Daphne could hardly believe her ears. The arm around her throat tightened even further.

Oswald himself had said that the Prime Minister cherished his daughter so much that he’d hired a stand-in.

Was that a lie?

“What do you mean by that, Your Excellency?”

Oswald’s voice was calm. In fact, it was so calm that if you only heard the sound of it, you might believe that no chaos was taking place at all.

“Exactly what I said. My daughter is already past her prime and has her mental issues. To the point that it hardly matters if she dies. So if she cannot marry a man praised as the hero of Phozmeri, then she holds no worth to me.”

“…”

“So? Shall I kill her?”

Daphne shivered.

Wasn’t he the man who supposedly loved his daughter too much?

The father who, if he found out that she was dead, would lose control and become dangerously unstable at a time when a replacement for Allen Howard was needed?

Oswald had lied to her.

The memory of the gun barrel pressed against her skull returned with such force that it made her stomach twist.

Her nose stung. Something warm slipped down her cheek.

‘Why am I crying?’

As this thought flickered through her mind, she understood.

‘Ah, I’m sad.’

‘It hurts because he lied to me.’

‘Why? Why does that make me feel this way?’

Her gaze drifted towards Oswald.

He saw her tears.

“Answer me!”

Howard barked out the order, pressing the gun harder against her skull.

The cold metal dug mercilessly into her skin and bone, causing a sharp, blinding pain to bloom. Daphne squeezed her eyes shut.

‘I’m going to die.’

‘My head is going to be blown apart.’

He knew her blood was Astasha.

He hated Astashans more than anyone.

He was the war hero who had fought against them and wanted to eradicate them.

He had always wanted her dead.

The days she had clawed her way through, barely surviving, flashed before her eyes.

Every moment when she had come close to death rushed through her mind.

Not like this.

She didn’t want to die like this.

No — she didn’t want to die at all.

Tick, tick, tick.

The ticking of the second hand on the wall clock seemed unnaturally loud, as if keeping time with her racing pulse.

Just when the pressure became unbearable and she felt she might faint beneath it, Oswald finally spoke.

“I will marry her.”

The answer was clean, decisive.

Daphne’s eyes flew open, disbelief carved across her face.

“You’ve made the right choice.”

Howard said, his earlier frenzy settling.

“So you did have feelings for my daughter all along, hm?”

His laughter lingered in the air. It was not playful or amused, but the chilling bark of an old man who took pleasure in seeing others break.

The thick arm that had been crushing her throat finally withdrew.

The cold metal that had been digging into her skull disappeared.

Daphne collapsed into her chair, unable to support her own weight.

Every bone in her body felt hollow and drained of strength.

Oswald said nothing.

Howard lowered himself back into his seat as if nothing had happened.

The now-unloaded pistol slipped soundlessly back into the inner pocket of his coat.

‘What had just happened?’

Daphne couldn’t bring herself to look at either man.

Her father had spoken to Oswald about marriage.

Oswald had responded — also about marriage.

Throughout it all, Allen Howard’s opinion had been irrelevant.

Not a single person in that room thought it mattered.

＊ ＊ ＊

It rained relentlessly throughout the night.

Shrouded in deep, breathless darkness, Daphne was unable to sleep.

Ever since that day, she had broken out in a cold sweat and her body had trembled in uncontrollable waves.

She tried the sedatives that Greta had given her, but they only made her mind foggy and her nerves more unsettled.

The memory of the gun barrel pressed against her skull clung to her like a shadow, so vivid that it felt as if it had happened only moments ago.

Daphne was tormented.

Being forced down a path she did not understand and had never chosen was unbearable.

The emotions she still couldn’t name only made her anguish worse.

Yet, despite everything — the fear, the confusion, the hollow ache —

She was going to marry Oswald Lawrence.

Part of her felt she should have expected it.

Although it made no sense, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this outcome had always been destined for her.

‘I just want to talk to him properly once—just once.’

She wanted to ask what these strange sensations, like déjà vu, were.

She wanted to ask why this suffocating sense of betrayal clung to her like a bruise.

She wanted to ask him if he knew the answers she could not find.

Her unfocused, distant gaze drifted towards the window.

That day, the storm raged without mercy.

Wind and rain battered the windows relentlessly, raindrops exploding against the glass like artillery shells.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Daphne finally rolled onto her back and pushed herself upright.

The soft bedding slid down her body as she moved.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them.

Some time passed—

Knock, knock.

Her head shot up sharply.

A knock?

It was the dead of night.

There was no moon, only a pitch-black sky covered by storm clouds.

Rain and wind had been battering the estate for hours.

Allen Howard’s room was in a separate annex, so even a servant would have had to brave the storm to reach it.

She rose from the bed and approached the door cautiously.

Perhaps she had imagined it.

Perhaps it was just the storm.

Convinced it was nothing, she opened the door.

A dark silhouette stood there, motionless.

A jolt of terror shot through her and she almost screamed.

“Winfred.”

Oswald’s voice.

Daphne covered her mouth with both hands as she stared at him.

Lightning flashed, whitening the entire room. For a split second, Oswald looked like an injured, starving beast.

His navy uniform was soaked, clinging to him so heavily it looked almost black.

‘What on earth… why is he here like this, at this hour…?’

She instinctively stepped back, and Oswald entered without hesitation. The door shut behind him with a heavy thud.

He advanced toward her, imposing, unrelenting.

‘Has he come to kill me?’

He had clearly only learned of the marriage a few days ago. He had always despised her—and despised Astashans even more.

It wasn’t hard to imagine how violently he must hate the idea of marrying her.

Daphne swallowed hard, looking up at him.

“No integrity at all?” Is that how you want to live? Do you have no patriotism or loyalty to Astasha? Wouldn’t it be better to die than marry the soldier who fired on your homeland?”

“…”

“Or did you find hope? Did you think perhaps you could return to your country?”

Oswald glared at her.

His blue eyes burned with raw, unrestrained fury in the dim light of the lantern.

He was nothing like the calm, collected officer she had encountered previously.

Daphne met his gaze, refusing to look away.

There were things she wanted to say and questions she desperately needed answering.

He had lied to her.

The Prime Minister did not love his daughter at all.

That Allen Howard had been treated as less than a person, as though she were an insect.

That her voice, her wishes, and her very existence meant nothing — not even when it came to her own marriage.

She was a worthless prisoner with no name or past, yet she still felt the sharp sting of betrayal because of his lie.

“Ha. Do you really think you’re the mistress of this house now?”

When she did not look away, he murmured the words in a low voice. Daphne bit her lip and answered, small but unmistakably clear.

“…Then you could have refused.”

“What?”

For a split second, their faces lit up with lightning before darkness swallowed the room again.

Crash—thunder roared.

The relentless rain showed no sign of stopping.

“You could have refused me. You could have let the Prime Minister blow my head off right then and there…!”

“Unbelievable.”

Her voice was nearly drowned out by the storm, yet Oswald seemed to have heard every word. He let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

“Idiot. Who do you think would’ve been shot next?”

“…”

“Do you know how many people have died in this house?’ The military is a strict hierarchy. When the Prime Minister spoke about marriage, it wasn’t a suggestion — it was an order. It doesn’t matter how exceptional a soldier is. That man is insane.”

What…?

Daphne couldn’t grasp the situation.

She knew too little.

There were too many pieces missing.

She forced out her words.

“The Prime Minister doesn’t care about Allen Howard. What you told me before… was different.”

Lightning split the sky, and thunder shattered the silence. Oswald slowly approached her—one step, then another. Each step stretched his shadow across the floor until it nearly swallowed her.

Daphne felt herself want to shrink back, but instead she lifted her chin even higher.

‘He can’t kill me.’

Her hands trembled violently, but she repeated it in her mind.

“Hah.”

Seeing her defiance, Oswald let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

A silence fell between them.

Rain crashed down outside relentlessly.

When he reached her, he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Shall I tell you the truth?”

His voice was smooth yet sharp as a blade.