Chapter 12
Slice, slice—
gripping a handful of long hair, she cut it off with a blade. *Srrk.*
A black clump dropped dully to the floor, while other strands scattered through the air. Only after cutting the other side as well did Glossa finally smile, warmly and sweetly, as if satisfied.
“It looks much better now.”
Having finished what she came to do, Glossa tossed the knife aside. *Clang.* The thin blade bounced against the stone floor. As if she had touched something filthy, she brushed her hands off sharply and straightened up.
Leaving behind cruel words, Glossa walked away with a proud, unhesitating stride.
Skene, who had been standing there with a deep scowl, stomping her foot uselessly, hurried after Glossa as if fleeing. Hesitating over whether to look back, she finally turned her head over her shoulder just before the stone door closed.
Ezra, battered and bruised, had her head bowed. The arm bracing against the floor, covered in bruises, looked as though it might collapse at any moment. *Tsk.* Clicking her tongue, Skene saw Ezra carefully touch the hair that had been cut off near her shoulder.
She seemed to sob, just a little. With a hand whose nails were cracked, she picked up and let go of the fallen hair again and again.
The despair of a woman in love.
The jagged, uneven ends of the cut hair were like knives carving into the heart. Maybe she shouldn’t have looked back. The heaviness in her chest felt deeply uncomfortable. In front of the door that had already closed, Skene stood blankly for a long while.
It was complete night. Perhaps because thick clouds filled the sky, not even moonlight or starlight reached the ground. Without the flickering flames of the golden candlesticks, one wouldn’t be able to see even a step ahead.
“Is it true? You kissed her?”
“So what if I did?”
Demoleon straightened up from where he had been leaning against the wall, making a fuss. Whether Kakos glared at him or not, he paced restlessly in circles, shaking his head.
“This is unbelievable. I thought you were just taking a boat ride together… but to think you even kissed.”
“Zenon, is that really something to be so shocked about?”
Hippolytos, sunk comfortably into a cushioned chair, turned only his head to look at Zenon. Stroking his chin as if thinking deeply, he asked instead,
“Wasn’t it your first kiss?”
An unexpectedly blunt question. All three men’s gazes turned to Hippolytos at once.
Raising his brows with a puzzled look, Hippolytos burst into laughter at their varied expressions.
“Haha, don’t worry. I’m quite good in practice—very satisfying.”
“No, that’s not the issue—”
Flustered, Kakos dropped the parchment he had been holding. As it fluttered to the floor, Zenon bent to pick it up one by one, then froze when he heard the next words. Demoleon stood with his mouth hanging open, blinking.
“Well, it must’ve been her first time too. So she probably wouldn’t know any better.”
Though he spoke casually, there was a strange note of satisfaction in his tone. Watching him lazily sweep his hair back, Kakos quickly grew serious.
Isn’t he getting too absorbed in this act…?
Scratching his head roughly, Kakos asked carefully,
“We thought you had already… with Lady Latia…”
“Latia? Why is that name coming up here?”
“Well…”
The three exchanged quick glances. In the empire, there was no one who didn’t know Latia, who stood faithfully at his side. Sometimes they were childhood friends, sometimes comrades who supported one another, and at times they gave off the air of devoted lovers, always together.
To those who served Hippolytos, Latia was his lover—and the woman destined to one day stand beside him as the true empress of the empire.
“We thought you had already kissed Lady Latia!”
Such an honest idiot.
Kakos shot a sharp look at the tactless Demoleon. Of course, Demoleon, face flushed and fists clenched, noticed nothing at all.
“Hm… well.”
With an ambiguous smile, he gave a vague answer. After all, it was hard to imagine himself pressing close to Latia, sharing breath and indulging in intimate acts. Still, she was the daughter of a high-ranking noble, and there was no woman more suitable to keep at his side.
“I’m not sure.”
Perhaps disappointed, the three men’s shoulders drooped slightly. In the heavy silence that followed, no one spoke first. Kakos merely glanced sideways at him, his thoughts unsettled.
A man who rarely revealed his true feelings. Though Kakos had stayed closer to him than anyone else, he still couldn’t grasp what truly lay in his heart.
He thought he knew everything in the world, yet when it came to Hippolytos, there were nothing but question marks.
Where exactly was he standing now? How much of him was truth, and how much was false?
Lost in such thoughts, Kakos drooped, until Zenon handed him a stack of parchment.
In the heavy atmosphere, Hippolytos slightly lifted himself from the chair. Soft footsteps could be heard outside the door—ones he recognized well.
When Zenon approached and opened it, Matari entered with her head bowed.
“Matari.”
“Yes.”
“So, how did it go?”
“As you ordered, Princess Glossa was guided to the western palace. She witnessed the lakeside scene as planned. And then…”
Speaking stiffly, Matari hesitated. Noticing her unusual behavior, Hippolytos finally turned his gaze toward her.
“And then?”
“Princess Skene brought Princess Ezra with her.”
“Did she hit her? Then she’d be in the underground by now.”
Was it time again to apply that foul-smelling medicine? He rose lightly, about to leave, when Matari hurriedly spoke.
“No. She humiliated her for overstepping and cut her hair as punishment.”
“She cut her hair?”
Caught off guard, Hippolytos’ eyes widened. His pupils expanded like a beast’s, gleaming darker than the flames burning in the golden candlesticks.
“My, that’s a shame…”
As if checking whether it was true, he lifted one eyebrow with a look of regret.
“It was fun to touch.”
The hair slipping through his fingers had been as soft as expensive velvet, making his hand return to it again and again. He shrugged, pretending disappointment.
“Seems I provoked her too much.”
Still, it had at least added some amusement to the ongoing boredom. Resting his chin on his hand, he smiled faintly. Cutting hair, slapping cheeks, locking someone up and whipping them… anything was fine.
As long as it hurt.
To hurt her, isolate her, torment her until she couldn’t endure it anymore—until he became the only thing left in her world. To achieve that goal, he was willing to use anything that came his way.
After the storm passed, the stone tower was strangely quiet.
Some of the maids who had witnessed the princesses’ cruelty firsthand whispered fearfully about Glossa, while others cautiously watched Ezra’s expression. After all, she had gained the prince’s favor.
So much so that even the refined, prideful Princess Glossa had personally come to confront her, unable to hide her jealousy.
“Lady Ezra.”
At dawn, the first to visit the stone tower was Matari. The moment she crossed the threshold, she swallowed a sigh at the sight before her. The untouched meal had gone cold where it sat, and the bed was completely empty.
In the dim room, lifting her lantern, Matari spotted Ezra curled up in a corner. Annoyed that the woman would choose to crouch there instead of using the bed, her tone came out sharp.
“Lift your head. Get up now. And put down that hair.”
Long and short strands scattered across the floor poked between Ezra’s curled toes.
“I’m sorry… I’m more comfortable here.”
“So? Are you planning to stay there forever?”
As the red lantern light fell over her head, her shadow deepened. A nameless emotion swelled at the tips of her cold toes. The heat in her chest climbed all the way to her throat. Afraid she might burst into tears, she couldn’t answer.
All she could do was clutch the cut hair tightly in her hands.
She was holding on so tightly. Because if she let go, it felt like everything would end. And yet, strand by strand, the hair kept slipping through her fingers no matter how hard she tried.
I’m so powerless.
“Let’s start with a bath. Come.”
Watching the hair slip through Ezra’s withered fingers, Matari gestured coldly. The maids waiting beyond the threshold approached silently, grabbed Ezra by both arms, and forced her to stand.
“P-please…”
If only she could be given a little time—just a moment—to accept everything.
“Lady Matari.”
Being dragged away, Ezra called to her over her shoulder. Matari remained standing where she was, staring down at the spot where Ezra had been sitting.
Without moving her gaze, she answered,
“Give your order.”
She couldn’t say “leave me alone.” In all her life, there had never been anything she was allowed to refuse. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile, tears welling deep inside.
Lowering her head, she murmured quietly,
“It’s nothing.”
With that, Ezra was dragged away. Matari looked around the now-empty, prison-like room, then returned to the corner and slowly knelt. The hair the woman had been clutching—she began to gather it up. Her movements slowed, then stopped completely.
A stabbing pain pierced her chest. Biting her lip hard, Matari stared blankly down the path Ezra had been taken along.
She began cleaning again, faster and more roughly than before, until she suddenly collapsed onto the floor.
