“Lady… you don’t mean that he’s the biological father of the children…?”
“What nonsense.”
Karina cast a look of pure contempt at the mercenary who had spoken. Her expression was so fierce that one of the onlookers let out a nervous hiccup.
Well, compared to her, he did look quite young—but was it really enough to provoke such disgust? Then why on earth had she even brought him along?
Despite her vehement denial, curiosity still lingered in their eyes. Karina tapped the floor with the tip of her shoe, selecting her words carefully.
“Hmm, this is…”
“This is?!”
“A hostage.”
Karina pointed to Red and explained that he had committed a grave mistake and would be held until negotiations with his family concluded. In other words, he wasn’t a man to be concerned about—he was collateral.
Red’s shoulders slumped as he recalled his own plight after hearing her blunt, unfeeling words. He looked as if he had lost everything. Even the hardened mercenaries, who had been sharpening their tongues moments ago, one by one patted him on the shoulder in consolation.
Karina, still flicking her eyebrows at Red—who had yet to show remorse for trespassing into someone else’s home—gave instructions to her steward as if to ensure he heard them clearly.
“Steward, I’ll have to look after him for a while, but I can’t stand seeing someone loaf around in my house. It may be difficult, but teach him at least to assist properly.”
“I will do my utmost, Lady.”
“Wait, Marber… no, you magnificent man! Where are you taking me?! Let me go!”
With two claps, the steward summoned the young attendants, and Red was dragged toward the back entrance of the mansion by kindly smiling, towering servants.
His youthful beauty, standing on the edge between boy and man, resonated through the Townhouse’s courtyard.
Karina, looking entirely unconcerned, held onto Andion and Alice with both hands.
“Well then, everyone’s worked hard since morning. Shall we go have a little snack?”
“Damn, persistent as ever!”
Shagal sighed deeply as he opened the door. Even late at night, the Townhouse remained lit, thanks to the uninvited guests.
“It’s nearly midnight. Who is it this time?”
“The Duke of Pandeon sent some knights, so it took a while. They caused quite a fuss, insisting on escorting the Duchess. Lady, you are… very popular.”
After the chaos at the Grand Battle, people came from all directions. From the imperial palace to the grand dukes’ households, even distant relatives who had met her only once or twice decades ago sent letters or representatives, all in polite, gentle tones, feeding their curious greed.
Karina had expected as much. She ignored all messages, not showing her face or replying. But with the Duke of Pandeon, things were different. They still had a reason to bring her in.
“Can’t be helped, my name is still technically Pandeon. The Emperor, who values the imperial image above all, will probably make a decision by tomorrow or the day after.”
“So you’ll be the Grand Duchess of Luterbert again?”
“Well… I don’t like that idea.”
Divorce was rare in aristocratic society, but when it occurred, it was customary for a woman to return to her father’s household.
Karina didn’t want that. It was obvious that the Grand Duke would not allow her freedom. After all, the same man had previously opposed her, claiming divorce would tarnish the imperial reputation—and now, she returned with an illegitimate child. He had no reason to welcome her.
She wished she had a third, independent name she could use freely.
“Yes, a title would make things easier.”
With a title, she could attach a name to a territory, live separately from the Grand Duke, and her children would be recognized as a fully independent family.
A title would allow influence in noble society, provide an excuse to disappear into a territory without suspicion, and remove various inconvenient restrictions.
“But a purchased title, like those of the Pandeon Dowager or Noah, won’t do.”
Karina was too famous to simply wash away her identity. Moreover, she would be dealing with high-ranking figures like the Grand Duke or Dukes—low titles wouldn’t suffice. And if the territory was too busy, it would be counterproductive.
What she needed was a modest but peaceful territory, large enough to maintain appearances, and legitimate. But such a territory wouldn’t simply fall from the sky…
“Wait!”
“Let go! You dare touch a royal body with your filthy hands? Want your head chopped off for insulting royalty?!”
Just as she was deep in thought about her future, the entrance became noisy again.
Shagal, standing beside her, reached for his waist, but Karina stopped him.
The sharp, irritable voice—the same that never changed with age—was unmistakable. And for the first time in her life, she felt glad to hear it.
“The pumpkin has arrived with the vine intact.”
A scuffle outside preceded the slamming of the front door. First to appear was a guard of the princess in casual disguise.
He bowed stiffly to Karina, then the princess herself, Cerivis, strode in through the open door.
“Karina Luterbert!”
Karina covered her ears in front of the shouting princess.
Why scream so loudly in the dead of night, when talking would suffice? The servants starting work early tomorrow morning might be disturbed.
“You weren’t invited, but welcome to my mansion. Now, lower your voice. Do you know what time it is?”
“Karina, you! What are you plotting?!”
Cerivis approached Karina, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. Her sharp, manicured nails painfully pierced the fabric of Karina’s dress. With no audience to charm, the princess’s true nature showed.
Karina slapped her hand away mercilessly. Cerivis’s hand turned bright red.
“‘You’?”
“Ugh!”
“You should call me ‘sister,’ Cerivis.”
Impertinent! Karina brushed the princess’s touch off as if it were filth. Unsurprisingly, Cerivis’s face flushed bright red with anger.
Yes, this was the real Cerivis Luxen Castaros: arrogant, malicious, and self-centered. A child who had turned sweet after a few years apart would be laughable.
“Come in, then. Your cute little sister has come, so I’ll offer some tea.”
“I didn’t come for tea! Tell me immediately what you’re scheming! And what is that child?!”
“That child?”
Cerivis clenched her injured hand and glared. But Karina remained unflinching, as if the princess’s fury were no more than a barking dog. Not a cute dog, of course.
“Do you mean my child, or…?”
“Ah!”
Cerivis, who had burst into Karina’s house shouting, let out a shriek at Karina’s low voice, covering her mouth. Shagal and the princess’s guards went on alert, ready to intervene if a fight broke out.
Karina held them back and pulled Cerivis close, whispering quietly but clearly in her ear:
“Don’t be arrogant. Follow me. If you came trembling in fear to my house, show some sincerity.”
Stepping back from the pale-faced Cerivis, Karina lied with a calm expression: “She must have misstepped. Better be careful.”
Even until she stepped into the Townhouse, Cerivis, who had underestimated Karina, shivered at her smile. She realized: she had walked into a dragon’s nest.
Cerivis’s intuition was correct. Once inside the private room, Karina, with servants and guards dismissed, sat with a sulky expression.
“What’s the matter? Not kneeling?”
Karina’s words were more of a suggestion than a command. Yet the strange dignity she radiated made Cerivis feel pressured.
Whether from guilt or fear of what Karina might know, Cerivis found it increasingly hard to breathe.
Yet she could not be seen as weak. Raising her chin, she asserted her royal authority.
“Why should I sit on the floor when there’s a perfectly good chair? Even though you’re common-born, don’t you know how to treat guests as a Grand Duchess?”
“Well, if you want, you may sit… but you’ll be responsible for the outcome.”
“Ha! Empty threats!”
Cerivis ignored her warning, sat in the chair, leaned back, and crossed her legs. The desperate display of strength amused Karina, who smirked and shrugged.
She was curious to see just how much Cerivis would flaunt her arrogance.
