After dismissing everyone, Cedric stood alone, cigar in mouth, gazing out of the window. Winter had long since set in, cloaking the world beyond in dimness and shadow.

As he checked the time, he was struck by the thought — already? — and put down his cigar more quickly than usual. With most of the day’s work complete, his mind almost habitually turned towards his bedchamber.

Of course, he would not be alone there.

He took a few steps away from his desk, intending to summon a servant, but stopped halfway.

‘What am I doing…?’

The realization hit him suddenly and sharply. He must have lost his senses. Even when he had less work, he would never have simply set it aside. If sleep had eluded him in the past, he would have reviewed unfinished reports or occupied himself with one of his hobbies.

But now, as soon as he had a moment to himself, his first thought was to wash up and go to his room.

It was ridiculous, yet his body had already taken a half step forward of its own accord.

A sharp jolt of alarm struck through Cedric’s mind.

This was the kind of symptom one saw in addiction.

But then… what was he addicted to?

He stood frozen in the room, questioning himself.

“Your Highness, ah— slower, please…! Ah! Just a little— ngh! Please, j-just a little slower— mmph…”

The moment the memory surfaced, he felt a burning sensation in his throat. He strode back to the desk irritably and gulped down a glass of water.

Something was wrong. His body, his instincts were chasing after that woman out of habit.

The Princess of Callithea.

His wife, whom he would soon kill.

His hand clenched into a fist.

Hadn’t he steeled himself that night?

It was the night he lost his composure, torn between restraint and the sight of his subordinate’s trembling hand hovering near her hem.

He had kissed her. Taken her. He poured himself into her soft, yielding body over and over again until he had nothing left.

‘…This is as far as it goes.’

On that bright, sunny day, as he held her pale skin in his hands, he swore it again and again.

This was a fleeting pleasure, he would not prolong it.

He would drain it dry, leave no room for regret, and bring it to an end.

The man who had once refused to skip a morning meal had forgotten hunger entirely by then, lingering in his bed until noon and savoring the aftertaste of indulgence.

“Then stop pitying the princess.”

He himself had said it to the knight he had whipped for defiance.

She would be gone within a year, two at most. And yet here he was, seeking her out like a man unable to break a habit.

“While His Majesty still lives, replacing the Crown Princess is impossible. If she were to die, surely His Majesty would…”

The echo of his subordinate’s words resounded in his mind, leaving him utterly blank for a moment.

Cedric’s face drained of color, turning ashen.

He reached out abruptly and pulled the bell cord so hard that it nearly broke. Moments later, a servant came running.

They found Cedric with his back to them, one hand braced on the desk, his entire frame taut with fury. Even at first glance, the sight was unnerving.

“Your Highness, you called—”

“Get rid of it.”

The words came out low, almost a growl.

‘Get rid of it?’

The servant froze.

‘What does he mean?’

The tone was so rough, so unlike his usual restraint, that the servant dared not ask.

“…The one in my chamber. Throw it out.”

When the servant still hesitated, Cedric’s restrained voice snapped—quiet, yet terrifyingly compressed with anger.

“Yes—yes, Your Highness.”

The servant stammered, then fled as if being chased by fire.

Alone once more, Cedric raised his gaze. His dark, feverish eyes burned with fury.

A sharp wind blew in and something white obscured his vision, the first snowfall. It had arrived quickly in Laxion, where winters were usually brief.

He could picture her shivering already. By now, she would have been sent back to her room wearing only a thin nightdress with a robe thrown over the top. She would have been driven out like that, under the gaze of the palace servants.

“That suits you.”

He muttered to himself, watching the snow drift haphazardly in the breeze. He stood there for a long time, dark-eyed, watching the uselessly falling flakes.

··· ✦ ···

Unlike in Callithea, where winter was still in full swing, it was almost over in Laxion. With the Emperor’s health deteriorating, Cedric had taken on more of his responsibilities. Consequently, Anita saw him only once or twice a week, always in the bedroom.

At some point, he had fallen silent. It was as though speech itself had become futile; he came only to take her body.

This thoughtless union continued, but the silence so heavy that there was not even room for his usual contempt stretched on for over a month. Slowly, anxiety began to take hold of her. It was perhaps worse because even the brief mentions of Callithea that he used to make had now vanished completely.

“I’m worried about how everyone is coping in this freezing winter. They can’t head south either. At times like this, I feel even more blessed to be here, where there’s hardly any snow and it’s warm enough to stay indoors.”

“…The last letter said there was no major problem. Don’t worry so much, Renee.”

“The letters we receive are always so late. Even if they claim a message was sent two months ago, it only reaches us now. They must be opening them first, you see. They’re probably reading them in secret.”

Anita gave a bitter smile as she watched the snow falling softly while Renee spoke. Renéee’s suspicion was reasonable. The letters had arrived sealed and seemingly unopened, but Anita was not so naive as to accept that at face value. She wished they would hand them over quickly. Most of the letters intended for her had arrived long after the expected date.

‘Letters delayed, huh… Do they simply want to stop receiving letters from Callithea altogether? Who are they to complain when they don’t even know the subject?’

She could not speak on that point. The decision had already been taken by those who held authority.

“I’d be glad to hear even trivial news. Ever since Geneviève was expelled, no one has mentioned coins at all. Apparently, she pretended to be ill in order to gain access to the palace, and then she was expelled. However, I believe there is clearly another reason. That’s why everyone has been so quiet ever since she disappeared.”

“Just in case, don’t dig around. Pretend you don’t know, Renee.”

“Don’t worry. Even if I wanted to, there’s no way I could dig.”

Without Cedric’s help, their ability to uncover information was clearly limited. The maids and servants at the palace of the Crown Prince had all remained silent, and even the slightest hint of gossip had disappeared as if wiped from the air.

If she had been invited to another palace, perhaps she might have learned something. However, the Empress had not sent any invitations, and Anita had politely declined the few that came from Gérard because of Cedric’s watchful eye.

‘I’ll have to bring it up myself.’

Renéee sighed softly, her frustration clear. The sound of the wind outside spurred Anita on, and she decided to ask Cedric directly about the situation in her homeland. If he refused, she was prepared — albeit fearful — to seek Gérard out herself.

“Your Highness, a letter has arrived for you.”

“So soon?”

But she no longer needed to consider it. Somehow, a letter from Callithea had reached her unusually quickly. Normally, it would have been delayed for weeks. The timing was strange.

“Please, read it at once, Your Highness.”

Renéee, who had followed her into the bedchamber, checked that the door was properly closed before approaching, her face bright with anticipation. Anita nodded and first checked the sender.

‘A letter from Liehen.’

It was from Count Liehen Yuz, a relative of hers and a trusted aide to her brother, Ernst. How had he managed it? Despite the harsh conditions, the letter had reached Laxion in just over a week.

Could something grave have happened? It had been sent some time ago, yet it arrived scarcely a week after the good news from her brother and his wife. Although she was still worried about her mother’s health, which had been weakened by the cold, there had been no sign of tragedy at that time. For this reason, Anita had allowed herself a quiet sense of relief.

‘…Wait. This letter feels different.’

Only then did she realize what had been bothering her. Unlike the clean, fine stationery she was used to, this paper felt coarse to the touch. Its corners were bent and slightly torn, and its smaller-than-usual size seemed ideal for concealment. It was the kind of letter that could easily be smuggled.

Suppressing a growing unease, Anita unfolded it.

“Ah…”

The letter was short. But as she read, her hand began to tremble uncontrollably until, at last, she dropped it.

“Your Highness!”

Anita collapsed. Renéee caught her just in time, but her legs gave way beneath her and she fell to the floor. Her eyes were wide and trembling as she stared at the fallen letter.

··· ✦ ···

The fragile peace finally broke down.

In the bitter cold, the capital’s poorest residents began to die on the spot. Those who could no longer endure it rose up, their gaunt bodies wrapped in rags and stumbled towards the royal palace.

Famine, winter, the collapse of trade and civil unrest had all conspired to strangle the flow of food, and this uprising had been inevitable. Then came the final blow: the royal army and hired mercenaries stationed in and around the capital to defend the crown devoured what little grain remained. Supplies that might otherwise have lasted for months were depleted within weeks.

Driven mad by hunger, the desperate masses fought their way past the knights barring their path, pouring into the palace district and the nearby mansions of the nobles.

There, amidst clean cobblestones and chimneys emitting white smoke mingled with the aroma of roasting meat, their rage finally consumed them.

Even worse, some foolish nobles continued to flaunt their wealth by feasting and drinking behind gilded gates in such desperate times.

The royal family of Callithea had already sold almost all their possessions by imperial decree, and now lived in silence and without comfort. The priests and noble houses that remained loyal followed their example, sharing in their restraint.

However, a starving crowd seeks color over grey, and so the extravagance of a few wealthy individuals was enough to overshadow every effort against the drab backdrop of suffering.