Unlike his younger daughter Cecilia, Clodine had rarely ever asked Helario for anything.
The word request coming from her lips was, to a father, almost welcome.

“What is it? I will grant you anything.”

Clodine did not hesitate.

“It’s Mother’s inheritance.”

“Lily’s inheritance?”

“Yes. The Abel Mine.”

Helario’s eyes shifted slightly. The Abel Mine had remained under his management because Clodine had once postponed claiming it.

“I need it now, Father.”

He wanted to ask why, but he did not. The Emperor standing beside her made the air too heavy for idle questions. And Clodine, stubborn as ever, did not once turn her gaze toward Ahazan.

“Very well. You must have your reasons. It is not a difficult request. It was always meant to be yours.”

Clodine offered a faint, grateful smile.

On the way back to the palace, Ahazan rode slowly beside the tightly shut carriage.

‘The Abel Mine.’
‘I need it now.’

Her words echoed in his mind.

A hollow smile curved his lips.

‘Why did you delay inheriting it back then?’

He remembered. It had been shortly after their coming-of-age ceremonies.

‘I just don’t see the need to take it now.’

She had been arranging flowers in the rose garden when she said it.

The Abel Mine, one of the most prosperous mines in the southwestern Empire. Power simply by existing in one’s hands. Yet she had refused it as though turning down candy.

‘Even holding it would give you authority. It would protect you for life. Think again.’

He had not cared about other people’s property, but he had been preparing to leave for war. If anything could strengthen her in his absence, he wanted her to have it.

She had laughed brightly.

‘Why? Don’t you believe you’ll protect me for life on your own?’

He had bristled, then silently clenched his fist.

No Emperor had two lives on a battlefield.

Noticing his mood darken, she had softened. She placed her hand over his clenched fist.

‘You’ll return safely. And I’ll become your wife. What more could I possibly need? I already feel like I have everything.’

That Clodine, the one who needed nothing but to be his wife.

She no longer existed.

Ahazan tightened his grip on the reins. His jaw hardened.
An unbearable emptiness swallowed him whole.

***

That evening, Clodine changed into a dinner gown. Though the visit home had been unexpected, tonight’s dinner with Ahazan had long been planned.

He arrived on time, dressed differently from before, black dress shirt, black trousers fitted sharply to his waist. Strong. Imposing.

They sat at opposite ends of the long dining table, the chandelier between them like a border.

Only the sound of cutlery broke the silence.

Ahazan spoke first.

“I heard you couldn’t finalize your wedding gown because of today’s outing.”

Clodine chewed her bite slowly.

“It isn’t important. I can decide anytime.”

A sharp metallic clang cut through the air as Ahazan set his utensils down more forcefully than necessary.

She finally looked up.

He avoided her gaze and drank water as if cooling something burning inside him. His next words were cold.

“You used to think it was important.”

Why bring up the past?

Back then, she had been naive. Things were different now.

Clodine stiffened.

“Isn’t it ridiculous? Acting proud over a marriage like this, obsessing over dresses and jewels.”

“And is suddenly needing your mother’s inheritance not ridiculous?”

Her brows knit.

“What?”

“Have you ever considered being less obvious?”

He cut her off before she could answer.

“About treating this marriage like it’s your second.”

Ahazan rose from his seat. Slowly, deliberately, he walked toward her. His steps echoed across the hall.

Now he stood over her, gaze heavy.

It’s disrespectful, he said quietly.

“To me. For whom this is the first of everything.”

Clodine barely restrained a hollow laugh.

“Did you just say respect?”

There had been no such thing from the very beginning. In this forced marriage, Ahazan demanding courtesy felt shameless.

Yet he only smiled enigmatically.

“Yes. Respect. Otherwise, how could I treat you, my second marriage, with respect as well?”

“I never asked for that!”

Clodine shot to her feet and shouted up at him.

From the beginning until now, he had never treated her with respect. Not when he killed O’Neil. Not when he forced this marriage upon her.

What exactly had he handled with respect?

She glared at him, fury and confusion tangled in her expression.

“So you don’t need respect?”

For a fleeting moment, his eyes seemed to flash cold blue. But Clodine, consumed by agitation, failed to notice the change in him.

Without waiting for her answer, Ahazan suddenly seized the table runner and yanked it aside. Plates and dishes crashed violently to the floor.

The table was bare.

In one swift motion, he lifted Clodine and set her atop it. Before she could properly resist, he pushed her down against the tabletop.

“What are you doing—!”

Silently, he pinned both her wrists above her head. One knee came up onto the table, his body caging hers completely.

“Your husband changed overnight. I was going to give you time. Time to accept me. Slowly. Carefully. Gently. That was the respect I thought I was giving.”

A cruel smile curved his lips.

“Well. If you didn’t feel it, that’s unfortunate.”

“Move. Get off me—now!”

Clodine twisted desperately, straining against his grip. But against his strength, it was little more than futile flailing.

“You have no intention of accepting me. Of adapting to me. Do you?”

He lowered himself closer, his face inches from hers. The sudden proximity made her resistance falter, instinctively stilling to avoid contact.

Her ragged breathing mingled with his steady one. Ahazan inhaled as though savoring it.

“Forget the first one, Clodine.”

He whispered it like an incantation, voice low and coaxing, one hand sliding to cradle her cheek.

She should have cursed him. Pushed him away.

Instead, she could do nothing.

She did not even understand what she was feeling, only that everything inside her was tangled and confused.

He had already released one wrist, yet she did not think to use it. His closeness, his scent, it overwhelmed her senses.

“I… I…”

Her voice trembled, thick with unshed tears. Ever since her resolve had weakened, she felt perpetually on the verge of breaking. As though she was being scolded despite having done her best.

The wedding garments truly no longer mattered to her. If dresses and jewels could grant meaning to a hollow marriage, that would be different. But she already knew they could not.

Wearing a beautiful gown for an empty union was nothing more than playing the clown before a crowd.

Her mother’s inheritance was the same. As a captive queen, she had nothing to offer the Rotermann people forced to build new lives here. If reclaiming the inheritance she once refused could give them even a fragment of stability, then she wanted it.

For the people who had become foreigners overnight, she wanted to give them something.

What did I do so wrong?
What exactly is my crime?

The words surged inside her chest, but she could not voice them. She turned her head aside with a heavy sigh.

But only for a moment.

Ahazan’s large hand seized her chin, forcing her to face him again.