‘Truthfully, I don’t even remember it that well.’

Reina was young back then. Over ten years had passed, so she could not possibly remember everything clearly. Yet the fear, sorrow, confusion and helplessness she had felt when her father died and she was taken to House Berend with her mother remained etched in her memory.

She stood frozen, lost in the memory, until Yuta’s voice pulled her back.

“They still held out for quite a while. It’s been five years since the marquess couple died.”

“They only survived because they weren’t considered a threat.”

Yuta gave a slight nod in silent agreement.

Reina let out a quiet sigh.

She did feel a faint pang of pity for House Baltgar, but even that seemed useless. Sentiment had no value in times like these. This was simply the tide of history. If you couldn’t survive, death was your only fate.

Just as it had been for House Helfried.

They had been dragged off like a war trophy. Lacking the courage to take her own life, she offered herself to the enemy instead.

A bitter smile curved her lips as she approached the solitary wardrobe in the corner. Clearly, it was not the one the Marchioness had used; its cheap, crude craftsmanship made that obvious. Without much thought, she reached for the handle.

“Lady Reina! Wait!”

“Hm?”

The moment she carelessly opened the wardrobe, something small burst out and a searing pain shot through her thigh.

Something hit her with a dull thud, sending her sprawling backwards.

“Hah… Hah…”

She heard ragged breathing. Tangled in the wide folds of her skirt, a child scrambled to his feet and ran away.

“Lady Reina! Is anyone there? Fetch a physician—now!”

Yuta’s shout thundered down the corridor.

His sword was already drawn—so fast she hadn’t even seen him move—and in one swift motion, he grabbed the child by the scruff of the neck.

The silver blade glinted coldly, poised just a hair’s breadth from the child’s frail throat.

Reina, panicked and desperate, cried out, pleading with him to stop.

“Enough! Nngh—”

Even the slightest movement sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through her thigh. She could feel the warmth of blood steadily trickling from the wound.

Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip on the dagger’s hilt, which was still lodged in her dress.

“You mustn’t!”

“Let go of me!”

The child screamed and thrashed around.

Yuta pinned the struggling boy to the floor and reached towards Reina in alarm. Crimson spread quickly across her skirt, and with each pounding beat of her heart, more blood welled forth. The pain in her leg grew sharper by the second.

Deciding that the child posed little threat, Yuta lowered his sword and tore a strip from Reina’s skirt, using it to tightly bind her thigh. The blood that had been flowing like an endless spring finally began to slow. Her head swam — she couldn’t tell whether this was due to blood loss or the shock of her first stab wound.

“Are you all right?”

Reina squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. Instead of answering, she stared at the child who was still pinned beneath Yuta’s knee. The boy’s wide, terrified eyes shone a brilliant gold.

‘Gold.’

Although she was trembling with fear, she was nonetheless drawn to the striking colour of the eyes, which were feral yet strangely enchanting. As she studied the unusual shade, she suddenly remembered where she had seen such eyes before.

‘This child — he’s the Marquess of Baltgar.’

This was her first time seeing the famed golden eyes of House Baltgar in person; almost all of their previous bearers had died long ago. Even the last ‘guardian’ that Kaelid had slain had had nothing more remarkable than plain brown eyes.

Yuta’s brow creased at her words.

“Your wound comes first, my lady.”

‘To think the last Marquess of Baltgar is such a small child.’

The man twisted the child’s arm, causing her to let out a sharp, piercing scream.

Perhaps it was because the boy had stabbed her. Whatever the reason, Yuta’s expression remained impassive as he raised his sword. Despite his opponent being just a child, there wasn’t the slightest trace of mercy in his eyes.

Sensing death approaching, the child squeezed his eyes shut and flailed around wildly, howling in fear.

“Stop.”

“We have to kill him—even if he’s a child.”

“…I know.”

She didn’t even try to intervene. In war, there are only two options: kill or be killed. Its cruelty spares no one, not even children. The boy’s blazing golden eyes marked him out as a true Baltgar. If she let him live, he would almost certainly come back one day to kill her.

As she met his burning gaze, memories and fury surged within her: House Baltgar, Kaelid, her parents, and all the hatred fuelling her need for revenge. In a single, piercing moment, the path to her perfect end revealed itself. What had been a hazy goal only seconds ago now gleamed with razor-sharp clarity, illuminated by the fierce light in the boy’s eyes.

‘I can use this child.’

This child was the last Marquess of Baltgar. Had he escaped death today, he would certainly have grown up harbouring a burning hatred for the House of Berend. Being raised by the people who had slaughtered your family would be horrifying.

Reina knew that feeling well — the helpless fury of loathing someone enough to want them dead yet being unable to act. If she could harness that rage, she could exact the perfect revenge.

The boy was still too young to know which house had annihilated Baltgar. He looked as though no one had bothered to wash or educate him. He almost certainly didn’t recognise the crest hanging outside, let alone understand its significance.

‘There’s no need to tell him everything yet.’

One day, once he had grown up, she would reveal the truth: that House Berend had wiped Baltgar from existence.

But, for the sake of her vengeance, she would hide it all, raising him under the Berends’ roof and feeding him their bread. House Berend had destroyed Baltgar at the emperor’s command and was now intent on finishing off a line already on the brink of ruin.

This would put her firmly in the boy’s sights, but she welcomed it. Kaelid cared for no one but Reina. What could be sweeter than dying before his very eyes? Even if it cost her life, she wanted to plunge that man into utter despair.

‘If only this child can one day reclaim the name of Ironblood Baltgar…’

Consumed by hatred, the boy would certainly set his sights on the Emperor himself afterwards. The same man that House Berend had faithfully served, who ordered the complete destruction of Baltgar.

And the boy would do it.

He would strip them of everything they held dear, make them suffer and then kill them. Just imagining it dulled the pain in her leg.

Reina could never have achieved this alone. Unlike Baltgar, Count Helfried had neither influence nor loyal retainers. More importantly, Reina had someone she couldn’t abandon: her mother, who was still being held hostage by House Berend. As long as her mother remained a prisoner, Reina could never truly be free.

A chill ran down her spine at the thought.

But first, she had to keep the child alive.

“Don’t kill him.”

Her vision blurred. The pain she had momentarily forgotten was creeping back in waves, so she clenched her teeth. The blood-soaked fabric clung hotly to her skin.

“I’ll take the child—”

But before she could finish, the door burst open.

Kaelid stormed into the room.

His eyes immediately fell upon Reina’s blood-drenched leg, upon which the dagger was still embedded, and upon the child who was pinned beneath Yuta. He took it all in at a glance. Jaw clenched, he drew his sword without hesitation.

The moment the already bloodied blade rose into the air, Reina screamed, her voice sharp and raw.

“War trophy!”

“What?”

“You said I could have one.”

Kaelid’s brows drew together in a scowl.

Her vision spun, but she couldn’t let the child die. He was essential — absolutely necessary — to the plan that had taken shape in her mind. Gritting her teeth, Reina tried to push herself up, but her trembling arm buckled beneath her.

“Ugh…”

Her entire body trembled uncontrollably, drained of blood.

“Hand over the child as my trophy.”

“No.”

Kaelid’s response was sharp and dismissive, as if the suggestion weren’t worth his time.

“You said I could have anything.”

She couldn’t tell if she was speaking clearly.

“I want that child.”

“Reina!”

His angry voice faded into a distant echo as Reina, still pleading to be allowed to keep the child, slipped into unconsciousness.

Pale as chalk, Kaelid stood over her limp form.

He’d expected her to ask for nothing, and yet she had asked for the Marquess of Baltgar himself. Keeping the boy alive would almost certainly come back to haunt them.

‘No—without a doubt, it will.’

Even trembling with fear, those golden eyes glared at him. A chill crawled from his fingertips to his bones.

‘He is the enemy. An enemy who must die.’

Every instinct screamed a warning. Kaelid clenched his teeth.

The child had wounded Reina, the person he cherished most.

He raised his sword again.

Perhaps sensing his lethal intent, the boy stopped screaming. As death closed in, he stared back unflinchingly, his golden eyes bright with defiance — a sight that infuriated Kaelid.

He could hear Reina’s faint plea — ‘Give him to me as my trophy’ — buzzing in his ears.

She never asked for anything. Would granting her this one wish draw her closer to him?

He knew he would regret it later, but ultimately, he had no choice but to relent.

Reina wanted him.

What other reason did he need?

Kaelid slowly lowered his sword and took a step towards the child.

His large, bloodstained hand reached out and covered the boy’s small face.

“If you want to live, forget everything.”

“Ugh…”

The child flinched.

Kaelid withdrew his hand just as slowly.

No matter how brave he tried to be, he was still just a child. Overcome with fear, the boy let out a shaky breath, then collapsed unconscious as if his body could no longer bear the strain.

And just like that, Reina became the owner of the only war trophy to come out of this ruined castle.