It was Herman. He tilted his head, puzzled by Carlos’s lack of response despite having called him several times.

“Is something the matter?”

“……Nothing.”

Only then did Carlos move away from the window and take a seat. He looked at Herman as if asking what was going on. His gaze shifted to the item in Herman’s hand.

“What are you holding?”

“Oh.”

Herman realized he needed to report something to Carlos and placed a parchment on the desk.

“This is a report related to the donation sent to the temple previously. It has just crossed the border into Bernar, where the Pope resides. The Holy Knights are expected to join them tomorrow.”

This donation had been given to the temple in exchange for his marriage to Ines. The knights who had left the kingdom a week ago had now crossed the border, meaning it was no longer in his hands.

“Well done.”

With this, there shouldn’t be any more bothersome demands from the temple.

Of course, it was a hefty sum to call a donation. However, thanks to the confiscation of the estates of the massacred nobles, their finances weren’t as strained, making it less burdensome than anticipated.

‘Just how much had they been embezzling all this time?’

During the process of confiscating the nobles’ assets, it became clear how much Duke Claudia and his cronies had siphoned off from the state funds.

It was laughable how the agricultural products and mined resources reported from each territory were far less than the actual production. Manipulating numbers was just the beginning; they had been extorting much more money from the people than the state-mandated taxes.

The money they had embezzled was enough to run the country for three years.

It was a complete mess.

Carlos, flipping through the report Herman had handed him, casually asked, “By the way, what do you think of the person assigned as Ines’s escort?”

It had been bothering him for a while.

Without much suspicion, Herman replied, “Well, as you know, his background is insignificant. He was a commoner who earned a title for his merits in the last war. He doesn’t seem to have any ambition for honor. If he did, he wouldn’t have aimed to be Her Majesty’s escort.”

Herman, who had struggled to find an escort for Ines for some time, continued as if relieved, “But he seems to have a peculiar personality. Today, he told me he found a clover and gave me some strange plant.”

“……A plant?”

“Yes. He said it’s considered a symbol of luck in his hometown. Anyway, he’s an unusual fellow.”

Carlos, quietly listening to Herman, murmured softly, “A symbol of luck, huh…”

For some reason, he felt he knew what kind of plant was supposed to bring luck, even without Herman showing it to him.

But why was she smiling like that?

As Ines’s face began to irritate him again, there was a knock, and Jeff, the chamberlain, entered.

After a brief formal greeting, Jeff glanced at Carlos, indicating he had something to say.

It was Jeff’s habit whenever he had an awkward report to deliver.

“Has something happened?”

“Well, it seems there was talk about Countess Ankerid at today’s tea party. People are curious because she didn’t attend the wedding or the tea party.”

As soon as his mother was mentioned, Carlos’s face turned cold. Jeff continued, as if expecting this reaction, “How long do you plan to keep it hidden?”

“…….”

“People are wondering why she hasn’t been brought to the palace. It’s becoming difficult to conceal it any longer.”

Even without specifying the subject, everyone present understood what Jeff was referring to.

Carlos clenched his fist and muttered in response to Jeff’s words, “Yeah, it’s hard to hide it any longer.”

A dreadful scene flashed through his mind, and Carlos shook his head slightly, as if trying to dispel it, before speaking with difficulty.

“My mother….”

His voice caught for a moment.

“Announce soon that she passed away from illness. Find a similar body.”

“……Yes, understood.”

“If you’re done, leave.”

At his dismissal, the two men quickly exited the office.

Left alone in the room, Carlos pressed his temples with his fingers, narrowing his brow.

His head throbbed.

It was one of the symptoms that followed any mention of his mother.

Even after drinking the water in front of him, the pain persisted, so he eventually got up and opened the window.

The cool air made him feel a bit better.

Then, his gaze fell on the spot where Ines had been lingering.

Beneath the dense trees, Carlos Ivan could make out faint clusters of green leaves gathered together. It was then that he realized what Ines had been doing there.

Carlos, who had been staring at the now-empty garden, approached his desk and opened a drawer.

Inside, he found nothing but an old handkerchief.

‘This will protect you.’

It was the last gift Ines had given him long ago, before he left for the battlefield.

Carlos took out the handkerchief, which had lost its original color, and unfolded it. A small four-leaf clover was embroidered in the corner of the once-white cloth.

He had handled it so much that the green embroidery had turned black in places.

“There’s no point in looking for something like this now.”

Just as the stained handkerchief couldn’t regain its original color, neither could the two of them return to the way things were.

Carlos’s voice, as he murmured to himself, carried an inexplicable sadness.

This happened four years ago.

* * *

It was an old basement with no windows.

The air was damp and heavy, mixed with the metallic smell of blood.

The only light came from a few candles, and with each breath, layers of dust clogged his throat.

Terrible instruments lined the walls, indescribable in their horror.

The dried, dark red blood on them hinted at their grim purpose.

The room had a clear function.

To put it nicely, it was an interrogation room, but in reality, it was a torture chamber, designed to push people to their limits to extract the desired answers.

And there, in the center of the room, Carlos hung upside down, eyes closed. He was in such a dire state that even a casual observer wouldn’t claim he was okay.

Salt had been sprinkled on his torn wounds, and all his fingernails had been pulled from his bound hands. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he had taken his last breath at any moment.

How long had he been there? Someone approached Carlos, who had lost consciousness an hour earlier during a torture session.

They splashed icy water on his face and murmured.

“Time to wake up, Prince.”

“Cough, cough.”

With a rough cough, Carlos regained consciousness.

Having hung upside down for so long, his blood flow had been compromised. His head spun, and his mind felt foggy.

How long had he been captured here?

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had lain down for a comfortable sleep.

“Time to enjoy yourself again, Prince. How do you plan to handle this when you’re already so worn out?”

The jailer mocked him with a sneer.

‘Prince…’

Only then did Carlos remember why he was there.

He had been captured during a battle at Mount Coloso, having fallen into the enemy’s trap.

There had been a traitor among them. The plan to set up camp at Mount Coloso was a secret known only to a few guards, yet the information had leaked to the enemy.

Worse still, they had realized Carlos was the king’s illegitimate son. A prisoner they had captured earlier must have revealed his identity.

Perhaps that was why his initial treatment hadn’t been too bad. He had been provided with decent meals and a relatively comfortable place to sleep.

They probably intended to use him to negotiate a ceasefire with Tezever. His presence might have been a boon to them. The enemies knew he was the king’s son but didn’t understand the status of an illegitimate child in the kingdom.

Carlos believed that if the enemy made unreasonable demands, his father wouldn’t grant them. Fortunately, their demands weren’t too difficult.

They simply wanted Tezever to relinquish the territory they had been eyeing and withdraw their troops.

The war had begun over territorial expansion. The land held little value for Tezever, which was already rich with fertile soil.

So Carlos held out hope that his father might end the war for his sake.

Even though he was an illegitimate child, he was still his son.

Surely, he thought, he was worth at least that much.

But the king of Tezever, his father, crushed both the enemy’s and Carlos’s expectations.

“Your father said it’s an honor to die for the country.”

“…….”

“So die here.”

Every word from the jailer felt like a stab to his heart.

‘It’s an honor to die for the country. So die with honor.’

With that one sentence, he was utterly abandoned by both his country and his father.