Theodore’s calm gaze turned toward his aide. Having worked with him for so long, the man had grown skilled enough to read his master’s thoughts without a word being spoken.

So Theodore didn’t bother to answer. If his aide could read his mind, then he should already know the answer.

For now, I’ll have to keep up appearances.

That was the only way to exact revenge on Empress Scarlet.

But after that? Once his vengeance was complete—would he have to call off the engagement?
Did he even want to?

At the thought of breaking off the engagement, Theodore’s brow furrowed slightly. The word itself felt unpleasant. It grated on him—he couldn’t explain why, but it did.

He didn’t know where that irritation came from, yet he pushed it aside. There were far too many things to take care of right now.

“Let’s go over there.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”

Leaving the bustling streets behind, Theodore stepped into a quiet alleyway. It was fairly wide, so it didn’t feel gloomy, but the absence of people lent it an eerie stillness.

Then, from somewhere nearby—

Whoosh, swish!

…A sword?

It was unmistakably the sound of a sword being swung.

Fearing something might have gone wrong, Theodore quickened his pace—and soon spotted a woman standing before a weapons shop, a sword in her hand.

It was Laira.

Her golden hair was tied high, gleaming in the sunlight as she handled the longsword with practiced ease. Every motion was sharp and clean, her blade cutting through the air in perfect arcs.

“Wow… you can barely see the blade move,” someone nearby whispered in awe.

Their admiration was well-earned. She was merely testing the sword’s balance, yet her skill was evident at a glance—one strike from her at full strength could easily be fatal.

But Theodore’s eyes weren’t on the sword.

They were fixed on her face.

Ra… Railea?

The woman looked so much like his younger sister—his precious Lealea, who had died six years ago.

For a moment, Theodore forgot how to breathe. He stood frozen, as if time itself had stopped.

Then, as Laira turned mid-swing, their eyes met head-on.

“Lea…”

The name slipped from Theodore’s lips in a daze.

Before he realized it, he was already moving toward her—reaching out, as though he were seeing his little sister again after all those years.

“Stop right there!”

But the moment Laira’s sword reached his throat, Theodore was forced to stop.

The blade’s edge gleamed dangerously close to his skin, yet he showed no sign of fear.
No—perhaps he was too stunned to even feel the steel brushing against his neck.

“Put down your sword! Do you have any idea who you’re pointing that at?”

His aide, Dustin, came running, drawing his own weapon as he shouted at her.

To raise a blade against the Crown Prince of the Adelina Empire—it was unthinkable. The air tightened, tension coiling like a drawn bowstring.

Then, it was Theodore who broke the silence first.

“Dustin. Lower your sword.”
“Your Highness!”
“Now.”

His calm, steady voice made not only Dustin, but even Laira, falter in surprise.

Your Highness? Did he just call him that?

Laira’s mind raced.
The only ones addressed as Your Highness were either the Crown Prince or a Grand Duke.

But… I’ve never seen this man before.

She knew the faces of both the Crown Prince and the Grand Duke of Cerclezia—and this stranger was neither of them.

For a brief moment, confusion clouded her expression. Then—

“The Crown Prince of the Adelina Empire has come to see Princess Renoa.”

Roselina’s jealous voice echoed in Laira’s memory.

Ah!

Realization struck her, and she swiftly lowered her sword. Then, dropping to one knee, she offered a knight’s formal salute.

“My deepest apologies. I failed to recognize Your Highness and have committed grave discourtesy.”

Theodore watched her every movement—precise, disciplined, and perfectly controlled.
Everything about her reminded him of Lealea.
No, in his eyes, she wasn’t merely similar.
She looked exactly like his sister—grown up, standing before him, alive.

Lea… my sister.

A wave of emotion washed over him, dragging him back to the past.
If only his little sister—who used to run to him with that radiant smile—had not died so suddenly… perhaps she would look just like this woman before him now.

“Haah…”

He lowered his head and exhaled a trembling breath. Tears welled in his eyes, and he shut them tightly, struggling to hold back the surge of grief.

When he finally managed to speak, his voice was hoarse.

“Are you… from Cerclezia?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Your family—do they live here as well?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”

Of course…

The flicker of hope in Theodore’s chest went cold.
He had known all along that his sister was dead, and yet—beneath his composure—grief and guilt had stirred together, whispering that maybe, somehow, Lealea had survived.

But she hadn’t. He knew that.

Still, seeing this woman before him had awoken that cruel, impossible hope.

Meanwhile, Laira was deeply unsettled.
The Crown Prince of Adelina was looking at her with eyes far too sorrowful, too tender for a stranger.

Why would he ask if I’m from here?

Had he taken offense because she had dared point a sword at him? Was this his way of setting up her punishment?

When he had suddenly stepped toward her earlier, eyes wide with shock, she had reacted instinctively—her sword moving before she even realized it.

If this gets blown out of proportion, it’ll be a problem…

No matter how she explained it, she was the one at fault.
He was the Crown Prince of Adelina, the fiancé of Princess Renoa—and any scandal involving him could easily reach Carlo, dragging him down with her.

I need to get out of here before this turns into trouble.

“Please forgive my insolence, Your Highness.”

“It’s fine,” Theodore replied quietly. “The mistake was mine.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. Then, if you’ll excuse me.”

With a courteous bow, Laira returned the sword to the weapons merchant and quickly slipped away—fearing the Crown Prince might change his mind and call her back.

By the time she disappeared down the alley, Theodore realized his mistake.

“I should’ve asked her name…”

He hadn’t even managed that much. Shock had rendered him thoughtless, and now the chance was gone.
Even knowing she wasn’t his late sister, he couldn’t get her face out of his mind.

“Do you happen to know that knight’s name?” he asked the shopkeeper, who was still holding the sword Laira had used.

“I’m afraid I don’t, Your Highness. She’s one of those quiet customers—comes and goes without a word.”

Her swordsmanship was remarkable, Theodore thought. His gaze fell to the blade in the merchant’s hands.

“I’ll take that sword.”

Perhaps it was because he’d been impressed by her skill—or maybe because, when she’d swung that sword, her faint smile had reminded him of Lealea’s.

Maybe it was foolish—born of guilt for the sister he’d failed to protect—but still, Theodore found comfort in the weight of the blade he now held. It felt strangely… right in his hand.

‘I miss you, Lealea.’

Theodore stood motionless, gazing down the alley where the mysterious woman had vanished.
Even after she was gone, his eyes lingered there—as though wishing alone might somehow bring her back.

He could only hope their paths would cross again.

***

“I was told you wished to see me, Your Grace.”
“Ah, come in, Lord Carlo.”

Carlo entered the parlor and greeted the Duke of Crussian with a courteous bow.

Just as Laira had advised, he had gone to meet the duke—but he hadn’t come to tell the truth.

Early that morning, he had received a letter from Roselina, urging him to visit. Once the duke learned that Carlo was at the estate, he sent for him at once.

“Is there something you wished to discuss, Your Grace?”

The duke’s expression was unreadable.
“I’ve heard that you’re acquainted with His Highness, Crown Prince Theodore of the Adelina Empire, correct?”

The question came out of nowhere, and the topic itself was a dangerous one.
Still, Carlo’s polite smile didn’t waver.

“We were acquainted when I was in Adelina, yes. But as Your Grace knows, it’s been nearly seven years since I left the empire.”

He made sure to emphasize that their relationship was distant—nothing of consequence.

After all, Duke Crussian was a man loyal to Empress Scarlet, Theodore’s political adversary.
Any friendship with the Crown Prince would be the last thing the duke wanted to hear.

“I see… Well, it’s just that—” The duke cleared his throat awkwardly.

For a man known for his cold precision in political matters, Duke Crussian looked surprisingly uncomfortable. Whatever troubled him, it was clearly of a personal nature.

“Is this about Lady Roselina, by any chance?” Carlo asked gently.

At that, the duke blinked in mild surprise before letting out a long sigh of relief, as if grateful to speak with someone who understood without explanation.
He had no idea that the man smiling before him was quietly sharpening the blade of revenge.

“That girl… she’s chasing a foolish dream. You must know what I mean.”

“Yes. It’s no secret that Lady Roselina has long harbored feelings for His Highness, Crown Prince Theodore.”

“Exactly. That’s what worries me.”

The duke’s lips tightened in clear frustration.
A young noblewoman pining after a man already betrothed to Princess Renoa—it was disgraceful enough to make his blood boil.

And worse, Empress Scarlet would hardly look kindly upon such behavior.
It was obvious the duke’s real concern was the political fallout.

“So, I’d like you to keep an eye on her,” he said at last.

It sounded less like a request to dissuade her and more like an order to watch her—to make sure she didn’t cause trouble again.

Roselina, after all, had already once created a scandal by spreading a false rumor:
that the Crown Prince hesitated to marry Princess Renoa because she was two years older than him.

“…You mean me, Your Grace?”

“Yes. With His Highness, the Crown Prince, visiting, who knows what that girl might try this time? There are already rumors that his engagement might fall apart.”

“That’s not a difficult request,” Carlo replied smoothly, then tilted his head with a faint, curious smile. “But I must admit, I am curious about something.”

He looked every bit the picture of polite innocence as he continued.

“Even if Lady Roselina made a mistake in the past, she’s not so young that she would repeat it. And as for the rumors of the engagement breaking—well, they might turn out to be true, might they not? If the engagement were to be called off, wouldn’t that be good news for her?”

At those words, Duke Crussian’s brow twitched.

“I’m sorry,” Carlo went on mildly, “but to me, Your Grace’s request sounds less like you want me to restrain her, and more like you want to prevent her from becoming the Crown Princess.”

The duke’s pupils wavered visibly, betraying his composure.

Sensing the shift, Carlo pressed harder, his tone still courteous but his words cutting with surgical precision.

“If Lady Roselina were to marry His Highness, she would become the Crown Princess of Adelina. Are you saying, then… that you would rather she didn’t?”

He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with quiet provocation—
tightening his grip on the duke’s composure until it began to crack.