Eight years ago, Carlo’s mother died in circumstances deemed unjust. To uncover the truth behind her death, Carlo would sell his soul.

As the young duke and heir to the Adelina Empire, he crossed the border into the Cerclezia Empire under the pretext of studying abroad. But studying was merely a means to an end. The real reason he had come all this way was to fuel the flames of vengeance burning inside him.

“Carlo…”

“Enough.”

Each time Carlo turned away from her with cold indifference, Laila felt another wound open in her heart.

Already torn to pieces, it continued to beat for him — yet she no longer knew how much longer it could endure.

Her lips parted helplessly before she lowered her head.

To claim that she understood his thirst for vengeance would be a lie, but to ask him to stop would only fuel his anger.

“I’m sorry.”

Holding back the tears threatening to spill, Laila gazed at his retreating figure. The saying was true — the one who loved more deeply was always the weaker one.

Behind his serene smile, Carlo concealed an inferno of vengeance. Alone, he willingly walked into hell.

To exact his revenge, Carlo had infiltrated high society, seducing noblewomen to obtain information. It was an effective method that earned him a reputation as the most charming libertine of all.

Yet no matter how sweetly he smiled at other women, Laila believed that she alone knew the real Carlo.

However, the more firmly he drew that line between them, the smaller she felt.

At this rate, she feared she would truly become invisible to him.

‘If you wanted, I’d gladly take your hand and walk into hell with you.’

“Could you go to the Crine Bakery early tomorrow morning?”

“Crine Bakery?”

Laila’s heart sank when she saw Carlo’s emotionless red eyes. What was he going to make her do this time? What words would he use to hurt her this time?

Whenever Laila crossed the line, Carlo always pushed her away in the cruelest way possible.

“Lady Roselina said she wanted the dessert they sell there. You know how popular it is among the nobles — if you don’t queue up early, you won’t get any.”

“…”

Just like now.

“So go there tomorrow morning. I’ll be visiting her in the afternoon.”

‘He’s sending me to buy dessert just to win over Lady Roselina…’

Roselina was the only daughter of Duke Crussian, whose family possessed the information most crucial to Carlo’s revenge—and the only young lady who had yet to succumb to his charms.

To seduce Roselina, Carlo had the heartless habit of using Laila—

From trivial favors like this to far more dreadful tasks.

‘He knows exactly how I will feel standing in that line.’

It was cruel. Knowing how she felt and still asking this of her—Carlo was truly cruel.

Laila lowered her gaze, and Carlo walked past her without so much as a backward glance.

“Ha…….”

Her chest ached so fiercely that she could barely breathe.

“Fine. I’ll do everything. If it is for your revenge, I’ll do all the dirty work—just as I always have.”

Please, do not give your heart to Lady Roselina.

Tears slipped from Laila’s blue eyes. In pursuit of Carlo’s revenge, she had moved like a shadow knight: quietly, swiftly and without leaving a trace. She investigated people’s backgrounds, followed them, threatened them and participated in kidnappings.

She had infiltrated slave markets and dismantled drug rings. Known as the Reincarnation of the Ancient Sword, she had the skill to complete every task without leaving a shred of evidence behind. Yet it was this very expertise that had bound her to brutal realities and condemned her to endless nightmares.

‘You always said no one else could do this but me.’

Still, she could never push Carlo away when he asked. He was the only person who had promised family to someone who had lost her memories.

“Even if you don’t remember, it’s okay. From now on I’ll be your family; I’ll be your memory.”

The first time she remembered seeing him was on the ship bound for Cerclezia.

She was lying in bed, her body covered in wounds, while he nursed her back to health. The only thing she could clearly remember now was him quietly telling her that her entire family had died in a terrible accident.

She had endured the loss of a family she couldn’t remember, the guilt of being the sole survivor and the helplessness of not knowing what to do next — all thanks to Carlo.

He had cared for her for no reason and guided her when she was lost.

“I’ll stay by your side. I’ll never leave you. So don’t force yourself to remember the past. As long as I have you, that’s enough.”

Carlo’s embrace was warm. It was reminiscent of the embrace of a mother she could not remember, and his hold was as strong and steady as a father’s. In every sense of the word, he was her family.

Since losing her memories, Laila had accepted everything he said as though it were engraved upon her soul. If he said something was fine, then it was. If he said something was good, she believed it was.

How could she not love the man who had protected her, saved her and given her a reason to live when she was utterly alone in the world?

He was the one who had given meaning to a life with no past or beginning.

Perhaps that was why she clung to him so desperately and tried so hard to help him.

If she lost Carlo, too, she would have nothing left.

If he abandoned her, she would be alone once more, drifting helplessly like dust on the wind.

He was the only person she had.

He was the reason she took up a sword, the reason she dyed her hair, the reason she risked her life, and the reason she made no effort to recover her past.

Everything began and ended with Carlo.

‘I’ll do everything for you from now on. So… just stay by my side.’

To the man who was her everything—her one and only—it was a confession that would never reach him, and a desperate plea.

***

With a crash!, one of the ornaments in Carlo’s room shattered to pieces.

“Fuuh… d*mn it.”

Carlo gripped his long, flowing hair as though he might tear it out, but his gaze never left the window. Even as he exhaled in a fit of rage, he was searching for someone.

“Do you really like Lady Roselina?”

No, it was all about revenge.

He pretended to be a womanizer, even though that was not who he was. He endured the cloying stench of the perfume worn by the noblewomen he embraced. Every last bit of it was for that damned revenge.

Manipulating infatuated women to obtain valuable information and advance his plans was almost painfully easy. He offered them his hand, his embrace and his warmth, twisting their hearts until they were bent to his will. Once he had taken everything he needed, he never looked back.

For six long years, he lived as a man with no future — a scoundrel who toyed with women’s hearts.

Six years of disgust, despising both himself and the life he had chosen.

Who could have imagined that the once kind and brilliant heir to a ducal house would become such a man?

How had the perfect life he once knew fallen apart so completely?

It all began when his father brought his mistress home.

The man who had always been meticulous and level-headed changed overnight when Carlo was eleven.

“Duke, I really get to live here from now on? I’m so happy!”

The memory of that young, beautiful lady running into his father’s arms with a playful smile still filled him with shock and revulsion.

“My name’s Sophia! Please take good care of me!”

It was only later that Carlo realized the young woman with the charming smile was his father’s mistress.

At first, Carlo refused to believe it. He could not accept that the man holding the woman in his arms and smiling could be his father. Yet the truth remained mercilessly cold.

“Ha…! Duke!”

While lewd sounds filled his father’s room, pitiful sobs echoed from his mother’s.

Over time, hatred consumed Carlo’s heart. He was consumed by rage towards his father for betraying his mother and abandoning the family for a mistress.

Then, one day, an unforeseen calamity struck.

“Poison—there is poison!”

Poison was found in Mistress Sophia’s tea, and naturally, Carlo’s mother became the prime suspect. Bottles of poison were found in the Duchess’s chambers, and she was caught meeting the man who had allegedly supplied them.

Society was stunned. Although people murmured that the gentle and dignified duchess could never have committed such a crime, the witnesses and all the evidence pointed to her guilt.

“Mo—Mother…!”

“Carlo… come, hold your mother’s hand.”

Carlo could not bear to see his mother being degraded and imprisoned. An indescribable fury boiled within him. His mother’s cold, lifeless hand trembled pitifully beyond the prison bars, but he could not see it in his rage.

“I will never forgive this! I will prove my mother’s innocence and expel Sophia from the ducal house!”

He believed that if he could just drive Sophia away, everything would return to how it once was: happy, peaceful, and whole.

But he had been too young and naïve then.

“Carlo. Please… hold your mother’s hand, just once. I want to see your face properly, one last time.”

Carlo wiped away his tears and stepped closer to the bars, his mother reaching out a trembling hand to him. Their fingertips were about to touch when his father stormed in with the knights.

Before he could react, they seized him and dragged him away.

“Carlo…! Carlo!”

His mother’s desperate cries echoed behind him as he kicked and struggled in vain.

All she had wanted was to see her beloved son’s face and hold his hand one last time, but he was unable to grant her even that.

He had not known that this would be his final farewell to her.