Chapter 22
“Yes, I remember.”
It was said that the number of people there was growing rapidly. But those who lived nearby were closer to nomads than refugees—people who wandered constantly because of the irregular monster attacks.
They were tough, proud, and self-reliant—living nearest to the Magic Empire, they took great pride in their way of life and independence.
They felt humiliated by the idea of receiving help, so national support was minimal. Still, there were elite troops stationed along the border.
“Is something strange happening in the Land of Death…?”
At my blunt question, his expression darkened immediately. Damian nodded.
“Three villages were completely destroyed over the past week.”
“What?”
Was that even possible? Damian sat up straight and handed me a document lying on the table.
It was a written report. The handwriting belonged to my father, but after skimming through it, I could tell the content wasn’t something he’d written himself.
“Yesterday, Duke Moore met the refugees in person. According to them, the monsters’ behavior patterns have changed.”
“How so?”
“They said the monsters used to act like wild beasts… but now, they move like an army.”
‘That’s impossible.’
In the novel, they were described as mindless creatures—dangerous but lacking any intelligence or organization, which was why Estelle and Theo could even reach the center.
Of course, I couldn’t blindly trust the novel anymore… but if the same events were happening, wouldn’t it be mentioned in the diary too?
If things continued like this, it was unclear whether Estelle could even purify the Land of Death. My heart started beating faster.
“Then why hasn’t the military reported anything? Isn’t this a serious crisis?”
At my question, Damian gave a bitter smile.
“All reports concerning the border go directly to His Majesty. I can’t know anything—unless His Majesty decides to tell me.”
“Why…?”
Even though he’s his only son and heir, the Emperor cuts him off from all information?
And he’s already an adult!
I murmured in confusion, and Damian only shrugged.
“I’d like to know the reason myself.”
Then he fell silent. He clearly didn’t intend to say any more, so I didn’t press him.
‘At this rate, Damian ascending the throne might actually be better.’
My thoughts grew complicated.
* * *
Damian watched Rosalyn intently. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her dress wrinkled. Her smooth golden hair and shining red eyes caught the light.
Her faintly furrowed brows and occasionally pursed lips showed she was lost in deep thought.
No one in the ducal household knew where she had gone earlier that day. If it had just been a dessert shop visit, someone would’ve mentioned it.
Had she met someone else? But as far as he knew, she didn’t really have any friends.
‘Well, her goal was the Duke anyway…’
He decided to trust Rosalyn. After all, if she hadn’t gone to the dessert shop, there weren’t many other places she could’ve gone.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling uneasy—what if she smiled at someone else? What if some foolish moth was drawn to her flame?
Like that man he’d seen at the salon.
Hadn’t it just been the two of them then? Damian couldn’t even remember the emotionist’s face anymore. Much less his name.
Jealousy over someone so insignificant, for something that might not have even happened—it was a pathetic thought. Damian forced himself to shake it off.
Besides, he had far more pressing matters to deal with.
<They said the monsters are forming an army.>
That was what the Duke had told him. That was why the refugees were appearing.
The Countess had said something similar.
<I could introduce you to a merchant group, but… recently, many treasure hunters have vanished or gone broke. The number of relics in circulation has dropped sharply—you might not find the information you want.>
Damian’s eyes darkened.
If the reason was the monsters organizing into an army, then everything made sense. They weren’t supposed to have intelligence—he had seen it himself several times.
During his time in the elite forces, he had slain many of them, and they had never once shown any sign of coordination.
That was why the borders had held. If they were now moving in formation, this would be nothing short of a catastrophe.
‘Evolution? Or maybe a commander?’
Either way, it was unwelcome news.
The long-dead Magic Empire seemed to be stirring for revival. A horrifying thought.
* * *
Damian left after reminding me to tell him in advance next time I went somewhere. It seemed his real purpose in visiting was to talk with the Duke about the charity ball, not me.
‘At this rate, does Damian even like Rosalyn that much?’
Was that look in his eyes back then just an act? Did I overplay my hand? Or was he the type who stopped caring once he’d “caught” someone?
That last possibility was really insulting. I clutched my head.
“Ugh, what a headache.”
Meanwhile, the wedding day crept closer and closer.
And finally, the day arrived.
At dawn, I rode in a carriage with a few maids toward the imperial palace.
The wedding had dozens of prepared dresses and was held in two separate ceremonies.
First, a solemn private one inside the central hall of the imperial palace, attended by only a few.
“I, Rosalyn Lyraus, swear to serve the citizens of the Empire according to our founding ideals, and as a member of the Imperial Family, to live for the will and hope of the Empire.”
The purple tapestry before us was embroidered in gold thread with the achievements of the First Emperor.
A great and wise ruler who led his people to safety in the west when death spread across the land, and built a nation from ruin.
After swearing to inherit his will—to protect the Empire’s citizens and dedicate my life to this land—I received the blessing.
During the blessing, both Damian and I wore white veils.
Even though there were no windows in the secret chamber, it felt as though pure sunlight poured down upon us.
Damian’s hair remained an unyielding black, even beneath the veil.
After that came the public wedding ceremony, held in the grand plaza in front of the palace—opened only for special occasions.
Technically, all imperial citizens could attend, but because of limited space and strict security, only nobles were really present.
I worried that someone from the salon might recognize me, but Damian reassured me.
<The Countess said she cannot attend due to political reasons, and the others won’t be able to come close enough to see our faces.>
True enough. The ceremony wasn’t for all nobility, only for the Emperor’s faction, and the closer seats were occupied by high-ranking nobles. At most, they could see our hair color.
So I relaxed. Before the watching crowd, Damian and I joined hands, listened to the officiant’s blessings, and sealed it with a kiss.
The military band played a triumphant melody. The crowd watched as we slowly walked toward the center of the plaza and boarded an open-roof carriage.
I smiled and waved to them.
The carriage circled once around the fountain in the middle of the plaza before returning to the palace.
* * *
The imperial faction nobles followed us back into the palace.
While they entered the banquet hall directly, Damian and I were led to separate antechambers to change into our reception attire.
Once we had changed and gathered ourselves, we met again at the door.
Damian gently took my hand. His black hair, usually covering his forehead, was neatly swept back today.
‘Not bad at all,’ I thought absently.
Then the massive doors—at least three times my height—swung open, and the light of the chandeliers stung my eyes.
“His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Damian and Her Imperial Highness Crown Princess Rosalyn are entering!”
The herald’s loud voice filled the hall.
All conversation ceased. Holding Damian’s hand, I stepped forward one slow step at a time.
Our footsteps echoed through the grand hall.
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I began to see everything clearly—the glittering chandeliers, the nobles clad in gold and silver threads, adorned with jewels.
Even with the windows flung wide open, the air was thick with late-summer heat, tension, curiosity, delight, and wariness.
The hand I held was warm. He squeezed mine once before letting go.
That seemed to be the signal—people began to approach us.
“Congratulations, Your Highness!”
Cheers and exclamations erupted around us.
My ears rang, but I kept my smile, waving gracefully.
“Thank you.”
I didn’t recognize a single face.
Just as I didn’t know them, they likely didn’t know me—but that didn’t stop them from talking to me as if we were old friends.
