The crimson river that had just filled his vision was gone, replaced by the familiar dark interior and ceiling of the Imperial Palace bedroom. Breathing suddenly became difficult and Akan sat up hastily, gasping for air. He undid the top buttons of his shirt, which he always wore tied around his neck, and only then was he able to take a long breath. 

Was it because he hadn’t realised it was a dream while it was happening? Every scene he had experienced was far too vivid to forget. What kind of dream was it? Perhaps because Akan’s life itself was a nightmare, he had never dreamed of anything so different from his real memories. 

He shook his head, trying to dispel the remnants of the dream. Sure that sleep wouldn’t return, he climbed out of bed. Dreams meant nothing – he kept reminding himself of that until the strange images felt less significant. Akan glanced at the window where the dawn was breaking and stepped out of the bedroom. 

The words he had wanted to say in the dream never came to him. 

— 

“If His Majesty has something in mind…” 

The petty baron appointed by Duke Mos trailed off awkwardly. His role was to parrot the Emperor’s opinions during meetings and blindly support Akan on the Duke’s behalf, but today their coordination seemed to be faltering. 

Although Akan’s body was present in the council chamber, his mind was elsewhere. Everything around him felt utterly meaningless. Even after punishing those who had condoned or facilitated his father’s death, Akan had found no solace. Not even the blood of those involved in the slave trade – those who had contributed to his physical and emotional ruin – brought him any satisfaction. 

“That’s enough for today.”

They had achieved little, and now the meeting was over. The nobles, who had come well prepared, were left speechless. 

He felt exhausted. All he wanted was to rest. Akan’s mind remained hazy, as if still trapped in a dream. As the emperor showed no interest or enthusiasm, the participants exchanged uneasy glances before quietly leaving their seats. The meeting had ended in futility. 

After the tedious meeting, Akan returned to his office and noticed an unfamiliar vase on his desk. The first was the layered white petals, which reminded him of the dream he had had the night before. The second was the purple flowers, sparsely interspersed among the large white blooms, which made it clear who was behind it. 

Turning his head, Akan saw a maid arranging books on the shelf. 

“Who gave permission for anyone to come and go as they pleased?” 

Under the Emperor’s sharp gaze, the maid bowed quickly and deeply. Recently, the palace had been in turmoil. The Emperor, once consumed by rage, seemed to have calmed down somewhat, while the former Princess had been free to roam the palace since her broken legs had healed. 

“N-no! I told her she couldn’t come in. But she insisted she just wanted to leave this here… and the Duke said it was all right too.” 

The Emperor had become calmer, but that didn’t mean he was any kinder. The maid was worried, watching carefully for any sign of disapproval. He wasn’t as cruel as he had been to Princess Robellia, but more than ten people had been dismissed for a single careless word. The maid held her breath, fearing she might be next. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Akan tore the flowers from the vase and threw them on the carpet. She was lucky the vase hadn’t been thrown at her head. The maid, trembling, hurriedly picked up the wet stems scattered on the floor. 

A thud. A small card fell to the floor. Before the maid could reach for it with her damp hands, Akan bent down and picked up the shimmering gold card. 

[The garden is blooming beautifully. I hope you have a lovely day.] 

The stiff card crumpled weakly in Akan’s hand. Seeing the grim reaper look on his face, the maid grabbed the flowers and ran from the room. 

He was exhausted. Why didn’t Robellia just leave him alone? She wasn’t tormenting or provoking him as she had before. Or maybe that was the reason – because she was no longer afraid. 

If so, the solution was simple. Just tell Robellia of the sins she had committed, and she would surely be overcome with fear, hide and remain silent. Just like the first time they met. There was no reason to hesitate over something so simple, but Akan didn’t want to examine why he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Akan rang the bell to summon his servant. 

“You called for me, Your Majesty?” 

“Make sure Robellia doesn’t leave the princess’s quarters.” 

“Understood.” 

A wave of nausea washed over him, accompanied by a throbbing headache. The image of the white nightgown fluttering in the wind and the crimson river flashed before his eyes. Akan closed his eyes and waited for the pain to subside. 

‘Nothing will happen. Just wait a little longer.’

His father’s last moments were vividly etched in Akan’s mind. When his eyes opened, they seemed clouded, as if covered in soot. 

Vengeance was not yet complete. In fact, he wasn’t even sure it would ever end. 

On the Emperor’s orders, conveyed through a servant, Robellia was confined to the Princess’s quarters by a simple method. When asked how she thought a false princess should behave now that the royal bloodline had changed, Robellia is said to have remained silent for a long time. 

Anyway, the result was that Akan stopped wasting emotional energy on Robellia and began to tackle his scheduled tasks one by one. He couldn’t allow himself to remain endlessly mired in weakness and sentimentality. If Akan gave up his quest for revenge, there would be nothing left for him. 

Inside the damp, musty underground prison, a swollen-faced man sat, his eyes barely able to open as he tried to make out the figure standing outside the iron bars. 

“Roxas…” 

Akan stared at Count Meserve with icy eyes. The middle-aged man, visibly aged, bore the unmistakable marks of torture. This was only natural, as a formal trial was required before his execution, and he had to be prepared to properly confess to the fabricated crimes. 

“So it’s my turn now, isn’t it…”

Count Meserve’s regretful voice echoed through the damp prison. Even Akan did not quite understand why he had wanted to see this man’s end in person. Perhaps, deep down, he had hoped to hear some kind of explanation. Did he betray my father without knowing it would come to this? 

“I see. I still don’t understand why you didn’t think the same fate would befall you.”

“The Duke… would have understood me.”

Count Meserve replied, his words interrupted by a dry, bloody cough. 

He knew Duke Roxas’ character well. On the day the Duke decided to return to his estate because his wife’s illness had worsened, he gathered his comrades and asked for their forgiveness. Duke Roxas’ role was crucial in keeping the imperial family in check. 

But despite his great sense of duty, he could not turn his back on his wife, who needed his care, and his son, who needed a mother’s touch. He begged his comrades to understand his decision, saying that if they ever found themselves in the same situation, they should make the same choice. He called himself a coward, but he showed no shame. 

If it were Duke Roxas, he might have understood Count Meserve’s decision to flee to protect his family. He might understand, but he would not forgive. If forgiveness were ever possible, it would be sought only in the depths of hell. 

“I’m not like him.”

Count Meserve looked at his old friend’s son with unfamiliar eyes. Akan’s gaze remained icy, but there was a faint bitterness in his voice, like the remnants of a long gone emotion. 

But even the smallest trace of humanity left in Akan could not save him. How had Akan Roxas survived to this point, so devoid of emotion? No one, not even those closest to him, could fathom the depth of his suffering. 

Now Count Meserve understood. Duke Roxas might have forgiven his decision to flee, but there was one thing he would never forgive – the abandonment of the boy who couldn’t even die, left behind as a living ghost. Faced with his own reckoning, the count humbly accepted the reality before him. 

“Do not trust Duke Mos.”

Count Meserve’s solemn words were met with a sneer from Akan. At least his last statement wasn’t a plea for his life; otherwise Akan might have found his father’s decision to share life and death with such a man a bit pathetic. 

“Well then, see you in hell.” 

A few days later, Count Meserve’s head fell to the dirt floor of the execution site. Akan returned the count’s body to his family, but burned the head. It was a merciful end compared to that of Duke Roxas, who was reduced to ashes on the execution ground with no grave.