Carlo’s eyes, once calm, turned razor-sharp in an instant.

Theodore’s words could mean many things—
his revenge, Laira’s existence, Duke Crussian, or Empress Scarlet.

“I’ve heard you sent a brilliant knight to the frontlines in order to curry favor with Duke Crussian.”

“That matter has nothing to do with Your Highness.”

Carlo’s voice came out harsher than intended. For a moment, fear gripped him—had Theodore somehow discovered Laira’s secret?

But Theodore stepped closer, his tone heavy and deliberate.

“How can it have nothing to do with me, when it concerns Empress Scarlet?”

Ah. So he hasn’t found out yet.

Carlo’s shoulders eased slightly as he exhaled inwardly. At least now he understood why Theodore had sought him out.
He decided to let the prince speak—to see just how much he knew.

“My mother and yours,” Theodore said quietly, eyes burning with restrained rage. “Their deaths were both her doing—Empress Scarlet’s.”

The two men, bound by shared grief, sought only one thing—

the truth.

“And Lealea…”

Theodore’s voice faltered, her name catching painfully in his throat.

“The one who killed Lealea was Empress Scarlet. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know it well.”

“Then tell me everything you’ve learned. I’ll help you.”

For a brief moment, Carlo hesitated.
Joining forces with Theodore would give him a powerful ally—someone just as determined to bring down Scarlet.
It should have been the obvious choice.

But if Theodore were to discover Laira’s existence…
then Carlo would lose her forever.

“The fact that you sent your prized knight to join Duke Crussian’s forces tells me he knows something,” Theodore pressed, his tone icy. “Don’t think of deceiving me.”

Perhaps mistaking Carlo’s silence for reluctance, the Crown Prince’s warning cut sharp and cold.

Carlo clenched his jaw. Hearing Laira’s name spoken so often from Theodore’s lips made his skin crawl, yet he forced himself to answer calmly.

“Understood, Your Highness. I’ll join hands with you.”

“Wise decision.”

“But this must be done quietly,” Carlo added, his tone firm. “No one can suspect. Do not come to my estate, and do not have me investigated.”

“…”

Theodore said nothing, but his expression softened in grudging agreement.

There was only a week left before Laira would march to war.
And soon after that, Theodore would return to the Adelina Empire—
leaving behind an uneasy alliance built on lies, grief, and a secret Carlo could never let him uncover.

Then there’s no reason not to join hands with him.

With that conclusion, Carlo shared the information he had gathered over the years, and together he and Theodore began drafting their next move.

***

That night, darkness blanketed the Cerclezia imperial palace, while the grand hall of Theodore’s welcoming banquet shone brilliantly beneath crystal chandeliers.

“You seem nervous, my lady,” Carlo remarked lightly.

He attended the banquet as Roselina’s partner. In his perfectly tailored suit, his broad shoulders and sleekly combed black hair drew admiring glances from all around the room. He looked every bit the image of a man who belonged under the brightest lights.

Roselina should have been radiant too—seated at the side of a man every noblewoman envied. Yet her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I suppose I’m just nervous to be attending with you, my lord,” she said sweetly.

A lie.

A beautiful, transparent lie.

Her lips smiled, but her gaze was restless—darting toward the entrance, waiting for Theodore to appear.

So, even as she holds onto me, she’s still waiting for the Crown Prince.

Clinging to two desires at once was foolish.
And in that sense, Carlo thought grimly, she and I are not so different.

Once she realizes the Crown Prince has no interest in her, she’ll turn to me completely.

That was Carlo’s plan—and when the moment came, he intended to play the part of the wounded, devoted man. A little risk was necessary if he wanted to capture Roselina’s heart for good.

“I’m honored to be your partner tonight, my lady,” he said softly. “Please… look only at me this evening.”

The tender tone drew a chorus of sighs from the noble ladies eavesdropping nearby.
Roselina blushed and nodded shyly, though her eyes kept drifting elsewhere.

And then—he appeared.

Theodore, the Crown Prince, entered the hall with Princess Renoa at his side, her hand delicately resting in his.

He looked more striking than ever, the picture of regal composure and charm.
At the sight, desire flickered openly in Roselina’s gaze, sharper and greedier than before.

“I’d heard rumors that their engagement was about to be called off,” Carlo murmured, watching her expression shift. “But it seems those rumors were false.”

Her face tightened—frustration, jealousy, and humiliation warring behind the fragile smile she tried to maintain.

So she really is just waiting for them to break up, Carlo thought, lips curling faintly.

“It’s been a long time since His Highness smiled like that,” he said idly.

“What do you mean by that?” Roselina asked quickly, her voice taut with interest.

Carlo almost laughed. She was far too easy.

“His Highness rarely gives his heart,” he said, tone mild but deliberate. “But when he does, that is the smile he shows to the one who has it.”

“…!”

Roselina’s hand trembled, her eyes blazing with fury. Watching her unravel, Carlo smirked inwardly.

Perfect. Just a little longer, and she’ll walk straight into the trap herself.

Across the grand ballroom, Theodore now held Renoa’s hand as they danced—graceful, elegant, and unmistakably affectionate.
Their laughter seemed to fill the entire hall, their gazes fixed on each other as if no one else existed.

“Look at them,” Carlo murmured. “His Highness is smiling. Their wedding must be close at hand.”

That was the final spark. Unable to bear it any longer, Roselina abruptly turned and left the ballroom, her skirts swirling behind her.

“Hah. How shameless,” Carlo muttered under his breath, his voice laced with derision.

She was desperate to hold onto him—ready to do anything to claim the Crown Prince’s heart, even if it meant humiliating herself.

He took a sip of wine, hiding a cold smile behind the rim of his glass.

The rest of the banquet proceeded smoothly, filled with polite laughter and empty toasts. Then, as planned, Theodore excused himself, claiming fatigue, and slipped quietly into the garden.

It was all part of the trap he and Carlo had devised.

In the dim, secluded garden, Theodore waited—knowing full well who would follow.

A soft rustle broke the silence, and a familiar voice called out timidly.

“Your Highness.”

Theodore turned slowly, as if expecting her all along.

“And you are?”

He hadn’t truly believed it—but Roselina had come.

Her eyes burned with desire, and Theodore had to fight the urge to recoil. Instead, he forced a polite smile, one that made her cheeks flush.

“Do you not remember me, Your Highness?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh, forgive me,” Theodore replied, voice smooth and courteous. “It’s been so long since I last visited that I’m still unfamiliar with many of the nobles’ names.”

His civility only made her more impatient. The man before her seemed flawless—distant, composed, and untouchable. And that only made her want him more.

“I once accompanied my father, Duke Crussian, on a visit to the Adelina Empire. That was when I had the honor of meeting you.”

At the mention of the duke, Theodore’s faint smile vanished. His eyes turned cold—sharpened with understanding.

“Ah. The Duke’s daughter,” he said flatly.

“Yes, Your Highness. I came because there’s something I must tell you.”

Even under his icy gaze, Roselina didn’t falter. On the contrary, she stepped closer, desperation lacing her voice.

“And what might that be?”

“I know your engagement to Princess Renoa isn’t truly your will,” she said quickly. “So please—give me a chance.”

“A chance?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’ve loved you for a long time. Sincerely.”

Theodore exhaled, a quiet, humorless laugh escaping his lips.

“…How absurd.”

The mask had fallen.

Theodore’s true presence—commanding, suffocating—pressed down on Roselina until she had to swallow hard just to breathe.
It felt as though she were standing defenseless before a furious predator.

“So, you’re the one who said I couldn’t marry because I’m two years younger,” he said, voice low and edged like a blade. “That I’d end up being cast aside.”

Her body stiffened.
Roselina hadn’t imagined he would know—let alone bring it up here.
The romantic moment she’d fantasized about shattered instantly, replaced by a chilling tension that made her skin crawl.

“A mere lady like you,” Theodore continued, eyes narrowing, “dares to speak ill of the woman who will be my bride?”

“…!!”

“I was going to warn you anyway,” he went on, his voice icy. “If you ever insult her again, I won’t let it pass. And I’d advise you to give up on that delusion of becoming my consort. I don’t like hearing filth like that directed at my fiancée.”

Filth.

The word hit her like a slap.
His tone, his gaze—everything about him made her feel as if she were nothing more than garbage beneath his feet.

Tears of rage welled up in Roselina’s eyes.
After years of hopeless longing, this was how it ended—so bitterly, so humiliatingly that she could barely stand it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

With those curt words, Theodore turned and walked away, not sparing her a single glance.

Roselina stood frozen, too stunned to move, trapped in the wreckage of her pride.

Just when she thought things could not possibly get any worse—

“My lady…”

A familiar voice called softly behind her.

Carlo appeared—his expression heavy with hurt. In his eyes flickered a mix of disappointment, resentment, and resignation.

He glanced toward the path where Theodore had just disappeared, then let out a weary sigh, his eyes closing briefly as if to compose himself.

No… don’t.

Roselina’s heart lurched. She knew, instinctively, what he was about to say. He’d seen her plead for Theodore’s affection—and now, he meant to end things between them.

“So,” Carlo said quietly, his voice steady but cold, “you’ve chosen His Highness after all.”

“M-my lord, please—!”

Roselina stepped toward him, but he evaded her grasp.

It was the worst possible moment. The thought of losing Carlo too filled her with a genuine, suffocating fear.

She reached for him again, but he took another step back, shaking his head—wordlessly telling her not to come closer.

“I kept believing,” he said, voice trembling faintly, “that if I loved you long enough, your heart would one day turn toward me.”

“That’s not it, my lord. You’ve misunderstood—”

“Please,” he cut in, pain flashing in his eyes, “don’t mock me with lies. Not now. Not at the end.”

The end.

The weight of that word struck her like a blow.

“I won’t do this anymore,” he said softly. “I won’t love you. I won’t keep looking at you from afar.”

A single tear traced down Carlo’s cheek as he turned away.

And without another word, he left Roselina standing there—alone, with nothing but the hollow echo of what she’d lost.

It truly was — the perfect ending to his plan.

Every step had fallen exactly where Carlo intended: Theodore’s anger, Roselina’s humiliation, her desperate loss, and finally the clean break that freed him from her.

Cold as it was, it tied off every loose thread neatly.
An ending cruel enough to satisfy his revenge…
and yet, somewhere deep inside, it still left a faint, bitter aftertaste.