“Do you know how much I paid for that tobacco plantation when I first bought it?”

“This is yours too?”

Stunned, William stared at the cigar that was now bringing in immense profit.

Hendrick shrugged.

Again, an answer in itself.

“I don’t remember the exact amount anymore. But what matters is this—now, even if you offered a hundred times that price, you wouldn’t be able to buy even half that land.”

William let out a low laugh.

“You’re a terrifying bastard.”

But beneath the muttered insult was unmistakable admiration.

In other words—raise Evelyn’s worth a hundredfold, a thousandfold.

And that was entirely up to him.

“In truth, the order of things doesn’t matter that much. What matters is the result. Isn’t that right?”

Hendrick had said the same thing when William found himself caught up in a ruthless struggle with his brother for the throne.

Ultimately, only the outcome mattered.

Once he had decided to rescue William, Hendrick acted without hesitation.

First, he arranged a marriage between the crown prince and the daughter of a powerful family who had openly declared their support for William. In exchange for accepting the match, the crown prince took a key trade hub that had originally belonged to William as a dowry.

The prince knew exactly what it meant to surrender that land, yet he did not hesitate.

There was no other way to demonstrate the strength of his commitment.

On the surface, it appeared to be a losing bargain.

But William was satisfied.

After all, it had saved his life.

However, not long afterwards, that very trade hub lost all its value.

A newly developed port in a much larger region had rendered it obsolete.

Both the crown prince and William himself suspected that Hendrick was the true force behind the land.

However, the truth was never uncovered.

“As if you wouldn’t.”

The kingdom and the empire worshipped the same god.

If the King of Huntingford openly supported Hendrick’s ascension to the imperial throne, the Holy See could not easily ignore it.

So, as Hendrick said, whether the prince benefited after he became crown prince, or Hendrick became crown prince because of William—there was little real difference.

It sounded simple.

But for William, it was a decision that demanded careful thought.

If he returned to his homeland, persuaded his father, and influenced the Holy See—and in that time Hendrick secured his position in the empire, then all would be well.

But if the opposite happened?

William shook his head, unwilling to even imagine it.

If the Duke of Schutzman ascended the throne—he might declare war on Huntingford, using the kingdom’s lack of support as justification.

How strong was Huntingford’s military?

Even including the royal guard currently under reorganization, it was nowhere near a match for the empire.

First scandals.

Then land value.

And now even military strength, was the kingdom going to fall behind in everything?

How irritating.

As he ran through the worst possible scenarios in his mind, William suddenly let out a laugh, his chest rising with it.

He felt like a madman—for even entertaining the thought of going to war over a single woman.

William drew deeply on his cigar, his cheeks hollowing.

“Do you really think it would be that easy to make Evelyn the Crown Princess’s sister?”

Did she even know?

That because of her, a shadow of war was beginning to loom over two nations that had once been at peace?

Come to think of it, even the portrait of the goddess Savienne carried a tragic legend.

A king, captivated by Savienne’s beauty, had her husband—just a serf—killed.

He succeeded in abducting her and keeping her by his side, but in the end, he never gained her love.

Driven to despair, the king placed his crown upon her head—and took his own life.

Thus, behind the title Savienne’s Crown lay the tragic end of a selfish love.

“If she gains a sister, my wife will be pleased. It’s not particularly difficult for me.”

William set down the cigar, still more than half remaining, and muttered under his breath.

“Crazy bastard.”

The curse that followed was even harsher.

“I don’t know if coming to you was the right decision.”

Hendrick only shrugged.

“The choice has always been yours, William.”

“You’re always like that.”

William rose from his seat.

“I’ll return to the kingdom before the Pearson Festival begins.”

Now that he had made up his mind, he had no time to linger.

There were many things to prepare before leaving—and more than anything, he needed to see Evelyn one last time.

She had told him never to come back. But if he left like this, without any promise—it felt as though he might wither away.

“Then it seems I’ll have a sister-in-law before the festival ends.”

In the end, William let out a quiet laugh.

Hendrick had decided to become emperor.

Whether that decision had been made before returning to the empire—or only afterward—didn’t matter.

Perhaps it had even been decided just last night.

William brushed off his clothes.

It felt as though he had walked into a trap of his own accord in the early hours of dawn—and yet, he had no intention of turning back.

“If things don’t go your way, try asking the Crown Prince for help. If you marry Evelyn, he’d welcome it with open arms. After all, it’s not like you’re asking for the kingdom itself.”

William spat out another string of curses unfit to be repeated and strode out of the room.

Hendrick rose as well.

It was because of his wife—who would always frown slightly whenever she caught the scent of cigars lingering on him.

Thanks to his troubled friend, it seemed he would need to bathe again.

***

The Red Rose of Baron Cohen.

A woman who perfectly embodied those very words sat before Henrietta.

The national flower of Baron Cohen was the rose, a red rose, at that.

Until now, that extravagant title had belonged to no one but the Empress.

She had summoned Henrietta to the imperial garden—specifically, the rose garden said to be the most beautiful in the entire palace.

Framed by a cascade of crimson roses in full bloom, the Empress was stunning.

Truly worthy of being called the Rose of Baron Cohen.

“Truly, you have nothing of use but your face.”

Her sharp words fell coldly, her expression laced with displeasure.

The warmth she had shown at the grand imperial banquet was nowhere to be found.

It was only natural.

Henrietta wasn’t surprised.

If anything, this felt more fitting.

Still, the newspaper she had seen that morning lingered in her mind.

[The Red Rose of Baron Cohen.]

It had been written there in bold, unmistakable letters, alongside the excessive praise of being the newly rising beauty representing Baron Cohen.

And the woman that article referred to was none other than Henrietta herself.

The weekly paper slipped from her hands.

Before the shock had even faded, Berta came to find her bearing a letter from the Empress.

Henrietta swallowed dryly.

She had heard that many noblewomen in high society considered it a grave insult to have their titles taken from them…

“My deepest apologies.”

The Empress frowned as though she had a headache, then waved her hand dismissively to indicate that Henrietta should take a seat.

Henrietta quickly sat down in the chair in front of her.

Hendrick would already have been informed that she had been summoned to the Imperial Palace at such short notice. He must surely be there by now — news would reach him soon enough.

Clinging to that thought for comfort, Henrietta forced a faint smile.

“First, we should discuss the wedding. Since you don’t have a mother to oversee the preparations, I will take charge. But where should we even begin?”

The Empress let her gaze travel slowly over Henrietta, from head to toe, before clicking her tongue.

Henrietta’s hand trembled slightly as she held her teacup, but she forced herself to remain composed.

Just the thought of going through with another wedding made her temples ache.

However, this was not something she had the right to like or dislike.

She would simply follow whatever the Empress and Hendrick decided, choices made not from sentiment, but from political necessity.

“We should decide on a date first.”

“I believe we should check His Highness’s schedule.”

Now that she understood her role, she was no longer as lost as before.

Though her body still stiffened with tension when faced with something significant, the suffocating uncertainty had eased.

“There isn’t much time, so we must proceed quickly.”

There isn’t much time.

What did she mean by that?

Henrietta had vaguely assumed that the end of their marriage would come shortly after Hendrick became crown prince.

But now, a quiet premonition crept in that their end might arrive far sooner than she had expected.

“I understand.”

“The ceremony should be held in the rose garden. Not large in scale—but as splendid as possible.”