Chapter 1

Under the clear blue sky, the garden was alive with color and bursting with life.

A gentle breeze swept through the rose bushes, scattering petals one by one.

The Empress’s Palace.

Crimson sunlight streamed through a narrow window, spilling into the room.

Though spacious, the chamber was almost empty, and what little furniture there was looked old and worn.

In the middle of the room, a woman knelt on the floor, scrubbing with a rag.

Golden sunlight fell softly onto her thick, blonde hair and the long lashes of the same shimmering hue.

A round forehead, a delicate face, long, pointed eyes with double eyelids beneath straight brows.

Her lashes were especially long and full, and though her upper lip was thin, her lower lip was plump.

Yet any beauty she might have had was diminished by her emaciated frame—she was little more than skin and bone—and the ragged clothing she wore.

Finishing her cleaning, Heila wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and sat for a moment, gazing out the window.

She looked down at her hands, roughened over the past year, and a lonely look flickered in her eyes.

She no longer bothered to look in mirrors—she wasn’t sure how things had come to this.

Once, she’d taken great care with her appearance, but there was no point in this place, and besides, there was no one left to notice.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Kersian’s face.

Just thinking of him was painful, so Heila tried to shake off the memories.

That was when, with no warning, the door burst open and several people strode in.

It was Uriel, flanked by the servants she’d brought with her.

With her slanted eyes, deep green irises, and radiant smile, Uriel looked every bit the picture of extravagance.

Her curly red hair, porcelain skin, and delicate hands—untouched by hardship—were adorned with a brilliant ruby ring.

It was an heirloom, a treasure passed down through generations of the royal family, left to Heila by her own mother.

What is it this time?

Heila’s terrified gaze flickered up to Uriel, and then halted when she noticed the swell of her belly.

Uriel caught the shadow of grief, loss, and longing in Heila’s eyes, and a smirk twisted her lips.

It had been a long time since they’d last faced each other, and now Heila looked unmistakably haggard. Even the palace maids looked healthier than she did these days. The sight oddly lifted Uriel’s spirits.

“Today, His Majesty said he would send you to a convent.”

Uriel arched an eyebrow as Heila remained silent. Her face, full of resignation, looked as if she’d expected nothing less.

Just as Kersian had said, the woman before her was powerless—so quiet and subdued she hadn’t caused even a whisper of trouble. But even so, it wouldn’t do to leave a potential problem unattended.

“All the royals of the former dynasty are dead, and yet His Majesty lets you live. Such excessive mercy.”

Uriel spoke in a tone thick with mock regret.

At those words, Heila’s face darkened.

It was her husband, Kersian, who had staged the coup, causing Heila to lose her family. Uriel’s own family had helped him seize power.

He had always favored Uriel, but after the coup, his affection had only grown deeper.

Even when Heila had lost her child after being poisoned—knowing full well Uriel’s involvement—he’d covered it up and placed no blame on her.

Now, Heila had been deposed, and soon Uriel would take her place.

The child in her belly would be the next emperor.

“Bring the branding iron.”

Uriel’s order echoed through the still room, and Heila jerked her head up in alarm.

Uriel’s lips curled into a smile at the sight of her fear.

Servants seized Heila and forced her to her knees, pinning her arms tight on either side so she couldn’t move.

“What are you doing?”

Heila struggled, her voice sharp with panic—a rare burst of volume.

But no one was afraid of her.

She’d once been the most noble woman in the empire, but now she was nothing—a pitiful thing, a toy to be broken.

Soon, a servant brought in the branding iron.

The red-hot metal glowed among the coals, and just the sight of it made cold sweat trickle down Heila’s spine.

She fought harder, panic rising, and Uriel looked on with satisfaction.

Uriel lifted the iron, bringing its searing tip close to Heila’s face.

“I just can’t feel safe unless I do this.”

“No, please! Please don’t—”

The heat was unbearable as the iron neared her cheek.

Heila pleaded, stricken with terror.

But in the next instant, Uriel pressed the red-hot metal to Heila’s unblemished skin.

There was a sickening sizzle of flesh, the stench of burning meat, and Heila screamed—a wild, animal cry of agony.

After a while, Uriel tossed the iron to the floor.

Heila, blinded by pain, couldn’t even open her eyes. The skin around the raw, pink burn was charred black. Even the servants turned away at the gruesome sight.

Uriel, having lost her taste for the spectacle, wrinkled her nose and spoke with distaste.

“I can hardly stand to look at you. She has to be alive to make it to the convent, so call the physician.”

With that, she turned her back.

As soon as the servants let go, Heila collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.

The branding iron was already tossed aside, but her face still burned as if it were pressed to the coals.

“Kersian…”

The name slipped from Heila’s lips out of sheer habit, and it made Uriel stop mid-stride.

“At the upcoming banquet, His Majesty will announce me as Empress. This will be the last time I come to see you. Honestly, it’s pitiful, watching you pine for him to the very end. So I’ll give you one last thing to remember:

It was His Majesty who killed your unborn child.”

That last sentence snapped Heila’s mind back from the edge of oblivion.

Her eyes flew open, burning through the fog of pain.

“So don’t ever hope for anything from His Majesty again. And when you get to the convent, I’ll send you a little something as well—the same thing your father and your unborn child drank.”

In that instant, Heila’s gaze landed on the branding iron lying nearby. Moving faster than thought, she snatched it up and swung at Uriel.

Uriel recoiled in shock, stumbling back and landing hard on the floor.

For the first time, the quiet, powerless Heila was coming at her, eyes wild, teeth bared.

For the first time, Uriel saw fear in her own reflection.

But Heila’s rebellion was crushed almost as quickly as it had flared.

The servants swarmed in, pinning her to the ground, wrenching the iron from her grasp and tossing it aside with a loud clang.

Uriel stared, breathing hard, watching Heila struggle.

“Are you hurt, my lady?”

A servant asked anxiously, pulling Uriel from her stupor.

Utterly humiliated, Uriel hesitated, then bared her teeth in rage, her eyes gleaming with hate as she screamed,

“This lunatic tried to attack me and my child! K*ll her. Right now, in this room!”

“But His Majesty’s orders—”

Just then, the door swung open and another entered.

Heila’s gaze trembled. There he was, the man she had loved so desperately, the one she had ached for even in her nightmares.

He had always looked elegant as a duke, but now—clad in imperial robes—he was more striking than ever.

The very image of a young, regal emperor, composed and powerful.

Anyone would have found him dazzling.

But for Heila, seeing him chilled her to the bone.

“His Majesty, the Emperor!”

Everyone in the room froze, then dropped to their knees, bowing deeply.

Kersian’s eyes found Heila. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheek freshly and hideously burned.

“Let Heila go and fetch a physician. Take Lady Uriel to her room.”

Uriel, stealing one last anxious glance at Kersian, retreated in silence.

The room quieted, and he extended a hand toward Heila.

“The floor’s cold. Come, stand up.”

But Heila refused to take his hand.

So he reached down and lifted her up himself, his hand still as large and warm as ever.

She didn’t bother to wipe her streaming tears, her voice barely a whisper.

“Why did you do it?”

“I do regret what happened to you.”

For a moment, Heila was at a loss for words.

A silence stretched. At last, she managed to speak, her voice trembling.

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. It wasn’t enough that you killed my father—you had to kill your own child as well. No one could do that without giving up their own humanity.”

“If that’s how you see it, then so be it.”

Kersian sounded tired, as if indulging a child’s tantrum, the faintest hint of annoyance in his tone. In his face, his eyes, his voice—there was not a trace of guilt, not a flicker of grief for the child he had murdered.

Dark, bottomless despair welled up in Heila’s eyes.

She had thought it was love.

She had believed so deeply that she’d given him everything, not holding back a single thing.

Only now could she finally accept the truth: it had never been anything but one-sided.

“Kersian, you’re the most shameless, wretched person I have ever known.”

“I know. Hate me as much as you want.”

Kersian reached out and gently wiped the tears from Heila’s eyes.

She recoiled from him in horror, shrinking back.

As her vision cleared, she finally saw him—black hair, sharp eyes, a proud nose, lips pressed in a hard line. In the mysterious pale green eyes she once loved, she saw her own ruined face reflected back at her.

Kersian was still handsome, and there was even a trace of regret in the way he looked at her.

But only Heila knew how monstrous that beauty looked now.

She kept backing away until her back hit the wall.

He watched her—helpless, shaking with fear, betrayal, and anger—and let out a quiet sigh.

“Your Majesty, the physician has arrived.”

At the servant’s words, Kersian turned around. Just as he said, the physician was standing there.

“All right, hurry and treat—”

“Y-Your Majesty…!”

The order was cut off by the servant’s cry.

A sudden breeze brushed his cheek.

Sensing something wrong, Kersian spun back around.

Heila was sitting on the window ledge, her hair streaming in the wind through the open window.

“Meeting you was the worst mistake of my life. I only regret I couldn’t kill you and Uriel with my own hands.”

“Heila, don’t do anything foolish. Come down.”

Kersian pleaded gently.

For the first time, she saw his eyes shaken with real panic. Heila let out a cold, bitter laugh.

“Go to h*ll.”

In the next instant, Heila threw herself backward.

Kersian lunged for her, but she fell faster than he could reach.

She was falling so quickly, yet it felt as if time itself had slowed.

Once she actually leapt, regret welled up inside her like an avalanche.

It wasn’t death she feared—it was anger, and bitter regret.

She was not the one who deserved to die.

At last, there was a sickening thud, and Heila’s legs twisted beneath her as the ground around her was stained red.

Attendants passing by screamed, and some ran in a panic to call for help.

That was the last sound Heila heard before she lost consciousness.