“Jealousy…”

As dusk fell, Ailie leaned against the balcony railing, lost in thought. She was holding the book she had borrowed to read before bedtime, but her eyes refused to focus on the pages. The words she had heard at dinner continued to churn in her mind.

He had said that it was all because of jealousy.

Of all people, Benate Seraulte Renovard had said something so utterly out of character.

Perhaps she should have snapped back and accused him of blurring the truth with lies until the very end. And yet… she hadn’t been able to.

“I’m sorry for being so petty and contemptible. I didn’t want to admit it myself. But this is the truth. The fact that there were others by your side, Ailie…”

“…I couldn’t endure it.”

Those wavering blue eyes. That faintly trembling voice.

Rather than appearing to be the dignified ruler of an empire, he looked like a child who didn’t understand his own heart. He was not the cold, unflinching man who had ruined her life without a second thought; he was someone fragile and almost pitiful. Like the man who had once come to save her.

Ailie didn’t want to accept that.

It was all too confusing. She desperately hoped it had all been nothing more than chillingly perfect acting. She wanted him to sneer at her and mock her for having been fooled.

But Benate showed no such cracks.

So she said nothing.

Not until dinner had ended.

“How ridiculous, Ailie.”

Ailie let out a bitter scoff. She had finally been given the opportunity to speak to the Emperor, and this was how it had ended.

Still, that dinner hadn’t been entirely meaningless.

At daybreak the next morning, Benate summoned Liton and annulled the failed result of Ricciardo. By noon, news had arrived that the decision to replace the doctor had also been withdrawn.

Ultimately, she had protected those on her side.

Had she let it pass, Benate would never have retracted his words.

‘That aside… where did I put it again…?’

Brushing her pale blonde, windblown hair back, Ailie stepped into the bedchamber. She rummaged through the inner drawer of her desk and pulled out a bundle of documents that she had momentarily forgotten amid the recent chaos.

At the top of the stack was a title, written neatly in Ailie’s own hand.

[For Young Lady Seidler]

Pfft!

 Ailie couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

This was a dossier she had compiled for Donata Seidler: a selection of unmarried commoners of considerable wealth whose backgrounds were… less than perfect. Before leaving for her holiday in Erdei, she had chosen one of the men and sent Donata a letter of recommendation suggesting she consider him.

So—who had she chosen, again…?

Ailie slowly flipped through the pages, trying to jog her hazy memory.

‘Come to think of it, there hasn’t been a reply yet, has there?’

Regardless of whether she liked him or not, Donata should have replied with her wishes by now. Ailie doubted that Donata would dare openly refuse a match personally arranged by the Empress.

Then again, perhaps her pride made it difficult for her to express rejection so directly. Alternatively, perhaps Donata’s response had gone astray while Ailie was on holiday. It was also possible that whoever was handling the correspondence had intended to deliver it after Ailie’s return and had simply forgotten.

“I’ll ask Breni to look into it tomorrow.”

Giving the matter little further thought, Ailie returned the bundle of documents to the drawer. If things went well, she reflected, it might even be amusing to attend Donata’s wedding in person.

***

As no lamps had been lit, the room was darkened and filled with pale moonlight.

Then, there was a click, followed by another. Footsteps broke the silence and a shadow gradually took shape. The figure stopped in front of a large window and gazed out. Long, jet-black hair swayed gently in the breeze. Her dark, crimson eyes were sharp and predatory, like those of a hunter searching for prey. Against this backdrop, her bloodless white face made her look more like a ghost than a living woman.

Taken feature by feature, she was undeniably beautiful. Yet there was something deeply unsettling about her that evoked an instinctive unease and made one hesitate to approach her.

She bore an uncanny resemblance to Donata Seidler.

—Bang.

Without warning, the door burst open.

With her unnaturally deep black hair seemingly untouched by light and her upturned golden eyes, Donata — who claimed to be the Emperor’s mistress — stormed inside, breathing hard as if she had run the entire way. She was breathing hard, as if she had run the entire way. She clutched a large bag in her hands.

“Master… I—I’m here.”

The woman who had been addressed as ‘Master’ merely shifted her gaze slightly and offered no reply. Her dark red eyes were flat and devoid of interest.

No one could say what had happened to her usual overwhelming pride—but Donata didn’t seem to care. She placed the bag on the table and opened it. Inside, countless gold coins gleamed.

“You told me to bring more for the commission. You said that if I did, you’d do it again.”

Donata had rushed to her master that day, convinced that everything would be resolved the moment they met.

But, for some reason, her master wasn’t there.

Instead, as though she had anticipated her arrival, Donata found a letter tucked into the crack of the door. Although it bore no indication of sender or recipient and was little more than a note, Donata was certain it had been left for her by her master.

[There’s no such thing as a warranty period on my commissions. Don’t be so shameless as to come empty-handed.

P.S. I’ll be away for a while.]

When she heard about the warranty period, she realized that her Master knew the hallucination magic had worn off. ‘Don’t come empty-handed’ was equally clear — she was being told to pay an additional fee.

As her master was away, Donata returned to the Count’s estate and did exactly as she had been told. In order to secure the money, she had to persuade her father, Count Seidler.

She lied, claiming it was only a temporary loan and that she would repay him every last coin. She pleaded. She begged. She made veiled threats. She even cried.

But the Count did not give her the money.

No matter how much he loved his daughter, the Seidler household had been on the brink of collapse for some time and simply could not afford such a sum. Ultimately, Count Seidler had no choice but to turn down her desperate request.

But Donata did not give up.

‘No—I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t.’

Having her Master cast hallucination magic on Empress Ailie one more time—Donata believed, without the slightest doubt, that this was her only hope.

‘So… I had no choice.’

No choice was a hideous rationalization. Still, Donata made a bold move.

Using the magic she had learnt from her master, she put her family and the servants to sleep before ransacking the house like a common thief.

It was indeed the home of a declining count. She unlocked the safe with a key she had taken from her father’s study, but the money inside still fell far short of what her master demanded.

It still wasn’t enough. At one point, she found herself wondering why she had clung so desperately to this house for so long.

When the sum still didn’t add up, Donata went so far as to sell the Seidler family’s most prized possessions: ancestral jewelry, heirloom swords, and gifts bestowed upon her ancestors by a former emperor.

Only then was she able to gather the fee for the second commission.

“Donata.”

It was then — perhaps only then — that her master finally seemed willing to listen.

The woman approached the table at an unhurried pace, dropped heavily onto the sofa, and began rummaging through the bag.

Gold coins spilled out, clinking across the tabletop before scattering onto the floor.

“Yes, Master.”

Donata smiled.

“This should be enough.”

When she had first asked her master to ruin the lives of Ailie and Benate, it had cost roughly the same. At that time, the once prosperous Count’s household had collapsed overnight.

The collapse had been sudden and strange, yet the nobles had simply assumed that the count, countess and Donata herself had squandered their fortune on indulgence. They had lived extravagantly, yes, but no household collapses overnight from that alone. Still, no one suspected Donata.

That, too, had been her master’s doing.

Generously, she said that, as Donata was her disciple, she would offer her assistance. Donata was deeply moved by this kindness. Having been abandoned by the imperial family, she was the only person who could help her.

“…Is that all?”

But—

Her Master’s reaction was cold.

“Is… is it not enough?”

“Not even close.”

“But—back then—”

“Donata. I’m a generous person. You know that.”

Startled, Donata took a step back.

Her master took a step forward and stared her down with icy eyes. As his ghostly-pale face drew closer, her hands began to tremble violently.

“Back then, I let it slide because I couldn’t very well take the full amount from a child. Money itself means nothing to me. But Donata—you’re not a child anymore.”

“But… there’s no way for me to get more money now…”

“Why not?”

Her master showed no interest in hearing any excuses.

His dark red eyes, glowing with an unnatural intensity, fixed on Donata. They were like a great blaze that consumed everything, or like cold, stagnant blood.

Donata was afraid.

She was so afraid that she wanted to flee the place immediately. If she didn’t, she felt she would be crushed to death beneath that gaze.

“Do whatever it takes. Sell off your family—or loot the ducal house your sister married into.”

Donata’s golden eyes shook violently.

Her master twisted her crimson lips into a smile. Then she lifted the bag that Donata had brought and threw it onto the floor.

The gold coins spilled everywhere.

Scattered across the dark room, they caught the pale light of dawn, glinting intermittently.

“The hallucinations breaking wasn’t my fault. And I have no reason to compensate you for it. My magic was perfect.”

“……”

“What—has the thought of paying more made you lose the will to commission me? Then take your fee back. Get on your knees and pick it up. Do you understand?”

Donata hesitated for a long moment, then bent at the waist.

And the instant she picked up a single coin from the floor—

“Then you’ll never stand where you wish to stand. Not for the rest of your life.”

Her mind went cold.

And slowly—very slowly—something began to boil up from deep within.

“Never.”

It was murderous intent, swelling beyond all control.