Giselle Claude
“Ah, you fucking crazy author! You’re really killing her off like this?!”
It was three in the morning. Sitting in a dark room and glaring at my smartphone screen, I finally spat out every curse I knew.
The novel I was reading was The North Wind Does Not Remember Winter. It came plastered with tags like #Misery #DarkFantasy #EnsembleCast—an absolute pinnacle of the spicy genre. Yet the only reason I couldn’t drop this garbage story and kept paying for hundreds of chapters was one person.
The Grand Duchess of the North, Giselle Claude.
Silver hair and blood-red eyes, a beauty so striking she seemed almost unreal. On the surface she looked like an iron-blooded ruler without blood or tears, but inside she was the classic “hard shell, soft heart” type—more devoted to her people than anyone, burdened with a sense of responsibility that bordered on self-destruction. When winter came she would skip meals to hand out bread at the orphanage. During demonic beast subjugations she stood at the very front, drenched in blood like a fool who only knew how to be kind. She was my favorite character.
But in the latest chapter that had just dropped, Giselle met a horrific end.
The imperial family had cut off the North’s food supply through their schemes. The vassals she trusted betrayed her and threw the gates wide open. In the end, to buy time for the refugees to escape, she stood alone on the broken ramparts, holding back the imperial army and a horde of demonic beasts until she finally collapsed and died on the snowfield.
Buried beneath the cold snow of the North she had sacrificed everything to protect, forgotten by the very people she had tried to save.
And the single bastard behind all of it?
The spy the imperial family had planted to devour the North from within—Giselle’s political husband, that worthless piece of shit named Kael.
“No, come on. Even for a misery story this is too far. Why the hell doesn’t that Kael bastard die?!”
Kael. The Emperor’s illegitimate son. A degenerate who lived for gambling, drinking, and women. Giselle couldn’t kill him simply because he carried the title of prince, so she carried him like a tumor until the rot spread from the inside and destroyed her.
“Ugh, this is so damn frustrating. If I were him, I would’ve stabbed the imperial family in the back and saved Giselle first. I seriously want to hunt down the author’s address…”
I was furiously hammering out a long, angry comment when—
Flash!
A blinding light exploded from the screen.
And then the world went black.
“…Kael. Are my words not reaching you?”
The deep, oppressive voice snapped me back to consciousness.
What the—?
I had been lying on my bed in my room just a second ago. As my vision slowly cleared, cold marble floors and a lavish red carpet came into focus. I was kneeling, prostrated at someone’s feet.
When I cautiously lifted my head, I saw a golden throne. Upon it sat a middle-aged man with golden hair, looking down at me with pure arrogance.
A splitting headache pierced my skull, and with it came a flood of foreign memories.
The empire’s greatest debauchee. A half-blooded wretch born to a dancer. The 8th Prince whose name barely clung to the very bottom of the imperial genealogy.
The same name I had been cursing at only moments ago.
I… became Kael?
The impossible reality stole the breath from my lungs. This was the world of the novel. It was obvious at a glance. And I had possessed the body of a brainless, degenerate piece of trash.
“Kael Edgar. My 8th Prince, inheritor of my lowly bloodline.”
The man on the throne—the Emperor of the Empire—rested his chin on his hand.
“I have reached my limit cleaning up the messes you cause in the capital. Frankly, cutting off your head would be too merciful… but as your father, I shall grant you one final chance. Become the husband of the Grand Duchess of the North, Giselle Claude. That arrogant bitch’s husband.”
“…The Grand Duchess of the North, Your Majesty?”
I answered carefully. Anything else would have gotten my head removed.
“Indeed. Use your position as her consort to squander the North’s budget like water and drive wedges between the nobles. It is what you do best, is it not?”
The Emperor’s lips curved upward.
“If that woman cannot contain her rage and kills a member of the imperial family… it will provide excellent justification. With the assassination of a prince as our excuse, we need only dispatch the imperial army and crush the North beneath our boots.”
The pieces clicked together. This was the moment right before the early chapters of the novel—right before Kael was sent north as Giselle’s political husband. The Emperor planned to use me as a disposable pawn to swallow the troublesome North. Whether I destroyed it through chaos or died at Giselle’s hand to create a pretext for war, either outcome benefited him.
A bastard son like me dying in the North would not cause a single tear.
Refuse? The royal guards standing nearby would take my head in an instant.
My heart hammered against my ribs. But survival instinct took over, and my mouth moved on its own.
I slowly raised my head and formed the same sleazy, arrogant smile the original Kael would have worn.
“Your Majesty’s grace leaves me speechless. Truth be told, I was growing quite tired of the women in the capital anyway.”
“Oh?”
“That arrogant country wench from the North—I’ll break her in thoroughly to suit my tastes and make her crawl at Your Majesty’s feet like a loyal dog.”
The Emperor threw his head back and laughed heartily, pleased with my answer.
“Hahaha! As expected of the empire’s greatest playboy. I look forward to it, Kael. Show me how spectacularly you can tear the North apart.”
A few days later, inside the carriage racing toward the North after leaving the imperial palace.
“Haa…”
I sank deep into the soft seat and let out a long sigh. Now that the tension had drained away, cold sweat soaked my entire body. I stared at my reflection in the carriage window—pale skin, dark hair, a handsome face wrapped in a languid, strangely decadent aura. Honestly, the face alone was ridiculously good-looking. No wonder the original owner had earned such a vile reputation.
We’ll reach the North soon.
The image of Giselle’s miserable death from the novel flashed through my mind again. My favorite character, who had given everything to protect her people only to die alone, isolated by rotten politics and betrayal.
Honestly, I still didn’t know what I could actually do. But still…
I liked Giselle too much. Far too much.
So I would do everything in my power.
It was unfortunate that I had possessed the world’s greatest piece of trash named Kael, but there was one massive advantage: as an imperial prince, the odds of actually dying were extremely low.
“I absolutely won’t let it end that way.”
The Emperor had ordered me to devour the North from within. He was hoping I would die at Giselle’s hands and become the spark for war.
Like hell I will.
Giselle was too clean, too noble. She couldn’t endure the filth of politics—the imperial schemes, the nobles’ bribes, the dealings with smugglers. Those dirty jobs didn’t suit her at all.
So I would get my hands dirty instead.
After all, the 8th Prince Kael was irredeemable trash. Even Giselle couldn’t kill me carelessly. The Emperor’s dog. The worst possible husband.
I would gladly play that villain.
Hate me all you want.
It was a political marriage anyway. It didn’t matter if she despised me, loathed me, or eventually discarded me like a bug. As long as she could survive in this frozen land without becoming isolated, I would gladly stain my hands with blood.
“The Claude Grand Castle is visible ahead, Your Highness Kael!”
The escort knight’s shout rang out. The carriage began to slow.
Our destination was the northernmost edge of the empire. Beyond the raging blizzard, a massive wall of obsidian stone revealed its overwhelming presence.
The North Wind was unimaginably fierce.
The moment the carriage door opened, the blade-like gust slapped my cheeks and forced a gasp from my throat. The expensive silk coat I had worn from the capital felt as thin as paper.
“Please disembark, Your Highness.”
The knight’s hand, offered under the pretense of escort, carried a clear murderous intent. Looking around, every knight and vassal lined up at the entrance of the Grand Castle stared at me as if they wanted to tear me apart.
It was understandable. Most of their people were starving because of the imperial family’s relentless oppression. And the son-in-law sent from that very imperial family was none other than the 8th Prince—renowned as the empire’s greatest trash. The fact that they hadn’t drawn their swords yet was a testament to their incredible patience.
Still, I can’t afford to look weak.
I stepped down from the carriage with an arrogant sneer plastered on my face.
And there, standing amid countless hostile glares, was she.
The Grand Duchess of the North, Giselle Claude.
“…”
I nearly gaped in awe. Moonlight seemed to pour from her dazzling silver hair. Her eyes were the color of fresh blood—colder and sharper than the north wind itself. Instead of a lavish dress she wore a crisp, practical military uniform, and the sight of her was almost painfully noble.
Wow. Insane. She’s a hundred times more beautiful than the illustrations.
My heart pounded wildly. The favorite character I had only ever seen on a monitor was now standing right in front of me, breathing, alive.
But I swallowed the surge of emotion and forced a sleazy grin instead. I wanted to scream I’ve betrayed the imperial family! at the top of my lungs, but I couldn’t. I was the only variable in this world. Without me, the story would follow the original tragedy.
If I showed her any goodwill here, the imperial family would never allow it. They would annul the marriage immediately, send a new watchdog, and use every dirty trick to corner her even more.
I couldn’t let that happen.
So for now, I could neither earn her suspicion nor her contempt. I had to act exactly like the trash known as Kael.
“Hey, Grand Duchess. Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it was coming all the way to this freezing, stinking backwater?”
The moment the words left my mouth, the knights’ expressions turned murderous. I heard the sound of hands tightening around sword hilts everywhere, but Giselle didn’t even blink.
“You have traveled a long way, Your Highness. As ruler of the North and head of House Claude, I welcome you.”
She gave the smallest nod, then immediately turned away.
“Guide him. The wedding has already been handled through correspondence, so escort His Highness straight to his quarters.”
No welcome banquet. No warm tea. Nothing.
She looked at me like week-old food waste and promptly ordered me removed from her sight.
Damn, that icy contempt. It’s actually thrilling.
On the outside, of course, I frowned in displeasure.
“To treat the imperial family’s representative this way. The North’s manners really are no different from those of barbarians.”
“You must be tired. Go and rest.”
Giselle didn’t bother replying to my sarcasm. She simply turned, cloak fluttering, and walked away.
But inside, I felt only relief.
Yes. This was exactly how my favorite character should be.