Chapter 2: Escape on a Rainy Day (4)

She no longer knew how many days she had wandered the forest.

Larie hadn’t thought she’d be able to walk for so long — especially not after running into the soldiers Terian had sent. She had thought everything would end then and there.

But to her surprise, she had survived.

She had fallen again and again along the forest trails, but eventually, her steps grew steady.

Whenever hunger struck, she always came across trees heavy with fruit. When she needed rest, a babbling brook would appear. At night, she would find strange but warm places to sleep — sometimes burrowed into the roots of a tree, sometimes nestled within the trunk of a giant one.

It was after the third night that Larie finally noticed something strange.

It was as if the forest itself were cradling her in its arms.

And perhaps… it wasn’t merely a feeling.

Maybe her peculiar “constitution” was manifesting — in ways she didn’t fully understand.

Whatever it was, it felt like a blessing.

“Ah…”

She had no idea where she was headed, but she continued walking forward.

For what felt like ages, only thick forest surrounded her — until finally, something else came into view.

Smoke. Rising in lazy curls from cooking fires.

A small village nestled in the mountains.

“Who, who’s there?”

As she stood blankly, gazing down at the village, a voice—old and rough—sounded from behind her.

Startled, Larie turned around.

An elderly woman, carrying a basket full of herbs, was making her way down the slope.

“My word… You look like a noble lady—what on earth happened to you, to end up in such a state…?”

She must have looked absolutely dreadful.

Even so, the old woman didn’t seem hostile—just wary and confused by Larie’s presence and appearance.

Larie shrank under the woman’s gaze, instinctively wanting to flee.

But perhaps it was thanks to the days spent wandering the forest—her mind felt clearer now, just enough to notice something unexpected.

The woman was looking at her… with a touch of pity.

Not disgust. Not contempt.

It was the first time in a long time someone looked at her like that.

Her throat ached from disuse. It had been days since she last spoke.

Hesitant, Larie summoned all the courage she had to open her mouth.

Asking this question—after being rejected again and again—was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

“…Could you… help me?”

“Come now, dear. Quickly.”

Without the slightest hesitation, the old woman reached out and gently pulled her along.

She pointed to a small brick house tucked into the mountainside—it was her home, she said.

Just before stepping inside the modest but lived-in cottage, Larie turned around.

She looked back—toward the place she had never once glanced at until now.

Toward where Terian would be.

If you truly don’t want me…

Her gaze brushed silently through the air, as if trying to find him one last time.

She stood like that for a while, without saying a word.

Then, at the old woman’s gentle urging, Larie took a step forward.

It was the first day the rain had finally stopped.

❖ ❖ ❖

“We can no longer leave the throne vacant. At this noble assembly, we must crown the next Emperor!”

“But what of a rightful heir of pure imperial blood…”

“What nonsense! The late Archduke of Avnir died proudly on the battlefield as the Emperor’s only brother. And the current Archduke is his direct successor. There is no blood closer to the throne than his!”

“Moreover, the current Archduke completed the holy lineage verification with His late Majesty when he was just a child. What more do you think we should wait for?!”

The great assembly hall was in utter disarray.

The Emperor had died in the most pitiful state imaginable.

He suddenly claimed to have received a divine revelation in a dream and rushed to the Lake of Blessings—only to slip and fall.

Though the palace’s most skilled physicians were always on hand and managed to keep him alive for a while, once he awoke, the Emperor caused another uproar, insisting—again under the claim of divine inspiration—that he must consummate with a new concubine.

Soon after, he clutched his heart and collapsed in bed.

And that was how the Emperor died—absurdly and in vain.

Only his relentless obsession with succession until the very end could be described as “befitting” of an Emperor.

“But what about the late Emperor’s last expressed will…”

“Are you referring to that distant cousin who never even completed a holy lineage test?!”

The grotesque desperation of Baron Tromperie had even moved the moderate nobles to act.

The timing couldn’t have been worse for the Baron.

Just as his camp was starting to put things in motion, the Emperor died far too soon.

Compared to Terian’s overwhelming legitimacy, the power disparity was painfully obvious.

“……”

More and more gazes turned to Terian.

Throughout the past few days of council, he had remained in deep silence.

There was still no word of Larie.

Originally, Terian had prepared a few other imperial relatives to serve as successors. He had never desired the throne himself—and so had taken steps early on to avoid it.

But now…

Those who truly knew Terian had remained silent throughout Tromperie’s theatrics.

They had already pleaded with him more than once to take the throne.

In truth, all of this—this scattered chaos—was a result of his silence.

“Archduke of Avnir. Please state your intent.”

At last, Marquis Bolivard, the quiet yet steadfast leader of the moderates, spoke.

A man known as the Empire’s bulwark, Bolivard rarely wasted words—each one he did utter held weight.

The chamber fell into complete silence.

Every gaze shifted toward Terian, pressing him for a decision.

In that moment, Terian thought of Larie.

She, sitting in the forest like she might dissolve into the air itself, had visited him in countless dreamscapes—shifting, evolving.

In one dream, she sat still, unmoving.

In another, she was running—her back disappearing into the woods.

Never once did she look back.

Not even in his dreams had he managed to see her face again.

Why now, at this most critical moment, was she all he could think of?

“……”

One of his attendants quietly exited the hall—perhaps to fetch the distant cousin Terian had once prepared as a successor.

But Terian’s thoughts remained fixed on Larie.

She had invaded even this sacred imperial chamber with nothing more than a phantom of herself.

Even in illusions, she fled from him.

If you truly wish to avoid me this desperately…

“I…”

Then I’ll have to claim a position from which I can follow you anywhere.

“…will take the throne.”

His quiet declaration rippled through the assembly.

The chamber erupted in motion as nobles rose from their seats.

“Congratulations on your decision, Your Grace!”

“Your Excellency, allow us to offer our heartfelt felicitations!”

The hall swelled with voices, but Terian’s expression remained blank.

Even Marquis Bolivard, who had urged this choice, looked at him with a hint of surprise.

Terian knew this decision had come on a sudden impulse.

And yet—he did not avoid the weight of those eyes.

Now, even he could no longer tell what this feeling was.

Only one truth remained resolute:

He would not stop until she was by his side again.

***

On the day that marked a full month since Larie’s disappearance,

Terian ascended the throne.

The late emperor’s funeral was brief and understated—

a fitting end for a reign steeped in shame, even in death.

Tromperie’s final efforts to derail Terian met with unexpected ruin.

Their greatest supporter, the Empire of Shupetania, declared war on a neighboring kingdom.

News of war with an enemy state hastened the demand for a strong ruler.

The empty throne could not wait any longer.

And so, on the day of his coronation, Terian remembered the one time he had allowed the former emperor to win.

“Marry the bride I choose, and I will guarantee you the rest of your life.”

What a laughable offer it had been.

Even then, the emperor lacked the power to dictate Terian’s fate.

He had been prepared to refuse, politely but firmly.

“It’s the daughter of Baron Tromperie.”

That hoarse voice, rasping that name, had stunned him.

Tromperie was a house he was never meant to align with.

That was why, even after learning of Larie’s existence, Terian had done nothing.

Though he had thought of her from time to time.

Still, at the moment he heard the emperor’s proposal, he realized something—

What if fate forced them together?

What if there was a justification—like the emperor’s command?

“Terian Laxtreen, kneel before the Divine one last time as a man of the mortal realm.”

“……”

Before the pope—whose role was now little more than symbolic—Terian knelt.

As his vision slowly lowered with his descent, a stillness washed over him like lakewater.

And at last, he understood what had compelled him to accept the emperor’s proposal.

Because down this path, he could be with her.

Even if she was a Tromperie.

“As proof of divine blood, consecrated by the hands of God Himself…”

However, the thought he had clung to like an escape was deeply flawed—

cowardly, and painfully weak.

If one truly desired something,

one had to be ready to claim it all.

Not drift along, pushed by inevitability.

“Now, the new Emperor shall make his vow before the divine.”

And so, Terian seized the throne.

“Before the divine… I swear it.”

Because he wanted to catch Larie—

who seemed to vanish to the ends of the world.

“With this, Terian Laxtreen is hereby acknowledged as the rightful Emperor of the Empire.”

“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”

“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”

“……”

The heavy rains that had once drenched the earth were gone,

replaced by unbroken clear skies.

By strange fortune, all those who might have hindered him

were preoccupied with their own separate crises.

It was as though the entire world had conspired to lift him to the throne—

leaving only Larie, the one who had vanished, behind.