The thick, tender stew slid from the bowl and splattered into the bin.

The perfectly roasted salmon, the slow-simmered beans and the mug of warm milk all followed the same trajectory from the tray to the bin.

Once only empty dishes remained, Claude placed the tray outside his door and slid the bolt shut. If the servants thought he had eaten, he would be left alone for at least half a day.

Moving unsteadily, he made his way to the bath. At the tub, he closed the plug, turned on the tap and let icy water thunder in. The temperature meant nothing to him. He simply watched the clear liquid rise, his gaze sinking with it.

“Act properly. That forsaken princess has endured years of ab*se — her heart is sealed shut. Even the clumsiest performance will win her over.”

“Yes, Father.”

The old command drifted up from the fog of drink — a voice he had hoped never to hear again.

‘What a clumsy performance!’

He played the part earnestly — how disgusting. A thin, broken laugh escaped him as he stared at the water creeping up the porcelain.

That day…

Memories flashed before him like sunlit grains of sand. It was a bright spring afternoon — one of the ‘dates’ with Diana arranged by his father. He had once dismissed that day as unimportant, and yet it lingered, clear enough to surface even now.

“Wrap that bouquet, please.”

On the way to the palace, he pulled his hat low so that the brim shaded his eyes and ducked into a flower shop — anything to avoid being recognised.

“You have an excellent eye, If we add a few freesias, the arrangement will look even brighter. What do you think?”

“Then please do that.”

The shop clerk, unaware that he was speaking to the Duke of Cassel, cheerfully offered various suggestions. Buying the flowers had been an impulsive decision.

Claude simply wanted to see Diana smile.

As he stepped out of the shop, Claude glanced down at the bouquet in his hands and let out a mirthless laugh.

Was he actually starting to enjoy pretending to love that princess?

He scoffed at himself.

The vibrant, blooming bouquet reminded him of Diana’s radiant smile in an unsettling way.

“Hans.”

“Yes, Master?”

Hans had been waiting silently outside. Claude handed him the bouquet without a word. The butler’s face showed faint confusion as he took it.

“Do whatever you want with it.”

With that, Claude headed to the imperial palace empty-handed.

At the time, Diana was the subject of marriage talks. Their meetings were intended to create the impression that he was courting her.

That day was no different — just another meeting under the guise of a date.

The princess, who had lived her entire life shut away in a secluded palace, was meek and accommodating. She asked for nothing and nodded at everything he said.

However, that day she wore a soft, yellow, lace-adorned dress, which was uncharacteristically lovely for her usual style. It suited her more than he had expected.

He offered his arm and wore the smile he had practiced so many times.

“Diana. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Your Grace.”

Something dropped, dull and sudden, in the pit of his chest—but Claude dismissed it as nothing.

“Is there anywhere you’d like to go today?”

He asked politely, assuming she’d once again defer to him without an opinion of her own.

But to his surprise, she gave an unexpected answer.

“I’d like to visit the plaza… just once.”

The plaza? That filthy place teeming with commoners?

Claude nearly frowned but kept his polished smile intact.

“People will recognize us if we go there.”

“Oh… then I suppose it can’t be helped…”

She replied, her voice laced with disappointment. Perhaps it was that look on her face—that unmistakable shadow of longing—that he found so unpleasant.

“Let’s stop by the duchy for a moment.”

“Pardon?”

Claude took her back to the Cassel estate and ordered the maids to dress her as a wealthy commoner. He changed into more modest attire to match. Then he took Diana’s hand in his.

She wore a plain, ankle-length dress with a dainty ribbon tied neatly around her waist. The look suited her — perhaps a little too well. His gaze lingered on her for longer than necessary.

“Why the sudden change of clothes?”

“It’s the only way to get to the plaza.”

“Oh, I see. I suppose it would be troublesome if people recognised you.”

She smiled brightly, her cheeks tinged with joy, and he found the sight strangely vivid.

As expected, the plaza was crowded and bustling. Street vendors and hawkers lined the walkways, calling out to passers-by. A few tried to engage them in conversation, but, fortunately, no one recognised them.

Street musicians played a familiar tune — the same one used to open imperial balls. Scattered couples and families danced merrily along to it.

“Would you care for a dance?”

“…Of course, Your Grace.”

The hand he extended, the hand she took, and the dance they started together were all just part of the show. At least, that’s what he told himself.

There was no way he could ever fall in love with her.

All he had wanted was to see Diana smile happily one more time.

‘Idiot.’

Claude slowly stepped into the tub, the icy water soaking the hem of his trousers.

He didn’t flinch.

He lowered himself until the water reached his chest, then drew a finely honed dagger from his coat.

Splash!

Water crashed against the porcelain, loud and relentless.

The clear water bubbled where it met his skin, only to burst and vanish like foam.

Scattered memories surged again, flinging him back to another moment — vague and cruel.

That day.

The day his father had forced him to consummate the marriage.

It wasn’t love.

Nor was it desire.

Rather, it was a sense of duty; a responsibility to produce a Cassel heir who would carry on the Felix bloodline.

When the couple did not conceive after their wedding, Heinz von Cassel ordered the maids to examine the sheets —

— to confirm that they were fulfilling their obligation.

After every designated night, the sheets were collected and inspected, and a report was written.

Claude had no choice. To avoid arousing suspicion, he did as he was told.

He slept with Diana, even though he hated it.

There were moments when he felt like nothing more than a stud horse — a creature used for breeding.

But what disturbed him the most…

What truly shook him…was something far deeper.

Because every time he touched Diana, every time he lay beside her—he felt like someone else.

Desperate.

Someone aching with longing.

And that frightened him more than anything.

He had never wanted anything this badly since the day his mother died.

The death had been the last time he had felt such a flame; afterwards, he had become something mechanical and hollow inside.

But the moment he was bound to Diana, every shred of restraint vanished.

Even when her slight, fragile frame trembled beneath him as he took her, he couldn’t stop himself.

Some nights, a savage hunger would surge through him, an urge to devour her entirely.

Whenever he saw her panting with exertion, her skin glistening with sweat, a fierce possessiveness would ignite in his chest.

Whenever they were ordered to share a bed, she wore a revealing slip — another one of his father’s dictates.

Those slips were obscene: sheer enough to reveal everything, with a plunging neckline that exposed every curve. On anyone else, he might have found them vulgar.

Mortified, Diana could hardly meet his gaze.

Yet Claude saw no vulgarity in her, only a purity that set him ablaze.

To be honest, he didn’t need such a provocative garment — one look at her was enough to set his blood on fire.

So, unintentionally, he took her over and over again.

He hated it.

Yet he also loved it to the point of madness.

It was one of those unbearable contradictions he could never unravel.

“..…”

Claude slid deeper into the tub, the icy water lapping at his shoulders.

Not even water as cold as death could clear his foggy mind. The haze of liquor clung to him, thick and dull.

He turned the dagger in his hand, letting the light glint along its sharp edge.

Diana—I’ve lost you again.

Here I am, scavenging worthless fragments of memory like trash, wallowing in my own ruin.

Why was I ever so foolish?

Forgive me.

I had no right to speak to you the way I did.

Those nights must be nothing but nightmares for you.

When I looked into the polished blade of the dagger, I saw my own loathsome reflection and almost plunged the blade straight into my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Claude.”

“…”

“I can’t forgive you.”

“Yes, Diana. Don’t forgive me. I’m the last person on earth who deserves it.”