With a single gesture, everyone in the office filed out in an orderly silence. Stepping aside to let them pass, Anita turned slightly and watched their retreating figures until the door shut with a dull click. Only then did she look forward again.

“Ten minutes. I don’t have time to entertain you any longer, Princess.”

 Cedric said curtly. He loosened the top button of his shirt and stepped out from behind the desk.

“I don’t have time to entertain you any longer.”

His tone was clipped and his expression tense. Anita’s shoulders stiffened and her eyes fixed on the floor as a sharp stillness filled the room.

Cedric sank onto the couch at the far end of the room, the seat of authority and tilted his chin, motioning for her to take the seat to his right.

But Anita didn’t move. She parted her lips, then pressed them together again before clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

“…I’m sorry.”

Though barely audible, her voice was clear enough for him to hear.

The hand that had been reaching for the cigar box froze. Cedric lifted his head and narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. She stood there like someone awaiting judgement.

“The matter… I truly wished to apologize for it.”

“What exactly are you sorry for?”

Cedric snapped, setting the cigar box down with a sharp, irritated thud. The sound wasn’t loud, but Anita still flinched at it.

“Are you saying that you were involved?”

“No! Never!”

Leaning back against the couch, fingers laced together, Cedric’s eyes narrowed.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…As I said in my letters, what that man did, his unthinkable crime has nothing to do with me or with anyone from Callithea who came to Laxion. But… I still felt I needed to apologize. It was someone who came here with us, after all.”

“Ah.”

Cedric let out a short, humorless laugh.

“So this is a formal apology on behalf of Callithea?”

Her flustered words seemed to amuse him. Rubbing his brow once, he let his voice lighten, though the mockery within it was unmistakable.

“Here’s the problem, I’m not interested in your apology. You bow your head, and I’m supposed to smile and say, don’t worry about it? That’s not how this works.”

“…”

“Besides, don’t you find your own words absurd? You claim you’ve done nothing wrong, and yet here you are, forcing your way in uninvited just to apologize.”

“…”

“Do you have any idea how awkward today has been? Your presence outside all day made everyone around me feel uncomfortable. I had to listen to more than a few things I’d rather not have heard.”

“That was thoughtless of me. But you never answered my letters and refused to see me, so I had no choice….”

Cedric cut her off with a sharp sigh. He straightened, his gaze pinning her in place.

“This is what bothers me. Just because you write to me or try to speak to me, does that mean I owe you a reply?”

Her words struck her like an impenetrable, cold, immovable wall. Anita could only stand there, shrinking silently, as if being punished.

“I won’t waste any more time on this. You didn’t come all this way merely to apologize. What do you want?”

His face flashed with irritation, his frown deepening, and his tone became laced with contempt, like a man tossing a coin to a beggar out of reluctant pity.

“…I came to ask a favor.”

It was true, she had come with a request.

After a moment’s hesitation, Anita finally spoke. As always, Cedric merely tilted his head slightly, silently giving her permission to continue.

“Please allow me to have just one item returned to my room. It’s something I brought with me when I first arrived, but the investigators took it for inspection.”

“Didn’t they tell you? The inspection isn’t finished. That’s why it hasn’t been returned.”

Cedric was well aware that the Crown Princess’s belongings from Callithea had been seized following the assassination attempt.

After all, he was the one who had ordered it.

Even her personal jewelry, tea and smallest trinkets had been confiscated under the guise of an investigation.

This was undoubtedly unjust treatment, but neither Anita nor Callithea dared to protest, having become too wary of incurring Laxion’s displeasure.

“I know… but I beg of you, just this one thing.”

“…”

“It’s a small vase. White porcelain on the inside, encased in glass on the outside. You’d recognize it at once, it’s made in a very distinctive way.”

To anyone else, her request would have sounded trivial. She wasn’t asking for jewelry or heirlooms, only for a simple flower vase.

“It’s nothing more than a keepsake. My mother gave it to me, and it’s precious to me.”

But the moment she said those words, Cedric abruptly rose to his feet. Before she could even blink, he had closed the distance between them and seized her bare shoulder with his left hand.

“Of course, the vases in my room are fine enough, but I only thought since it’s something from my mother—”

Her voice faltered. It wasn’t that his grip was painful, but rather the suddenness of his touch that made her heart lurch with fear. Looking up instinctively, she saw that his face was in shadow, giving him a dark, dangerous appearance.

“What for? So you can kneel before your precious goddess and pray to her again?”

Anita’s eyes widened; she was caught off guard.

She hadn’t dared ask for the small statue of the goddess, knowing it would provoke him and his men. However, that had indeed been her intention.

Instead, she had planned to pray quietly over the vase her mother had given her, which she had shared with Renee.

But she had never told anyone that.

How could he possibly have known?

Her silence had given her away. Cedric released her shoulder with a harsh scoff.

“Don’t look at me like that. Did you really think I wouldn’t know what goes on in that sanctimonious little head of yours?”

He had reviewed every item confiscated in connection with the Asterian faith; there had been so many:

Statues, scriptures, and relics. Yet what disgusted him most were the subtle remnants of faith woven into everyday items: jewelry featuring twin lilies; tapestries embroidered with tales of the goddess; silver candlesticks used for prayer; and teacup saucers adorned with images of the First Tree.

The vase she wanted back bore the same mark: an unmistakable Asterian symbol etched into the base.

“You must’ve thought it went unnoticed because it wasn’t obvious. But how could it? People who worship that goddess are all the same beneath their pious masks.”

It was perfectly fitting, he thought, how that faith seeped into people’s lives, seducing them quietly, exploiting their devotion beneath a guise of purity.

Cedric looked down at Anita with eyes as cold as steel, his voice laced with unrestrained contempt.

“Every time I see you, I tremble with disgust. You make me think of that goddess you worship and it makes me sick.”

“I only—”

Anita tried to speak, but her voice broke. Despite his hatred, the Asterian faith was still recognized as a religion within Laxion. Although she was duty-bound as both wife and foreign princess to be cautious and respectful of his views, this level of scorn and venom was unbearable.

“Your countryman tried to kill me. Right there in the middle of the ballroom. A deranged zealot. And yet you stand here asking me to return a trinket bearing the same filthy symbol that those fanatics worship.”

The words struck like lashes. Her lips parted in shock, but before she could respond, he cut her off and continued.

“Whether you like it or not, your husband was almost killed by one of your precious devotees. And now you’re asking me to let them stay in my palace?”

His voice sharpened and all color drained from Anita’s face.

“This is too cruel.”

But then, perhaps out of some desperate instinct, she lowered her head, recalling the tragedy that had bound Cedric and the Asterian faith together.

“…I was wrong.”

“…”

“I should have known better. I didn’t think how it would look to you.”

“…”

“I was selfish. I only thought of myself.”

She didn’t know the full story. She only knew that the Crown Prince’s bitterness towards the Goddess stemmed from a terrible event in his past. If that was true, then perhaps this anger was not so inexplicable after all. Nevertheless, the guilt weighed heavily on her until her voice cracked.

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

Were those tears from shame, or something deeper? Anita pressed a trembling hand to her heart, now so accustomed to its painful tightening, and whispered another apology.

“I’ll go now. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned to leave, hastily wiping them away with her thumb. But before she could take a single step towards the door—

“My time, wasted as it was, doesn’t mean you get to decide when this ends, Princess.”

Cedric’s hand shot out again, gripping her shoulder roughly and pulling her back toward him. In one swift motion, he turned her around to face him.

“This once, I’ll teach you something. Listen carefully, and remember this well.”

Her blue eyes were filled with tears and looked pitiful, but Cedric’s expression remained cold and unyielding.

When he spoke again, his tone had hardened, becoming sharp and unforgiving. He tightened his grip on her arm and spat out his words through clenched teeth.

“In my palace, I will permit no mention of the goddesses, no symbols, and no reminders of that cursed faith. The reason…”

He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes flashed with something fierce and dark. The look he gave his trembling wife, held captive in his grasp, made her think he might tear her apart right then and there.

“…You can guess, can’t you? I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”

“Y-you’re hurting me, Your Highness. Please… your hand—”

“If you mean to act as my wife, even for a little while, then listen carefully.”

His other hand slowly rose towards her neck. The heat of his skin against her bare throat was like fire, yet his touch was as cold as ice.

“Ah—what are you—!”

Just as she thought he might strangle her, he grabbed the delicate locket she always wore on a chain around her neck instead. The engraved emblem of the Asterian faith gleamed faintly in the light.

Anita froze. When she saw his hand tighten around the pendant, she knew exactly what he intended to do.