Chapter 5: What a Pathetic Turnaround

‘A complete reversal.’

He recalled what had happened eight years ago.

The moment when the sun-melted gold eyes of a seventeen-year-old girl looked down at him, a twenty-year-old young man.

He remembered himself, trapped in the storm of blood that had raged through that day.

『The Duke of Ridges, who has conspired treason, shall be stripped of his title and lands and burned at the stake in accordance with the law.』

Calliod remembered with piercing clarity the moment that sentence was pronounced upon his father, the Duke of Ridges—falsely accused of treason.

It was unforgettable.

The outrage of seeing his own father framed and condemned to burn was bad enough, but what made it unbearable was that the one handing down the sentence was none other than his betrothed, Princess Elana—the very woman who had whispered endless words of love to him.

Elana’s eyes had been unwavering, unyieldingly resolute.

Her expression, cold and sharp, looked as if not a single drop of blood would come out even if pricked by a needle.

And her lips—so merciless, not a hint of warmth or mercy left in them.

“Your Highness! You cannot! This is a set-up! Let me prove—ugh!”

That day, Calliod had pleaded desperately with the woman who had sworn over and over that she loved him.

He begged her—just once—to let him explain.

But what he got in return was her cold, merciless judgment.

『“Killian Clian Ridges, though of a traitor’s bloodline, was not present in the capital and did not participate in these events. In light of this, his life shall be spared. However, treason is a crime that destroys entire families. All rights and titles belonging to Killian Clian Ridges are hereby revoked, and he is to be sent as a slave to the Altine Mines, to serve a life sentence of hard labor with no hope of pardon.”』

On that day, the lips that used to whisper words of love to him were nowhere to be found.

The affectionate eyes, so often overflowing with emotion, no longer existed.

The wise and dignified princess who cherished her people and strove always to be on their side was gone.

‘No matter how grave the crime, shouldn’t everyone have a chance to defend themselves?’

Justice meant every person, however desperate, was owed a fair chance.

He had thought that, whatever the deep and tangled ties between them, she was at least someone who understood fairness—a ruler who could weigh justice even when it came to her own.

But Elana dismissed everything.

Just so she could save herself.

Standing there, he was neither her loyal subject nor the beloved to whom she had promised her life.

‘In the end, you never loved me at all. What you loved was my family—the power we gave you to ascend safely to the throne. When I lost my usefulness, you discarded me.’

Calliod stared at Elana, reliving the moment he and his father lost everything they had built, were sent off to the mines, and the long, brutal days that followed—until he escaped, discarded even his name, and clawed his way to where he stood now.

He found himself laughing hollowly; there wasn’t much difference between her today and her on that day eight years ago.

Meeting her eyes now, bitter sarcasm twisted his lips.

The taste of this encounter was sharp and astringent.

Then, an absurd thought struck him.

‘You that day… were better than now.

Better than the woman standing before me.’

An unfamiliar feeling clawed at his chest, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Those unflinching eyes, that unyielding expression, the firm set of her lips, the pride that would never bend—

But unlike that day, she was now unusually pale, her hair in disarray, her cheeks and body frighteningly thin, her knuckles shockingly white.

His gaze lingered on those things for no good reason, dragging up thoughts he didn’t want.

She looked exactly as one should in a situation like this, and yet, somehow, he didn’t like it.

He had no business thinking anything of the woman who had cast him off without a moment’s hesitation, yet, ridiculously, it seemed far more fitting for her to be sitting above everyone else, gazing down with untouchable dignity.

Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

‘What a load of sh*t.’

The sudden surge of sentiment made Calliod’s expression turn fierce.

Meanwhile, seeing his face harden so grimly, Elana instinctively dropped her gaze to the floor—then, realizing she shouldn’t, quickly forced herself to look up again.

But her gaze, climbing hesitantly from his feet, stopped at his hands.

‘Oh.’

Again, memories from long ago crawled up her spine, making her fingertips tremble.

She couldn’t forget the moment her own hand, holding the vial of poison, brushed against that strong, upright hand as she passed it over.

Duke Ridges.

The kingdom’s most loyal subject, her teacher—and the father of her fiancé, Killian.

Just recalling his gentle, warm face at the very end made Elana squeeze her eyes shut and clutch at her skirt.

Even after eight years, that moment would never fade.

‘Maybe it’s only right that it ends by your hand.’

She had made her fiancé a slave, killed his father with her own hands, and now intended to end her own life as well.

Looking back, it seemed like a preposterous notion.

She forced herself to raise her head once more.

Even on her knees, she fought to maintain her dignity, just as she always had.

Elana steeled herself, determined to show the man looking down at her with such cold, empty eyes that she was living just fine—that she had no regrets.

Eight years ago.

That choice was the best she could have made.

There was no other way to save him. I did nothing wrong.

It had to be that way.

She schooled her face to reveal not a trace of guilt, determined to appear as if nothing had happened—as if she had long since forgotten someone like him.

There can’t be any guilt left for you to see.

It’ll only make it easier for you to kill me.

I can’t let myself ruin your vengeance.

In the biting cold, Elana braced herself to appear resolute, whatever it took.

And for some reason, a faint, bitter smile almost slipped out.

‘Still, I’m glad. I get to see you before I die.’

Whether God was on her side or not, at least a wish she’d clung to all her life had finally come true.

That alone was enough to make her smile, even if it was laced with resignation.

But in this moment, she couldn’t allow herself that smile—not out of joy, not even out of irony.

She bit her lips hard, digging her teeth into the pale, cracked flesh, just to keep that smile in.

To anyone watching, it looked like her pride was stinging too much for her to bear.

Seeing her exactly as she’d always been, not even a shade different from the past, Calliod’s lips curved into a cold, razor-sharp smile.

He moved closer, his voice rough and heavy as a winter wind.

“Who dares to leave a mark on what’s mine?”

The towering man bent down, seized her chin with brutal force, and wrenched her mouth open.

“I’ve got a nasty temper—I can’t stand it when there’s a blemish on what belongs to me.”

He shoved his fingers inside her forcibly parted lips, pressing down on her tongue as he spoke.

His words came low and rumbling, and his touch was anything but gentle.

‘Who gave you permission.’

Calliod assumed she was trying to bite her tongue and end her life.

Just from their earlier encounter, it was understandable that he’d make such a mistake.

Elana furrowed her brow deeply and glared up at him.

“Does it hurt your pride to be called property?”

He lowered himself all the way down, those sharp, abrasive eyes meeting hers at the same level.

Then he shifted his weight, leaning in to whisper by her ear.

His words were formal, but his tone was insolently smug.

“But what does it matter? You are my property now, after all.”

“……”

“Can you even imagine the path I took to get here? Don’t you think I deserve to take at least one prize that pleases me?”

Unlike before, Calliod now touched her as if handling a treasure, carefully wiping the blood from her face.

The frozen blood stuck thickly to his hand.

“What’s the point of all these twisted words when you’re just going to kill me anyway?”

Elana shoved him away with a shudder of disgust, meeting him head-on with sharp defiance—as if she was determined to earn his hatred.

Calliod casually brushed off the spot where her hand had touched his shoulder, then rose to his feet and muttered softly.

“You are mine. I’ll do as I please. I plan to make very good use of you. But kill you? Who said anything about that?”

“You—”

Before she could even finish, he swept his gaze over the crowd and spoke in a solemn, commanding voice.

“Hear me. I, Calliod Lorcan Gladius, hereby proclaim Princess Elana Rita Cliphes as my wife and the Empress of Gladius, reborn as an empire.”

His declaration sent a wave of shock through the kneeling nobles and courtiers of conquered Cliphes.

Murmurs and uneasy rustling broke out among them, though those who appeared to be Calliod’s own retainers remained silent and composed.

Elana herself was no less stunned by the announcement.

Maybe the cold had finally driven him mad, she thought.

It was so absurd, so preposterous, she couldn’t believe her own ears.

Her head snapped up in disbelief, her gaze darting to Calliod.

She still remembered the sentence she had once handed down to him—so clear, so unforgettable.

She was the one who’d stripped him of everything he’d ever built, all in a single moment.

And now, wife? Empress?