When the banquet ended, Theodore returned swiftly to his private guest quarters.
Inside, someone was already waiting—his shadow knight.

“Your Highness,” the knight greeted, stepping out from the dimly lit corner.

He was, as the title implied, Theodore’s secret sword—one who lived unseen, carrying out covert and dangerous missions in silence.

“Did you find it?”

Theodore’s voice was low but firm.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The knight reached into his cloak and handed over a bundle of documents.

“I retrieved these while Lord Carlo Siren was speaking with Duke Crussian. I slipped into the duke’s office without being detected.”

Earlier that day, Carlo had attended the banquet as Roselina’s partner. When he’d visited the duke’s estate beforehand, Theodore had discreetly sent his shadow knight along as a servant.
Thanks to that, the knight had been able to move freely and uncover what others could not.

“…!!”

As Theodore read through the papers, disgust twisted his features.

The Duke of Crussian—one of the empire’s most respected nobles—was revealed for what he truly was: a key player in the empire’s underworld.
He controlled trade networks dealing in sl*ves, narcotics, and even poisons.

Theodore’s hand tightened around the documents, but then something in the pages caught his eye.

There was… something strange about one of the contracts.

The name written on the contract wasn’t Duke Crussian’s.
It belonged to someone Theodore had never heard of before—

“Crook Zegner.”

“As you can see, Your Highness,” the shadow knight said, “the registered owner of the market is Crook Zegner.”

Theodore’s jaw tightened. “The duke must have placed another man as the front. He’s cautious—he’d want someone expendable to take the fall if things go wrong.”

The documents rustled softly in his hand, but his mind was no longer in the present.
Memories he had buried deep began clawing their way back to the surface—
the day his mother, the Crown Princess, had been disgraced and cast out.

It was a wound that had never healed.

He could still hear the shouts echoing through the throne hall.

—“The Crown Princess has been secretly distributing a lethal poison throughout the empire! A single drop could k*ll a man instantly, Your Majesty!”

It had been Marquis Valency, Empress Scarlet’s father, who leveled the accusation.

—“Watch your tongue, Marquis!” his father, then still Crown Prince, had roared. “Have you any proof that my wife was involved in such a thing?”

But the marquis had come prepared—too prepared.

—“Indeed, we do, Your Highness. In the seized ledgers of the poison market, we found the Crown Princess’s signature. The man overseeing distribution testified that he was acting under her orders—and even her own lady-in-waiting confessed as much.”

—“My wife’s… lady-in-waiting…?!”

—“Yes, Your Highness. And the poison itself was discovered inside the Crown Princess’s residence. What further proof could one need?”

That day, the truth had been buried under fabricated evidence and political deceit.
And Theodore’s mother had lost everything.

Now, staring at Crook Zegner’s name, Theodore felt the same cold fury rising in his chest—the unmistakable scent of Scarlet’s corruption, still poisoning everything it touched.

Every piece of evidence had pointed to Theodore’s mother as the culprit.

At the time, Marquis Valency’s influence was absolute.
No faction dared defend the Crown Princess, and with no power backing her, she was swiftly branded a criminal.

Worse yet, the former emperor—Theodore’s grandfather—had long disapproved of his son’s marriage to a fallen noblewoman’s daughter.
So when Valency presented his accusations, the emperor seized upon them as an excuse to end the marriage he’d always despised.

It was the perfect opportunity to rid himself of an unwanted daughter-in-law.

And so, within just three months, the Crown Princess was executed as a criminal, and Scarlet Valency, the marquis’s own daughter, became the new Crown Princess.

His mother’s sudden death.
His father’s despair as he lost the woman he loved.
The new Crown Princess—who looked upon Theodore with cold, disapproving eyes.

Everything had changed in an instant.

That day, Theodore swore revenge.

Now, holding the documents the shadow knight had risked his life to retrieve, he felt that vow stirring again—like an old wound reopening.

“I found something unusual while investigating the duke, Your Highness,” said the shadow knight.

Theodore’s eyes narrowed. “Unusual?”

The knight handed over another document. Its contents made Theodore’s expression harden, then shift into thought.

He slipped the paper carefully inside his coat and murmured, almost to himself,

“Perhaps… the bond between Empress Scarlet and Duke Crussian isn’t as solid as I thought.”

His heart, so long frozen in bitterness, began to pound—steady and fierce.

For the first time in years, revenge felt close enough to touch.

***

Carlo was finally taking a rare day of rest at his estate.

He had been constantly on the move lately, so his sudden seclusion quickly stirred gossip.
Rumors spread that his relationship with Roselina had fallen apart—rumors, of course, that he himself had started.

“My lord, Lady Roselina has sent someone again,” his attendant reported.

Carlo, lounging in the garden, let out a cold, amused smile.

Since the day after the banquet, Roselina had sent messengers every single day.
The once-proud noble lady had lost all semblance of dignity, reduced to a desperate woman clinging to a man who no longer cared to answer.

“She seemed quite urgent… and rather pitiful,” the attendant added carefully. “What shall we do?”

“Send them back,” Carlo said flatly.

“Yes, my lord.”

When the attendant departed, Carlo chuckled under his breath, remembering the scene from that night.

—“My lord! P-please, wait!!”

Roselina had grabbed at him in desperation as he turned to leave, but he had shaken off her hand without hesitation.

—“I don’t wish to see you again,” he had said quietly. “Loving you has been painful enough… Don’t make it harder for me than it already is.”

Her pleading face, streaked with tears, had been pitiful—yet to Carlo, it was nothing more than the final act of a play he had long since planned.

Carlo had left Roselina behind without the slightest trace of hesitation.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned.

He intended to let her stew in desperation a little longer—to make her chase him, beg for him.
To him, a woman’s heart was something pitifully easy to manipulate.

As he sat in the garden, quietly mocking that very thought, Laira returned to the mansion.
She had just come from the imperial palace, preparing for her upcoming departure to the battlefield.

At the front gate, a man pacing nervously caught her attention.

“Another one from Lady Roselina?” she asked.

“Yes, Commander,” one of the knights replied.

The moment Laira approached, the messenger dropped to his knees.

“Commander, please—please deliver this letter to Lord Carlo Siren!”

Laira frowned slightly. Her mood had been good just moments ago.
Though the date of her deployment was drawing near, she’d felt lighthearted knowing that Carlo seemed to have kept his promise—to stop toying with Roselina.

After all, the fact that the lady was still sending people every day proved her desperation.

So Carlo really meant it.

The thought made Laira’s heart lift. She felt proud—almost relieved.

But seeing the man before her, kneeling and trembling, that pleasant feeling faded.
His eyes were full of fear, and his hands shook as he held out the letter.

“Did Lady Roselina tell you not to return until you’ve delivered it?” she asked quietly.

Laira asked just to be sure, and the man flinched, glancing up at her with frightened eyes.

“N-no, that’s not it, my lady…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but Laira could easily guess the rest.

She must have threatened to fire him—or worse, to destroy his family if he failed.

It had already been a week since Roselina had begun sending people to Carlo. For someone as proud and vain as her, this kind of relentless pleading could only mean her temper had reached its limit.

“…Give it here.”

Laira held out her hand.

She didn’t want to deliver the letter, but leaving the man to face Roselina’s wrath didn’t sit right with her.
Some might call her softhearted, but this wasn’t a trivial matter—if Roselina was angry enough, the man could be beaten, dismissed, or worse, his entire family could suffer for his failure.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Commander!” the man cried, bowing deeply.

“Tell the lady,” Laira said coolly, “that you gave her letter to the commander of the knights—not to Lord Carlo Siren himself.”

“Y-yes, Commander.”

“And if she takes offense and dismisses you,” Laira added, turning toward the gate, “come find me.”

The messenger blinked in astonishment at her unexpected kindness, but Laira didn’t look back. She simply walked through the gates and disappeared inside the estate.

She had no intention of giving the letter to Carlo—but she couldn’t just stand by and watch someone be punished unfairly.

Besides, the letter had technically been delivered.
That was enough.

“Where is the young master?”
“In the garden, my lady.”

Without hesitation, Laira went straight to him.
She wanted to see Carlo—the man who had kept his promise, the man who had chosen her.

“Carlo.”

“Oh—Laira. You’re back.”

He was sitting leisurely in the garden when she ran up to him and threw her arms around him without warning.

“Laira? What’s wrong?”

Carlo froze, startled by the sudden embrace.

“Did something happen?” he asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

That tender tone made Laira’s chest tighten with warmth. Her eyes prickled as tears threatened to spill.

“Laira,” he said softly, trying to pull back enough to see her face. “Look at me. What’s going on?”

But instead of letting go, Laira only held him tighter, burying her face against him.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I just… really like you.”

“…”

“I love you, Carlo.”

In truth, Laira wanted to say thank you. Thank you for making it so she no longer had to see him smile at Roselina, and for letting her have him entirely. Even though the promise had been wrested from him as if she’d sold her soul, she was grateful. As always, the one who loves more is the one who loses.

“I love you too, Laira.”

When Carlo spoke those words, Laira nodded confidently. The certainty that she could finally trust him swelled her heart.

“Laira, how was the palace schedule? With the deployment only a few days away, it must be hectic, right?” Carlo asked, gently sweeping her golden hair back.

“Yeah. Everyone’s busy preparing.”

“And you?”

“Hm?”

“How are you feeling?”

He wasn’t asking whether she was afraid of war—he meant, was she ready to go to a battlefield where people would be killed.

“Wouldn’t that be hard?”

Laira was the sort who would surely suffer afterward.
Hurting others—even in battle—would weigh on her until she could hardly breathe.

Just earlier, when that trembling messenger had come with Roselina’s letter, she had even told him to come find her if he were fired.
She already knew how the lady would react once she learned the letter had gone through Laira instead of Carlo; she worried for the man’s safety before her own.

That was Laira—gentle, compassionate, incapable of turning away from someone in pain.
If such a person were forced to k*ll… it might destroy her completely.

And yet Carlo said nothing to stop her.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but resolute. “Really, I’m fine.”

Because you chose me.
Because once the war ends, we can finally be happy.

Holding him close, Laira shut her eyes—
ignoring the fear, the guilt, and the faint ache in her heart that warned her otherwise.