Watching his master ignore him for some time, Owen finally concluded that he had gone mad.

Yes, Yevgeny had lost his mind completely, surely bewitched and utterly captivated by that beautiful, pitiful woman.

Yet, faced with the man’s calm and composed demeanor, Owen couldn’t bring himself to voice any questions and simply took a deep breath. At the sound of that small sigh, Yevgeny, who had been heading toward a desk piled with documents, stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed slowly.

“Don’t you think it’s quite a plausible plan, Owen?”

It was unthinkable to question Yevgeny’s intentions.

He was the second son of the great General Alexander, who had led the early revolution, and a hero of Brittany. Along with Ivan, he was a great revolutionary leader at the vanguard of the movement, and a man destined for a seat in Castiya’s parliament.

But this time was different. The man’s plan was far too reckless, lacked context, and Owen couldn’t grasp his thoughts or emotions at all.

“Plausible… Yes, yes. I think it’s a good idea, Sir Yevgeny.”

“……”

“However, there will certainly be those who are suspicious. You know how sensitive the people are to a candidate’s lies, don’t you? They’ll surely scrutinize your relationship from every angle to verify the facts, and if you’re caught—”

“If we’re caught?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, sir. But emotions are not something that can be hidden just because you try, nor can they be fabricated at will…I cannot trust that woman…” 

Owen finished his sentence in a barely audible voice.

The ship, surrounded by water on all sides, rocked repeatedly. The sound of waves lapping and the periodic cries of seagulls disturbed the silence of the cabin. Feeling the cool, sunken air of the room, Yevgeny gazed out the window into the distance. The blue of the moon was guiding them.

How could the mysterious light of the moon in the deep night sky be so beautiful and so poignant? As he took in that majestic, picture-perfect scene, Yevgeny, almost absurdly, thought of the woman’s pale skin. Even her lonely, sorrowful expression.

“Have you ever stood at the crossroads of life and death?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Have you ever witnessed the death of someone close to you?”

“…No, not that either.”

“People trembling in fear of life open their hearts easily to even the smallest touch. When pain steals your mind, when you start to believe everything is your fault, the comfort and solace that suddenly approaches is so sweet, so intoxicating… Someone who hasn’t experienced it can never truly understand, Owen.”

As he spoke, Yevgeny turned his gaze to Owen. Behind his expressionless face, a cold blue light flickered.

“She wants a savior in her life. She wants justification for stabbing Ivan.”

“……”

“You just have to truly change her feelings, Owen. It’s as natural and effortless as breathing.”

***

One dawn, so long ago she could barely remember, riots broke out all over the empire as if by some secret agreement. Peasants, clutching whatever weapons they could find, surged toward the estates of the lords.

Unfortunately, their sickles and small spears could not bring them victory. After all, it would be difficult for ordinary commoners to stand against knights clad in expensive armor.

They were dispersed with ease.

The nobles laughed at the fleeing people, calling them fools. Everyone did.

Only Maksim Kotov, Rochelle’s father, said that the defeated revolutionaries would gather again for their own sense of justice and, this time, grow into a force that could not be ignored.

Was that why his words had been so bothersome?

The Kotov family became the spark that ignited the revolution.

In the deep dawn, her nanny came running to her in a panic, her hair disheveled.

[Nanny, what’s wrong…?]

Rochelle, startled and wide-eyed, watched as the nanny flailed her arms in distress.

[Miss, ah, miss, you must run, quickly, you have to leave this house. Over the mountain, hurry…]

The loud footsteps from downstairs carried an undercurrent of fear. Rochelle felt dizzy and her mind grew foggy. The nanny grabbed her hand and shook it fiercely as she gently touched her forehead.

[This isn’t the time for that. You have to leave right now. Go!]

[Yes, yes, I understand. What about my parents? What about you, nanny?]

[Miss, don’t worry about anything except escaping.]

Without even time to put shoes on, Rochelle was dragged out by the nanny. Her body trembled amidst the terrified, shouting crowd.

At that time, Rochelle didn’t fully grasp what was happening to her, her nanny, or her parents.

She waited endlessly in a corner of the square, wearing the nurse’s hat. She waited until her father came and wrapped her in his arms, until her mother called her name with a bright, sunny smile.

But before long, hope turned to resentment.

Rochelle covered her mouth as she watched her parents, beaten and bruised, collapse before her. Her legs gave out, and tears streamed endlessly down her cheeks.

Just as she instantly recognized her parents, their love was so great that, even in the crowd, they recognized their only daughter at once.

A hush fell as they looked at each other. With faces drained of color, they managed to whisper,

[Go, run, Rochelle. Don’t look back, just leave.]

[……]

[Hold on and survive to the end.]

***

No, no!

Rochelle screamed as if in a seizure. The feeling of fear never tired, relentlessly replaying her parents’ final moments in her mind, again and again.

Once more, she was swept away by her emotions, drowning in surging sorrow and anxiety. Waving her hands in the air, she cried out, No, no, no!

And just beyond her consciousness, someone gently took her cold hand and stroked the back of it.

“Miss.”

“……”

“…Miss.”

Rochelle, thrashing as if about to faint, finally managed to open her eyes. A deep furrow formed between her brows. The morning sun shone straight down on her face.

Turning her head to the side, she met Yevgeny’s gaze. Kneeling on one knee by the bed, he looked down at her, his expression slightly hardened.

‘The brother of the man who killed my parents.’

His family, his accomplice.

The leader of a cold-blooded, ruthless group of murderers.

Uncontrollable anger surged onto his handsome face. Rochelle coldly pulled her hand out of his grasp. But reason quickly suppressed the impulse she couldn’t handle. She couldn’t bring herself to leap up and run out.

She felt disgusted with herself for that.

So Rochelle frowned and closed her eyes. If she couldn’t see him, maybe she could at least breathe a little easier.

Yevgeny tidied her sweat-soaked hair and placed a cold wet towel on her forehead. Even with that gentle gesture, Rochelle didn’t move. As darkness returned to her vision, her mind seemed to settle.

After a while, he whispered softly.

“It was just a nightmare.”

“……”

“Try to relax.”

“…Yes.”

Just a nightmare, he said.

That made her want to cry all over again. What was such a vivid reality for her was nothing but a single night’s bad dream to him. The gap between them felt so wide it could never be bridged.

Rochelle nodded briefly and forced herself to sit up, leaning against the headboard. Whether it was from crying or a fever that hadn’t yet broken, her head throbbed and her vision blurred. Her throat was parched.

“…I’d like some water.”

At her quiet request, Yevgeny stood up. He went outside, caught a servant passing by in the hall, and spoke to him.

After some time, Yevgeny returned and opened the door, carrying a cup of hot black tea.

Blowing on the steaming tea, Rochelle raised her eyebrows slightly. Only then did she notice the man’s attire.

He had changed out of yesterday’s robe and was now standing beside her in a crisp suit. His hair was neatly swept back.

Noticing her questioning gaze, Yevgeny gave a faint smile.

“Today is our third day on the ship. We’ll be docking in Ivanov for half a day to refuel—”

“Ivanov, isn’t that a small island at the southernmost tip of Castiya?”

“Exactly, miss.”

When she showed she knew, Yevgeny’s face brightened and he continued in a calm tone.

“I’ll have someone buy you a few sets of clothes. You can’t keep wearing the same thing over and over.”

“Ah.”

Rochelle looked away from him and checked herself. The robe she’d changed into on the first day had come slightly open, revealing a glimpse of her pale skin. Or rather, the valley between her two mounds was rather blatantly exposed.