A Hand Reached in Pity
Shatter the Holy Relic?! Destroy the barrier?!
The very barrier that had barely been kept alive through countless Offering Festivals?
Did he intend to turn this entire province into a demonic beast den? Was this guy completely out of his mind? My thoughts must have spilled out loud, for an immediate reply came back through the dark.
"You must. Because that Holy Relic is a fake."
"...Wait, what?"
"If you stain it with your blood, Your Imperial Highness will be the one in danger."
"Then why kidnap someone in the dead of night and spill all this in the dark without even identifying yourself?!"
"Because I cannot trust Your Imperial Highness. Isn't the feeling mutual?"
Had he been drugged, or had he inhaled helium? A strange, distorted voice echoed hollowly in the air.
"Of course I don't trust you!"
I sprang to my feet in sheer disbelief.
"Be reasonable—would you trust anyone in this situation? Would you?! Some lunatic kidnaps you in your sleep, drags you off, and suddenly goes, 'Hey, don't do your job, smash that thing instead.' As if you couldn't have just requested a formal audience in broad daylight...!"
"Is that what is making you angry? You seem rather lacking in a sense of crisis."
"Even if it is a fake, who knows what would happen the moment a Holy Relic is destroyed—"
"I cannot see you during the day."
"Why?! Did you slather honey on your face? Did your feet rot off or some—!"
Just then, a sharp snap sounded.
A blaze of light flared to life.
The sight before me robbed me of my voice.
The chamber was astonishingly opulent, but far more striking was the figure seated before me.
At first glance, he appeared to be a youth around my age. Neatly groomed brown hair was brushed back and tied at the nape of his neck, and he wore thick-rimmed spectacles. His tailored brown suit fit him impeccably, lending him the mature air of a grown gentleman. His irises, too, were a matching brown.
Except the whites of those eyes were a horrific, burst-vessel crimson, as though steeped in blood.
Seated in an armchair, both of his feet were bound in thick layers of bandages. Judging by the absence of splints, it was no simple fracture. Even his hands were swathed in multiple pairs of gloves, concealing his wrists entirely. Every single detail about him practically screamed that something was terribly wrong.
"My name is Flux Roman ben Cortez."
One corner of his lips curled into a chilling sneer as his gaze locked onto mine.
"Young Count Cortez."
His eyes held a precarious glint, as though he were ready to tear the entire world apart with his bare teeth at a moment's notice.
"I have no intention of playing mother to that child," the Empress said calmly.
The chamber was spacious and quiet. Perhaps a bit too austere for a private audience between the Empress of the Empire and the heir to a grand ducal house, yet neither occupant paid the slightest heed to such trivialities.
"For someone with such intentions, you took a remarkably massive gamble this time."
Raymon’s voice remained flat. The Empress looked down at the untouched teacups resting between them.
The tea had grown completely cold and murky, yet the Empress's lady-in-waiting, standing vigil by the doorway like a shadow, did not move an inch. She knew better than anyone that this discussion was far too weighty to be interrupted by petty tea service.
"Your Imperial Majesty unleashed demonic beasts within the imperial palace. Had the Imperial Consort discovered it, she would have branded it treason against His Majesty the Emperor."
"And what good would that do her? A single misstep, and she would have been the one framed for high treason."
The Empress dropped a single sugar cube into the tea she had no intention of drinking.
"For now, she will hold her breath. She will lower her head and docilely cater to the Emperor's whims until his temper cools. It is far better for Titania to leave for the Offering Festival right now. Whether Adrian or Brian attend such an event makes no difference to their status as imperial royalty. But that child is in a different position."
Titania technically held succession rights to the throne.
Yet she was the youngest, treated less like an imperial princess and more like an inconvenient ward 'destined to marry into House Castrein.' She had been neglected for years. Should her engagement with House Castrein be annulled, or should anything happen to her biological mother, her standing in court would vanish in an instant.
Therefore, even if the Offering Festival had dwindled into a ceremonial formality, participating under her own name was far better for her.
"And now, you intend to act the part of her fiancé?"
A soft clink of silver against porcelain rang through the room.
Having been schooled in imperial etiquette since before she could walk, the Empress did not make careless mistakes. The noise was deliberate. Raymon's golden eyes sank like wet sand.
"Am I forbidden from doing so?"
"She was a child who would have laid down her life for you long ago, had you offered even a single smile and held her hand."
Raymon froze completely.
"Unlike the Imperial Consort, I refused to entice and exploit an affection-starved child, so I chose to turn away instead. Like someone ignoring an abandoned pup on the roadside to avoid taking responsibility."
Titania had changed, breaking out of her chrysalis like a butterfly. She assessed situations with cold clarity, throwing herself into the fray if that was what it took to carve out a path forward.
"That child raised herself. So I have no intention of presumptuously acting like her mother now. My only child is Adrian. So even if you come to me, claiming you are worried about Titania and asking my permission to follow her..." The Empress gave a bitter smile. "Is that truly something within my authority to grant?"
"...The situation in the south is ominous. Even if it is not to your liking, my presence is necessary."
"No. You came to me because you needed an excuse." The Empress's lips curved upward. "You know very well she does not consider me a mother. You know my permission means nothing. If it were truly a matter of necessity, would you have come all the way here to ask me? You merely wanted to borrow my name as a pretext to give to Titania."
The Empress observed the young man, who sat as still as a carved stone statue.
He had always been sparing with his expressions—all the more so since their encounters had almost exclusively occurred during formal state affairs.
Yet now, he looked like a child forced to swallow vile, bitter medicine. Like a criminal who desperately wished to run away, yet knew there was nowhere left to run. His rigidly locked shoulders and lips that could not even muster an excuse... looked strangely, precariously fragile.
His lips parted after a long silence, finally forcing out words.
"...It is only natural for a fiancé to worry about his fiancée."
"Has the engagement between you and the princess ever been natural and ordinary?"
"House Castrein now regards Her Imperial Highness as..."
"Yes. But would it be the same if she hadn't saved that adopted daughter—Bibi, the treasure of House Castrein?"
"...It likely would not have been entirely the same."
Even as he answered, Raymon looked like a man who knew his words were nothing more than a pathetic excuse.
The young duke of Castrein had never hesitated when making decisions. He had always chosen whatever aligned with duty and priority. In that calculus, 'himself' had never existed. Nor had 'desire.'
"Do you wish to reproach me for deceiving Her Imperial Highness?"
What, then, happened when a dilemma arose where priorities could no longer be ranked?
What if an insoluble riddle stood in his path?
"Do you wish to blame me, saying it is my fault for never caring how she was broken, assuming her hand was one I would let go of in the end?"
‘Find someone you love and get married.’
Raymon had not forgotten a single second of the day Titania asked to break their engagement.
‘All this time, I’ve lived without owing anything to the Empress. I believe I don’t owe anything to anyone in the imperial family. Though to House Castrein, my life was probably shameful.’
Those quiet, even words she had poured out without pause.
‘So, you see... with just a tiny bit of pity. Out of mere sympathy. A hand reached out thinking, “I can at least help this much.” I hate that someone has to sacrifice for that. I really, truly hate it. I hate the thought of anyone suffering even the slightest loss. I hate that people think it’s a price they must pay for helping that foolish, ignorant, stupid princess.’
Hearing those words, his mind had gone completely blank, as if struck violently from behind. Knowing with absolute certainty that it was Titania's raw, unvarnished truth had only made the blow harder to bear.
It was, ultimately, the resignation of someone convinced that her very existence was a burden to others.
A shameful life to House Castrein...
Her love had become something shameful to her. His throat had felt constricted. He should have told her it wasn't true. But he hadn't been able to say a word. It was as if invisible hands were strangling him.
She felt ashamed of clinging to a man who would never love her and causing trouble; she had nearly died by her own choice, only to survive by burdening others yet again.
To her, everything had been reduced to that.
Even though bringing her to the Empress's palace while she lay unconscious had been House Castrein's unilateral choice.