“Clodine.”

Clodine, who had been lying in bed staring endlessly out the window, pushed herself upright at the sound of her name.

“Charlotte?”

Following a servant’s guidance, two women entered her chamber, Lady Charlotte Langham of the Langham marquessate and Princess Anna von Lernando. The three of them had grown close while receiving their education together from childhood. It had been seven years since they had all gathered in one place like this.

Clodine received them while leaning weakly against the head of the bed, her face pale.

After her fierce argument with Ahazan yesterday, nausea had overwhelmed her so severely that she had not been able to swallow even a sip of water.

“What on earth has happened to you?”

“She looks like she’s about to die.”

Charlotte asked; Anna answered.

The perceptive servants brought two chairs to the bedside, and the women took their seats. Anna’s soft hand gently caressed Clodine’s thin one. Because Anna resembled Ahazan in many ways, Clodine found it deeply uncomfortable to face her now.

“Clodine. Let’s forget everything that’s happened. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but His Majesty has ordered that the prisoners be treated with proper courtesy. You can set your mind at ease now.”

A faint smile brushed Clodine’s lips at Anna’s words.

“Should I offer my gratitude for such consideration?”

It pained her to speak so coldly to old friends, but no matter how she tried, she could not think kindly of anything at the moment.

“You’re right. I truly have no excuse before you.”

Anna lowered her head as though bearing her brother’s sins in his place. Charlotte, Ahazan’s fiancée, flushed red as well.

The mere fact that there were people within the empire who felt shame over the invasion of the Rotermann Kingdom offered Clodine a sliver of comfort.

She gazed at Charlotte with a face clouded by turmoil.

‘I will make you Empress.’

Ahazan’s low, resolute voice seemed to brush past her ears.

If she became Empress, what would become of Charlotte, his current fiancée?

“Clodine.”

Perhaps sensing the fixed stare upon her, Charlotte called her name with a faint smile. Though she had done nothing wrong, Clodine’s heart dropped inexplicably, and she could not answer.

Charlotte hesitated, as though debating whether to speak, but finally opened her mouth.

“I think… my engagement will be broken.”

Because of you.

She did not say those words, but Clodine felt as though they might follow at any moment.

Had Ahazan already informed Charlotte of the annulment?

Clodine turned her gaze into the empty air, her expression pained. Guilt surged through her at the thought that she had ruined her precious friend’s future.

Charlotte’s voice, still gentle, continued.

“Whether his will is right or wrong, I have no choice but to follow it, Clodine.”

“Charlotte, I—”

“I know how you feel. I know you don’t want this either.”

“Then please, listen to me, Charlotte.”

Clodine looked back and forth between Anna and Charlotte, desperation shining in her eyes. It was Clodine who now clutched their hands.

“Let me out of here. You two can help me, can’t you? Then Charlotte won’t have to break her engagement, and I won’t have to become… whatever absurd thing this empire intends to make of me.”

“Clodine.”

Anna tried to stop her before she could continue persuading them, but Clodine pressed on.

“Let me see my younger sister. After that, I’ll handle everything myself. Please.”

Her only half-sister in the world, Cecilia Ramier. Even if Cecilia despised her, she would at least bring her something she could eat… or perhaps something she could use to end it all.

“If such a thing were possible, it wouldn’t have taken us two weeks just to come and see you.”

“Then at least let me send a letter. I’ll write it right now.”

“Nothing can be taken out of this room. You don’t know what it’s like beyond these walls, Clodine.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?!”

Clodine shouted, clutching the blanket in her fists. The realization that there was not a single way to escape this dreadful prison left her suffocating.

Anna and Charlotte watched her with sorrowful eyes until her storm of emotion slowly subsided.

“His Majesty plans to hold a banquet to welcome you back to your homeland.”

“My homeland?”

Clodine let out a bitter laugh, her face twisted.

“I was dragged here to an enemy nation. My hands and feet bound like baggage.”

Anna closed her eyes slowly, as though in pain, pretending not to hear Clodine’s anguished cry.

“There must be many people you’ve missed. Why not use this opportunity to spend a pleasant time with them? Forget the past.”

“Rather than meet them like this, reduced to a prisoner of the empire in such a wretched state, I would rather die now.”

“Clodine!”

At those words, tears finally welled in Anna’s eyes. She had always treated Clodine like family; such a reaction was only natural.

“If you continue like this, I’ll have no choice but to stand with my brother. I have no intention of losing you that way. Even if I must force you, I’ll make you live!”

With that, Anna burst into tears and rushed out from the room.

Left alone, Charlotte hesitated, uncertain whether to follow Anna or remain by Clodine’s side, before choosing to stay.

“At least you must hate me.”

Without Anna there, it felt easier to speak honestly with Charlotte.

When Clodine asked that question with a face resigned to everything, Charlotte looked at her quietly.

“I knew you had loved Ahazan for a long time.”

Charlotte had hidden her own heart to protect her friend’s love. Clodine, knowing Charlotte’s feelings, had pretended not to notice because she loved Ahazan too much to let him go.

Charlotte let out a small sigh, unsurprised.

“I have always followed my family’s will. My own feelings have never mattered much.”

Her hollow gaze, one that seemed utterly indifferent to achieving her own love, pierced through Clodine.

“In this corrupt world, that is the kind of love I was taught, Clodine.”

As Charlotte had said, the empire’s social circles were the very embodiment of corruption. For the nobility, marriage was nothing more than a tedious duty endured as fate to preserve their bloodlines. To equate marriage with love was considered the mistake of naïve fools who knew nothing of true high society.

Charlotte seemed to think she should go after Anna. She straightened her seat and rose. Clodine made one final, desperate plea.

“Lend me your petticoat, Charlotte.”

If Charlotte allowed it, she wanted to write a blood letter upon its lining and send it to Cecilia.

Please, Charlotte. Help me.

Charlotte looked down at her for a moment, then answered in an even, emotionless voice.

“Then I shall see you at the banquet, Your Majesty.”

***

The news that Ahazan would hold a banquet was no false rumor. Word spread throughout the Van Helsing Empire that a celebration would be held in honor of the empire’s victory and Clodine’s return.

‘He must truly be mad.’

To place those two things on the same scale and celebrate them together did not seem like the intention of anyone in their right mind.

Through the mirror, Clodine watched as countless servants crowded around her, adorning her body.

They were busy powdering her hollow cheeks and bringing life back to her cracked lips. Draped in a pure white gown laden with cumbersome lace, her pale shoulders ached beneath its weight. Rather than beautiful, she looked absurd.

Then again, perhaps this was better.

Was this not the perfect appearance for the surviving queen of a defeated kingdom to present before her enemy?

“Red would suit you better.”

Ahazan’s voice cut in lightly. She turned her head. He stood leaning against the doorframe, a crimson jacket draped over his shoulders. He had entered without a sound, smiling faintly as though thoroughly entertained.

“Let’s match our colors, Clodine.”

The last trace of color drained from her face.

She shifted her gaze back to the mirror and replied in a voice as cold as ice.

“If it’s such a bother, why not cut off my head now?”

Her eyes, stripped of all emotion, returned to him.

“I’ll dye it for you. Red with my blood.”

As she fixed him with a steady stare, the image rose before her again—

In the dark palace hall, Ahazan standing drenched in O’Neil Penelope’s blood.

Ahazan narrowed his brow as though concerned and said casually.

“You’ve grown quite fierce in my absence.”

Ignoring his teasing tone, Clodine removed the earrings and necklace the servants had just fastened upon her.

“I have unjustly lost my country and my husband. Do you think I wish to wear such trivial ornaments now?”

Her cold rebuke echoed through the chamber, along with the sharp, deliberate sound of Ahazan’s footsteps crossing the marble floor.

She fixed her eyes stubbornly on the mirror, refusing to look at him directly, but he came to stand behind her. Their gazes met through the glass, tension stretched taut between them.

Ahazan took the earrings and necklace from the servant’s hands, examining them one by one.

“You’re right.”

The necklace dangling from his fingers slipped from his palm and fell to the floor with a clear, ringing sound.

“To seize an empire and its emperor in a single stroke, such trinkets will hardly do.”

After saying that, he met her eyes again and ordered the servant.

“Search even the tombs if you must. Bring something worthy, the most precious and splendid in this imperial palace.”

“What are you doing?”

“Why? Is there a problem?”

His shameless calm only sharpened her voice.

“Do I look like I’m sulking because I want luxury?”

Ahazan smiled lazily.

“What does it matter?”

His thumb and forefinger brushed gently over her reddened earlobe.

“If word is to spread that the emperor has gone mad, wrapped in the skirts of his former fiancée, then we must indulge in luxury befitting such a rumor.”

Clodine flushed with humiliation and turned to face him, stepping back instinctively at the closeness.

Ahazan lowered his gaze again, watching her retreating step in silence.

She steadied her trembling voice and asked softly.

“Is this amusing to you?”

“You should ask what, exactly, is amusing.”

He smiled brightly, as though there were too many amusing things to count, his expression grotesquely cruel.

Clodine shook her head.

“Please, just leave me alone, Ahazan. I don’t want to attend the banquet.”

Though her words sounded almost like a plea, Ahazan remained utterly composed.

“No. You’ll want to go.”

His eyes, which had been lowered, snapped upward to meet hers. The chill in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’ve already invited your three maids.”

“What?”

If he meant three maids, then surely Pellier Sanderson, Isla, and Wedenia.

Clodine’s eyes widened in disbelief. Ahazan gave a small laugh, clearly pleased by her reaction.

“If you don’t attend, how disappointed they’ll be. Don’t you think?”

“Why are you using my people like this? What crime have they committed?!”

“Well, of course…”

He shrugged lightly.

“The crime of having a pitiful king.”

Clodine’s entire body began to tremble. Rage flooded her chest until she could no longer endure it. Her reddened eyes darted around the room before she seized a nearby hairpin. She thr*st its sharp tip toward Ahazan’s throat.

“Do not insult the dead any further!”

It was a cry torn from her soul.

Ahazan looked down at her without blinking. He took her hand in his large one and pulled the hairpin closer to himself.

“Then stab me.”

Under his force, the sharp point came within a breath of piercing his brow. Clodine’s hand trembled involuntarily.

“Or perhaps I should offer you this instead.”

Still holding her hand, he pressed it against his chest. Now the hairpin pointed directly at his heart.