“Mother, please.”

Rote’s eyebrows drooped pitifully. She was not a child who usually insisted on things this way, which only deepened Selaia’s thoughts.

‘I had expected her to ask for something no more than a doll…’

After a long silence, Selaia slowly stood up. Finally, she parted her lips.

“For now… let’s take him. We can’t just leave him here when there’s still a chance he might live.”

“Really?!”

“Lady Selaia!”

Joy lit Rote’s face, while Haider’s showed the opposite. Their conflicting emotions clashed in the air. Selaia’s gaze met Haider’s, who looked as though he could not understand her decision.

“Lord Elden, could you move this man to the carriage for me? I don’t think I’ll be able to lift him.”

“Lady Selaia, this is dangerous. Please reconsider…”

“This is not a request. I am giving you an order as the mistress of the land you stand on. Were you not in Cheringen to assist me, Lord Elden?”

“…”

“At least in name, you are.”

She pressed on, her eyes fixed firmly on his. When Haider met her clear, verdant gaze, he realised he could not refuse her. Ultimately, the man was carried off like baggage and placed inside the carriage at Haider’s behest.

Selaia made sure to seat the child as far from the man as possible.

“Rote, you must be careful.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Not long after the carriage began to move, the man lying on the floor started to tremble.

He had lost a great deal of blood from his wounds, and his body temperature must have dropped.

“Ugh…”

Selaia watched the man groaning in pain quietly. Then she took out the robe she had brought with her and draped it over him. Seeing this, Rote unwrapped her own scarf and began to tie it around the man’s neck.

Her hands were still clumsy, however, and in no time the scarf was wrapped around the man’s face like a mummy’s. Rote tugged it open slightly at the nose so that he could breathe.

Although it looked absurd, the trembling in his body slowly eased, as if it were working.

Selaia stroked her daughter’s head in praise, but looked at the man lying on the floor of the carriage uneasily.

‘He isn’t dangerous, is he?’

She had taken him with her because she couldn’t leave someone on the brink of death, but that didn’t mean her worries had disappeared. Above all, she had a daughter to protect.

“It’s all right, Mother.”

As though reading the look on her face, Rote clasped her hand tightly.

“This man isn’t a bad person.”

The child spoke with strange certainty, as if she already knew.

Selaia forced her expression to soften.

“…Yes. He must be a good man.”

From a young age, Rote had shown an unusual intuition for people. She could instinctively tell the good from the bad—or so it seemed.

‘I hope Rote’s sense is right this time as well.’

And so, with a sigh of worry, the carriage bearing the dying man rumbled on toward the lord’s castle.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

From a certain age onwards, he never knew joy again. In a life where he had possessed everything yet held nothing, he was both rich and starving, at ease and restless.

If life brought no happiness, then perhaps death would not be so sorrowful. He had found himself thinking that more than once.

Suddenly, a recent conversation surfaced in his mind.

“Laska, move for Teian’s sake. Not as your brother, but as your king, I ask this of you.”

His elder brother, Cleos, gave the order while barely able to rise from his sickbed. Dark circles had hollowed his eyes and his cheeks were sunken — his face bore the unmistakable pallor of illness.

“Five years ago, I made the foolish mistake of being deceived by Prince Hendrick and Marquis Conrad, and attacked Tropez. That decision cost me even my wife, Mary.”

Hendrick and the Marquis convinced the Teian king that only a brief occupation of Cheringen was necessary. This would draw the Empire’s attention, and once they had seized power, they could pretend to reconcile with the Teians.

However, the moment they had secured power, they betrayed the Teians completely. They further enraged the Empire by branding the Teians as the nation that had provoked war.

“My son, Kyle, is still young. There is no one I can entrust him to but you.”

Laska wanted to ask how he could possibly be trusted with such a task—but he didn’t. He simply accepted the command in silence.

“…I owe Your Majesty my life. How could I betray that debt of honor?”

If it had merely been a brother’s request, Laska would have refused. But as a king, it was different. Although Cleos had relinquished his rights as ruler, the old debt remained — one that had shaped Laska’s life for as long as he could remember.

That was why he accepted the king’s command. He thought escorting Teian’s delegation would be easy.

‘I never imagined there would be anyone foolish enough to attack the king’s envoys!’

Laska shouted inwardly as he parried the raiders’ blades.

“An ambush!”

It was utterly unexpected. What possible reason could there be to attack envoys who had been sent merely to discuss customs duties with the Empire? Or had his brother foreseen this and summoned him for that very reason?

Questions tumbled through his mind, but he needed to focus elsewhere.

‘Stay calm. We are five… and the enemy—’

No fewer than twenty.

Striding forward, Laska cut another man down, then rushed to lift the envoy representative who had collapsed before the carriage.

“Y-Your Highness, the king’s brother…”

The envoy stammered stupidly, recognizing him.

Ignoring the words, Laska seized the reins of a knight’s horse and thrust them into the envoy’s hands.

“Go, get yourself to safety. Once inside the Empire, you’ll be safer.”

The man clumsily mounted his horse, then turned back toward Laska. Even then, Laska was still crossing blades with the assassins charging at the beast.

“But Your Highness…!”

“I’m nothing more than a hired guard, my lord. If I vanish here, don’t bother looking for me.”

Laska’s voice was as cold and merciless as a blade’s edge. There was no trace of hesitation on his face. The sharp lines of his profile gleamed faintly in the darkness before disappearing again beneath the low-pulled hood.

“That cannot be, Your Highness!”

The envoy cried out in desperation, but Laska struck the horse’s flank without hesitation. The horse let out a piercing cry and leapt forward, carrying its rider into the night.

“After them!”

The assassins rushed forward to pursue, but froze the instant Laska stepped into their way.

‘What is that man…?’

The leader of the raiding party regarded him with caution. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his frame appeared lean until the moonlight revealed the truth: every contour beneath his shirt was defined by hard muscle. The lower half of his face, hidden in shadow by his hood, was not only well-formed, but arrestingly handsome too. Yet the aura he radiated was enough to set every nerve on edge.

“… My apologies.”

His finely shaped lips curved into a slow smile that made onlookers swallow instinctively. His face was beautiful — yes — but the chill it sent through them was inescapable.

“I’ll be your opponent. Shall we exchange names first? Or will we start with the blades?”

Despite being outnumbered, he spoke with ease. Rich and resonant, it vibrated through the air. Stung by the mockery, the assassins charged forward angrily.

“Die!”

The scene descended into chaos immediately.

Even Laska, who was hardened by years of life as a mercenary, found it difficult to fight several seasoned killers in the dark. Nevertheless, he managed to ensure the safety of the other envoys. But not without cost — he was wounded.

Dragging his injured body, he managed to hide in a nearby village, where a hollow laugh escaped his lips.

‘Am I going to die here after all?’

Perhaps because he had no regrets, he felt no fear. However, when faced with the sudden reality of death, his instincts took over and his body fought to survive.

“Contradictory, isn’t it?”

Murmuring these words, he slipped into unconsciousness, giving another weak, bitter laugh.

If things continued like this, he would either die or survive in a half-dead state. He had collapsed in a deserted back alley. Even if someone happened upon him, would they take in a massive, blood-drenched stranger out of kindness?

Yet he opened his eyes again around early afternoon, when the air was filled with the sweet, sticky fragrance of ripening fruit.

‘Where… am I?’

Warm sunlight streamed through the window and the dust particles floating in the air shone like crystal shards in its glow.

He wasn’t one for sentimentality, but at that moment, reality itself felt like a dream.