“I will not kill Clodine.”

The ministers who had been hastily dispatched to the Empire’s frontier began to stir in agitation. They had barely caught their breath, what absurdity was this now?

“B-But, Your Majesty… She is the queen of the occupied kingdom. If you spare her, it may bring future trouble…”

In the end, the one who once again volunteered to step forward before the emperor was Marquess Lyle Anderson of the frontier.

D*mn them all. If they have something to say, they should say it themselves.

He turned his aged gaze slightly, feeling the stares boring into the back of his head.

‘Yes, you’re afraid. I know you’re afraid. But then what about me?’

The marquess swallowed a sigh.

The dreadful ten-year war against the rebel states had come to an end today. No—technically, it should have ended a week ago.

When he first heard that the returning imperial army, sounding the drums of victory, had seized an unplanned kingdom out of mere diversion, he had doubted his own ears.

Rotermann was no small realm, nor did it possess a military weak enough to be easily dismissed. Seeing it with his own eyes only made it harder to believe. How could a perfectly sound nation be torn to shreds in merely three days?

The marquess looked around the now ownerless and empty royal palace of Rotermann with stunned eyes.

There sat his sovereign, as though reclining upon a throne that had belonged to another only days ago. He resembled a beautiful predator calmly claiming the center of a blood-soaked hunting ground.

Regardless of the marquess’s thoughts, the emperor, who had been quietly repeating the words spoken to him, tilted his head slightly.

“A queen of an occupied nation, you say?”

“Y-Yes? Your Majesty, even so—”

“I said, let her live.”

Golden eyes shone sharply as they looked down at the ministers standing beneath the throne.

When a person smiles, they usually appear softer.

But that did not apply to the young emperor of the Van Helsing Empire, Ahazan von Lernando.

His large, firm hand brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. Dark crimson stains covered it.

How many necks had been severed by that hand today?

Before the absolute command that could not be refused, the marquess and the ministers simply bowed their heads in silence.

***

“T-There—! It’s His Majesty the Emperor…! His Majesty is coming!”

“Wow…! His Majesty the Emperor…!”

A great banner stamped with a red imperial seal whipped violently above the heads of the approaching army.

Though the imperial forces were considerably reduced compared to when they had first marched out, considering the course of the past ten years, the fact that this many soldiers had returned alive was nearly a miracle.

Amid the ranks of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder in moving waves, the emperor’s golden hair gleamed like the sun.

Ahazan von Lernando, who had led the army to war with his own hands immediately after his coronation, was returning after ten years, whole and without a single blemish.

The grand rebellion of the vassal states, brought about by the misrule of former emperors, had been of a scale no one had ever imagined. No one had believed victory possible, let alone that so many would return alive.

There was not a soul who did not know that this triumph was achieved through the current emperor’s brilliant tactics and strategy.

After the declaration of victory, imperial citizens flooded the border, holding festivals for days while awaiting the imperial army. It would not be an exaggeration to say the roads were formed entirely of people wherever the procession passed.

Now, the column was just entering the imperial capital.

A thunderous cheer shook the ground.

In the year 651 of the Imperial Calendar, Van Helsing became a great empire under the strongest ruler in its history.

The roar of celebration spread to every corner of the Empire.

“Are those all prisoners?”

“It seems so.”

At last, from the very end of the imperial army, a long procession of captives followed.

The single unified cheer splintered into murmurs and scattered voices as the crowd began to whisper.

“But what is that carriage?”

“A carriage for prisoners?”

“For prisoners? In such a fine carriage?”

Amid the ragged, pitiful line of captives was one large, gleaming carriage.

Who could be riding inside?

Curiosity and intrigue filled the faces of the imperial citizens.

***

When someone gains a nation, someone else must lose one.

Clodine’s circumstances were the same as the other prisoners, yet different.

They staggered forward on their own two feet.

She, however, lay bound hand and foot inside a violently swaying carriage, tossed about so harshly it made her nauseous.

She had lost and regained consciousness countless times.

After passing through what seemed to be a crowded area for quite some time, the carriage eventually turned onto a quieter, smoother road, then stopped.

Clodine could no longer even be certain she was still alive.

For four days, everything she swallowed, food, water, had been immediately vomited back up. At last, even her consciousness began to fade.

Truthfully, she did not know why she remained bound. Even if her hands and feet had been free, she had no strength to attempt anything.

“My heavens…! Clodine!”

A sharp, ringing voice pierced her ears just as she was about to lose consciousness once more.

The carriage, dim all this time beneath its drawn curtains, was suddenly flooded with bright light.

With great effort, she forced her eyes open, trying to see who it was that called her name.

The face of the woman standing at the open carriage door was cast heavily in shadow by the backlight, making it difficult to see clearly. But the thick, cascading outline of long golden hair was enough to remind her of someone who bore a similar glow.

“Princess…?”

The voice that scraped out of her throat hardly sounded like her own, but at least the earlier voice must have belonged to Princess Anna von Lernando, Ahazan’s younger sister. The distinct scent of roses that enveloped her as she was suddenly pulled into an embrace confirmed it.

“How… How could this be? Why are you in such a state…?”

Anna’s face was soaked with tears. By now, she was the sister of an enemy. It would have been natural to feel horror or hatred toward her. Yet to think of Anna, once her precious friend, in that way felt like punishment.

Clodine’s face twisted in anguish.

“How on earth could His Majesty do this to Rotermann…!”

Rotermann.

Clodine, who had been hanging limp, suddenly opened her eyes wide. She had thought she had no tears left to shed, but she had been wrong. The moment the name of her stolen homeland reached her ears, sobs burst out of her again.

Gasping and choking, she wailed like a wounded young animal. Anna pulled her closer, holding her even tighter, then shouted at the surrounding servants.

“What are you all doing?! Move her inside at once!”

Hearing the cry, so desperate it mirrored her own heart, Clodine squeezed her eyes shut.

Could all of this be a dream?

She kept asking a question to which she already knew the answer.

And so she let go of the thin thread of consciousness she almost wished would never return.

***

“Wake her.”

Ahazan spoke as he entered the chamber, casually shaking droplets of water from his hair after bathing.

Startled by the emperor’s sudden appearance, the servants momentarily fumbled at the bedside before quickly arranging themselves in order.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was no time to decide who would step forward before the emperor’s command. With an immediate reply, one servant moved briskly to carry it out.

“No. Leave. All of you.”

Ahazan lightly snatched a small tray from the attendant who had followed him in and reversed his order. As always, their role was simply to obey.

The dozen or so servants, including the one awkwardly bent at the bedside, swiftly reformed their line and exited the room.

Setting the tray down on a table, Ahazan walked slowly to the head of the bed.

“Anyone would think I’ve been torturing you.”

The words slipped out at the sight before him.

She looked so wretched that it would not have seemed strange if she were already dead rather than merely dying.

In the otherwise silent chamber, Clodine’s breathing could be heard, uneven and faint.

“How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?”

“……”

“If you plan to finish quickly, I’ll wait.”

Ahazan sat lightly on the edge of the wide bed, propping up one arm and leaning his body against it.

Though his bored gaze rested on the crimson silk-lined wall, he somehow knew that Clodine, lying behind him, had opened her eyes.

“Ahazan.”

Her thin voice barely broke the heavy silence.

There was no ‘Your Majesty.’

A faint scoff slipped from the curve of his lips instead of a reply.

“I won’t ask why.”

The words were abrupt, yet they were understood between them.

Clodine’s fragile voice, so faint it seemed ready to vanish, pressed on stubbornly.

“K*ll me, Ahazan.”

“……”

“I’ll believe you were only doing your duty for the Empire.”

“……”

“So let me… die as Rotermann’s queen. That will be enough.”

It was a black night, even the moon hidden.

Countless candles flickered in the wind seeping through the window, their flames trembling and casting wavering light across the room.

“Finish the Empire’s work, Ahazan.”

Though no answer came, Clodine forced out what little voice she had left.

She did not even have the strength to cry anymore. Speaking at such length was possible only because she had gathered every last fragment of strength she possessed.

She should have died in Rotermann.

Why had she been dragged all the way here just to beg for death?

Her bloodshot black eyes stared at Ahazan’s back as he sat beside her.

And yet, in the midst of everything, she found herself thinking how long it had been.

Absurdly, his figure overlapped with the memory of ten years ago, his back on the day he first marched to war with the army.

“The Empire’s work?”

Unlike Clodine’s unsteady voice, Ahazan’s was perfectly clear almost tinged with amusement.

“So after living as a queen, you’ve finally learned what the Empire’s work is.”

Without rising, he tilted his head sideways.

Their gazes met precisely in the air between them.

As expected, a cruel sneer hung at the corner of his lips. His golden eyes, catching the light of the candles and hearth, glowed with a reddish sheen.

As if pleading for him to stop his cruelty, Clodine weakly shook her head.

But Ahazan continued as though he had no intention of stopping.

“It would be a bit much to give something so grand a name for such a trivial game.”

Each word from his mouth gouged sharply at her chest.

His large, heated hand gripped her small chin, stopping her shaking head.

“Rather than that, shall I tell you what this game is called?”

“—!”

Clodine clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

Ahazan’s expression cooled as he looked down at her.

There was a time when I trusted that stubborn side of yours completely.

Staring at her defiant face, he twisted his lips into a warped smile.

“Playing at catching foolish Clodine.”