❖ ❖ ❖

The moment the Dowager Empress left, the situation was quickly brought under control.

The maids moved in perfect co-ordination, clearing away the dishes and opening all the windows to let out the foul, bloody stench.

Estel, who had returned late, trembled with shock when she heard what had happened.

She rushed into the kitchen and said she would bring something to soothe Freya’s stomach.

“You must have been pretty shaken up… Are you all right?”

The Emperor’s worried gaze turned to Freya.

His blue eyes, usually cold as ice, were now calm as they watched her closely, and that silent stare made Freya bite her lip where he couldn’t see it.

Pretending to care again.

To be honest, she found him even more annoying now than the Dowager Empress.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Freya had never intended to drink the blood.

No matter what the Dowager Empress said, she had no intention of touching it.

The raw blood of an animal – a deer, no less – even now the thought of it made her want to gag.

As Freya struggled to calm her still-churning stomach, Estel returned almost at a run, carrying a silver tray with a pale juice on it.

“It’s pineapple juice. It should help settle your stomach.”

Estel still looked visibly upset.

It was a relief that she hadn’t been in the room earlier – Freya hated to think what might have happened if she had been there when the Dowager Empress arrived.

To reassure her, Freya offered a faint smile and quickly picked up the glass to take a sip.

The refreshing taste of pineapple seemed to ease the nausea, and with it came a soft sigh.

‘I underestimated the Dowager Empress.’

She hadn’t expected Tana to go so far, to use concern for the future Empress’s health as an excuse to stage something so absurd, just to torment her.

Back when Christy had caused one ridiculous incident after another, Freya had thought that a woman with red eyes like Tana wouldn’t pose much of a threat.

But that had clearly been a mistake.

And then there was the Emperor…

‘What exactly is his relationship with the Dowager Empress?’

She’d sensed something strange from the start, but it was clear now that their relationship was more complicated than she’d thought.

The Emperor acted as if he didn’t like the Dowager Empress, and yet…

There was something about his manner, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to treat her harshly.

Even when he forcefully grabbed her wrist, there was a line he refused to cross.

He was called a tyrant, but he couldn’t fully confront the Dowager Empress – who wasn’t even his mother.

Even though she constantly defied him.

And the Dowager Empress… was even more amazing.

The way she looked at the Emperor, with those crimson eyes – they were filled with a desire so blatant that anyone could see it.

It was certainly not the kind of look one would expect from a former empress to a reigning emperor.

Then…

‘Jealousy?’

It had to be.

The Dowager Empress was acting this way because she was jealous – jealous of Freya, who was about to become Empress.

‘The current emperor is supposed to be the half-brother of the former emperor, isn’t he?’

The thought made Freya’s stomach churn again with disgust.

That vile, shameful desire… She grimaced without realising it.

The two of them… perhaps they had already…

“Are you all right?”

The Emperor’s blue eyes gazed at her, but all Freya could see was the Dowager Empress’s venomous face overlapping with his.

And then, that face changed—into the mournful expression of a maid who had once shared a forbidden relationship with Aron, sneering down at Freya.

“I’ve… committed a grave sin, Your Majesty.”

That trembling, fragile voice still rang vividly in her ears.

‘Disgusting…’

Overwhelmed by a sickening sense of revulsion, Freya instinctively turned her gaze away.

“I… I’d like to rest now.”

The Emperor nodded slowly.

“If the Dowager Empress visits again, have someone inform me immediately.”

‘As if I ever intended to.’

And she never would.

She hadn’t even wanted Sienna to leave earlier – her instincts had screamed at her to stop her – but the Dowager Empress’s overpowering presence had made her hesitate, costing her the moment.

Even now, Freya wanted to insist that she didn’t need his help, but she knew that saying so would only force her to deal with him even more.

Instead, she simply nodded without saying a word.

It was only after the Emperor had left the room that Freya finally took a long, shaky breath.

The nausea that had been churning in her stomach finally began to subside.

❖ ❖ ❖

The alley had always been quiet, but today it was even more deserted than usual.

As dusk settled over the street, there was not a single passerby in sight.

A man stood there, his expression tinged with unease as he waited.

As a figure approached from the distance, a smile of relief spread across his face – especially when he saw the large bag the figure was carrying.

Greedy eyes scanned the bag over and over.

‘So it’s him.’

It seemed that the human had sent not only a messenger, but also an advance payment.

“So you’re the executioner?”

“I am.”

The messenger was very small, but his eyes were piercing.

His tone – speaking in the same informal language as the other man – was a little irritating, but the thought of the bag soon in his hands made Ceres’ lips curl upwards in a grin.

It had only been two days since Ceres had first met the man.

He’d even had a good dream the night before, as if to foretell that a fortune was about to fall into his lap.

That day, having just returned from a three-day holiday, Ceres sharpened the executioner’s blade in preparation for an afternoon hanging.

“You’re the one wielding the sword, aren’t you?”

The man who had suddenly come looking for Ceres looked suspicious in every way.

Dressed from head to toe in black cloth, he wore a hood pulled down low, revealing only his pale jawline and red lips.

The way he immediately addressed Ceres in a commanding tone wasn’t exactly pleasant, but Ceres chose not to show her displeasure.

There was something about the man that didn’t seem ordinary.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I asked if you’re the one who executes prisoners.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

There was a trace of confusion in Ceres’ eyes as he looked at the man.

“You are alone.”

“Yes. I work alone today.”

Today, Ceres had been left alone to oversee the execution grounds as the other executioners had all taken their leave.

With the recent conquest of the Havern Kingdom, there had been talk of the executions becoming too numerous to count.

In response, the Emperor had generously granted a round of special leave.

The executioners, delighted by this gesture, decided to take turns using their days off – and as luck would have it, Ceres ended up working alone today.

‘Food poisoning, of all things?’

Ceres sulked at the thought of Porter, who was supposed to be on duty with him.

Porter’s younger brother had come to deliver the message, saying that the whole family had been sickened by spoiled food and that he, being in the best of health, had come to explain.

Fortunately, there was only one execution scheduled for that day, and the condemned woman was none other than the King of the Havern Kingdom.

“You know who you’re supposed to be executing today.”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

Normally, a defeated monarch would be executed on the spot, so this particular prisoner had piqued Ceres’ interest.

“Take this.”

The man suddenly held something out.

“What is it?”

It was a small pouch.

Ceres opened it – and his eyes widened in disbelief.

Gold coins.

At a glance, there were well over thirty rare gold coins inside.

The hand holding the heavy pouch shook violently.

“Wh-why… why are you giving this to me?”

“A token of appreciation.”

The man replied, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin so wide it seemed it might tear his face.

“A token…?”

Ceres blinked in confusion, his eyes blank.

“A reward for something you’ll be doing soon.”

“Pardon?”

Ceres didn’t understand what he was hearing.

Beheading a prisoner was part of his job – something he was going to do anyway.

So why was he being paid to do it? It didn’t make any sense.

Seeing the confusion on his face, the man added in a tone that suggested he understood perfectly.

“I have a small grudge against her, you see. Just make sure she dies well.”

A personal grudge against the King of Havern, perhaps?

As the man smiled with unsettling relish, Ceres savoured the cold weight of the gold coins in the pouch.

‘This would be more than enough to pay off all my debts.’

Not only that, but he could finally spend his nights surrounded by beautiful women.

The mere thought sent a hot ache through his loins.

His heart was pounding with excitement at this unexpected windfall when the man suddenly jerked his chin towards the sword Ceres had been holding earlier.

“That blade… it doesn’t look very impressive.”

‘Quite the fussy customer.’

Ceres thought, scratching his head with an awkward laugh.

Wanting to please this generous man in any way he could, Ceres – uncharacteristically – began to talk more than usual.

“This one is actually in the best shape. I’ve got a few others just like it, but oddly enough, all their edges are either chipped or rusted. I’ve got them over there, waiting to be sent to the forge for repairs.”

The man followed Ceres’ gesture to the pile of blades stacked in the corner and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Even to call them ‘ruined’ would be putting it kindly.

“For an institution officially run by the state, your equipment looks rather pitiful.”

The word ‘equipment’ made Ceres chuckle involuntarily.

“Yes, well… this is all I have left. If I’m going to use it soon, I’ll have to sharpen and polish it properly first.”

Suddenly the man held out his hand.