‘Hesion……Rekton.’

Hesion Rekton jerked upright, gasping for breath like someone waking from an intense nightmare.

He panted like he’d just sprinted a hundred meters and looked around.

In the room filled only with the sound of burning firewood, there was a toy horse that could actually be ridden and fairy tale books scattered across the floor as if someone had been reading them.

‘What is this.’

It was the room he had lived in as a child.

He hurriedly twisted his body and lowered his feet to the floor beneath the bed.

His feet dangled in the air, and when he tried to stand, his body lost balance and fell forward.

Tumbling to the floor beneath the bed, Hesion sat there examining his diminished body.

It was the body of a young boy whose voice hadn’t even begun to change.

He turned around and stared at the bed, which now seemed considerably high.

With an adult body, he could have easily sat on it from a standing position, but with this small figure, he would need to climb up using the wooden frame.

“Am I going crazy?”

Hesion uttered words denying the situation before him, and heard his own childish voice.

He covered his mouth and looked around again.

Hadn’t he just been in prison with Vieta Lukbiche, the villainess?

Hesion stared at the snow falling so heavily outside the window that visibility was nearly zero.

As he rose and approached the window, the transparent glass reflected the youthful face of a young boy.

He couldn’t hide his bewilderment, and the boy in the reflection mirrored his expression perfectly.

Hesion slapped both his cheeks.

Smack—

With the sound, his cheeks swelled red.

He frowned as he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Have I returned to the past? Or am I having a terrible nightmare?”

He felt the pain in his reddened, swollen cheeks and realized that the situation before him was, at the very least, not a dream.

“If I’ve truly returned to the past…”

Hesion quickly turned and opened the door.

The corridor presented the very picture of a peaceful mansion interior.

Hesion passed between servants dusting decorative items displayed throughout and others arranging curtains, heading straight for the stairs.

His feet, initially walking slowly, gradually began to run.

The busy steps came to a halt at the reception room.

Breathing heavily, Hesion flung open the door.

His eyes fell upon the crackling fireplace and a man reading a newspaper.

The indifferent corners of the man’s mouth, directed toward the newspaper, gradually turned upward.

The man with the same green eyes as Hesion welcomed him with a bright smile.

Neatly arranged red hair, gold-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and the gentle gaze visible beyond those glasses were focused solely on him.

“With the heavy snowfall canceling your fencing lessons, I thought you might be sleeping in. But I see you’re not.”

Hearing the affectionate voice, Hesion silently ran into his arms and embraced him.

It was a moment when his father, whom he couldn’t protect in the past, was alive before him.

The sweet-bitter scent of fig reached Hesion’s nose.

At this familiar fragrance he longed for, Hesion clutched the Duke’s vest tightly.

“Seeing a grown boy acting so childish, I suppose the sound of the blizzard must have frightened you quite a bit.”

The Grand Duke’s large hand carefully stroked Hesion’s head.

Hesion tried to remain composed, but he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

This was his father who had sacrificed himself by taking his own life to prevent Hesion from being framed as the mastermind of a rebellion.

The nobles who had attended charity gatherings alongside the Rekton family had, under severe t＊rture, admitted to a rebellion they never committed and pointed to Hesion as the mastermind.

Not only nobles but also powerless imperial citizens with connections to the Rekton family were dragged away by the imperial knights, and they too were forced to make false confessions under brutal t＊rture.

As the situation increasingly turned against Hesion, the Grand Duke couldn’t stand by and watch his son lose his life.

In the end, the Grand Duke declared himself the rebellion’s mastermind, protecting Hesion from death.

The person who had manipulated his father’s morality and paternal love, leading him to take his own life, was Leytan.

He recalled Vieta, who had attended the charity gatherings without fail for several years before his father took the blame for the rebellion.

Although she had only stayed for about an hour, distributing food, she was someone who knew well the faces of those who served alongside his father.

He was certain that Vieta had passed the list of nobles to Leytan.

After all, among Leytan’s people, Vieta was the only one who had attended the charity events.

Hesion forced himself to ponder on those painful memories, determined not to repeat the same mistakes.

Just then, the reception room door burst open without warning. Madam Rekton appeared alongside a servant carrying warm citron tea and fruit.

Seeing Hesion in the Grand Duke’s arms, she spoke.

“What are you two doing without me? I’m starting to feel jealous seeing such a close father-son relationship first thing in the morning.”

Hesion raised his head at Madam Rekton’s voice and turned around.

Her hands and feet, once clearly marked by t＊rture, were unbelievably beautiful, and there was no trace of the swollen eyelids with purple bruises or the burst lips.

“And here I thought you disliked being hugged because you’re all grown up.”

Before Madam Rekton could finish speaking, Hesion left the Grand Duke’s embrace and ran straight to her.

Without hesitation, he hugged her tightly.

Even with all her fingernails pulled out, she had refused to name him as the rebellion’s mastermind. In the end, she had died lonely after enduring brutal t＊rture.

Hesion bit his lip hard.

The precious things he had lost in the past were unbelievably before his eyes again.

It was an excessive gift from God. No religious heaven could be sweeter than this.

Surprised by Hesion’s embrace and tears, the confused Madam immediately looked at the Grand Duke.

The Grand Duke hurriedly put down his newspaper and approached Hesion.

“Hesion. What’s the matter?”

Despite the Grand Duke’s question, Hesion couldn’t stop crying.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak of the horrific past.

He cried in the arms of the Grand Duke couple until his eyes were swollen, then joined them for a late lunch.

He resolved that in this life, he would protect his parents and family.

Even while chewing his food, he scrutinized each of the servants positioned behind the grand ducal couple.

To avoid the same death as before, eliminating the spies within the family was the priority.

After finishing his meal, he returned to his room and trudged to the small table.

He sat in the chair and crossed his legs.

The sound of fierce wind reached his ears.

The wind, carrying snow, pounded roughly against the window.

‘Hesion……Rekton.’

From the desperately swirling snowflakes, he recalled someone’s voice.

It was Vieta Lukbiche.

Her once elegant voice now resembled the harsh sound of the wind, from screaming so much.

‘How does it feel to have death as the ending to a love so pitiful it makes one’s eyes ache?’

He found it laughable that she would dare speak to him of love.

Wasn’t she herself the true protagonist of a pitiful love?

Vieta was the very person who had brought down the Lukbiche family, the pillar of the Noble faction.

Hadn’t she killed her family for that petty love, oppressed innocent and powerless imperial citizens, and finally been abandoned by Leytan after being caught trying to kill Esta?

‘Not even realizing who was playing her.’

Hesion frowned as he recalled Vieta, who had mocked him with all her might until the very end.

Vieta, who had genuinely rejoiced and laughed at his misfortune, was truly a wicked woman.

‘Is she dead?’

Hesion became curious about her fate.

‘If she’s lucky, she might have survived.’

Still, his cousin Leytan had continued to love her.

Thinking that her condition would have earned Leytan’s sympathy and more, Hesion revealed a faint smile.

As he stretched, a servant carefully entered.

The servant was startled to see him sitting in the chair and spoke.

“So this is where you were, young duke. The firewood has burned out completely, you must be cold.”

“Ray?”

He had died by an imperial knight’s sword while helping him escape from the mansion.

Hesion couldn’t look Ray in the eyes properly, overwhelmed by guilt.

Ray, with a prominent red scar above his eyebrow, immediately walked to the fireplace and added more wood.

With the warmth enveloping his body, the hellish underground prison of Amlmu felt impossibly distant to Hesion.