The Ledger of Regret
Ivelin Roadmia arrived the next morning. The location was the reception room of the Black King Castle’s outer palace—the very same place where the envoys of the Eastern Blood Families had lined up yesterday. It wasn't the Grand Hall, nor the audience chamber, nor my office. It was a reception room. I liked that choice. It provided at least a sliver of comfort to know that this wasn't a meeting opened by private memories.
I heard the sound of Ivelin’s footsteps echoing through the open main door.
“The official responsible for drafting the ledgers for the Roadmia Blood Family has arrived,” the guard announced.
I looked up. “Let her in.”
The door opened, and Ivelin Roadmia stepped inside. She was dressed in black, but it wasn't a formal gown. The hem of her skirt was tailored for ease of movement, and her sleeves were adorned only with thin silver thread instead of ornate decorations. There was nothing around her neck—no black gemstone necklace, no perfume, no useless mementos. Instead, she carried a copy of the ledger and a seal verification sheet in her hands.
She was beautiful. Damn it. And today, that beauty had to have no effect. At least, that was how I had decided to handle things.
“Your Majesty.” Ivelin bowed her head. The angle was precise. Her etiquette was flawless, not a single hair out of place. I watched her for a moment. The rain-slicked corridor. Wet hair. The woman who had tried so hard not to look at my wounded eyes. ‘Because you cannot survive, Your Highness.’ That voice echoed in my mind for a brief second.
I tapped my finger against the ledger on the desk. Once.
“Ledger drafting official for the Roadmia Blood Family.”
Ivelin’s pupils trembled ever so slightly. Just a fraction.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Let’s start with the oath.”
The scribes in the reception room picked up their pens. Ivelin looked up.
“An oath, Your Majesty?”
“Since you are the one who wrote the ledger,” I said. “Because your words today must remain as a record.”
She remained silent for a moment, then slowly set down the ledger copy she was holding.
“Understood.”
Hermun read the oath aloud. To testify without falsehood regarding the drafting process and custody of the ledger. To comply with the Black King Castle’s original document verification procedures. To acknowledge that if any falsehoods were revealed, the entire explanation provided by the Roadmia Blood Family could be withheld. The sentences were long. Sentences used to crush a noble are always long. A sword strikes once, but a document strangles the neck with multiple lines.
“Ivelin Roadmia,” Hermun said. “Do you swear?”
“I swear.”
Her voice did not waver. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. People who do not waver take a long time to collapse.
“I did not tell you to sit.”
Ivelin’s fingertips froze. One of the scribes gulped. I said, “You may take a seat after your testimony.”
I had insulted her. It was an insult that any noble lady would understand perfectly. But at the same time, it was an insult that served as a procedural necessity. Ivelin bowed her head.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She remained standing. As the ledger drafting official. Not as my former fiancée. As the subject of an investigation. That was the picture I had wanted. And that was why my stomach felt a little uneasy.
“First,” I pushed the documents piled on the reception desk toward her. “I have sealed a portion of the supply routes in the eastern outskirts that the Roadmia family was managing. The problem is that it’s tied up with civilian merchant guilds. If I open it, the Blood Family’s supplies will get mixed in, and if I block it, the market will dry up. How do we divide them?”
Ivelin opened the ledger immediately. “You cannot divide them by wagon units.”
“Why?”
“Blood Family supplies can be hidden within civilian wagons. They must be classified by seal, not by wagon.” She slid a table toward me. “Send the outgoing documents stamped with the Blood Family seal to the reception room, and issue temporary transit permits to the civilian guilds to send them through bypass routes. However, you must place a Black King Castle scribe at every checkpoint along those bypass routes.”
Hermun quietly took notes. Useful. How annoying.
“Second,” I picked up the next document. “The envoys are selling each other out. I’ve been hearing ‘he did it’ all day long. Do I have to accept all of this?”
“No.”
“What is the standard?”
“Withhold any accusations without supporting evidence. Only escalate to separate interrogations when the same name is repeated three or more times.” Ivelin’s finger pointed at the document. “Harben is the wagon record. Merk is the name of the military logistics judge. Orza is the source of the rumors. All three have stabbed at each other, but the blades haven't gone deep enough yet.”
“How do I make them go deeper?”
“Just let them keep talking to each other.”
Good. Truly good. Demon Kingdom politics were, in the end, a dogfight served on a high-class table. The problem was that this woman knew the table setting for that dogfight all too well.
“Third.” I opened the item listing the name Kardia Noxbell. “Everyone is claiming that the Kardia Noxbell incident was a regular military operation.”
Ivelin looked at the name for a moment. “That is half true.”
“Half?”
“Kardia Noxbell is a general on Belion’s side. If it were a state of war, there would be justification for the movement.” She pointed to a document. “But a general cannot reach the battlefield on justification alone.”
“Supplies?”
“They would need horses, food, and a path.” Ivelin’s voice was calm. “You must not look only at the one holding the sword. You must look at the one who fed and sent them so that the sword would arrive on time.”
The reception room went quiet. Those words were shorter than the ledger. And more accurate than the ledger.
“If you look at the supplies, you see the one above?”
“Yes.”
Ivelin bowed her head. I watched her. The ledger drafting official. The subject of an investigation. The eldest daughter of the Roadmia Blood Family.
“You are useful,” I said.
Ivelin’s body swayed slightly. Did she hear that single sentence as a compliment? Or did it pierce her sharply? I couldn't tell. And now, I didn't even want to know.
And at that moment, Ivelin collapsed. Just a little. Her precise etiquette remained, and her voice didn't break. But the look in her eyes as she gazed up at me changed. It wasn't the eyes of a ledger drafting official. It wasn't the eyes of a Roadmia noble lady. It was the look from those days I found disgusting to even remember—the look she had before she abandoned me in that rain-drenched corridor.
“Your Majesty.”
“Speak.”
“Your Majesty…….” She swallowed the rest of her words.
I knew in that instant. Don't come any closer. Stop there. Please. Don't say those words. I hate that my stomach still churns when I see your name. I hate that I am most disgusted by the fact that I felt relieved to see there was no necklace around your neck. If you make even a slightly pained face, I hate that I still care about it. Don't say it. Because I have to kill that with procedure.
Ivelin finally said, “Are you truly… completely unaffected?”
The reception room froze. The scribe’s pen stopped. Hermun didn't look at me. A clever old man. He knew he shouldn't look at me right now. I looked at Ivelin. Unaffected? Are you insane? Ever since the day you evaluated me like that, this body still remembers that corridor. The back of you as you turned away. The corners of your lips as you lied about understanding. And the nights I collapsed alone afterward.
Thorny emotions began to spread to my marrow. And yet, you ask if I am unaffected? All sorts of words boiled inside me. But the words that came out were short.
“Record that question as well.”
Ivelin’s face froze. The scribe gasped. I said slowly, “The ledger drafting official attempted to verify the personal feelings of the interrogator and the King during the interrogation.”
The pen moved. Scratch. Scratch.
“Exclude it from the official statement. However, leave the record.”
Ivelin’s fingertips trembled. It was the first time. Truly the first time. A crack appeared in her etiquette. I saw that crack. And I pretended not to.
“Ivelin Roadmia.” My voice was low. “This is not a corridor.”
Her lips parted ever so slightly. “There is no rain, there is no black gemstone, and there is no hand for me to hold anymore.”
I pressed my finger against the ledger on the reception desk. “Is this not a reception room?”
One beat.
“And I am the Demon King, and you are nothing more than a ledger drafting official.”
Ivelin couldn't say a word. Good. Don't say it. If you say more, I will have to become even crueler. Let's end it here today. This is the last private exception I will leave for you. Before you collapse further. Before I collapse further.
“I accept today’s work report,” I said. “The personal question is dismissed.”
Ivelin’s eyes tried to hold onto me. I didn't avoid that gaze. If I avoid it, I lose.
“Leave.”
“Your Majesty, I……”
“Next time you come, bring a proposal for resolution.” I spat out with a hint of anger. “Do not bring yourself.”
At those words, her face turned quiet and pale. A person struck by a sword screams. A person struck by vitriol stops breathing. Ivelin was the latter. She slowly bowed her head. Precise angle. Flawless etiquette. But this time, that etiquette looked like a wall holding her up.
The door opened. Ivelin Roadmia left the reception room. Leaving the ledger copy behind. Taking only herself.
The door closed. I didn't say anything for a long time. Hermun didn't ask, either. It was a relief. If someone had asked if I was okay right now, I probably would have given an answer unworthy of a King. Or I might have killed them.
I looked at the ledger left on the reception desk. Black cover. Silver crest. Roadmia. Only until today. Pushing you away before you get hurt. Sending you away before you cry. Cutting you off with procedure before you can stab me. Only until today. This is the last private exception I leave for Ivelin Roadmia. From next time on… I will viciously carve out you and your family. Like the Demon King of the End.
“Hermun.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Bring me the meal records for the protected soldiers’ camp.”
Hermun’s eyes shifted ever so slightly. “The meal records, Your Majesty?”
“Yes.” I closed the ledger. “To see where the supplies leaked, I have to see who ate less.”
War left behind receipts. And at the end of every receipt, there was always the cost of a meal.