Dekar Klein. A hero of the Kingdom’s founding, he was rewarded with the title of marquis for his service. He married Alice Corna of a neighboring Earl’s family, and they had a single daughter. Tragically, Alice passed away shortly after giving birth, leaving Dekar to raise their daughter alone.

When his daughter, Lette Klein, awakened as a saint at four, it was both a miracle and a curse. Dekar had injured his arm during knightly training and, upon returning home, found his young daughter weeping as she clung to him. A soft, radiant light enveloped his arm, healing the wound entirely.

Dekar was struck speechless. A saint was undeniably a blessing, but could such a gift bring only good fortune? He wasn’t sure. His fears were realized years later.

The day Lette’s divine powers were revealed to the public, the Kingdom was abuzz with the news. Her existence proved that the goddess Prenia’s blessings graced the Bailey Kingdom. The nation, still in its early years and fraught with instability, began to find its footing, bolstered by the legitimacy her presence brought. That was during Arphon’s reign.

But after Arphon’s passing and Rigel’s ascension, the tide turned. As the palace was steeped in bloodshed, Dekar lived in silent fear, doing everything in his power to protect his daughter. Yet even his vigilance could not eclipse the overwhelming light of a saint.

One day, summoned to a private audience, Rigel spoke in a tone that sent chills down Dekar’s spine.

“I hear the saint has been performing admirably.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.“

“Remarkable.”

“I am unworthy of such praise.“

“How unfortunate that she’s your daughter.“

Dekar’s blood ran cold. The king’s sharp gaze bore into him, predatory and calculating. It was clear what Rigel desired. He wanted the saint’s power for himself.

Dekar knew then that disaster loomed. Instinct screamed at him to flee with his daughter, to vanish into obscurity. But he couldn’t—not with this man. If Rigel couldn’t claim what he desired, he would destroy it.

And so, Dekar clenched his fists and prepared for the storm to come.

The only thing he could do was remain unnoticed by Rigel. That was more despairing than a direct threat to kill him.

Seeing his daughter laugh, unaware of the dangers around her, filled him with anguish. No matter how great her powers were, she was just a precious, irreplaceable child to him. He agonized over what would be best for Lette. But before he could find an answer, Rigel took action.

It was a cold winter night, and the snow never seemed to stop. Returning home after helping a young boy with training, he felt weary yet fulfilled. Having lost his parents early, the boy had grown incredibly attached to him. Though Dekar had no son, he treated the boy like one. Out of respect for his late friend, the boy’s father, he did his best to ensure the boy didn’t feel the absence of his parents.

Despite the boy’s maturity far exceeding his age, Dekar always felt a twinge of sadness. Only once did the boy look his age when talking about the princess.

Dekar had few encounters with the young princess but felt familiar with her due to the boy’s endless chatter about her. The princess, too, was fond of Dekar, always greeting him warmly during his occasional visits. He couldn’t help but wish their relationship remained strong and untainted.

These warm thoughts accompanied him until he reached his mansion. Upon arrival, the butler hurriedly informed him of urgent news, leading him to the drawing room before he had time to remove his coat.

Puzzled, Dekar entered, only to find a man in a crimson cloak—a messenger of the royal family—waiting for him.

“What brings you here?”

The messenger hesitated to speak, his gaze fixed on the butler. Understanding the unspoken request, Dekar dismissed the servant, who quietly closed the door behind him.

As soon as they were alone, the messenger handed Dekar a crimson scroll, the symbol of the queen, and began to deliver his message.

“Her Majesty the Queen urgently summons you.“

“The Queen?”

Dekar repeated the words in surprise.

Although he wasn’t frequently in contact with Queen Kate, he had a longstanding relationship with the royal family of her homeland, the Kingdom of Delphia. His connection with Delphia even led to his appointment as a diplomatic envoy to facilitate her marriage to the king.

Knowing how difficult it had been for her to adjust to this foreign land, Dekar had once comforted her.

“If it ever becomes too much for you, let me know. I’ll find a way to bring you back to your homeland.”

Even though his words were a hollow consolation, she had smiled faintly as if grateful for the sentiment. It was a frail, sorrowful smile that evoked guilt in the beholder.

But now, so late at night, why had Kate suddenly summoned him? He recalled rumors that the queen had recently had a private audience with King Rigel. Had something happened then?

Overwhelmed by questions, Dekar hastily prepared to leave for the royal palace.

Just as he was about to depart, Lette came downstairs, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Noticing her father in the drawing room, she asked innocently, her voice still drowsy,

“Father, where are you going?“

“I’m now off to see Her Majesty the Queen.“

“The Queen?”

Lette tilted her head, unfamiliar with the title. Smiling to reassure her, Dekar gently patted her head.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Leaving his young daughter behind, he mounted his horse, ignoring the servants’ offers to prepare a carriage, and galloped toward the palace. His heart pounded uneasily as if sensing something ominous.

When he arrived at Rose Palace, where the queen resided, the place was eerily silent. The noticeable absence of staff made him frown. Without an escort, he went to the queen’s drawing room.

The door, firmly shut, gave off an air of cold finality. Taking a deep breath, Dekar pushed it open slowly. The room beyond was shrouded in darkness. And in that shadowy silence, he froze.

“Your Majesty…?”

Kate lay lifeless on the cold marble floor. Beside her, shattered pieces of a teacup lay scattered.

Kate had always been the epitome of composure, her manner polished and upright, even as her heart remained elsewhere. She was the type to never let others see her falter. This—this was entirely unlike her.

“Your Majesty!”

Without fully grasping the situation, Dekar rushed to her side, grabbing her lifeless arm. Her body moved limply with his shaking, devoid of strength or warmth. His heart sank. Trembling, he brought his hand to her nose. Nothing. No breath, no pulse—nothing remained of the living, breathing queen.

She lay there as if merely asleep, her face serene. And yet, her stillness betrayed the finality of death.

Desperate to understand what had happened, his eyes fell on the broken teacup and the spilled tea. The icy liquid gave him chills. He knew of only one poison capable of such immediate death with no traces left behind—Snowliss.

The thought of suicide was unthinkable to Dekar. And yet, the serene posture of her corpse and her expression—free from suffering—made it clear what had happened.

Why had she called him here only to die before he arrived? Did she want him to ensure her body would be returned to her homeland?

Before he could process these thoughts, a small voice broke the silence.

“Mother…?”

A tiny figure peeked through the door, and Dekar’s breath caught.

It was the princess.

“Your Highness…”

The girl entered the darkened room, her wide eyes adjusting to the dim light. Her gaze moved from Dekar to the floor, where her mother lay. Her pupils dilated with shock.

“M-Mother…”

Her voice faltered as if the word was being dragged back into her throat. It was the sound of a heartbreaking. Dekar couldn’t muster the courage to speak. What could he possibly say to a girl who had just lost her mother?

And yet, to anyone who saw, the scene painted one clear picture: Dekar was the murderer.

At that moment, he realized the truth. He had been trapped. This entire situation had been orchestrated by one man.

There was no doubt in his mind. This was Rigel’s doing.