“Insane. That’s the monster duke, isn’t it?”
“Who the h*ll is that idiot?”
“No, seriously—why is the Duchess even here?”

Only now did a few patrons finally recognize Callios. They made their way towards the exit one by one. Rob Beisler and the pub owner both tried to stop him, looking uneasy.

However, the drunken thug, oblivious to the silent warnings around him, continued to talk.

“I saw you the moment you walked in. I knew it — you’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Rosie wrinkled her nose at the stench of alcohol. He had clearly drunk himself senseless — so much so that he didn’t even recognize the man beside her as Callios Benedict, the Duke of their nightmares.

In the suffocating silence, the brute laughed alone.

“With all those lowlifes tearing up the town lately, it’s been boring as h*ll. Even the decent women have left.”

“……”

“Why don’t you play with me too, sweetheart?”

There are moments when the absurdity is so overwhelming that words simply vanish. It seemed as though Callios was considering something, calculating and deciding, before Rosie spoke. Her voice cut through the air like a piece of frozen steel.

“You are insolent.”

He flinched for a heartbeat, but drunken arrogance drowned even that.

“Insolent? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

A murderous intent surged beside her, thick and suffocating and undeniable. Rob Beisler tried to intervene, but it was far too late.

“Ah—don’t bother with that kind of garbage, my lady—”

“What, is this a two-on-one? I can join—”

He never finished the sentence.

A piercing scream erupted.

“Kyaaaaaah!”

One of the serving girls, who had been watching anxiously from a distance, shrieked at the sight. A fountain of blood burst into the air.

The thug’s arm had been severed.

Callios issued a warning in a low, deadly voice.

“I chose to leave your head.”

The brute screamed in agony, and Callios added coldly.

“You should thank my wife for the rest of your life for letting that filthy mouth of yours walk away unharmed.”

Rosie quickly covered her mouth and nose with her hands. Her stomach lurched violently. Despite her face being buried in her palms, the thick stench of blood refused to fade.

‘Again.’

The same sense of déjà vu that she had felt when the sub-steward’s bloody ring had rolled across the floor returned with brutal clarity.

When she looked down, she saw blood pooling beneath her low-cut brown shoes. She staggered back, her breath catching in her throat as her gaze fell upon the severed arm lying on the floorboards.

The humid, iron-rich scent of blood hit her so sharply that her stomach turned over and over.

“Ugh—”

Whether due to shock or everything she had endured recently, she was hit by a wave of dizziness.

Her vision spun. The world tilted, but Callios caught her as if he had expected it all along.

His arm slipped behind her back, steady and unyielding. His large hand covered her eyes, blocking out the gruesome scene.

“Don’t look.”

Her world went dark. Sounds faded and then returned in waves. There was something familiar about that voice. She had heard those same words somewhere before.

The strength drained from her limbs, and she slumped against his forearm. The shock of the violence she had witnessed clouded her mind.

Callios’s voice rumbled from above.

“Take him into custody immediately. Clean this up.”

“…Yes, my lord.”

Rob Beisler hurried to comply, trying to deal with the aftermath. Screams and footsteps echoed as the patrons fled the pub.

Rosie sensed it clearly.

‘The nightmare is beginning again…’

The thick stench of blood stirred buried memories of a time when she had been naive and sheltered, raised with love under the protection of the Count of Moavis.

The scent of blood dragged her helplessly back to that day.

***

That day in the past.

Rosie was having tea with a few noble ladies whom she had recently befriended in a coffee house. They laughed lightly as they started talking.

“I heard the Benedict Duchy sent you a written proposal for engagement?”
“My, how enviable~”

But their eyes, shining with sly delight, told a different story. Envy, malice and mockery simmered beneath their sweet smiles.

“But is the suitor really Callios Benedict?”
“Oh? Not the eldest son?”
“Well, the eldest was said to prefer your sister Serena, wasn’t he? Still, a duke’s house, how lucky you are.”
“Callios was the Second Prince’s page, wasn’t he? And young Lord Pante supports the Crown Prince. Amazing how divided things can be within the same duchy…”

Their tone suggested as if Callios himself were some source of discord.

But Rosie didn’t mind.

‘Because she knew the truth.’

She smiled gently and idly touched her teacup.

‘Callios sincerely cares for his duchy. I know that.’

Back then, she had wholeheartedly believed it.

Rosie had never liked the Crown Prince.

He was excessively brutal. Compared to the wise Second Prince, he was nothing short of a wastrel: a man who used his status as heir to indulge in countless scandals.

One of the young ladies leaned towards Rosie and asked her slyly.

“I heard His Highness the Crown Prince doesn’t think highly of Lord Callios. What do you think, Rosie?”

Back then, Rosie flushed quietly at the thought of the man exchanging engagement letters with her.

“I believe Lord Callios always does what is right. He assists the Second Prince and deals with wicked people, and he pushed out the marauders from the western lands too.”

“My, my, are you saying the Crown Prince isn’t right?”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant…”

“Already choosing sides? You’re acting as if you’re married to him.”

Married? The thought of engagement, let alone marriage, was almost too much for her heart to bear.

As Rosie panicked, the noble ladies looked at her with open envy and jealousy.

Rosie understood their feelings.

‘Of course—they admired him…’

Callios was not only considered one of the most handsome men in the capital, but he also had a captivating presence. Even at sixteen, he exuded maturity.

Anyone who stood before him, whether a young noble lady or a debutante, became desperate to say just one more word to him.

Those around him fell neatly into two categories: those who used his illegitimacy as an excuse to flaunt their superiority, and those who tried to befriend him for their own gain.

‘I wonder what he’s doing right now…’

Rosie placed a hand on her flushed cheek and imagined her fiancé.

That was when…

Bang!

The door to the coffee shop burst open.

The chatter died instantly and every head turned towards the entrance.

A blood-soaked man staggered inside. With clouded eyes, he mumbled something.

“S… save…”

Every step he took left a vivid trail of blood. The room erupted in screams.

“Kyaa!”
“W-what is this? Guards!”
“Why aren’t you doing something?!”

The guards only hesitated, exchanging troubled looks.

The bloodied man reached towards the patrons. Several of his fingers were cruelly missing.

“P-please… help…”

Then, suddenly, the man’s head vanished!

Rosie’s eyes flew open wide in horror. But no, it hadn’t vanished. It was flying!

A boy was standing behind the man, gripping a sword tightly. Drenched in blood from head to toe, he resembled a vengeful spirit.

The severed head landed with a dull thud beneath Rosie’s table. The noble ladies screamed as it rolled across the floor.

Rosie tried to stand up, but her knees gave way and she fell back into her seat. A flood of blood gushed from the man’s neck, soaking the hem of her white dress.

Many of the young ladies had already fainted.

Trembling uncontrollably, Rosie lifted her face and saw Callios striding towards her. His black eyes were colder than she had ever seen them before.

Terrified, she whispered, shaking.

“L-Lord Callios…”

She wanted to faint on the spot. Her scarlet-drenched dress clung heavily to her. Her body trembled like that of a frightened fawn.

Thud.
Thud.
His footsteps grew nearer, unfamiliar and frightening.

His voice dropped low.

“Why are you here.”

“Uhk…”

Rosie stared at the red droplets sliding down the tip of the sword. Only then did she realize that this blood-soaked boy might be the person she would spend the rest of her life with.

***

A sudden shaking hand brought her back.

“—m…dam. Madam!”

She must have lost consciousness for a moment.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that Jenny was beside her, wiping her face with a cloth. Seeing that Rosie was awake, Jenny’s worried expression brightened at once.

Rosie coughed weakly and tried to sit up. Jenny hurried to support her.

“Where…?”

“Inside the carriage, my lady. You’re safe.”

Jenny checked her complexion, then shouted toward the door.

“My lady is awake!”

No sooner had Jenny climbed out of the carriage than Callios stepped inside with long, unhurried strides. The sturdy carriage trembled slightly under his heavy presence alone.

He examined Rosie’s face, then asked in a low, steady voice:

“Are you clear-headed now?”

“…What was that just now?”

Rosie’s voice had gone pale, and Callios answered as if discussing the weather.

“Summary execution. I even lowered the severity.”

“People were watching.”

“And? What about your condition?”

He asked about her physical state so casually that Rosie could only stare at him in disbelief.

He had shattered the peace of the Empire with one swing of his sword, yet he felt no guilt.

Her stomach still churned violently. Fighting the urge to cover her mouth, she looked at Callios straight on.

“There was that… incident before. Are you planning to repeat it again?”

But Callios didn’t so much as blink.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword hanging from the rack. His voice lowered.

“Then and now, I did what I had to do.”

“There were things you could have refused.”

Callios gave a short, crooked smirk, as though gently correcting a naïve child.

“If I had refused, I wouldn’t be the master of House Benedict today.”