The memorial for Empress Ines was an extremely solemn occasion.

The emperor had shut himself away from everyone for the past ten days, but on the anniversary of her death, he emerged to honor his departed companion in front of everyone.

Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows of the chapel where the ceremony took place, filling the space beneath the high ceiling. Despite the faint scents of lilies and melting wax, however, there were no religious emblems, not even those of the Asterian faith. The space was adorned only with black drapery, the empress’s personal crest, and white flowers such as lilies.

Some of the black-clad nobles and clergy from the Asteria Church clicked their tongues in disapproval as they surveyed the hall. Still, none dared to voice their dissatisfaction in front of the Emperor.

The imperial family took their seats of honor at the front of the room. The Empress was absent due to sudden illness, but the Emperor, Cedric, Gérard and Anita were present. When the Imperial Family closed their eyes in prayer, the nobles behind them did the same, offering their own petitions for the late Empress Inés.

The memorial proceeded much as it had in previous years — solemn and orderly — until, midway through the ceremony, the Emperor, overwhelmed by his illness, entrusted the remaining rites to Cedric and was quickly taken back to the Central Palace.

The matter of the Emperor’s condition was handled with the utmost secrecy. Nevertheless, the sharp-eyed nobles began to whisper amongst themselves, and their hushed speculation spread like ripples through the hall.

“Her Majesty the Empress was seldom present even when she lived, but His Majesty the Emperor has always held the late Empress’s memorial in the highest regard, has he not?”

“Hush. I heard he collapsed.”

“Could his grief be so unbearable? Such a thing has never happened before.”

“That’s not it. In truth, His Majesty’s condition has been…”

As rumors about the Emperor’s illness spread, the eyes of the nobles turned towards Cedric and Gérard. Even those who had once remained silent began to glance at one another, quietly calculating where they would stand when the balance of power shifted if the Emperor die.

And so, amid a fog of muted whispers and speculation, the memorial drew to a close.

How many of them were truly mourning Empress Ines that day?

After all, the dead are forgotten like this — bit by bit, beneath the weight of the ambitions of the living.

··· ✦ ···

The memorial banquet that followed had a more relaxed atmosphere than the solemn prayer ceremony. Although it was not a celebration involving dancing or a grand feast, the nobles preferred to gather in small groups throughout the hall and have quiet conversations rather than sit in silence.

The most frequently discussed topic, of course, was succession. No one dared speak of it outright, yet the tension was evident in every veiled remark and cautious glance. With inheritance being contested more fiercely than ever before, even the slightest whisper felt dangerous, yet remaining silent was impossible.

“Come to think of it, His Highness the Crown Prince doesn’t seem to shy away from Her Highness the Princess Consort as much as before.”

“Have you not heard? Lately, His Highness and Her Highness have been…”

After the discussion about succession, the next most popular topic of conversation was the subtle change in Cedric and Anita’s relationship. The rumor, which first emerged among the noblewomen, quickly spread throughout the hall.

“Now that you mention it, they were inseparable even during the memorial. Well, with a face that lovely, what man wouldn’t be moved, no matter the reason?”

“But the Princess Consort is involved with Prince Gerard…”

“Perhaps she’s using some scheme of her own. Remember, she’s from Callithea.”

Some people reacted as though they had been expecting it for a long time, while others were outraged. Once again, Anita was on the receiving end of the cruelest words.

No matter what was said about her, Anita paid it no mind.

Truthfully, she was in no state to think or care about anything.

Thus ended the memorial, and a new day dawned.

“Your Highness?”

Since that dreadful night, Cedric had visited the Crown Princess’s chambers repeatedly, right up until the eve of Empress Ines’s memorial.

Each time he touched her, Anita could not hide her disgust. The question of why, why a man who had once despised her would do such a thing had long since lost its meaning.

He never said it aloud, yet she felt it with certainty.

Cedric took greater pleasure than ever in watching her suffer.

The pain he inflicted was deliberate, a carefully controlled ordeal and that made it all the more degrading. She could not even run.

This helplessness made the humiliation unbearable. Realizing that her suffering was merely a source of pleasure for him made her despise herself even more, as if her existence had been reduced to that of an instrument.

And yet, even so, Anita could not resist.

Something she held too dear bound her throat.

“Your Highness!”

Her mind was elsewhere, so she barely registered the voice calling to her as she walked straight ahead. It was only when she stepped into the open colonnade that she finally heard it. She turned dully towards Renee, who had been following her and calling out to her all along.

“Your Highness.”

“…”

“Please don’t go… please…”

Tears streamed down Renee’s cheeks as she took hold of Anita’s arm. Anita was on her way to see Cedric.

Every time Renee had seen Cedric since that day, she had noticed how her mistress could barely lift her head and how her spirit seemed to be weakening more and more.

“It’s all right, Renee.”

“Your Highness…”

“I have to go. I…”

“…”

“…I have something I must keep.”

Anita murmured softly, just loudly enough for Renee to hear, and then began to move again.

Soon, she arrived at Cedric’s office.

Unlike last time, the attendant did not stop her from coming in without an appointment; instead, they guided her straight inside.

“Your Highness, the Crown Princess.”

The men with Cedric immediately rose and bowed to her. At a single gesture from their master, they disappeared without saying another word.

Cedric stood up from behind his desk and walked towards her.

“Why the hurry? Was the bed too cold last night? Seeing that you came to me yourself, I suppose you missed the warmth.”

Since that night, Cedric’s demeanor before Anita had changed entirely. He no longer bore himself like the Crown Prince of an empire but like a vulgar ruffian from the streets.

‘It was easier when he acted as before.’

Back then, he had denied her existence altogether, refused even to touch her, to speak to her, or to look her way.

Those days had been far more bearable than this.

“If you want—”

“Enough.”

Cedric rolled up his sleeves, took a step towards her and brushed a finger along her neckline. Despite having forced himself upon her before, he had never touched her anywhere but her throat. Yet he took a perverse pleasure in holding her by the throat, tightening his grip on her most fragile, human part.

‘A wh*re. That’s all I am to him.’

The thought alone was humiliating.

He refused to kiss or stroke her face, yet fondled her body wherever he pleased with no hesitation.

Every time she remembered it, she felt nauseous at him and at herself.

“Please, stop.”

Though she clearly refused, Cedric’s hand lingered near her collarbone, caressing her as if testing her resolve.

Anita took a step back, trembling.

Cedric immediately closed the distance again and wrapped his hand around her neck, his fingers fitting neatly along the curve of her throat.

“Your Highness.”

“…”

“Please…”

Cedric finally stopped his cruel game only when her voice began to tremble with tears. He withdrew his hand, his mocking face turning cold. Yet even then, the faint silver shadow in his eyes still gleamed, making Anita feel as though she were standing before him n*ked.

“Fine. I’d rather not dirty this place. If these papers get wet because of you, the men outside will have far too much to clean up.”

His words dripped with vulgarity, stripped of any trace of royal dignity. In Anita’s mind, the word wh*re—the one he had once hurled at her floated up again, echoing over and over.

“What are you waiting for? Didn’t you come here to say something?”

After she bit her lip and remained silent for too long, Cedric spoke to her sharply and impatiently, as if her hesitation had offended him.

Anita clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. After opening and closing her hands several times, she finally parted her dry lips.

“You promised…”

“Promised?”

“You said you’d help. That day, you said you would.”

Callithea.

It was the only reason she had endured it all, the one thing that had stopped her from breaking completely. Even after that night, tragedy after tragedy continued to come from Callithea. Someone dead. Someone missing. Villages burned to ash. An assassination attempt.

Each message hit her like a hammer to the chest.

How did such dreadful news always reach her so quickly?

With each report, her fragile mind crumbled a little more.

“Ah. So you’ve come to collect your payment, then?”

Cedric’s tone was almost light, as if he had simply forgotten.

Payment.

The word pierced her like a blade, lodging deep in her chest Anita froze, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

“What do you think? Do you believe you’ve earned your worth?”

“Your Highness…”

“…”

“Please.”

‘If only someone could make me deaf.’

Anita thought desperately. Her voice trembling with exhaustion, she begged him to stop.

For once, Cedric fell silent.

Unable to look up, Anita stared at her feet as her words broke apart.

“Y-you promised me. You… promised…”

“I know. A debt should be paid. I’ve no intention of breaking my word.”

Promise! Promise! Promise!

The word was repeated like a curse. Cedric was growing bored of hearing it.

Suddenly, he reached out and caught her chin in his fingers. Her head jerked upwards under his touch, forcing her to meet his gaze. Then he smiled — a bright, almost cheerful smile that sent shivers down her spine.

“But tell me, did I ever say when I’d do it?”

“…”

“I remember promising I would. But I don’t remember ever saying when.”