“If you promise not to forget again, I’ll tell you.”

‘Not forget again…?’

When had he ever told her his name before?

For a moment, Isabel found herself holding her breath as she stared into those violet eyes so close to hers. Then she reached out and pushed him away.

“Stop talking nonsense.”

He staggered back easily, letting out a quiet chuckle.

“As if it’s such an important name.”

Thinking there was no point in knowing the name of some mercenary who served Prince Morita, Isabel turned her head away.

“If you’re that unwilling to tell me—”

“Arkin.”

At that moment, he spoke his name.

Isabel turned back, meeting his violet gaze.

“Don’t ever forget it. My name.”

It was just a name.

And yet, it felt as though it had been etched into her heart.

❖ ❖ ❖

“If you ever do something like that again, I truly won’t forgive you.”

“Did you not like it?”

“What?”

“You seem to be breathing more easily now. It looked like you liked it. Was I mistaken?”

At his words, Isabel fell silent.

Because he was right.

The tightness that had weighed on her chest had eased when she saw the night view he showed her.

But Isabel pressed her lips together, denying it outright.

“As if.”

“Don’t lie. I don’t particularly like that.”

“Whether I lie or not, what does that have to do with you?!”

Startled, Isabel snapped at him.

She had always tried to remain composed—to act rationally, no matter the situation.

She had never wanted to lose her temper.

And yet, lately…it felt as though her emotions were slipping beyond her control.

It had to be because of Cedric.

Because of Anna.

That was why even the words of a mere mercenary could shake her this much.

The anger she had barely suppressed began to rise again.

“More importantly, can you not address me properly? A mere mercenary dares to speak so crudely to the lady of a high-ranking noble house of the Empire—!”

“My lady.”

Just as she raised her voice, someone called out to her.

Isabel froze.

Only then did she realize she had been shouting, completely losing her composure.

In contrast, Arkin’s expression remained calm.

“Isabel.”

The sound of his voice, speaking her name so easily, grated on her nerves.

She glared at him, then turned at the call behind her.

Not far away, Cedric stood watching the two of them, a strange look on his face.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“…I thought you were with His Majesty. It seems the Emperor has finally arrived at the banquet?”

Instead of answering his question, Isabel deflected.

Cedric, however, kept his gaze fixed on Arkin as he replied,

“His Majesty has already retired early. More importantly, it is late. We should return. I will escort you home myself.”

“I should greet Mother before I leave.”

“She has already returned to the Empress’s palace with Her Majesty. The banquet has all but ended, and everyone is making their way home.”

“Ah… I see.”

Not realizing how much time had passed, Isabel forced a faint smile.

Cedric watched her in silence, then turned his sharp gaze toward Arkin, who had yet to leave.

When that piercing stare did not waver, Isabel reluctantly spoke.

“He is an escort who came with Prince Morita.”

“An escort? A knight of the Morita Kingdom?”

“…Not exactly. He’s a mercenary.”

At the word mercenary, a slight crease formed between Cedric’s brows.

Still, he said nothing further and extended his hand toward Isabel.

“Let’s go.”

As Isabel nodded and stepped toward him—Arkin, who had been standing silently, suddenly reached out and grasped her hand.

Startled, Isabel turned to him.

“How dare you lay your hands on my wife without permission. You, a mere mercenary.”

Cedric, watching the scene with a sharp gaze, looked as though he might draw the sword at his waist at any moment.

Startled, Isabel hurriedly pushed Arkin away.

“Do you have something to say?”

Even at her question, Arkin gave no answer—he only stared at her.

For some reason, he looked… pitiful.

Like a dog caught in the rain.

The thought unsettled her, and she found herself lingering on him—

“Isabel!”

Cedric’s sharp voice cut through the moment.

Flinching, Isabel quickly stepped away from Arkin and moved toward Cedric.

Cedric seized her shoulder, pulling her close with force, his gaze still fixed on Arkin with chilling intensity—before turning away.

❖ ❖ ❖

The carriage ride back was unbearably awkward.

He had never liked riding in carriages, preferring horses instead—yet tonight, for some reason, he had chosen to ride with Isabel.

“How do you know that mercenary of Prince Morita’s?”

As Isabel glanced at him from the corner of her eye, Cedric suddenly asked.

She frowned slightly.

“That’s not possible.”

“You seemed rather familiar.”

At the quiet suspicion in his gaze, Isabel let out a dry laugh.

“How could I possibly be familiar with a mere mercenary? And one who came with the delegation, no less.”

“You’re not fond of even a familiar person’s touch. Yet when he held your hand, you didn’t push him away immediately.”

It was only because she had been startled.

And more than that—hadn’t he just carried her up to the top of the castle walls moments before?

After something like that, would she really make a fuss over something as trivial as holding hands?

Still, Isabel said nothing.

To explain it would mean recounting everything that had happened before—and more than that, she didn’t understand why she should have to justify herself to Cedric at all.

So she simply gave a slight nod.

Cedric looked at her with clear displeasure.

“There are many eyes watching. You should be more careful.”

Isabel let out a faint, incredulous laugh.

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of taking him in as a lover.”

“Isa—!”

Just as Cedric raised his voice in irritation, the carriage jolted to a stop, and the door was suddenly thrown open.

It was one of the guards who had accompanied them.

“We have arrived.”

“I’ll go in first.”

Without waiting, Isabel stepped past Cedric and accepted the guard’s help as she descended.

Cedric followed quickly, reaching out as if to stop her.

“Wait—”

But Isabel ignored him and walked straight through the open gates.

“I haven’t finished—!”

“Lord Cedric? Oh! Lady Isabel is with you as well!”

Just as Cedric reached out with a dark expression to grab Isabel’s hand—

Anna appeared, wearing nothing but a thin tunic, idly chewing on a cluster of grapes as she wandered through the hall.

Upon spotting Cedric, her eyes widened.

Behind her, Serena followed with a displeased expression, bowing upon seeing Isabel and Cedric.

“You’ve returned, my lady. My lord.”

Anna approached with a bright smile, glancing between the two before asking Cedric.

“Lord Cedric, did you come back early to see me?”

Isabel’s expression hardened as she looked between Anna and Cedric.

‘Of course.’

‘As if he would escort me home for no reason.’

‘Just as Anna said—he must have used me as an excuse to come see her.’

Anger surged up within her.

She turned her head only to see Cedric looking flustered.

That made it even more pathetic.

Isabel curved her lips into a cold smile.

“Then I’ll be going in now.”

At her chilling smile, Cedric flinched.

“Enjoy a pleasant evening with the mistress you cherish so dearly.”

“Wa—!”

Before Cedric could stop her, Isabel walked straight past them and entered the house.

“Lady Isabel…”

Anna looked after her retreating figure, her eyes filled with sorrow as Isabel left without even sparing her a glance.

As Anna stared at her back like an abandoned child, Cedric called her softly, as if moved by pity.

“Anna.”

“Lord Cedric…”

At his voice, Anna turned and slipped into his arms, seeking comfort.

Even as he watched Isabel disappear, Cedric could not bring himself to push Anna away.

“Why did you come back so late? I was so lonely. Lady Isabel won’t even look at me, and she smiles only at others every day… I was so lonely.”

Anna’s voice trembled as she leaned against his chest.

Only then did Cedric realize that, occupied with his duties at court, he had neglected her.

A trace of guilt crossed his face.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t return because of the delegation.”

“When will they leave? Once they’re gone, you’ll come home every day again. I wish they would leave soon.”

“…Yes. So do I.”

As he gently stroked Anna’s small head, Cedric found himself recalling the sight of Isabel standing close to that mercenary from Prince Morita’s entourage.

His expression stiffened.

❖ ❖ ❖

While the palace remained preoccupied with the delegation, a letter arrived for Isabel—from Madame Romela.

Without hesitation, she went out.

She was not the only one summoned.

Margaret was there as well.

The true owner of Romela’s boutique—the trendsetter of Anita—was none other than Margaret von Francia.

Within its walls, a discreet gathering was taking place.

At its center stood Margaret, along with Isabel, Madame Romela, and two outsiders—a pirate captain named Dexter and Kuma, the leader of the Caligo Mercenary Corps.

Arriving first, Margaret and Isabel sat together, sipping the tea Madame Romela had prepared, making light conversation.

For the most part, Margaret asked about Isabel’s daily life.

“I told you to rest at home, and yet it seems you haven’t. You didn’t look well at the banquet either. Your complexion is only getting worse.”

Indeed, Isabel looked even more worn than she had at the palace.

“There is something going on at home, isn’t there?”

“What could possibly be happening at home?”

Isabel shook her head.

Margaret was already overwhelmed—protecting Empress Aina while navigating tensions with the Emperor, all while managing the affairs of the Francia family.

Isabel had no desire to burden her further with personal troubles.

But Margaret was not so easily deterred.

“Did you quarrel with Cedric?”

“How could we quarrel when we barely speak to one another?”

“Well, one must speak for it to become a quarrel. Are the two of you still that distant? Even in a political marriage, couples grow closer with time. Yet the two of you only seem to grow further apart. And weren’t you and Cedric childhood friends? Michel used to be terribly jealous, saying you only ever doted on Cedric.”

“Did she?”

“Yes… perhaps that’s why Michel treated him so harshly. After all… weren’t you his first love?”

At the mention of that distant past, Isabel let out a faint, bitter smile.

She remembered those days, when she had been carefree and happy, playing with Michel and Cedric without a single worry.

“…I didn’t know.”

“Tsk. You really are too indifferent. Still, I thought Cedric might feel something for you, just as Michel did.”

“That’s impossible.”

Perhaps Michel had, but not Cedric.

If he had ever harbored even the slightest personal affection for her, their marriage would not be this barren.

“I know you chose this marriage because of your parents. But you still carry the responsibility of continuing the Francia family line. Do not forget that.”

‘The duty to carry on the family line…’

At Margaret’s words, a heavy weight settled in Isabel’s chest.