Unaware of Carlo’s betrayal, Laila headed to the training grounds. She needed to move—needed to exhaust herself—just to silence the images of Carlo and Roselina that kept invading her mind.

‘He’ll be back soon. Just until then, I’ll keep training.’

But that night, her hands were covered only in fresh cuts and blood.

***

Meanwhile, Carlo was seated with Roselina in the duke’s garden, sharing a quiet, secret moment beneath the moonlight. He had tried to take his leave, but Roselina had refused to let him go.

“My lady, are you feeling any better now?”

At his gentle, honeyed tone, Roselina smiled faintly and nodded.

“I’m relieved, seeing you in such distress earlier… it truly pained me.”

“I must have lost control for a moment out of anger. But you—Lord Carlo—you protected me.”

She was determined to hold on to him, no matter what it took. When she had thrown herself at him and begun to undo her dress, it had been Carlo who stopped her.

“It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to restrain myself from, but for your honor, my lady, it had to be done.”

Roselina remembered that moment—how he had calmed her, insisting she would regret it later. Back then, she had only felt the sting of disappointment at his retreating touch, but now she had to admit she’d lost her senses.

‘I must have gone mad… Servants were nearby, and it was broad daylight.’

Still, she trusted in Carlo’s love. He had chosen her dignity over his own desire—though his eyes had betrayed just how much he’d wanted her.

“You didn’t… restrain yourself because I wasn’t attractive, did you?”

The question was deliberate. She wanted to provoke him—to erase the image of that red mark on Laila’s neck that haunted her still. Even if that mark hadn’t been Carlo’s doing, seeing the flicker of hunger in his eyes would be satisfaction enough.

“What… did you just say?”

His tone shifted, low and sharp, and a strange thrill coursed through her. She didn’t realize that the look in his eyes—the perfect mix of desire and control—was all part of his act, every move calculated.

“I was barely holding myself back.”

“Lord Carlo…”

Running a hand roughly through his hair, Carlo stepped closer until his breath brushed her ear.

“Are you really saying I can do whatever I want?”

“…!”

Roselina became more and more excited by Carlo’s ragged breathing and hoarse voice.

Such a petty provocation caused Carlo to scoff inwardly, yet he never took his hands off her — just as he hadn’t with Laila the previous night.

“Say it. Tell me I can do as I please.”

“Mmm…”

Roselina moaned, as if in answer. His hot hand moved insistently down her waist and, the closer his long, straight fingers moved towards her chest, the more her body flinched and her breathing became uneven.

The overpowering scent of her perfume made his head throb, but Carlo pressed his lips deeper against the curve of her neck.

“Hhh…”

With Roselina perched on his lap, Carlo nibbled her ear. The heat of his body pressed tightly against hers made her twist and writhe; yet she wound her arms around his neck.

Her body was begging for more, and in response, Carlo gripped her waist firmly.

“Ha… Don’t tease me, even in jest, my lady. You’ll regret it if you do.”

“Ahh—!”

From such close quarters, Carlo’s smoldering gaze was devastatingly seductive.

His crimson eyes burned with desire as he scanned Roselina hungrily, biting his lip. He wrapped her in his long cloak, slipped his hand beneath it, and seized her br*ast.

“Lord Carlo!”

Roselina called out, startled, but his touch only grew more insistent. Although her ears flushed red, she did not push away the rude man’s hand. On the contrary, she pressed her palm over his, urging him on.

What a vicious taste she has, Carlo thought, lowering his lips to her ear.

“Mmm… ah!”

“Shh. The servants will hear.”

His voice was gentle, but his hands were merciless, leaving Roselina breathless. Her flushed face buried itself against his solid shoulder as her body trembled. Then she whispered to him:

“Tell me you love me.”

“….”

Carlo’s crimson eyes cooled instantly. Love?

Laila came to mind: warm, tender Laila, the only person who had ever made him feel truly alive and happy. But he had gone too far to harbor such feelings now.

Despite being consumed by guilt for betraying her, Carlo clung to his beliefs.

‘Laila will understand.’

That was what Carlo kept telling himself. She would still be there—waiting for him, steadfast as ever. When his revenge was finally over, he would return to her, and everything would fall back into place.

Yes, it had to.

After all, the betrayal of his father had taught him one truth: love could not be trusted. Love was fleeting, a passing emotion that never lasted. That was what he’d always believed.

And yet, even within that cynicism, one contradiction remained—’Laila won’t change. Laila will always be there, no matter what I do.’

It was Carlo’s arrogance—his fatal misjudgment—to think that her pure, unwavering love could endure anything. He had no idea she was already breaking under the weight of it.

***

A few days later, Theodor, the Crown Prince of Adelina, arrived at the Cerclezian Imperial Palace.

He was received by Princess Lenoa in person.

“Welcome to the Empire of Cerclezia. It feels different seeing you here again.”

Lenoa said, her smile regal and composed.

Her silver hair shimmered in the light as she spoke; every one of her movements exuded grace and dignity.

Opposite her stood Crown Prince Theodor, whose face was so striking that it seemed to have been painted by hand. His fair skin, sharp nose, elegant eyebrows and luminous golden eyes gave him an almost ethereal beauty.

“Thank you for your kind welcome, Your Highness.”

In contrast to the gentle warmth of Lenoa’s greeting, Theodor’s response was stiff and formal to the point of coldness. There was no trace of affection in his tone; nothing suggested tenderness towards his fiancée.

Lenoa, however, seemed unsurprised. With her usual composure, she instructed her chamberlain to escort the prince to his quarters. Then, just as Theodor turned to leave, she stopped him.

“I know you must be tired from your long journey, but have dinner with me tonight. We are, after all, soon to be married.”

“…As you wish.”

Their exchange was perfectly polite, perfectly distant. Afterward, they went their separate ways.

Yet even that brief encounter—chilled by the winter wind—was enough to stir gossip throughout the palace and the capital.

“The famed couple of the century despise each other. Their wedding next year might not even happen.”

That night, Theodor made his way to the princess’s palace for the arranged dinner with Lenoa.

“Haah…”

He let out a quiet sigh. To him, this engagement, born of political maneuvering between empires, felt meaningless. He had only obeyed out of duty to his father’s generation, not desire. How could two people who had lived in such different worlds suddenly be expected to become husband and wife? He neither knew nor wished to know the woman named Lenoa.

“Open the door.”

He ordered upon reaching the banquet hall.

The attendants bowed and stepped aside, letting him enter and there she was, Princess Lenoa, standing beneath the soft light in a gown of pale rose silk that shimmered with every breath she took.

“Ah, Your Highness the Crown Prince.”

“I seem to be late. My apologies.”

“No, you’re right on time.”

At Lenoa’s subtle gesture, her attendants began serving the meal. Soft music filled the air and candles cast a gentle glow as golden light danced across the ornate walls of the grand hall. Everything was set to perfection, yet both of them wore the same calm, unreadable expressions.

“Once the preparations are finished, leave us, and make sure no one comes near the dining hall.”

Her words included not only the servants but also the guards posted nearby for her safety.

“But, Your Highness, for the security of both your guests—”

“I said I wish to spend some quiet time alone with my fiancé, the Crown Prince.”

Lenoa interrupted smoothly, her smile elegant but her tone absolute.

“Do not worry about my safety. If anything dangerous were to happen—though I doubt it—His Highness would save me with his magic.”

Theodor was renowned for his magical abilities. The Adelina royal family’s power stemmed from their unique bloodline. Only those born of imperial blood could wield true magic, and it was this power that made their dynasty both feared and revered.

And Theodor’s magic was fire, a force so potent that enemies across nations trembled at the mere mention of his name.

“Then leave us.”

Lenoa commanded firmly.

Her attendants bowed deeply before quietly exiting the hall. The heavy doors closed behind them with a muted thud, leaving only the faint flicker of candlelight between her and Theodore.

Silence settled over the room.

“Was there a reason you dismissed everyone, Your Highness?”

Theodor asked first, his tone polite but edged with curiosity.

“To truly understand one another, we need no listening ears around us.”

“…”

Her serene smile never wavered as she folded her hands neatly in her lap and sat down with effortless grace.

As she swept her golden curls over one shoulder, the light shimmered through them like threads of sunlight. Words such as ‘beautiful’ or ‘elegant’ seemed far too inadequate to describe her.

A quiet strength shone in her eyes, and every movement she made was imbued with refined dignity. Hidden beneath her bright, confident smile was an unmistakable determination.