April had a long, long dream.

The reason she could recognize it as a dream was because of the white walls surrounding her—the very same she had seen last time.

“Again?”

April muttered, wishing this place would stop appearing already.

“It feels like I always end up here whenever I’m in danger….”

She had come here when she fainted from overusing divine power, and again when she was cut by a sword and felt the pain.

‘Why?’

She had no answer. April quickly gave up. Clinging to the unknowable was the most pointless thing of all—or at least, that’s what she believed.

She sank down where she stood, then flopped onto her back and gazed upward. From past experience, she knew that after resting here a while, she would be let out, so she could remain calm.

‘But why do you keep bringing me here?’

She was curious about whoever it was that brought her to this place. If they weren’t going to reveal their identity, they could at least tell her what this place was for.

—You’re wondering why I keep calling you here?

A woman’s voice rang out. Startled, April sat bolt upright and blinked as she looked around. But all she saw were those same stark white walls.

—It’s because you keep pushing yourself too far.

“You called me here because I was injured?”

—That’s right.

Sensing the voice’s firm resolve—not to send her back until she had fully healed—April had countless questions but kept her mouth shut. Instinct told her she wouldn’t receive any answers about anything else.

As soon as she fell silent, so did the voice.

She lay back down and closed her eyes. Since she had been brought here because of her injury, she figured she would be sent back once she was healed, and thought of it with calm acceptance.

—The child you’ve chosen seems a little unusual.

—And what about the child you chose?

Unheard by April, two voices continued their conversation. They belonged to the goddess who had founded the Empire of Isper, and her consort, a god. They had no specific titles—humans simply called them “the gods.”

—Still, thanks to that child, the one who received my power has taken the right path. That’s a relief.

—The right path, you say? Think of all the things that child has already done.

—That much is acceptable.

—Are you saying that only because they’re a mirror of you?

At the goddess’s pointed question, the god gave no reply.

Contrary to the myths passed down in the Empire, it was he who had changed the color of the goddess’s hair, and it was he who became her mate. But now, with no one left alive who knew the truth, there was no way for the real story to be told.

Sometimes, they sent down fragments of their energy into the world. That energy manifested in various ways, moving the course of human affairs. Some became priests. Some became outstanding knights. Among them, those who received the gods’ power most strongly became the heroes whose names were etched into history.

The gods merely sent down their energy—the choice of how to use it belonged to human will. The two could not interfere with those choices. All they could do was watch.

So when there appeared a child like April, one who could enter this space, it was something they welcomed. To enter this place meant not only to possess divine power, but also to have retained a pure heart. It meant she could feel pity for others, and truly empathize with their pain.

—I do not ask for much, and yet children like this are becoming fewer and fewer.

—Someday, they will grow in number again.

—The child who received your power seems disheartened by their changed hair color.

—What can I do, when the myth itself is wrong?

The god grumbled, saying he could not descend in person to correct the false myth. At that, the goddess smiled kindly at him, and together they wrapped April in their warmth.

Enveloped in radiant light, April vanished from that place.

—Now don’t come here again, my precious child.

***

Upon returning to the palace, Calsion entrusted April to Jarenne and the High Priest, then devoted himself to tracking down the mastermind behind the assassination attempt.

He wanted to stay by her side, worried for her condition, but he could not simply sit idle with enemies lurking behind them.

‘If this happens again…’

The thought struck him that he could lose April.

This time had only been luck. Had the blade swung just a little differently, her head would have been severed.

The mere thought of that moment made Calsion’s chest tighten, and he clenched his fists.

“Your Highness, it’s Yulifa.”

He was now using the Emperor’s office in the Imperial Palace. Though he had not yet gone through the coronation and still held the title of prince, no one dared to object to him residing there.

After he swung his sword a few times, the nobles who had once been silent began clamoring again. With the Bright Duke’s family implicated in the emperor’s assassination, opinions were divided: some insisted April had to be cast out, while others argued she was no longer of that house since she was married. Calsion suppressed them with pressure, but if April did not awaken soon, such talk would only continue.

“I have a report.”

“Did they confess?”

“Yes.”

“Who was it?”

“Knights of the Cephiron Duchy.”

“What a grand love story. Don’t you think?”

The Duke of Cephiron still loved the Empress. Before she became the late Emperor’s concubine, she had been his fiancée. Dissatisfied with being a duke’s fiancée and coveting the seat beside the emperor, she had abandoned him—but it was the Duke who could not let her go. The Empress had skillfully used that weakness.

“One duke’s house helps murder a count’s daughter, and another conspires to kill a member of the imperial family.”

Calsion muttered darkly. Yulifa flinched at the anger laced in his voice. The killing intent spreading through the room stung like needles against the skin. This was Calsion restraining himself—had he not, Yulifa would surely have dropped to his knees on the spot.

“What should we do?”

Cautiously, Yulifa spoke. Calsion turned his eyes toward him, and those cold, emotionless pupils made Yulifa clench his fists to hide his trembling hands.

“Both the Duke of Cephiron and his son are imprisoned, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Drag them both out and execute them.”

“…Without going through the council of nobles?”

“To draw a sword against royalty is an unforgivable crime. Death is only natural.”

Executing a duke without convening the council could stir resistance, but it didn’t matter. The remaining nobles needed a sharp reminder anyway.

Now that only he and April remained of the imperial family, the next heir to the throne after them was the Duke of Cephiron. It was clear this attempt had been made with that very aim, so there was no need to hesitate.

“Understood.”

“Ah.”

As Yulifa was about to withdraw, Calsion gestured to stop him.

“The members of the Cephiron household will be executed publicly in the capital.”

“And the charges…?”

“Treason, of course.”

“I will see that the proclamation is posted on the city walls.”

“I leave it to you.”

“It will be handled without disruption.”

After Yulifa left the office, Calsion sank deep into his chair. This seat weighed too heavily on him.

He too had once wished to leave the palace and seek freedom, but that was impossible. Outside the palace, the only choice awaiting him was death.

Those bound to him under the name of family would never leave him be. He had made his decision simply because he could not allow himself to fall prey to them. Some might call him ruthless, but he did not care. As long as April was by his side, that was enough.

Letting out a deep sigh, Calsion rose from his seat. Leaving the office at once, he headed toward the Emperor’s chambers where April lay.

The attendants stationed outside the chamber had long since been replaced by those from the Second Prince’s Palace.

“We greet the Little Sun of the Empire.”

Miloa stepped forward and bowed politely. Calsion waved his hand dismissively in response.

“Where is April?”

“She has not yet regained consciousness.”

Calsion’s brow furrowed sharply at her words. When the attendants opened the door for him, he entered without a sound. Inside, the High Priest and the imperial physician were in heated debate.

“Her Highness is in excellent health at this very moment!”

“I know that as well. But we must examine her for other causes, mustn’t we?”

“What could a mere court physician possibly understand?”

The High Priest scoffed, dismissing the doctor’s words. From the standpoint of one who wielded divine power, a physician who treated with herbs was nothing but beneath him.

“Why has she not woken up?”

Calsion’s voice, barely holding back his fury, rang through the chamber. The two men immediately ceased their argument, leapt to their feet, and bowed their heads.

It had already been five days since April lost consciousness.