“Thank you for your concern.”

Instead of addressing the situation, she muttered a greeting that seemed out of place and quickly turned away. She heard Frederick move behind her as if to stop her, but without looking back, she hurried into the castle, practically fleeing the scene.

It was only when she had closed the door completely, putting distance between herself and the two men, that she felt she could finally breathe. Leaning against the door, she stood for a moment, lost in thought, before slowly lifting her eyes.

What greeted her inside was nothing short of devastating.

Six months ago, when the family’s inevitable downfall became clear, all the servants fled, leaving the castle in a state of complete neglect.

The interior, once meticulously tended, now felt frozen in time, trapped in the chaos of that fateful day. The once proud statues that had symbolised the family’s former power lay broken on the floor, their shattered fragments scattered across the floor.

Of all the ruined decorations, only one remained untouched. High on the wall of the Great Hall, a hunting trophy still stared down at her with its dark, unblinking eyes.

It was a wolf – a creature her father had hunted to mark Vincent’s birth, a symbol of the arrival of the family’s heir. The trophy remained, untouched by time, a silent reminder of a past that could never be reclaimed.

Whenever Rosalyn looked into the wolf’s eyes, she couldn’t help but think of him – those eyes, so much like the sky just before a storm.

He always seemed detached, indifferent to everything around him, but whenever their eyes met, it was as if he could see right through her, revealing every hidden thought, every buried secret.

Without realising it, a shiver ran down her spine.

She stared at the wolf for a long moment, taking a deep breath as if preparing herself for something. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, she unfolded the letter.

On the smooth, fine parchment, she saw a familiar hand, the name Elizabeth Thurman. At the sight of it, her vision darkened slightly.

As always, Beth’s letter began with a warm greeting, followed by a brief expression of sympathy for the sudden loss of her father. As she read on, however, the sentences that followed were nothing more than a formal declaration of severed ties.

Although she had long anticipated the reply, a bitter smile crossed Rosalyn’s lips.

Vincent was desperate to find a way out of this situation, and she had no power to defy her older brother. The letter she had sent, forced by his insistence, was ultimately nothing more than a plea for help – an attempt to get them out of their dire circumstances.

But what sane person would willingly interfere with a family whose fate was already sealed? As she transcribed the words Vincent had dictated, a deep sense of shame burned through her, making it almost unbearable to finish the letter.

And yet…

Though she had long awaited the answer, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of bitterness as she finally faced reality.

Since the Emperor’s Knights had personally examined this letter, at least Rosalyn’s dearest friend would remain free of any scandal involving the Delmart family.

The letter had served its purpose.

The following spring, as planned, Elizabeth would marry Prince Samuel, Raphael’s younger brother, and become a princess. The future they had once secretly whispered about was about to become a reality.

As for her…

Her vision blurred and dimmed as tears threatened to spill. Rosalyn squeezed her burning eyes shut and tried to control her breathing.

Even when she had seen her father beheaded before her eyes, even when her fiancé had suddenly broken off their engagement only to marry another woman in a grand ceremony just days later, she had not shed a single tear.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t feel anything. Being trapped here, waiting in silence for her inevitable death, stirred something deep inside her. Her life was hanging by a thread – she wasn’t even sure if she would live to see tomorrow.

Deep down, Rosalyn knew that no matter what she chose, nothing would change her fate.

Should she get down on her knees and beg for her life? Or would it be more fitting to follow Vincent’s lead and express her anger at them?

But it didn’t matter. She understood that no matter what she did, her fate was already sealed.

With hollow steps she walked on, her mind consumed by dark thoughts. She didn’t realise she had reached her bedroom until her eyes fell on a man standing silently in front of it.

She stopped abruptly.

Before she could fully make out the familiar figure behind her, he slowly turned his head. At the same moment as Rosalyn’s eyes widened in shock, the man’s smooth lips curled into a faint smile.

“Judging by your appearance, you’ve been doing well all this time, little sister.”

***

Even after Rosalyn Delmart had entered the castle, Frederick couldn’t help but look back in the direction she had disappeared, his thoughts still lingering on her.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while… It seems that calling her the most beautiful rose in the Empire isn’t too much of an exaggeration after all. Don’t you think?”

Although he didn’t mention a name, it was unmistakably clear to whom he was referring.

In Delmart, the richest country in the south, the trade in roses was incredibly profitable. Perhaps for this reason, the title ‘the most beautiful rose grown in Delmart’ became an inseparable part of the Duke’s daughter’s identity.

The titles that followed Rosalyn’s – the most beautiful rose in the Empire or the most perfect lady in high society – were always grand and dazzling. Yet no one ever thought them exaggerated or undeserved.

They fit her so seamlessly that even the brightest jewels seemed dull by comparison. The admiration for her beauty and grace was unwavering, leaving a bittersweet taste in Rosalyn’s heart as she realised how little of it had ever really been for her.

There was no denying that Rosalyn Delmart was the most beautiful woman in the land. Unlike her brothers, she carried herself with an elegance that captivated everyone, and unlike her father, she was admired for her virtue and character – qualities that were recognised and respected by all.

Frederick sighed deeply, as if weighed down by regret.

“His Majesty is truly heartless. He abandons such a woman without mercy, while he himself basks in the sweetness of newlywed bliss.”

A knowing smile played at the corner of the other man’s lips as he replied, “So, are you personally offering to comfort her?”

At the indifferent question, Frederick raised an eyebrow and looked at Johannes Moore. The corners of Moore’s red lips curled slightly, a mischievous smile playing on his face.

“Rumours have been circulating, you know,” Moore continued, his voice casual but cutting. “That every time the young lady crosses paths with the red-haired knight, he clings to her like a dog in heat.”

He was only repeating what he had heard, but hearing it out loud made Frederick blush with embarrassment. He gave an awkward cough, trying to hide the discomfort that had suddenly set in.

“You should also know that there’s nothing to be gained by getting involved with her.”

Frederick grinned and shrugged nonchalantly.

“No need to put it that way. Her brother was the one who handed her over to me in the first place.”

“That man,” Frederick continued, “offered to give me his sister in exchange for being allowed to leave the castle. There’s nothing for us to lose in such a deal. From the start, His Majesty was just waiting for him to fall into his own trap.”

“Is there anyone who doesn’t know that you’re lighter than a feather below your waist?”

Despite the blatant joke, Frederick didn’t seem the least bit irritated. Instead, he laughed easily, as if it were nothing more than a trivial joke.

“But isn’t it true?” he replied with a grin. “If his crime is serious enough to warrant a death sentence, then unless he defies the Emperor’s will and escapes from this castle… there’s no other way out for him.”

Instead of finishing his sentence, Frederick jerked his chin in the direction Rosalyn had gone.

Johannes understood the implication immediately, without the need for further explanation. His eyebrows furrowed subtly, his expression darkening with the weight of the unspoken message.

The Emperor had only two charges in mind for the Delmart siblings.

If they attempted to escape while confined to the castle – a time that could be seen as a pardon – they would be accused of participating in their father’s rebellion.

But if they chose to endure and stay, they would be accused of immorality, caught in the web of a forced accusation of incest.

Either way, it was nothing but a vile and despicable scheme.

In that sense, Vincent Delmart was merely a tool – a pawn in a twisted plot designed to ensure that Rosalyn Delmart would be dragged down and eliminated along with him.

Whether it was treason or incest, both accusations led to the same inevitable outcome – execution, with no room for defence or appeal.

“Frankly, escape would be the better option. For many reasons. So playing along with this bastard’s plan isn’t such a bad idea, is it?”

Frederick said, his tone casual, as if he felt no guilt at all about the situation.

Johannes, faced with such a shameless remark, chose silence, his gaze hardening in response.

The Lombards, after all, were strictly disciplined and dedicated their entire lives to the Emperor. Their celibacy was not just a principle – it was an unbreakable vow, a sacred bond they had sworn to uphold without exception.

Despite his black cloak embroidered with a golden laurel – the symbol of the Lombards – and his iron brooch, Frederick Robein was the kind of man who could never resist indulging himself with a woman.

Wherever he went on his missions, he left behind a trail of mistresses, indulging his carnal desires without a second thought. The only mercy in his indulgences was that he had not yet fathered any illegitimate children.

His promiscuous lifestyle, completely indifferent to the principles of chastity, was tolerated by the emperor with a disturbing leniency.

The emperor’s reasoning was simple: men serving in harsh, unforgiving lands needed a way to relieve their burdens, and this was hardly something worth making an issue of. The casual disregard for moral conduct made a mockery of the very ideals they were supposed to uphold.

Felipe Baron, commander of the Lombards, openly despised Frederick’s lavish lifestyle. But as long as the emperor turned a blind eye, he refrained from confronting him directly.

The reason Frederick went unpunished despite his blatant disregard for the rules was simple – no matter how much he indulged his women, he never once neglected his duties as a Lombard.

Despite his promiscuous habits, Frederick had always demonstrated that his primary duty – unquestioning loyalty and service to the Emperor – had never wavered.

It was this unwavering commitment to his responsibilities that allowed him to escape any real consequences, even when his personal life became a disgrace.

Moreover, Frederick never saw women as anything more than objects to be used to satisfy his desires, and it was this attitude that helped to protect him from criticism.

“Well, I haven’t been back to the capital for years, being stationed on the borders, but you – you’ve always been at His Majesty’s side, so you must have seen this woman often. Surely you’ve gotten to know her, haven’t you? Is that why you’re so indifferent?”

“Not really.”

Despite the playful remark and the grin, Johannes didn’t even bother to look at him. His response was absentminded, as if the conversation had little meaning to him.