The Great Hall of the Imperial Palace was crowded with nobles, splendidly adorned for the founding festival of the Paradium Empire.

“His Imperial Majesty of the Bashker Empire enters!”

The herald’s voice rang out above the din.

When the enemy emperor’s arrival was announced, countless eyes turned towards the entrance.

A hush fell as the nobles caught sight of a man and a woman walking in together.

The man was none other than Icar, the young, cold-blooded emperor of the Bashker Empire. Accompanying him, smiling serenely, was Lady Renéeve of Marquis Seiren — of Paradium itself.

Three years ago, she had been sent away as a sacrificial pawn to secure peace between the empires. Yet now, she appeared at his side, looking very much like a lover.

By the time the two reached the centre of the hall—

“…Reneve?”

Lucius, the third prince of Paradium, looked at the pair standing arm in arm, his face expressing disbelief.

The empress, standing behind him, also frowned.

“Lady Seiren?”

“It has been a while, Your Highness, Your Majesty. I trust you have been well?”

Reneve stroked Icar’s arm lightly and smiled faintly.

“Renéeve, what is the meaning of this?”

Lucius demanded harshly, his expression dark. The empress interjected swiftly.

“Lady Seiren? I believe you owe us an explanation.”

“An explanation…”

Amidst the stares of the assembled nobles, Reneve’s gaze fell upon a familiar face: Lucius’s mistress, Esica.

At that moment, Icar’s cold, steel-like voice cut through the air.

“She is to be the Empress of the Bashker Empire. I suggest you show her the proper courtesy, Your Majesty. Prince.”

“Th-That’s impossible! How can such a thing—!”

The Empress stammered, too shaken to compose herself.

Lucius’s fists trembled violently at his sides.

“What happened in the last three years? Yes, we need to talk, don’t we, Renéeve?”

In her previous life, the Empress had gaslit her endlessly and used her as a tool.

Her husband, Lucius, to whom she had devoted her entire life, had repaid her loyalty by killing her.

And Esica — the beautiful mistress he adored without shame.

Renéeve’s lips curved into a sweet smile as she took in each stricken expression.

“His Majesty speaks the truth. The Emperor and I are betrothed.”

‘In this life, it will be your turn to suffer.’