Just Thinking About It Feels So Refreshing
Celine clutched a thick bundle of documents to her chest as she headed for the commander's office.
…The Imperial Palace was preparing for a grand Imperial Festival.
It was an annual event, a magnificent gathering where the empire prayed for peace and prosperity.
Not only the key figures of the imperial family attended, but also countless nobles and envoys from abroad.
Security for such an occasion couldn't afford the slightest lapse.
She was going to discuss the security plan with the commander.
…I need to hurry. There's so much to prepare.
Celine quickened her pace.
The thought of consulting with Kyle made a corner of her heart flutter faintly with excitement.
And just as she rounded the corner of the corridor—
“……”
Celine's steps came to an abrupt halt.
A woman was approaching from the opposite side.
Jet-black hair like the night, and burning red eyes.
…Victoria von Roseria.
The two women's gazes clashed in midair.
In that instant, deep in Celine's chest, chilling memories from her past life rippled once more.
That woman she could never stand under the same sky with until the very end.
The rival who had taken Kyle's life.
Victoria, too, stared silently in her direction.
Though it was unlikely, those red eyes held a strange glint, as if recalling the enmity from their past life.
…A heavy silence flowed between the two women for a moment.
Finally, Celine spoke first, feigning composure.
“…Greetings, Your Highness. This vice-commander is on her way to discuss security for the upcoming Imperial Festival with the commander.”
…Duty.
Yes, this was purely official business.
Celine emphasized it once more, making it clear this was no place for the princess to meddle with personal feelings.
…Just like last time, she braced herself for that sharp hostility to rear its head.
But.
“…I see. Work hard.”
Huh?
Victoria merely responded with an utterly indifferent expression.
“…If you have urgent matters to discuss, go on ahead. Security for the Imperial Festival must be flawless, after all.”
…And with that.
Victoria passed by Celine's side without a care, continuing on her way as if it were nothing.
“……”
Celine stood frozen in place, utterly bewildered for a moment.
…This is strange.
It was definitely different last time.
Back then, with Kyle between them, Victoria had bared her fangs, trying to provoke Celine at every turn.
Emphasizing the title "vice-commander" with thorns hidden in her haughty, razor-sharp demeanor.
…But today, there was no trace of that.
Her face was as if Celine meant nothing to her anymore—indifferent, yet somehow leisurely.
…What's her game?
Celine unwittingly watched the receding figure.
…Was that woman the type to back down so easily?
The one who, in her past life, had pointed her blade without yielding an inch until the final moment.
…Something felt subtly different.
She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
But it was clearly not the bloodshot hostility of the Victoria she knew.
…Still, I mustn't let my guard down.
Celine steadied her resolve.
She couldn't presume to read that woman's mind.
Who knew what blade hid behind that composed facade.
…However.
Celine gripped the documents tighter and thought.
…No matter her intentions, one thing remains unchanged.
…In her past life, she had failed to protect Kyle from that woman.
She had let go of his hand, helplessly.
…But not this time. She would never repeat that mistake.
No matter what schemes that woman harbored, no matter how she approached.
Celine von Frostheim would protect him, no matter what.
…Absolutely.
She etched that vow deep into her heart once more.
…Then, with firmer steps, she resumed her way to the office where Kyle awaited.
What she didn't know—what she could never dream of—
Was that Victoria had already forgotten all about Celine, lost in blissful thoughts of what that man might make for her next, passing by so indifferently.
Leaving Victoria behind, Celine quickened her steps once more.
As she traversed the corridor—
“…Vice-Commander Celine. It's been a while.”
Octavian approached from the far end with a friendly smile.
…Why was the crown prince here?
Celine tilted her head inwardly.
This area was the Imperial Guard's administrative zone; it wasn't a place for the crown prince to wander personally.
“…Perfect timing. With the Imperial Festival coming up, how about we share a cup of tea—”
“…I am honored, but this vice-commander has official duties remaining.”
Her curiosity was fleeting; Celine offered only a brief bow, showing no further interest.
Even if it was the crown prince's invitation, her mind was entirely consumed with festival security.
But right then.
At the end of the corridor, a familiar man approached.
He seemed headed the same way… Kyle.
“…Ah, Commander.”
In an instant, Celine's face lit up like the sun.
“…Your Highness, forgive me. The commander has arrived, so this vice-commander will take her leave.”
She bowed hastily and hurried toward Kyle, leaving Octavian behind.
The indifference from moments ago vanished, replaced by a face soft as spring sunlight.
“Commander. I had more matters to discuss, and you arrive just in time.”
…To Celine, that was all there was to it.
Having encountered the one she'd longed for, her steps naturally turned that way.
There was no other meaning whatsoever.
…However.
She never looked back to see the expression on Octavian's face, left alone in the corridor, staring at her retreating back.
From that day on, Octavian's mood soured terribly.
Octavian von Roseria stood by the window of his office, gazing down at the training grounds below.
There, a man stood amid the Imperial Guard knights, issuing some orders.
…Kyle Lowenheim.
Just thinking of that name filled Octavian's mouth with bitterness.
…How absurd.
Octavian gripped the windowsill harder without realizing.
…I am the crown prince of this empire. The legitimate heir, the sole successor to bear this nation's future.
Yet why did everyone's gaze fixate only on that lowly man?
People praised the "Emperor's Sword" endlessly whenever they spoke.
His own presence faded ever more in that shadow.
But what gnawed deepest at Octavian wasn't such fame.
…Celine.
His face twisted further at the name.
…Celine von Frostheim. Daughter of the Northern Grand Duke, the empire's most noble white rose.
The one woman Octavian had harbored in his heart for so long.
That proud, icy woman who yielded her side to no one.
Why did she show such softness only beside that man?
…Impossible.
Octavian ground his teeth.
…And that wasn't all.
Even his sister Victoria had lately been hovering around that man for some inexplicable reason.
The red-eyed princess entranced by a mere man.
…The empire's two most noble women, both fixated on that lowly wretch.
It was utterly unbearable.
…I must drag him down somehow.
That thought filled his mind.
But clashing head-on would be foolish. Octavian knew that much.
That man was a top-tier powerhouse who had single-handedly slaughtered a horde of border beasts.
Challenging him with force would be digging his own grave.
Even sending assassins would fail to behead him; they'd only be captured and spill everything.
The backlash would turn straight back on him.
…No. I can't resort to such stupidity.
Octavian slowly shook his head.
There was only one way left.
If force wouldn't work, tarnish his reputation.
Topple that lofty fame he had built, drag it into the mud before everyone's eyes.
Show all plainly how hollow that "Emperor's Sword" title truly was.
…And there's the perfect stage.
A sinister smile crept across Octavian's lips.
…The grand Imperial Festival at the palace was soon.
A splendid gathering where the emperor, all nobles, and envoys convened.
Right there, in the center under everyone's watch.
Set the board so that man committed an irredeemable blunder.
Wasn't he the one in charge of security?
If an unforgivable breach occurred in that security, whose fault would it be?
…Heh. Hehehe.
Octavian let out a low, insidious chuckle.
…No need to bloody his own hands.
Just lay the trap, and the rest would roll on its own.
…When that hard-earned fame crumbled from beneath his feet.
Imagining the man's despairing face made Octavian's lips twist upward uncontrollably.
…Wait for it, Kyle Lowenheim.
Octavian coldly gazed down at the man in the training grounds once more.
…There are things in this world even your vaunted sword can't block.
…Just watch.
Before the eyes of all, I'll tear that flimsy fame to shreds.
So you can never show your face in this palace again.
And ultimately, make you flee this capital on your own two feet, vanishing forever to some nameless backwater.
…That would be the harshest, most humiliating punishment for him.
…Hehehe. Yes. Banished from the capital, rotting away in some rural hole. How refreshing just thinking about it.
Octavian smiled in utmost satisfaction at the scene playing in his mind.
…Never dreaming that this "harsh punishment" was none other than the very life that man had dreamed of day and night.