A Single Night of Love
Her mother had always been frail.
Sayne was five years old when she first came to understand this. Her mother rarely played with her, and the young Sayne had never shown much interest in her in return. But the day her mother collapsed over tea and confections—while the surrounding servants tended to her with practiced, indifferent efficiency—Sayne realized that this was simply her mother's daily reality.
From that day forward, Sayne spent more time by her side. Desperate to see her mother recover, she constantly tried to lift her spirits, and her mother would stroke her hair with tender pride. Yet as Sayne grew aware of her mother's failing health, she also noticed the cold disdain in her father's eyes. He looked down on her with an icy stare, always turning his gaze away from the household to fixate on the world beyond.
The reason her father looked upon her with contempt was simple enough: she was merely a daughter.
Because of her frailty, her mother struggled to conceive. When she finally bore a child after enduring untold hardship, her father was thoroughly displeased that the babe was a girl. Burdened by that resentment, her mother had to push her weak body through countless agonizing attempts to bear another child. Just as the chill in her father's eyes grew unbearable after a string of bitter failures, she managed to conceive once more. Sayne was ten years old at the time.
The newborn was another daughter.
"...Useless," her father muttered. "You cannot even bear a single son."
He treated her mother with even harsher detachment. Even after a hundred days had passed since the infant's birth, he refused to give the child a name. Undeterred by his neglect, Sayne pored over lexicons until she found the most beautiful name she could discover: Tia. Angelotia. Derived from an ancient phrase meaning "the tears of an angel," it signified a precious jewel. Sayne wished for her little sister to grow up as radiant and lovely as a gem. Above all, she wanted to shield her from the bitter winter that was their father, ensuring she saw only beautiful things.
Then came the day of her sister's first birthday.
Because her father refused to attend, her mother had to oversee the banquet alone. Just as the celebration drew to a close, her mother collapsed. She never stood again.
Lying bedridden, her mother wasted away with each passing day. Even then, her father never visited her bedside once. Her condition deteriorated steadily until one quiet evening when she summoned Sayne to her side.
"My daughter," she began in a calm, distant voice.
"Yes, Mother."
"Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like had I never married your father." Her mother paused, her hollow eyes drifting. "It was a night when the mariner's star shone bright in the heavens. A dear friend asked me to leave behind the path chosen for me and venture out into the world. But I refused. I could not bear to crush my parents' expectations, and I believed my weak body unsuited for travel."
Sayne swallowed hard. A faint smile touched her mother's lips.
"Yet no matter how I look back on it now, those were merely excuses. I lived my entire life like a flower blooming inside a safe, beautiful greenhouse, utterly blind to the real world. In truth, I wanted to be a wildflower. Even if I were torn by storms and swayed by bitter winds, I wanted to know what the world truly was."
Her mother stared up at the ceiling with shining eyes, but the moment she realized she was gazing upon painted plaster rather than the open night sky, her head slumped forward. "I can still remember that night. What would have happened if I had taken that hand? The starlight scattered across the sky, the grass stroked by the wind, that breathtaking landscape brimming with vibrant life... That was the world I saw that night."
Though her body was gaunt and wasted, her mother looked stronger and more radiant in Sayne's eyes than she ever had before. Trembling, her mother raised a fragile hand and rested it gently on Sayne's head.
"You must live as you desire. Do not live with regrets as I have...."
With those parting words, her mother drew her final breath.
From that moment on, Sayne threw herself into the sword like a woman possessed. Driven by the sole conviction to live as she wished, she believed that if she forged an undeniable record of martial glory, she could finally claim her own freedom. Thus, she became a companion to the Hero. She fought on the bloodiest front lines against the demonic hordes, steadily carving out achievements of her own.
The reality that awaited her return was utterly ruthless.
"...What did you just say?"
"I said I intend to marry you to the Hero," Jakov Luderan replied smoothly. "The Hero is unaccustomed to aristocratic customs, so he will naturally place great weight on your wishes. Therefore, when I summon you, you will appear before him and express your eager consent to the union. Put down the sword as well; you will wield it no longer. All you need do is speak a few agreeable words and play the part of a dutiful, virtuous wife."
Sayne's face contorted.
"...Why do you covet the Hero so desperately?"
"Choose your words with care," he countered, his voice chilling. "I do not covet the concept of a Hero. I covet the man who holds the title in this generation."
Sayne felt as if she had slammed into an unyielding stone wall. "I see. Very well. But to put it bluntly, I refuse to marry him."
Jakov Luderan's brow twitched—a familiar tell that his displeasure was mounting.
"And what of it? You refuse? What does your preference matter? Did you actually believe that living as a noblewoman would allow you to wed for love, like some naive girl reading cheap romances?"
"...I expect no such fairy tale," she said, her fists clenching at her sides. "But I do not believe this is the time for marriage."
Jakov scowled fiercely, his voice rising in dangerous irritation. "Nonsense! If we do not claim him now, some other incompetent fool will snatch the Hero from right under our noses!"
"Even so—"
"Enough of your pathetic protests! Fine. If you wish to be blunt, let me be equally blunt. Go to the Hero. Seduce him, plead with him, do whatever is necessary to secure his pledge of marriage! I offered you the simple mercy of standing before him and nodding with a smile, yet here you are, forgetting your station and throwing a tantrum."
Sayne bit her lower lip until she tasted copper. She knew without looking that her expression was twisted with fury and grief.
"...I would rather die than obey."
Jakov let out an amused, dry scoff. Stepping forward, he seized her hair, pulling her face flush against his forehead as he whispered with deadly calm into her ear.
"Die? By all means, try it. I will simply marry off your sister in your stead."
Panic drained all color from Sayne's face. The words caught in her throat, tumbling out in a stammer. "Sh-She is only seven years old!"
"And what of it? Does being seven make her any less a Luderan?"
Sayne grimaced, her voice shaking violently. "Do you truly believe... that such madness is acceptable?"
"Why shouldn't it be? Mark my words well. I will not stop you if you wish to take your own life. But the moment you do, whatever abuse your little sister suffers at the hands of her future husband will rest entirely upon your soul."
"...She is your own blood!"
"Indeed," Jakov said coldly. "My flesh and blood—which makes her my property."
A suffocating tightness seized Sayne's throat. "Why must you go this far?"
Jakov looked down at her as if regarding a hopelessly dim-witted creature. "Do you even know what House Luderan is?"
Sayne could not find the voice to answer.
"Pathetic," he sneered. "Then let me alter the question. What is the crest of Luderan?"
"...The Golden Lion."
"Yes, the Golden Lion. The king of beasts. We must always stand at the absolute summit. Tell me, then—what is the crest of the Cerindel county?"
"...The Cerberus."
"Ha! They can call it a Cerberus all they like, but at its core, it is nothing more than a hound. Do you understand what that means? The Emperor's hunting dog is clawing and snapping in a desperate frenzy to surpass us! To dare challenge the great Golden Lion!"
A manic gleam flared in Jakov's eyes as his predatory fervor took hold.
"Do you think House Luderan became the pinnacle of the entire Imperial military by bowing our heads in servile loyalty to a mere Emperor? False! We reached the apex because our lion's fangs ripped apart and devoured every single rival that dared contest our prey! Look at those fools who babble about Luderan being the 'Sword of the Empire'! Luderan is not a sword forged to protect the realm. Luderan is a blade that exists solely to preserve Luderan—and the Empire is nothing more than our scabbard!"
He took a slow breath, forcing the violent thrill back beneath a veneer of composure.
"My brothers failed to grasp that truth, so I bared my fangs and tore their throats out. That was how a younger son like me claimed the seat of heir. Because I was not the firstborn, our house's standing wavered. The court whispered that I lacked the rightful claim."
Sayne finally managed to part her dry lips. "...What does that have to do with forcing me into this marriage?"
"This Hero obliterated an entire enemy legion the moment he stepped onto the battlefield. He is the swiftest rising legend this continent has ever witnessed. If such a monster stands beneath the banner of the Golden Lion, would that decrepit old Emperor ever dare cast us aside to elevate an upstart like Cerindel to the apex of the military?"
"Do you hold so little faith in me that you think I cannot elevate the name of Luderan without this marriage?"
"None. None whatsoever," Jakov said without a shred of hesitation. "You and your sister disappointed me from the moment you were born. Do you still not realize that the only way either of you can ever please me is by serving as tools to bind those who can make Luderan invincible?"
Sayne lowered her head, hollowed out by a crushing sense of despair.
"...And if he refuses to wed me, what then? Even if he agrees to take me... if I choose death, he may well refuse to accept my sister." Clinging to the faintest shred of hope, she pressed him. "What will you do then?"
Jakov let out a dry, incredulous snort, as if the answer were so obvious it hardly warranted being spoken aloud.
"Then I will slaughter him. If the Hero will not stand with us, the Emperor will inevitably use him as a leash to keep us in check, stripping away our prestige until we are reduced to toothless old lions. Besides, an untamed beast that cannot be controlled has no right to exist. If he will not take our hand, I will kill him before he can ever become the Emperor's new hunting dog."
Sayne's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold stone floor in utter despair.