Locked in each other’s arms, their lips pressed together, the two of them moved forward and back without knowing who led or followed, until they crossed into the room.

“Ha… Clodine.”

Rising onto her toes, Clodine brushed soft, damp kisses along Ahazan’s neck.

As if he could no longer endure it, her name slipped from his lips.

That low, husky voice balanced between a sigh and a groan drove Clodine’s reason to the very edge.

For a while, the restless exchange of removing and discarding garments continued until, reduced to nothing more than faint silhouettes, the two figures fell lightly onto the bed.

Unlike usual, it was Ahazan who lay on his back.

Though, in truth, it would be more accurate to say he had been pushed down by Clodine.

Ignoring the frantic pounding of her heart, Clodine looked down at him with a gaze that did not waver in the slightest.

She counted, one by one, the drinks she had taken earlier but unfortunately, the thirst consuming her now was far too strong to blame on intoxication.

She knew that the more often this happened, the more her heart and mind would unravel.

And yet she couldn’t stop.

Or perhaps, even if she could, Ahazan would never allow it.

That thought itself became justification quietly, persistently rationalizing the desire she knew was wrong.

“If you intend to stop here… then you’ll have to kill me with your own hands before you leave.”

Seeing her hesitate, Ahazan intertwined his fingers with hers, gently stroking them as he spoke.

What began as a simple touch soon shifted as he pulled her hand toward his lips, turning the gesture into something far more suggestive.

“If I could stop… I wouldn’t have come this far.”

Clodine barely steadied her breath against the warmth and softness flowing through their joined hands, her voice faint as she admitted the truth that she was already bound by her desire for him.

The moment the words left her lips, she realized she should never have said them.

But it was too late.

From that instant, the balance between them completely reversed.

Like a flash of light, a fierce exhilaration almost madness swept across Ahazan’s face.

In a single motion, he flipped their positions, drawing not only Clodine’s body, but even her shadow, fully into his embrace.

As if claiming everything that belonged to her.

The pale moonlight he had monopolized spilled across his sculpted form and as always, one scar caught Clodine’s eye.

Her gaze flowed toward it, like water finding its path.

‘Kesen… may I ask you something?’

As her fingers gently traced the scar etched into Ahazan’s waist one that spoke of a brutal past Clodine recalled her earlier conversation with Harbat.

‘The former king’s attack never missed. Those who were struck every single one either died or were crippled. We were certain of victory. The rumor that the emperor had been pierced through the waist by the king’s spear and was dying in bed spread even among the Empire’s soldiers.’

While the others had been lost in drink and dance, Harbat had spoken with surprising clarity.

‘When exactly did that happen?’

It was a question she had long wanted to ask one she felt she absolutely needed an answer to.

And Harbat had answered without hesitation.

It was the end of the year 643 of the Imperial calendar.

That winter when an unprecedented cold swept across the continent,

and the people of the Empire experienced ‘winter’ for the first time in their lives.

For Clodine, it was a season she could never forget.

Even knowing no reply would come, she had stood at the gates every day, waiting endlessly for word from Ahazan.

And then,just as she thought he had endured it all safely he sent a sudden notice of their broken engagement, earlier than spring.

That winter remained in her heart forever.

And now she knew that during that very same time,

Ahazan had been fighting for his life.

“…What kind of coincidence was that…?”

Clodine murmured, her voice softer than a whisper.

So faint it could be mistaken for another sound—

Ahazan didn’t seem to hear.

Her fingertips brushed gently over the scar.

For a moment, Ahazan’s lips parted helplessly as a heated breath escaped him.

That place where new flesh had grown over what had once been dead was where pain and pleasure blurred into one.

And now, Clodine was touching it with precise intent.

His reaction was inevitable.

‘Was it so painful… that even recalling it was difficult?’

No matter how she thought about it, his reaction a few days ago when she had asked about it had been unusually emotional.

What she had assumed to be a simple question had, in truth, touched upon a wound tied to something life-threatening.

‘Could the broken engagement… have been because of this injury?’

At last, Clodine began to form a fragile hypothesis.

If his sudden decision to break off their engagement and force her into another marriage had been because of that incident…

Then was it truly a rational choice?

Or

had it been made in a state where his life hung by a thread,

leaving no room for careful thought at all?

“Tell me… how far I’m allowed to go, Clodine.”

Ahazan spoke suddenly, looking down at her as she lay there, absently tracing his scar.

His words were strange hard to grasp.

Only then did she come back to herself, returning to the moment they shared.

Her gaze asked what he meant.

And with a smile that was both boyishly innocent and as ruthless as a predator, he said.

“Seeing that you still have the leisure to think about something else in a situation like this… it seems I can push you a little further.”

It didn’t seem like he was asking for an answer.

As soon as he spoke, he began mercilessly targeting the most sensitive points of her body.

And so.

Clodine could no longer think of anything at all.

She had no choice but to surrender herself completely to the overwhelming sensations he inflicted upon her.

***

Early in the morning, Cal Regerson collapsed beneath the shade of a large tree, drenched in sweat.

Not long after, another man lay down under the shade of a smaller tree some distance away Valoran Lord.

Like Cal, he was soaked in sweat, drinking from a leather water pouch to soothe his parched throat.

They had sparred on the dry, dusty ground since sunrise, leaving their bodies coated in dirt.

“Why don’t you share that?”

Seeing that the water would be gone at this rate, Cal frowned and gave Valoran a pointed look.

Valoran shot him an equally displeased glance before sealing the pouch and tossing it over toward him.

Though it might have seemed like an act of goodwill in truth, Valoran had deliberately left just enough water to further irritate Cal’s thirst.

‘Starting a sparring match this early in the morning… what a nuisance.’

Despite feeling refreshed physically, Valoran inwardly blamed Cal.

Preparing to snap back at him despite having received water, he turned only to notice Cal staring at him with a peculiar expression.

“How long are you going to look at me like that?”

Valoran asked, his brows drawn together.

Cal spoke as if he truly couldn’t understand.

“With that level of skill… why didn’t you fight back that day?”

“That day?”

Valoran searched through his memories moments when he might have had the chance to fight back.

Too many scenes passed through his mind.

Seeing that Valoran didn’t understand, Cal clarified.

“I mean… at the Rotermann royal palace.”

“…Ah.”

Then it was clear.

Cal was asking why he had done nothing why he had not resisted when his master had been bound and taken away as a prisoner.

It was the kind of question that could wound a knight’s pride.

Though Cal had carefully chosen a respectful tone, Valoran showed no sign of offense.

“What do you believe it means to truly serve one’s master?”

After a long silence, Valoran responded with a question of his own.

Cal considered it seriously.

But the question was too broad.

He couldn’t easily answer.

Watching him, Valoran offered two possible answers.

“To protect your master, regardless of their will.”

For Cal, that answer seemed obvious.

But Valoran continued, as if dismissing it.

“Or if your master does not wish it, you do not act, even if it means they may die.”

Cal frowned deeply, as if he had just heard something absurd, and immediately objected.

“A knight who fails to protect their lord, for any reason, has abandoned their duty and broken their oath. There is no argument to be made. That is nothing more than cowardly justification.”

Looking at Cal’s clearly disappointed expression, Valoran gave a bitter smile.

“I see. Then you would choose to protect your master, no matter the situation.”

He stepped closer, his tone steady.

“Even if it meant killing the person your master values more than their own life?”

“…What?”

Cal faltered, momentarily at a loss for words.

The one the Emperor values more than his own life…

Without needing much thought, a single woman’s face came to mind.

“Back when Her Majesty was still queen in Rotermann, she prayed every single day, for years, for His Majesty’s safety and victory. Even on the most miserable days… even when she was too ill to stand, she clung to that prayer with everything she had.”

Valoran’s voice grew quieter, heavier.

“I was the one who witnessed that desperate devotion more closely than anyone.”

He trailed off, then rose and walked toward Cal.

Cal still looked unsettled, as if unable to process what he had heard.

Valoran took the water pouch from Cal’s hand and concluded calmly.

“After seeing that… how could I ever raise my sword against the very wish she cherished so desperately?”