A Gift for My Fiancé
The founding myth of the empire—the tale of the First Emperor and the four heroes who guarded him—was known to every soul across the realm.
In that ancient era, the First Emperor had driven back the demonic beasts overrunning the continent and succeeded in raising the great barriers that quarantined them below. Moved by their triumph, God descended in person to bestow divine authority upon the five who had delivered peace to humanity.
To the four heroes went the powers of fire, wind, earth, and water. And to the emperor, God granted the Power of Light—the supreme dominion capable of encompassing and governing them all.
Following the First Emperor's ascension, the empire flourished. The imperial lineage commanded the Power of Light to great effect, steering the realm through golden centuries. Yet time flowed relentlessly onward, washing truth into the realm of fable.
Before anyone realized it, the glorious history was dismissed as mere mythology, and the imperial house lost the ability to wield the Light. The heroic bloodlines withered away, their ancient names fading into oblivion until only a single house endured: the Castrein Duchy.
Yet guarding the Northern Barrier entirely on their own had brought House Castrein to its breaking point.
The barrier was beginning to fray.
In search of a way to reinforce the weakening ward, the duchy turned to the past, hunting for the sacred relics once wielded by the founding heroes—weapons imbued with divine might. Among those lost treasures was Gloriana's Insignia.
What mattered most right now, however, was that House Castrein had been scouring the continent for these relics in absolute secrecy, shielding their efforts even from the imperial throne. And the woman standing before Raymon—Princess Titania herself—was speaking openly of their forbidden quarry.
It was a secret no one in the imperial family should ever have known.
Raymon did not hesitate for a second.
Without a whisper of sound, cold steel slipped from its scabbard. The razor edge halted a hair's breadth from Titania's throat.
"…What is your purpose, Princess Titania?"
The Young Duke's golden eyes flashed with terrifying ferocity, gleaming like a predator that had caught an enemy creeping toward its den.
Well, if you ask a girl what her purpose is, it’s only basic courtesy to answer.
What I want is so simple!
An immediate annulment of our engagement.
A prime commercial building at least three stories high in the heart of the capital.
Fifty million gold in crisp, untraceable cash.
A foolproof escape route out of the imperial palace.
And the borrowed identity of an obscure lower-noble family that nobody would ever look twice at!
"……."
…Except there was no way in hell I could actually say that out loud. Dammit.
Staring at the chilling, blue-tinted steel resting right against my windpipe, I had to summon every ounce of willpower I possessed just to keep from bursting into tears and begging on my knees.
Wow. So this is what real bloodlust feels like.
My skin prickled with cold sweat. No wonder he had always looked so unfazed whenever his hysterical fiancée threw screaming fits and tap-danced on his last nerve. To him, I wasn't an adversary worth taking seriously; I was merely a harmless hamster, the sort of fragile creature that would drop dead of fright if he so much as frowned at it! He hadn't been tolerating me out of patience—he'd simply been letting my tantrums go in one ear and right out the other!
The blood drained from my hands and feet, leaving them icy, while a frantic buzzing rang in my ears. Even so, I fought to keep my composure, forcing the corners of my mouth to curve upward into a serene smile under his murderous golden gaze.
"Shall we call it an 'engagement gift,' offered behind my imperial father and mother's backs?"
Thanking whatever gods existed that my lips weren't trembling, I curved my eyes into a teasing arc, playing the part of a whimsical, haughty princess to perfection. "I mean… I've never given you a proper gift before, have I, Young Duke Raymon?"
"……."
I had worried he might slice my throat open on the spot just to see what color my blood was before listening to a word. Fortunately, the stoic Young Duke was every bit as disciplined as his reputation suggested. It made sense; in the original novel, whenever Bibi's hot-headed second brother or the fearsome Duke Castrein himself lost their tempers over anything concerning Bibi, Raymon was the only one cool-headed enough to slam the brakes on their rampage.
"You see, keeping tabs on your every move as I do…"
Without breaking eye contact, I calmly lifted my teacup—still brimming with steaming hot tea—and tilted it sideways.
A steady stream splashed onto the table, staining the pristine white linen cloth a deep, indelible orange.
"…I noticed something rather peculiar."
"……."
I caught the faintest twitch in his sword hand. If I had truly been the spoiled, sheltered brat of a princess he thought I was, I would have shrieked, wailed about whether he dared commit treason, and bolted in terror. But the man before me was a peerless master of the blade. He had enough precision to carve a lifelike marble statue with a sword held in one hand.
Seeing me casually spill tea without batting an eye before his bare blade had clearly thrown him off, but he would never nick me "by accident." Besides, my body was already wrapped from head to toe in bandages anyway. There was barely an inch of bare skin left to scratch.
Now came the real hurdle.
How on earth was I supposed to say, 'When I woke up from death, memories of my past life returned to me, and it turns out this world is a novel where I end up ruining my own life by obsessing over you and poisoning your little sister. I have zero interest in the imperial throne, my toxic parents, or this engagement anymore. I just want to live peacefully, so care to lend a hand?'
I couldn't! Not unless I wanted to be locked in an asylum or executed on the spot.
So instead, I let my tongue run smooth and brazen.
"A few years ago… let's see, was it three years back? Lord Lisianthus, who despises me with a burning passion, acquired a brand-new blade. I heard rumors of a magnificent sword adorned with undulating flame motifs and an eye-catching crimson gem."
"……."
"And quite coincidentally, that happened right after you graced the eldest daughter of Count Orlande with the opening dance at her birthday banquet. If memory serves, the Orlande family’s claim to fame is… garnets capable of storing fire-element mana, isn't that right?"
A subtle tremor flickered through his golden eyes.
It was unmistakable agitation, and rightfully so. In his memory, 'Princess Titania' was someone who didn't give a damn about weapons or metallurgy. She was the kind of hysterical woman who would throw a tantrum as if the sky had fallen simply because her betrothed dared share a dance with another lady.
"Those garnets must be mined entirely by hand, resulting in an annual yield of less than twenty stones. And since top-grade specimens must be presented as imperial tribute, high society gossiped endlessly about how desperate the Orlande family was for their daughter’s debut, offering such an exorbitant treasure to House Castrein."
Oh, foolish Titania of the past.
Would a man like Raymon, who loathed social galas to his very bones, really go out of his way to elevate the prestige of a mere vassal's daughter at the cost of slighting his official fiancée? Of course not. There had to be an ulterior motive.
What Raymon's younger brother Lisianthus had received was none other than Flamberge's Rage—a divine relic imbued with primordial fire. It wasn't some knockoff blade forged from Count Orlande's scraped-together garnets.
House Castrein could never openly collect divine weapons. The moment the imperial palace caught wind of it, harsh sanctions and suspicion would follow. Moreover, every weapon carried by the three Castrein sons was subject to intense public scrutiny. Thus, upon finally securing a divine weapon, the duchy orchestrated an elaborate farce to pass the blade to their second son without raising alarms.
The Young Duke shared a dance with the Orlande heiress to generate the season's juiciest scandal, and immediately afterward, Lisianthus made his public debut with his new flaming sword. It was a brilliantly constructed smoke screen, tricking the nobility into believing the sword was merely a lavish bribe from the count in exchange for the duke’s favor.
If the original Titania had known the truth, her outrage would have instantly deflated into bitter embarrassment. Back then, she had taken to her bed, screaming and weeping that her betrothed had disgraced her by playing the chivalrous escort to an absolute stranger. Had she known the reality, she would have marched straight to the Emperor, wailing that House Castrein had openly deceived and humiliated both her and the crown.
Well… strictly speaking, that wasn't entirely wrong either.
"So, I came to a realization," I continued, flashing a sweet, airy smile. "Ah, Young Duke Raymon is a man who only moves when there is fair compensation."
"……."
Raymon’s icy gaze bored into me. Even though I hadn't explicitly uttered the name Flamberge's Rage, my direct mention of Gloriana's Insignia made it abundantly clear that I had connected all the dots.
"Which is why I prepared this gift for you. Yet here you are, drawing your sword without so much as a thank-you. Really, it breaks my poor heart."
"……."
As I dramatically dabbed at my dry eyes, pretending to wipe away imaginary tears, Raymon slowly bit his lower lip and lowered his blade. Slicing my head off wouldn't solve the problem at hand anyway. In truth, he had drawn his weapon merely to intimidate me; he had never intended to actually strike. He simply hadn't expected a sheltered princess, coddled her whole life in a gilded cage, to have the nerve to stand firm against the murderous aura of a battle-hardened warrior.
"…Forgive my insolence, Princess."
Having smoothly reined in his bloodlust, the Young Duke offered a practiced smile. It was so flawless, so picturesque, that it resembled an exquisitely crafted mask.
"I simply never imagined Your Highness held any interest in my family's private affairs."
"I didn't."
Raymon’s eyes widened slightly at my immediate, unapologetic retort. He seemed genuinely caught off guard. Paying his shock no mind, a faint, melancholic wistfulness drifted across my expression.
I really didn't care back then… though looking back, I really should have paid more attention…