29.

The Night of Ledetian’s Fall
That night, Emperor Heslan of Ledetia died.

The gates fell easily. Not because the soldiers lacked loyalty or courage.

“Akalem is watching! For Ledetia!”

They clung to the gates with their very lives.

Even after losing their weapons, they grasped at the enemy—clawing at their necks, sleeves, ankles—anything within reach. They held on until their final breaths.

But wrung-out loyalty and courage could not revive a broken spirit.

“We fight prepared for death!”
The words carried an underlying truth: They had already accepted their fate.

The enemy surged forward, an unstoppable tide. There was no hesitation, no fear—only the overwhelming momentum of inevitable victory.

In contrast, the Ledetian army had already conceded defeat. They collapsed like scattered straw.

Emperor Heslan hid his two children. He gripped their shoulders, shaking them, forcing them to listen.

To his eldest daughter, Princess Ateira, he ordered, “Take your younger brother.”

To his son, Prince Dermin, he commanded, “Protect your sister.”

The children refused to leave. They clung to him.

There was no time. The enemy was already inside the palace. He sent them away, nearly dragging them out with the help of his knights.

But their stubborn resistance had cost them precious minutes.

The palace was swarming with enemies.

Would they have enough time to escape?

He didn’t know.

All he could do was pray that Akalem watched over them.

All he could do was hope they made it out alive.

Seated alone upon the throne, he met his end.

The exact nature of his death was unclear.

The world only cared about one thing—King Wintran of Thornfeld had won.

He had crushed the incompetent Emperor Heslan.

The fate of a fallen ruler was of little interest.

Suicide. Execution.

None of it mattered.

All that remained was the glory of victory.

And at the heart of it stood the greatest hero of them all—

Leofric Helton.

* * *

Moonlight shattered in white fragments over the terrace. The marble gleamed with a cold, pristine glow. Against that brightness, Ateira, curled up at the edge of the terrace railing, stood out in stark contrast.

The night breeze tangled and unraveled her jet-black hair, as if the wind itself was brushing against the railing.

She sat there, staring into nothingness, lost in thought. But her mind was hazy, muddled, refusing to focus.

Rage clouded her reason.

Her frail body, reduced to little more than skin and bone, pressed against the cold railing. The hard marble dug into her back. It was a dull, aching sensation—but she didn’t mind the discomfort. If anything, it was welcome. At least it distracted her, if only for a moment, from the crushing weight constricting her chest.

She had always known about her father’s death—Emperor Heslan’s death. It had always been woven into the triumphant war stories people so eagerly recounted.

‘The incompetent emperor is dead! Long live His Majesty, Wintran!’

Those words had pierced her ears and heart alike.

She had never allowed herself to wonder how he had died. Some truths were too painful to face.

But the truth she had tried to avoid had now revealed itself—and it struck her deep.

Ateira wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, burying her face against them. She blinked hard, pressing her long lashes against her damp skin, forcing away the tears.

“Pip.”

A familiar birdcall.

A soft, round ball of fluff—the beast belonging to that man. The tiny creature tilted its short neck, gazing at her with eyes that looked like sesame seeds pressed into dough.

“…….”

Go back.

She met the bird’s eyes and silently willed it to leave.

“Pip?”

Instead, she only clutched her knees tighter. She refused to reach out to the tiny creature. The thought of its owner—the man it belonged to—made her heart throb with even greater pain.

Go back. To your master.

The beast, Nepi, hesitated, watching her with what seemed like concern. Then, as if it understood, it fluttered forward, briefly nuzzled its beak against her damp cheek—

And left.

But even the warmth of the beast did nothing to comfort her.

Still, the tangled mess in her head seemed to clear, just a little.

She could see his face.

The man who had killed her father. The man who, without a shred of guilt, had stood before her and spoken of a contract marriage.

A soft grinding of teeth filled the silence.

Tomorrow, she would accept the marriage talks.

And as promised, she would serve him tea—the way the Ledetian imperial family always did.

Ateira’s fingers tightened around the poisoned pin hidden at her collar.

* * *

She had spent the entire night awake. Sleep was impossible.

Thinking about what she had to do today only made it worse.

Ateira’s eyes sank into a deep, dark stillness. It was a habit of hers—when she was lost in thought, her gaze always seemed to darken. With those deep crimson-tinged eyes, she gripped the hair ornament she had been given back.

Zellered had returned it to her when he told her the name of the man who had personally killed her father, Emperor Heslan.

She hadn’t asked for anything, yet he had practically shoved it into her hands—as if urging her to go and use it as a weapon.

Ateira had accepted it in silence.

But she did not place it in her hair.

If, by any chance, Leofric recognized the ornament as the one she had once used to attack him, it could ruin everything. She didn’t want to put him on guard unnecessarily.

“Sir Leofric has arrived.”

At the servant’s announcement, the doors opened, and the man strode in with confident steps.

Ateira rose to greet him. Back straight, hands clasped neatly in front of her, she gave him a slight nod.

“I was quite excited when you sent for me.”

“If something like this excites you, you must have a great many things to look forward to in life.”

She drew an indifferent line between them, her tone so composed that it didn’t even sound like sarcasm.

Leofric accepted her greeting with a subtle smile before taking a seat across from her.

“Can I take today’s meeting as a positive sign?”

“…Yes.”

“That is good to hear.”

He smiled—a striking, almost mesmerizing expression. He seemed genuinely pleased, exhaling lightly as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Have you decided on what you want?”

Ateira met his gaze directly.

“Freedom.”

“…….”

A slight twitch in his brow.

“One day, when this play is over. Let me go.”

“Are you asking for a divorce?”

“Divorce, disappearance—whichever you find more convenient.”

If this engagement was going to proceed, she had to make her terms clear. This was the conclusion she had reached.

“…….”

Leofric pondered her words.

It wasn’t a condition that harmed him.

And ‘when the play is over’ was such an ambiguous deadline that he could set it at his own discretion.

“Is that too much to ask?”

“No, just unexpected.”

A faint smile flickered across his lips. He had wondered if she would ask him to find someone for her.

“You’re not looking for anyone?”

“…Not anymore.”

“…….”

“I’ll be leaving far away anyway.”

Her gaze drifted somewhere distant before lowering toward the table.

“I see.”

Leofric nodded lightly. He didn’t press further. If she no longer wished to find someone, there was no point in pushing.

“Very well. I will grant you your freedom.”

His agreement came easily. Ateira dipped her head slightly in gratitude.

Not that it mattered.

If he had refused, she would have asked for something else. Either way, soon enough, he would be in no position to keep any promises.

“When should we consummate the marriage? Tonight?”

Ateira’s breath caught slightly.

She knew it was just part of the performance. He had already promised that nothing would happen.

Still, hearing it aloud made tension coil within her.

“Tonight—”

“I’m joking.”

He lifted a hand and let out a quiet laugh.

“Do I seem like an impatient groom?”

His eyebrow arched playfully, amusement glimmering in his gaze.

“Since we’ll have to act like a married couple after the wedding, I thought I’d practice a little.”

“…That seems like a rather unnecessary exercise.”

Realizing he had been teasing her, she replied dryly.

Leofric chuckled, offering a small, apologetic smile.

He had never given much thought to marriage before, but this arrangement was something he would have never imagined.

And neither, he was sure, had she.

A faint sense of pity stirred in him.

“I hear that brides have much to prepare. Though I imagine the count has already arranged most of it.”

“…….”

Not that there would be a real wedding night.

Even so, the mere mention of it made her feel lightheaded. She turned her head slightly, heat rising to her cheeks.

Leofric let out an awkward cough, as if he, too, had just realized how absurd this conversation was.

Of all things…

“Shall we consider the contract settled, then, Your Highness?”

He tried to phrase it as formally as possible, but the content of their discussion made it impossible to ignore the awkwardness. He had to force himself to say it with a straight face.

After a moment of silence, Ateira finally spoke.

“…Yes. To commemorate the occasion, would you like some tea?”

“…….”

“Just as you once suggested—I would like to serve you tea, the Ledetian way.”

She smiled softly, as if shy, lightly brushing her fingers over the decorative pin at her collar.