‘Divorce…’

Selaia swallowed hard.

Even with her husband glaring at her with eyes full of murderous rage, her head spun with exhaustion and fear.

‘It was never a marriage I had wished for in the first place.’

The empress, wary of Fourth Prince Hendrick—whose very existence posed a danger to the crown prince because he was the cherished son of a favored consort—used every means at her disposal to suppress him.

To prevent Hendrick, already backed by the powerful Conrad marquisate as his maternal kin, from gaining yet more strength through his wife’s family, the empress had bound him in marriage to Selaia.

“The empress must have gone mad at last! A mere collateral daughter from a failing house?”

Queen Leticia, Hendrick’s mother, flew into a rage and refused to recognize Selaia as her son’s intended bride. Ultimately, however, she relented for Hendrick’s sake.

“Listen well, Lady Tran. I already have a beloved.”

For from his youth, Hendrick’s heart had belonged to another—Casteen, the daughter of a common gardener in the imperial grounds.

“Do not expect affection from me. And do not even think to threaten my Casteen. Do so, and I will still let you keep the title of princess consort.”

His cold, opaque black eyes swept her with disdain as he gave his warning.

Selaia had never coveted the title, nor his heart. She had simply answered that she understood—for she had never been given a choice to begin with.

‘And yet, in the end, it has come to this.’

Hearing his declaration of divorce, Selaia paled slightly, but the blow struck no deeper. Perhaps she was simply too weary to feel shock anymore.

“Of course! That is only natural!”

Just then, a middle-aged man strode briskly into the chamber, his voice ringing with satisfaction as he echoed Hendrick’s words.

Selaia recognized him at once—Hendrick’s maternal uncle, Marquis Guillaume Conrad. From beyond the door, Elaine’s face was twisted with helpless dismay, unable to stop him from barging in.

“Now that Your Highness has ascended the throne, you must have an empress worthy of your station.”

“…!”

At the marquis’s words, Selaia clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. She had suspected as much the moment Hendrick strode back into the palace clad in bloodstained armor—but hearing Conrad say it aloud left no doubt.

The rebellion led by Hendrick Myers Bertan, Fourth Prince of the Tropez Empire, had succeeded.

“What about this child? Will she be formally recognized?”

Selaia asked, her voice trembling. She had promised Casteen she would protect the baby.

‘If the girl could be raised as mine and Hendrick’s, as a legitimate heir, then she would never suffer the misery of being branded a bastard.’

That had been all Casteen ever wanted. Selaia bit her lip.

“The wretch who devoured her mother is not my child! Consider yourself lucky that I am not ending its life right now! Get it out of my sight!”

Running a bloodstained hand through his crimson hair, Hendrick’s tone was ice.

“…What did you say?”

Selaia could not hide her stunned expression. However grief-stricken he was over his lover’s death, how could he deny his own flesh and blood?

“Your Highness, this baby is still—”

“Silence! He is no longer ‘Your Highness,’ but His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hendrick!”

Marquis Conrad’s voice cracked like a whip, brazenly cutting her off. Even the way he addressed her had shifted—back to her maiden name, Lady Tran.

Hendrick cast her one last, cold glance before striding from the room without hesitation.

“Hendrick!”

Selaia started after him, clutching the baby in her arms, but soldiers seized her roughly. She stumbled to the floor, curling her body protectively around the infant. From the corridor, Elaine rushed in and gathered her into a frantic embrace.

“Lady Selaia!”

“Tch. Pathetic.”

Marquis Conrad clicked his tongue, glaring down at Selaia and Elaine with contempt. His snake-like gaze was the very image of his sister, Queen Leticia.

“The divorce must be finalized before the coronation, to avoid any scandal. As for the child…”

His narrowed eyes shifted toward the baby.

Selaia tightened her hold until her knuckles whitened.

‘They do not want this child.’

By their standards, the child had been born from an unworthy womb, and to the future empress she would be nothing but an unwelcome reminder.

“…Please, allow me to take the baby with me, Marquis.”

Selaia s voice trembled. It was the first time since becoming consort that she had ever dared to make a request.

“I will raise her as my own daughter, not as the emperor’s child. I will never lay claim to her rights as a member of the imperial line.”

“And how am I to trust such a claim? That child’s very existence is a threat.”

Selaia’s expression hardened, and in that instant the marquis’s brow arched.

“Then… would you kill her instead?”

Selaia covered the baby’s ears with cloth as she spoke. The infant could not yet understand, but still—she would not allow her to hear such words.

“She is the daughter of Casteen, the very woman whom His Majesty once cherished above all others. Today, consumed by grief, he has cast her aside. But what if, when he regains his senses, he seeks her out again? If he discovers that you ordered the child’s death, how do you imagine His Majesty will view you then?”

Hendrick was fickle, volatile and violent to his very core. Not even blood ties offered any protection from his fury. Queen Leticia — cruel and venomous though she was — often found herself bending to her son’s tempestuous will.

“Hhhm…”

Knowing his nephew’s nature all too well, Marquis Conrad grimaced. After a pause, he finally spoke again.

“Very well. A written agreement, then. You’ll be compensated more than fairly.”

He spoke as if granting a favor, eager to rid himself of a troublesome burden.

“But if you should dare to go back on your word—”

“Spare me such useless threats.”

Selaia cut him off sharply, her cold green eyes boring into him. Even the battle-hardened Marquis flinched at the icy fury in her gaze.

“I have no wish to continue a marriage with such a man.”

Drawing a firm line, Selaia pulled the infant close.

The child was small, soft, and warm against her chest.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

Year 682 of the Roengrin Calendar.

The Kingdom of Teian, which shared a border with the empire, launched a sudden assault on Tropez’s frontier at Cheringen. With the emperor bedridden, it fell to the crown prince to dispatch imperial forces to repel the attack.

Yet while Tropez’s armies were drawn to the border, rebellion ignited in the very heart of the capital.

In the aftermath, the emperor died, and the crown prince, together with the second and third princes, also perished.

Thus, the fourth prince, Hendrick Myers Bertan, who had mercilessly cut down his half-brothers, claimed the throne as the twenty-third emperor of the Tropez Empire.

Aware of her own unworthiness, the emperor’s consort, Selaia Bertan, humbly requested to step down before she could be proclaimed empress. Demonstrating magnanimity, the new emperor granted her request and awarded her the southeastern lands of Cheringen— territory that had only recently been reclaimed from Teian — as alimony.

Five years passed.

Year 687 of the Roengrin Calendar.

A new wind began to stir in Cheringen.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

“The wind is too strong.”

Selaia said gravely.

Elaine, setting down a steaming cup of tea upon the desk, gave a look of long familiarity.

“At this rate, the potato stalks will snap the moment they sprout.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it, my lady. We can’t very well stop the winds that Cheringen is known for.”

Elaine shrugged. Selaia let out a long, weary sigh.

The land of Cheringen, granted to her as alimony by Emperor Hendrick, was barren and desolate. Wheat, the empire’s staple, could not be cultivated here at all, and with mountains hemming it in on every side but the border, communication with neighboring domains was difficult.

“My lady, you must accept it by now. Cheringen was never alimony—it was a curse His Majesty laid upon you.”

“…I know. But there’s something else to worry about.”

Selaia murmured, her gaze dropping to the desk before her.

Upon it lay the day’s newspaper. Its front page blared only one headline in massive type:

[A Joyous Occasion for the Empire! Empress Johanna Conceives After Five Years!]

“At last, the empress is with child. The Duke of Piel must be swelling with pride.”

The Duke of Piel had been the foremost contributor to Hendrick’s rebellion—and the father of the current empress, Johanna.

‘The same man who had made sure every record of Lady Selaia was erased without a trace.’

Thanks to that, few in Cheringen knew that their lady was, in truth, the emperor’s former wife.

Elaine scowled at the paper, its columns filled with sycophantic praise for the imperial family.

“Given the current situation, Rote’s safety could be in danger. Not many people know about the child, but those who are most dangerous do.”

“You mean Duke Piel, Marquis Conrad, and the Dowager Empress Leticia, don’t you?”

At her words, Selaia gave a heavy nod. Elaine exhaled a troubled sigh.