The air froze.

Anita looked up at Cedric, momentarily forgetting her own pain. She had never seen him so enraged. He had ignored her, humiliated her and spoken to her with biting cruelty countless times before, but he had always done so with that same cold, detached indifference.

‘Why…’

Faced with a fury she couldn’t comprehend, she initially felt fear, but also a sense of indignation. Judging by the shattered glass scattered across the floor, it was clear that her small gift had upset him. But if he disliked it, why hadn’t he simply thrown it away? Was it really worth such a furious reaction?

“Ah…”

The cut stung sharply. Anita pressed her hand against her arm, from which blood seeped out like jam oozing through a crack. She winced as she rose to her feet. She was unsteady from her fall, but refused to face him while she was still on the floor.

“This…”

“…”

“What… what are you doing?”

“…”

“No matter who you are, Your Highness, you can’t treat me like this.”

Though trembling under Cedric’s fierce presence, Anita found her voice, her protest breaking through the fear pressing down on her. Startled that she would defy him instead of cowering in silence, Cedric drew his chin back slightly and spoke in a low, dangerous tone.

“Are you threatening—”

“Be silent.”

His rebuke hit her like a blade. Its sharpness made her knees weak and her whole body screamed at her to run. Yet Anita neither retreated nor fell silent as she usually would have done. Instead, her voice, though trembling, grew firm.

“…I can’t do that.”

“…”

“I said, I won’t be silent.”

“…”

“Your Highness, what have I done that is so wrong?”

“…”

“I know that you find me displeasing. I understand that the tragedy you endured affects both my homeland and my faith, and that you can’t bear to see me because of that. I realize now that you’ll never forgive me, and that you’ll hate me for as long as I live. You don’t need to remind me!”

The emotions she had held back for so long burst forth at once, spilling from her in a trembling cry. Her voice rose, breaking with each breath, and she shook her head violently, tears falling.

Yes. Now she understood completely. Cedric would never look at her kindly, not even for a moment. A man capable of this would never allow it. With her tears came the last of her hope, slipping away.

Yet even as she let go of that hope, one question remained at the forefront of her mind: why?

Why did he hate her so much? She thought she knew the reason: the late Empress had been poisoned by a zealot from Callithea, her own homeland, who supported Asteria. This act had been linked to political forces in Laxion who supported Callithea’s cause.

But that sin wasn’t hers to bear. What had she done to deserve violence?

Anita was blinded by her own indignation and didn’t notice how Cedric’s eyes grew darker still, a black, bottomless void consuming the last of the light.

“But even so! That still gives you no right to humiliate me like this! I had no part in the tragedy you suffered — none! I will not stand by while you treat me this way!”

“…”

“Why… why are you doing this?”

Anita’s voice trembled, her breath hitching between words.

“What have I done that is so wrong? I only ever… I only ever wanted to…I only ever cared for you, Cedric…”

She looked down at the floor, taking in the shattered glass and the sticky fig jam spreading across the carpet. The sweet scent was cloying now. She remembered how she had once loved it and how she used to share it with him in those gentle, distant days, along with his kind smiles, warmth and laughter.

“I like you, Cedric.”
“I like you more, Anita.”

They were young, but their feelings for each other were genuine. She cherished them, carefully building her hopes on that fragile memory, believing that love alone could overcome everything that separated them.

Many had laughed at her, calling her naïve and a sheltered princess who was too foolish to see the truth, but she hadn’t cared. Her affection for Cedric ran deep enough to ignore their scorn.

That was why she endured it all: Every slight, every cruel word. She swallowed the pain and forced herself to stay calm. But now, she couldn’t anymore. She had no more strength left to cling to a hope that no longer existed.

‘Whatever began Cedric’s hatred, it would never end. He would despise her for the rest of his life.’

And now, she was simply tired. How long would she go on, loving someone who gave her nothing but wounds?

“…You did nothing wrong?”

Cedric’s voice cut through her thoughts. His cold stare fixed on her tear-streaked face, the words sharp enough to slice the air.

“Yes, I did nothing wrong. The one who committed that crime merely shared my faith, that is all.”

“…”

“How could that possibly make it my fault? You know the truth as well as I do, Your Highness. You know it wasn’t me, nor Asteria’s faith, nor Callithea itself that caused it!”

The dam inside her finally broke, and all the anguish she had buried came pouring out.

“Your hatred is yours to bear, I have no right to challenge that. But this, this cruelty, I cannot endure it any longer! So please—”

If her vision hadn’t been obscured by tears, she might have noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, cold and bright like a drawn blade.

But it was too late.

Before she could finish speaking, Cedric’s hand was already around her throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the intent was unmistakable. His k*lling aura dripped down her chin, pressing against her skin like ice.

“I’ll give you a choice, Your Highness. By blood, you are a heretic and deserve punishment. Yet you swore to stand with the Princess of Callithea, didn’t you?”

That haunting, venomous voice echoed in his head. Cedric gritted his teeth, fighting to restrain himself as his hand trembled. The image of the woman who had spoken those words blurred and shifted, overlapping with Anita’s terrified face in front of him.

He began to walk towards her slowly.

Desperate to escape his suffocating presence, Anita stumbled backwards until her heel hit the bedpost.

“Ah…”

“Why, why do you insist it isn’t your fault?”

Even the slightest pressure of his fingers on her throat made her tremble. He could feel her pulse racing unevenly and frantically beneath his hand.

“At the very least, you are to blame.”

“A political marriage? What blasphemy. The Princess of Callithea and His Highness were joined by the goddess Herself.”

“No…”

“Seeing them together, it was like witnessing the fresco on the ceiling of the Philan Palace.”

“This has nothing to do with me.”

Anita whispered. The overlapping voices in Cedric’s head merged into a storm. His vision blurred as the past and the present began to merge, bringing to mind the pale curve of Anita’s neck and her silver hair brushing her collarbone with every trembling breath. All of it shimmered like her hair once had.

“She is your destined match, Your Highness. You knew it the moment you saw her, didn’t you? That smile… you smiled because you were certain.”

A cold body. Blood seeping into the carpet. A green gown twisted beneath a bloodied shoe. His mother’s lifeless body lay before him.

“Shut up.”

Cedric spat the words not at Anita, but at the voice clawing at his mind. Instead of tightening his grip, he pushed her down roughly.

Just as it had been that day.

“Choose.”

“Shut up.”

“There’s no time! The goddess has already spoken. Would you rather wash away your filth with death, like this witch did?”

“Shut up!”

“Pray. Offer thanks to the goddess, Your Highness.”

“Not another word—!”

“You’ve done well. The goddess will forgive you now for turning from sin, for cleansing yourself with her will.”

“I said shut your damned mouth!”

Cedric let out a roar that echoed through the room.

He looked possessed. His breathing came in ragged bursts, and his face was contorted with rage and madness.

Anita, frozen in terror, had stopped speaking long ago. She trembled where she had fallen, unable to move, while he loomed above her, repeatedly shouting at her to be silent.

His fury no longer seemed human. It was monstrous.

In fact, she didn’t realize he was pressing her down onto the bed until his shadow fully covered her.

Cedric held Anita pinned to the bed, breathing in sharp, ragged bursts. His eyes were bloodshot, and his chest rose and fell with such force that the air around him trembled.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked at her, really looked at her. He saw the pallor of her face, drained of color by fear. Her long, platinum hair was disheveled and gleamed against the sheets. His gaze swept over her as he bent closer, his voice rough and disbelieving.

“Why are you unharmed? How can you look at me and still insist that you haven’t done anything wrong?”

“C–Cedric…”

Her voice was faint and trembling, almost lost. Terror had dulled her senses, causing her vision to blur.

But to Cedric, she no longer looked like Anita. Her helplessness was evident in her eyes and quivering lips, giving her an entirely different appearance.

“The Princess of Callithea revered as the goddess’s incarnation, she’ll surely suit His Highness. Such beauty, such grace…”

Cedric let out a hollow laugh.

“Ah, yes. The noble, exalted Princess of Callithea. The goddess’s blessed child.”

“Say it plainly, Your Highness. She’s meant to be your destined one, isn’t she?”

“The goddess’s blessing.”

He murmured mockingly, his voice shaking with bitter laughter.

“And you, you should feel honored to have been chosen.”

The voice from his memories echoed behind him, fueling the madness twisting through his mind. He stared down at Anita with a cruel smirk on his lips. Then he began to laugh low, hollow and unending.

It went on for minutes. His dark, broken laughter filled the room while Anita, trapped beneath his grip, dared not move. She felt like an animal caught in a trap, helpless under his control.

“Anita.”

Cedric finally said when the laughter subsided. His tone was eerily calm now, almost tender. He blinked, as though coming back to himself for the first time.

“Anita Hardyde.”

“…”

“That name no longer exists.”

“…”

“And if there was… it won’t exist much longer.”

He muttered the words to himself rather than to her; his gaze was distant and detached. Anita didn’t understand, she couldn’t. She could only pray silently for it to end.

But Cedric — mad, grief-stricken Cedric — had no intention of stopping. His eyes gleamed with a feverish light, as though what came next were only the beginning.

“So, you, too, should change to match what you truly are.”

Every hair on Anita’s body stood on end. The look in his eyes was incomprehensible; it wasn’t anger or hatred. His fingers brushed her cheek, slid down her throat and moved lower, tracing a path that made her blood run cold.

The smirk twisting his lips was pure malice.

“Don’t you agree?”

The pale silver of his irises gleamed faintly blue in the dim light. Buried deep within them was not desire or rage, but vengeance.

It would take Anita a long time to understand what that look truly meant.