Chapter 1 Part 4

“I shall take my leave for now, Your Majesty.”

“A-Aunt… c-congratulations again on F-Franz’s engagement…”

The queen, beaming kindly, returned the gesture with a benign smile.

Once both foster parents had exited,

Queen Remeros suddenly slouched forward, letting her long, wild hair spill over her face.

Then, her shoulders began to tremble.

“Ah, h-hah… Y-your f-father was so flustered… when he saw me stutter.”

A low, guttural chuckle bubbled from her throat.

Her twisted expression looked more like that of a swamp witch than a sovereign.

“Hhh…”

After a long bout of laughter, the queen finally straightened.

She pushed her tangled hair back and stilled,

then bent forward again—this time to gesture with the cigar held between her index and middle fingers.

A servant moved forward to light it,

but Alexander held up a hand to stop him.

Instead, he sat beside the queen, leaned down,

snipped the tip of the cigar,

and struck a match himself.

When he lit it, the cigar glowed a rich, burning red.

Remeros stared into the glow and finally spoke.

“Your foster parents.”

She drew in a long drag from the cigar, her lips pursing slightly—

and exhaled a thin plume of smoke, perfectly coiled.

“They fawned over me like y-you were about to d-die.”

The haze lifted from her eyes, revealing a flash of razor-sharp clarity.

“Did they get… caught doing something?”

Her words didn’t offer help—

they were a warning: If they’ve caused trouble, fix it. Quickly.

Alexander shook his head lightly, as if it were nothing.

But the queen merely scoffed, clearly not buying it.

“Or is it about the hostage?”

She named Melissa without hesitation.

Alexander’s face remained unreadable as he answered,

“She appears to possess some unusual power.

Otherwise, why would they marry their son off to a hostage?”

“Ah—‘Bergritz’s Authority.’”

The power to command dragons.

A gift long referred to as the authority of Bergritz.

The queen leaned back leisurely into the couch,

crossing her legs as if mocking the very idea.

“So. Are you going to kill her?”

“No.”

“Oh?

When I saw you storm into the engagement like a rabid dog,

I thought that’s what you were here for.”

She grinned, baring her sharp white teeth.

“You just came to confirm it for yourself, didn’t you?”

Alexander didn’t deny it.

He simply flexed and curled his fingers slowly as he replied,

“To be honest, I didn’t expect Your Majesty to attend such a modest engagement.

Forgive us for the trouble.”

“Trouble… you say.”

The queen’s eyes curved like crescent moons as she chuckled—

then, all of a sudden, her hand shot out and seized Alexander by the collar.

“I don’t care who has the dragon,

or who wields the power—you know that, right?”

“I do.”

“But I won’t join hands with imbeciles like them.”

It was a warning:

If you don’t handle them properly, I’ll cast you aside too.

And yet Alexander simply smiled.

“I’m aware of that as well.”

“G-Good. Glad we’re clear.”

She let go of his collar.

This stammering queen who ruled over six territories,

with a vicious temper and obsessive perfectionism,

was, despite her cruelty, a brilliant sovereign—

under whose rule the kingdom was experiencing an era of unprecedented prosperity.

Fox cub with the head of a snake.

Alexander had occasionally described her that way.

And she, in turn, called him a snake in the skin of a fox.

“So? Does the little bastard actually have the Authority?”

“There’s been no definite sign yet.”

Alexander didn’t bother adjusting his rumpled collar—

instead, he loosened it even more, smiling faintly.

The queen’s brow twitched.

“If that hostage really does have the power…

you still wouldn’t kill her?”

“There’s no reason to.”

He shrugged.

“Everything within Bergritz is mine. That power would naturally become mine too.”

Queen Dietmar stared at him for a long moment—

then her expression eased.

She let out a soft, amused chuckle,

pulling the cigar from her mouth and holding it between her fingers.

Alexander extended his hand without hesitation.

As if following an unspoken ritual,

the queen pressed the lit cigar into his gloved palm, grinding it down slowly.

It wasn’t about punishment—

it was the indulgent cruelty of her masochistic nature.

When he didn’t so much as flinch,

she pulled away with disinterest and set the cigar on the ashtray.

A thin stream of smoke curled upward from its still-glowing tip.

“If it were me… I’d have her killed.”

“Would you now.”

Alexander casually removed the scorched glove, tucking it into his coat pocket—

and smiled as if the burn on his palm was nothing at all.

“How could a younger brother possibly kill his sister-in-law?”

He meant it.

Not out of affection,

but because he always made use of what was his—

fully and efficiently.

***

Melissa stood alone before the stables, clutching the ends of her shawl tightly.

The midnight air had grown bitter,

and without her formal attire, she wore only a thin tunic that let the cold creep in through her skin.

Since the engagement was finalized,

the surveillance around her had tightened.

She’d had no choice but to climb out the window.

She had only managed to grab the long shawl in her haste.

Her breath steamed faintly in the air.

She glanced down, seeing her reflection wavering in a puddle beneath her feet.

As she pushed her hair back with both hands, she paused… and let out a small laugh.

What am I doing,

she thought,

primping for someone who doesn’t care if I live or die.

She laughed at herself.

But then—she felt a presence behind her.

Close. Intentional.

And not the stablehand.

Her body reacted first.

Her heart began to pound.

Her vision blurred.

She was unraveling again—

as if reality itself dulled whenever he appeared.

“…My lord.”

Emerging from the shadowed veil of night,

Alexander stood before her.

Melissa opened her mouth with effort.

She had prepared words—short, clear, practiced a hundred times.

But now, standing face-to-face with him,

her mind had gone completely blank.

And yet, Alexander didn’t seem interested in her intentions at all.

For a fleeting second, his eyes held a flicker of mild curiosity—

the way one might regard an object that shouldn’t be there.

But even that passed quickly.

With dispassionate eyes, he smiled faintly.

“It’s almost as if you knew I’d be here, sister-in-law.”

“Ah, I—”

Picking up on the implication in his casual tone,

Melissa quickly tried to explain.

“I-I didn’t mean anything strange by it.”

She knew Alexander often took midnight rides whenever he visited the estate.

And how she knew was simple—

before he left for Tavalon permanently, they had lived in the same manor.

And after observing him for so long, she had come to know his habits—

at least a few of them.

“I just… I had something I needed to tell you.”

Melissa, get it together. Don’t be stupid now. Please.

She took a sharp breath, so deep her nails bit into her palm,

and lifted her gaze to meet his squarely.

Moonlight shimmered in her pale blue eyes.

“Franz and Bright… they’re plotting something.

I don’t know all the details, but…”

“…”

“They told me I have Bergritz’s Authority.

That’s why this engagement happened. Because of that.”

When Melissa had first heard Bright mention the Authority,

she had wondered if the woman had finally gone mad.

The Bergritz Authority—the power to command dragons—

was passed down by bloodline.

And Melissa, who shared no drop of Bergritz blood,

had no right to it.

“I know it doesn’t make sense.

And there’s no way to prove it, either.

But they believe it. Completely.”

She paused, cautious, steady.

“That’s why you mustn’t take me to Tavalon.

Especially not with Franz.

I don’t know what they plan to do with me,

but they’ll use me. Somehow.”

Alexander’s gaze locked onto hers.

No twitch, no flicker. Just an unblinking, silent stare.

Melissa was taut with nerves.

But Alexander—expressionless, emotionless—had already dropped his usual smile.

His face was cold as ice.

In truth, he was calculating.

Weighing the pieces.

Was he lucky?

Or was this woman simply foolish?

He came to the conclusion:

both.

Such impulsive, naive affection.

How absurdly inconvenient.

“Sister-in-law,” he said at last.

He had clearly taken a liking to calling her “sister-in-law.”

With that same mocking tone, Alexander stepped closer, head tilted.

One step—one breath—

and her chest rose with a tremor.

Her breath wavered.

Did she even realize?

She was like a deer baring its throat to the hunter.

“Are you betraying your fiancé?”

“I serve House Bergritz, my lord.”

Her voice was strangely calm.

It made his brows twitch.

With her hands neatly folded,

the earlier signs of tension gone,

Melissa spoke evenly—almost coldly.

“They are the ones threatening you.

If you must label someone a traitor, it isn’t me.”

Alexander let out a short laugh.

“Let’s say they are trying to use you.”

“…”

“Do you really think you pose a threat to me?”

He stared directly into her eyes—

and those eyes, for all their uselessness,

held a color rare enough to make even a jeweler pause.

They were too clear, reflecting every color around them like polished gems.

As her briefly composed face flushed once again,

he made no effort to hide his scoff.

“Even if I were in danger… you’re to be his wife.

Shouldn’t you be on his side?”

“…I don’t care about marriage.”

She meant it.

This marriage wasn’t something she’d chosen.

And as someone branded a hostage and a traitor’s daughter,

her fate had always hung by a thread.

Depending on how her grandfather—the Lord of Gallandia—acted,

her own situation could shift entirely.

But the reverse was also true.

If she misstepped, another heir of Gallandia might be taken hostage in her place,

or worse, the family could be wiped out.

Her grandfather was the only family she had left.

They still exchanged letters,

still spoke of the day they would see each other again.

She couldn’t endanger him.

Not for anything.

If she had to be loyal,

it made more sense to give that loyalty to the true master of Bergritz.

Such was the life of a hostage—

teetering on the edge like a threadbare rope,

hanging like a bat in the dark,

always surviving by biting down on dignity and clinging to reason.

While she was lost in thought,

Alexander murmured in a voice barely more than a breath:

“You don’t care, huh…”

When the engagement that had only ever been talk finally became real, Alexander was genuinely curious.

Had the eyes of the girl who had stayed with him half her life changed?

No. They had only grown more complex.

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

He spoke plainly.

Family affairs were not something a mere hostage should concern herself with.

Her situation wasn’t something he needed to care about either.

And yet, why did it irritate him so much?

Was it because she looked at him with eyes like that and spoke of marrying someone else as if it were nothing?

The image of n*ked bodies in his foster parents’ bed came to mind,

and with it rose something akin to revulsion.

He stepped closer to the flinching woman and slowly raised a hand.

“What you should be worried about…”

He slid his index and middle fingers between the folds of her thin shawl and gently pulled it aside.

Because of the nightgown that exposed her chest, pale skin came into view.

It felt as if his fingerprint had been seared into her flesh like a brand.

“…is appearing like this before your future husband’s younger brother.”

Not just her cheeks, but even her exposed neck flushed red, clearly visible under the moonlight.

Alexander’s lips curled into a smirk.

“You’d best be careful, sister-in-law.”

He withdrew his hand from her shawl and walked past her without another word.

He didn’t take a horse.

***

Unlike now, the young Melissa used to smile often.

Even while living as a hostage, practically imprisoned in the annex of the manor,

she would always repeat to herself:

Someday, she would return to the lands of Gallandia and live with her grandfather again.

That hope was what allowed her to endure—

the cramped annex, Franz, and Franz’s father, Lutelros.

At the time, Lutelros, the head of Bergritz, had originally been the second son.

After the heir disappeared, he inherited the title.

A collapsing house, a reputation worse than his brother’s,

a marriage to a woman who had lost her bid for the throne.