Knock, knock.

“Father, it’s me.”

She tapped on the study door as she spoke. The sound of books tumbling to the floor came from inside.

Had he tried to rush out and knocked the bookshelf over?

Just as she started to worry that he might have hurt himself, she heard footsteps approaching again.

Ailie listened to the footsteps, a soft smile lifting her lips.

Color naturally rose in her cheeks, which had looked so pale inside the Imperial City.

Being reunited with her parents, her three older brothers, and her childhood friend, whom she hadn’t seen in six years, was an overwhelming blessing, yet one that Ailie should have enjoyed from the beginning.

‘In the original story, Ric didn’t leave for his studies this early.’

Her memories stirred faintly.

Ricciardo Alvaro was a supporting character in the original novel. He was Ailie’s unwavering ally and was loyal without question.

In the original timeline, he left to study abroad one year after Ailie’s wedding. By that time, he had found a lover at the academy, so there had never been any romantic connection between him and Ailie.

Perhaps because there was no romance, he regrettably faded from the latter half of the story despite playing a lively, comedic role in the early chapters.

He was somewhat ridiculous and somewhat bull-headed — like a charging ox — yet dependable in more ways than one.

Yet after possessing this body, Ric left after only three years. Ailie was fifteen at the time, just before her engagement to Benate.

‘I should have realized then that something was going wrong.’

If she had sensed earlier that the story was beginning to shift from the original, perhaps she wouldn’t have suffered so deeply under Benate.

Clack.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the study door opened and the Count of Erdei stepped out.

His hair was a deeper shade of gold than Ailie’s or her mother’s, and his eyes were a warm, vivid red. The deep crease between his brows made him look stern at first, but his easy smile instantly softened his features.

“You’re truly here, Ari!”

Behind him, the study was in complete disarray, books spilled everywhere. Ailie glanced at the mess behind the door and let out a small laugh.

“Yes, Father. But you didn’t need to rush like that. I’ll be staying in Erdei for the next three weeks.”

“Well, really now—how is a father supposed to stay calm when his daughter comes home after two years?”

He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, as though he’d spoken half in jest. While Ailie and her father exchanged warm smiles, another laugh joined theirs.

Right—Ric was here.

Ailie turned toward the door and called out the familiar childhood name.

“Ric?”

Someone who had been hiding behind the door suddenly stepped forward.

A mass of curly, bright red hair.

Eyes as clear and black as obsidian.

“You…”

He was so tall she had to crane her neck just to look up at him. Broad-shouldered, solidly built—

“…Are you really Ric?”

Her uncertain, dazed voice slipped out before she could help it.

The red-haired man flashed a wide, easy smile.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Ah…”

It really was Ricciardo.

Ailie’s pale rose colored eyes widened at the sudden certainty that flooded her mind.

She remembered the spirited boy who swung a longsword far too big for his small frame. He was shorter than her by a good handspan. His features had changed, but she still recognized him. That playful tone, that relaxed expression, that bright, refreshing smile — everything was exactly the same.

“Ric stopped by Erdei on his way back from his studies. When he heard you were coming, he insisted on seeing you before continuing on.”

“He came back from studying abroad?”

Her startled question made Ricciardo’s shoulders lift in a casual shrug.

Instead of explaining how or when he had returned, Ricciardo reached into his coat and took out an object.

A long, flat box wrapped in crimson velvet.

The Count’s eyes softened with pride as though he were looking at his own son.

“Open it.”

Ailie carefully lifted the lid of the box.

Inside lay a document ornamented with luxurious gold leaf. A completion certificate from the Bris Swordsmanship Academy and a formal appointment as an instructor.

“You’ve already graduated? No… you became a teacher?”

“I did.”

“B-but how?”

Ailie handed the box back to him, unable to believe what she had seen. Had she really seen it correctly?

The Bris Swordsmanship Academy was the most prestigious institution in the Empire. Without exceptional skill, it was possible to fail to graduate, despite a lifetime of effort. Even those blessed with remarkable talent were rarely appointed as instructors upon graduation, unless they were prodigies capable of dueling with seniors several years their senior from day one.

Ailie stared up at her childhood friend, stunned.

The original novel had mentioned Ricciardo’s natural aptitude with the sword. However, in that story, his free-spirited nature had caused him to delay enrolment time and again, leading to tension with the Duke of Alvaro, who had become increasingly frustrated with his refusal to discipline himself.

Consequently, in the original timeline, Ricciardo never graduated. He faded from the narrative halfway through, overwhelmed by the academy’s grueling workload — but this had come too late.

It was hard to believe that a single shift in timing could alter the course of his life so drastically.

A chill crept down Ailie’s spine.

What if a choice she had made after returning had thrown everything out of balance?

“But more importantly, Ailie—”

Ricciardo scrunched his nose in a mock-sulky expression.

“—aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

As if he had worked this hard solely to earn Ailie’s praise. His pure black eyes sparkled with expectation.

He looked exactly like a dog eagerly waiting for affection.

Ailie’s eyes curved gently as she smiled.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Your Majesty the Empress.”

As though he had achieved the goal of his life, Ricciardo clenched his fist and grinned broadly.

For a moment, Ailie felt as though she was looking at the boy he used to be.

It was the same expression he had when she used to skip her etiquette lessons to play with him in the garden. It was the same unguarded joy he’d displayed when she gave him a portrait she’d drawn for his birthday.

Unlike the emotionless emperor, Ricciardo wore his feelings openly. He hid nothing, perhaps he could not hide anything, even if he tried. Whatever he felt was written plainly across his face.

Perhaps that was why so many readers regretted that he never shared a romantic storyline with Ailie.

If they could see him now, they would be overjoyed.

Having returned from studying abroad, he had come to Erdei first instead of going straight back to Alvaro.

He didn’t even know if Ailie would be there.

“You’re not going to stop by Alvaro first?”

“I’ll have to eventually. But I want to stay in Erdei longer this time.”

“Will that be all right?”

“It’s been so long since I last saw you.”

No matter how happy she was, planning to stay for three whole weeks was excessive.

Aside from his sturdier build, he was exactly the same childhood friend she remembered.

Ailie struggled to suppress her laughter as she followed her father into the study when he suggested they sit down and talk. She stepped carefully, trying not to tread on any of the fallen books.

‘Come to think of it… what gifts did my brothers go to buy?’

The random thought bubbled up suddenly, like she truly had returned to her childhood.

***

“And for the banquet, we should—”

The Emperor of the Tere Empire, Benate Seraulte Renovard, sat lost in thought. He half-listened as the commander spoke, resting his chin on his hand, blinking slowly.

The shadows beneath his eyes were dark.

Was it fatigue from traveling four days straight for the international conference? Or the worry that refused to leave his mind?

Benate pictured the Empress.

Ailie, bowing her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

She had done the same when he suggested she recuperate in Erdei. She tried to smile, but he could tell that it was insincere.

‘Even for someone as oblivious as I am…

With a frustrated exhale, his silver hair fell messily across his forehead.

The sigh made the commander stop mid-report.

“Are you feeling unwell, Your Majesty?”

“No. I simply cannot focus.”

“I see. Then please rest for a moment. I’ll return when it’s time to continue.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

Click.

The door closed softly behind the commander. The moment he had left, Benate covered his face with both hands.

There was no time for distraction now.

The upcoming international conference focused on a critical decision: what should be done with the abandoned lands on the edge of the continent? This region had once been occupied by sorcerers from a bygone age. No one knew if there was something buried there that could destroy a small kingdom, or if the land was simply barren.

During the former emperor’s reign, the land had been left untouched for ten years. No one intervened. And that ten-year deadline had been exact.

Now, this year, the period was coming to an end.

A new decision had to be made.

“It’s difficult. Everything is difficult.”

The central issue of the conference, and the persistent anxiety coiled deep within him, weighed heavily on his mind.

Benate could not understand why Ailie continued to avoid him. He had summoned the imperial physician, Sirion, on several occasions, but the answer was always the same: there was nothing physically wrong with her.

“Even the smallest clue is fine. If anything unusual happened during the examination, tell me.”

To that desperate plea, Sirion had only shaken his head.

He was doing his best but he didn’t know either. Even if he wanted to explain, he could not. And then he had added:

“If Your Majesty faces Her Majesty directly, something may become clear.”

But that was impossible.

Benate could not bring himself to approach the trembling Empress. She could not meet his gaze, as though he were the reaper come to take her life.

And so, Benate waited.

He waited for the sharp edges to dull and the tension to ease. He waited for the day when they might sit face to face and speak again.

How many times had he stood outside her bedchamber, only to turn away in silence?

For more than a month, he had remained close to Ailie, yet he was utterly unable to act.

‘If he followed his heart, he would have gone to her many times…’

He had wanted to knock on that door countless times, if only to capture those pale rose colored eyes with his own.

And after spending so many days like that, a possibility he had pushed from his mind suddenly resurfaced.

That woman who had been with Ailie at the New Year’s festival.

“Your Majesty, I know Her Majesty must dislike me. I, too, made mistakes last night.”

Without a doubt, she had been a stranger. Had he heard her name, he might have been able to guess which family she belonged to. But he hadn’t even known that much. Yet the way she spoke had sounded as if…

‘As if she were claiming to be my secret mistress.’

Those venomous golden eyes.

That sharp voice, cutting through the air as though it might tear it.

None of it felt like an act or a lie she had made up on the spot.

However—

‘Impossible.’

Benate had never—swore he had never—taken a mistress.