At that thought, Zephion clenched his teeth. He still didn’t know what to do about her. Should he kill her? Should he let her live? He could never forgive her for putting him through such torment. She should have let him die. Did she really think he could live happily in the home of his parents’ murderers, pretending to be happy?

He had loved her. And that made it all the more unbearable.

He could not cast away the feeling called love, and yet he had no strength to embrace it either. He had thought of what to do with Reina dozens, hundreds of times—but every time, he had been left only in confusion.

The woman watching him let out a small laugh.

“The name of the Iron-Blooded Marquis of Baltgar still lives on, doesn’t it?”

At that, Zephion’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Do you want to test my skill?”

“What I’ve seen of you so far is enough.”

‘So far?’

That meant she had witnessed him being hunted by Kaelid. The thought that unseen eyes had been on him all along filled him with disgust. He had always assumed they were Kaelid’s men—never imagining there had been others watching in secret.

“Zephion Baltgar. Swear your loyalty to Her Highness, the Princess.”

“…The princess?”

His frown deepened. He had suspected something the moment she had spoken of treason—but a princess? Did this mean a member of the royal family, thought to be long dead, was still alive?

As his suspicion lingered on his face, the woman stepped forward out of the forest, several people following in her wake. Her long hair spilled out from beneath her hood.

With slender fingers, she slowly pushed the robe back from her shoulders.

Zephion stared at her face. It was one he had only glimpsed before, in the royal genealogies. Older now than in the records, of course, but still recognizable.

His grip on the sword hilt tightened—before he slowly slid the blade back into its sheath.

“How did you find out about me?”

“If the Berends are so desperate to kill you, we thought you might be useful to us.”

The princess—about Reina’s age—curved her lips into a faint smile. Even in this moment, he found himself thinking of her, and the thought made him feel foolish.

“That you truly are the last Marquis of Baltgar was a bit of a surprise, though.”

In truth, the manner in which they had discovered Zephion was not particularly important. They claimed to know his identity and offered him the means to seek revenge. Although he had never considered restoring the honour of House Baltgar himself, this wasn’t an unreasonable condition. Perhaps it was what his parents had wished for. If it could undo the shame of being branded traitors, it would ease his guilt towards them.

“When I reclaim my place.”

The princess smiled faintly. She already considered the imperial throne her own. As if it were only natural that it should belong to her.

“I’ll return everything of Baltgar’s.”

“What I want is the downfall of House Berend.”

“That comes along with it. Not such a poor bargain, is it?”

Zephion gazed quietly down at her. As though already certain he would accept, the princess stepped closer without hesitation and extended her hand.

If he took that hand, he knew it would end in kill or be killed. Either he would reclaim everything, or he would truly become a traitor and vanish into history.

His lips pressed tightly together before he slowly bent at the waist.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’

She had promised vengeance against House Berend. Wasn’t that enough? It was something he could never achieve on his own.

Zephion lifted the princess’s hand and brushed a light kiss across the back of it. Then he followed behind her into the forest.

***

“Ugh!”

With Zephion’s kick, a man flew through the air and crashed into the ground. It had been several weeks since he’d sided with the princess. He had trained the gathered fighters a little more. Back at House Berend, the only comparison had been Yuta, so he hadn’t thought himself particularly strong. But here, he came to realize he was formidable indeed.

Everyone whispered that he had truly inherited the name of the “Iron-Blooded Baltgar.” Each time he heard that even blood could not be denied, he thought of Reina.

‘I still don’t understand.’

What had that woman been thinking? He thought of her again and again, over and over, yet everything remained shrouded in confusion.

“Zephion Baltgar.”

It was the voice of the woman who had first revealed herself before him. She was said to be the princess’s closest aide. He couldn’t quite remember her name. As he sheathed his practice sword and slowly turned, she asked with a stiff expression,

“You’ve never killed anyone yet, have you?”

“…That’s none of your concern.”

“The war will begin soon.”

Zephion lowered his gaze. The perilous, tense atmosphere was more than clear to him. Everyone was saying the fighting would break out in just a few days.

“When that time comes, knocking someone unconscious or forcing them down won’t be enough.”

“I know.”

The words fell rigidly from his lips. He had never faced war firsthand, but he knew well enough how brutal it was. Kill, or be killed. His hand tightened hard around the hilt of his sword.

“Are you prepared?”

“I didn’t come here without thought.”

“Then kill the pursuers.”

At her words, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“You must know there are still those chasing you.”

Of course he knew. Kaelid would never back down so easily. Even after he had decided to side with the princess, men from House Berend had ceaselessly hunted for Zephion.

“If we’re careless, this place will be exposed, even if you don’t do it, someone has to kill them.”

They had to be silenced. If their location was discovered, the consequences would only grow worse.

Zephion gave a slow nod.

“And if you say you can’t?”

“I can.”

His reply cut in, calm and firm. It was something he would have to do sooner or later anyway. There was no such thing as fighting a war without staining one’s hands with blood. Better to face it now, before the true battle began.

He gripped the hilt so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Don’t make a mistake. The exposure of this place is a greater threat than your death at their hands.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust the Iron-Blooded Baltgar?”

“I’m saying—show me the meaning of that name.”

After saying that, the woman turned away. Zephion set down the practice sword and fastened a steel-blue blade at his waist. Finding the pursuers sent by House Berend wasn’t difficult. They had never imagined he would turn the hunt back on them.

When the fight—too feeble even to call a battle—was over, Zephion silently looked down at the two men lying on the ground. Their swords, already broken clean in two, lay scattered at their sides.

Wordlessly, he raised his blade, yet the men showed no fear. As if they already knew he wouldn’t kill them. Watching them wait for the slightest chance to flee, he stepped closer.

‘I have to kill them.’

The moment Kaelid’s face came to mind, the restless pounding in his chest settled into a cold calm. Someday, he wanted to split that man’s chest open. And after that, to dig up Eldan Berend’s corpse and hack it into pieces. The man who had murdered his parents, and the man who had erased the name of Baltgar.

His grip tightened on the hilt. Still, the two men showed no sign of taking him seriously.

With a hardened expression, Zephion lifted his sword and, without a sound, drove it straight through one man’s chest. The eyes of the survivor widened in shock.

“A–ah…”

The man’s face showed he had never expected this. He turned to flee, but Zephion thr*st his blade into the man’s back. The chilling sensation of tearing flesh and scraping bone ran up through his hand. He had thought it would be unbearable, sickening. Yet it was far easier than he had imagined.

‘So even this—I can’t escape the blood in my veins.’