grand Duke’s seat for himself.

“Loving someone truly is the stupidest thing in the world.”

It dulled a person’s judgement, rendering them utterly foolish.

With his eyes completely blackened, Calix raised his sword towards his uncle.

Rihardt offered up his neck and let out a hollow laugh.

“You will not be all that different from your father.”

“I will take that as the meaningless last words of a man about to die.”

In front of countless onlookers, Calix beheaded his uncle with his own hands.

Many of the nobles who had supported Rihardt suffered the same fate that day.

Some argued that, since the war against the Empire was already plunging the nation into chaos, it would be wiser to spare the lives of the nobles and simply strip them of their power. Some of the defeated nobles clung to the hope that their lives might be spared because of this belief.

But Calix defied every such expectation.

He personally ended the lives of every last one of them.

“Forgiveness is a chance granted only to those who have made mistakes. There is no hand I will extend to those who planned all of this deliberately.”

Those were the words spoken by Calix as he carried out the execution of the traitors.

From that day on, no matter how fiercely someone claimed loyalty or swore to stand by him, he could never trust anyone completely. He believed that placing absolute faith in another person was a foolish thing to do.

As for those whose loyalty he could not fully confirm, he maintained relationships that were all the more deliberate and calculated.

This conviction had taken root in him over many years. And yet now, that deeply ingrained belief was beginning to waver.

‘Of all things… for my uncle to appear in my dreams.’

Calix rose from his bed in an even worse mood than usual.

The memory of his uncle’s death haunted him, far more than the memory of his parents’ tragic deaths.

Having fallen asleep drunk the previous night without washing properly, he looked uncharacteristically disheveled. He quickly restored his composure, tidying himself up. Before long, he was once again impeccably put together — so flawless that it was impossible to find even the slightest fault. Satisfied, he left the room.

Trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol had only brought back memories that were sharper and more merciless than ever. This left him feeling deeply irritated.

Still gripping his throbbing forehead, he made his way downstairs.

‘I should avoid drinking today and just shut myself away somewhere in the grand ducal castle.’

That was what he had been thinking—until his resolve was overturned moments later.

“Lately, it feels like His Grace doesn’t care at all anymore.”

Voices drifted down the corridor — the maids were deep in conversation.

It was hardly unusual for servants to speak ill of their master behind his back. Nevertheless, anyone with a shred of sense would not do so openly in a place like this.

‘New hires, perhaps.’

Calix had planned to stop by and issue a warning, but when the conversation took an unexpected turn, he changed his mind and leaned against the wall at the far end of the corridor instead.

“Don’t you think so too? At first, he was so strict that I was always on edge. But ever since he returned from the hunting competition, he’s been ignoring her completely.”

“Exactly. His Grace was only concerned about the Empire at first. Otherwise, why would he care if the Marquis’s daughter got hurt?”

“No, I don’t see it that way. In fact, he might even hope that she’s being mistreated behind closed doors. The Marquis tried to take His Grace’s life more than once, didn’t he? If I were forced to marry the child of someone who had tried to kill me, I’d be grinding my teeth in fury.”

“I heard she insisted on following the hunting competition even though she can barely ride a horse. No shame at all. It’s no wonder she injured her ankle.”

“Honestly, it didn’t even look that serious. Thalian soldiers lose arms and legs on the battlefield all the time, and she’s making such a fuss over a slightly twisted ankle.”

“Still, I suppose she wants everyone to see just how ‘injured’ she is. She’s been sticking her nose into everything lately, strutting around as if her injured ankle is some great accomplishment.”

“Tell me about it! I can’t even stand the sight of her, so I refuse to help her at all. Yes, yes, madam, if you’re feeling fine, then by all means—lean on your cane and wander around on your own, I say.”

Their laughter followed—light, careless, and cruel.

“Well done. If she can walk around like that, then it can’t hurt all that much. It’s just an act—pure pretense.”

After snickering and exchanging gossip about Selina for a while longer, they received a summons from Madam Lily, the head maid, and finally moved on.

“Pretense, huh.”

Leaning against the wall, having overheard their entire conversation, Calix curled the corner of his lips upward.

“That could be true.”

Murmuring this brief assessment to himself, he turned away.

Calix ran dozens of laps around the training grounds hidden in the thicket behind the Grand Ducal Castle. Though smaller than the fields where the soldiers trained, the grounds were spacious enough that running around them non-stop should have left him completely exhausted.

Yet, strangely, he felt no fatigue at all.

In fact, the more he ran, the more intrusive thoughts crowded his mind, prompting him to run ten extra laps beyond his original plan.

He was exhausted by the time he finished late into the night and finally returned to his room. Having pushed his body so hard, he believed sleep would come easily, without the need for alcohol.

‘This is driving me insane.’

The moment he opened the door, he was hit by the scent of wildflowers.

At this time of night, there was someone in his room who shouldn’t have been there.

If he had still been drunk, he might have dismissed it as a hallucination. But the figure before him was far too vivid for that.

The scent was so intense that it made his head spin. Calix held his breath, feeling as though he would become intoxicated by something far more dangerous than alcohol if he didn’t.

“What is it?”

Clearing his throat, he asked in an even tone.

“Ah…! I thought I should report to you about the progress of the extreme heat season preparedness event.”

She replied in her usual fragile voice.

For a moment, he wondered whether she had been eating properly since arriving at the Grand Ducal Castle.

Maybe the servants were neglecting her meals or reducing her portions. No, that was absurd. They shared most of their meals together. What nonsense was he thinking?

“I’ve selected several candidates for gifts to be distributed to the people of the territory. I thought it would be good for Your Grace to look them over and make a decision—”

“Handle it yourself.”

When she suddenly stepped closer and held out a single sheet of paper, Calix unintentionally pushed her away, speaking in an extremely irresponsible manner for someone who was supposed to be overseeing the event alongside her.

“…All right.”

The faint smile that had lingered on Selina’s face only moments earlier faded.

Anyone could see that his words had hurt her, but Calix forced himself not to care.

If she could show such disappointment over something so trivial, perhaps her tears at the inn that night had been over nothing important either. Besides, he had no reason to concern himself with every small shift in her expression.

“The event will take place in a week. We can speak again then.”

He had meant it as a dismissal — a clear signal for her to leave. But perhaps that had hurt her, too. Selina bit her lip again, more gently this time.

He had disliked that habit of hers for a long time.

Whether because she lacked restraint or because her lips were unusually delicate, they almost always ended up bleeding whenever she bit them.

“What’s the problem?”

In the end, he couldn’t ignore her expression and asked her about it.

As though she hadn’t expected the question, her eyes widened. Then, as though preparing herself, she opened her mouth.

“T-then please at least allow me to treat Your Grace’s wound.”

A wound?

Only then did he recall that his shoulder had been injured by a monster during the hunting competition.

That injury had healed within a day.

“There’s no need.”

But Selina didn’t retreat so easily.

“You helped me, Your Grace. So at the very least, I want to help you once.”

This is maddening.

As she deliberately exposed her pale ankle, Calix was forced to relive the events of that day — memories he had been trying so hard to forget. He swallowed a groan before she could notice.

“What exactly do you think you’re helping with? Take care of your injured ankle first.”

“This is—”

“I hear you’ve been moving around perfectly well despite your injury. The servants assigned to assist you aren’t just there for show. Instead of worrying about my injury, you should manage your attendants properly.”

The conversation he had overheard among the maids earlier that day came unbidden to the surface, and his words to Selina were sharper than intended — almost accusatory.

At that moment, a wounded look bloomed in the violet eyes fixed on him.

“So… is that why you dismissed the servants who were meant to stay by my side?”