Episode 19
Twelve years after being kicked out, Layla returned to the mansion—but now she was just a puppet doing whatever Duke La Rose ordered.
She didn’t know why, but she followed his commands, learning noble manners and basic education like he told her to.
The maids took care of her skin, hair, and nails every day using expensive oils and cosmetics.
She wore fancy dresses and jewelry she had never seen in the countryside.
No one talked to her, but at least no one bullied her either.
The Duchess of La Rose hadn’t left her room since losing Prinelle, and she hadn’t spoken since then.
But Layla couldn’t smile like she used to. She lived like a lifeless doll, completing the tasks the Duke gave her without thinking.
And like that, three years passed.
In the Inverno Empire, women hold their coming-of-age ceremony at the age of 20.
For commoners, it’s usually a simple ceremony at home—but not for someone from the famous La Rose family.
“You should be having a debutante ball,” said Duke La Rose, lounging on the sofa arrogantly.
“But you won’t be having one.”
Layla looked at him slowly.
Wasn’t she brought back to be sold off for a high price in the marriage market?
“Why wouldn’t I give my lovely daughter a debutante ball, Layla?”
He looked her up and down.
Her silver hair shimmered like melted moonlight, more radiant than the mercury noblewomen used for beauty. Her long eyelashes made men melt whenever she blinked. Her eyes were like blooming geraniums—so stunning they could outshine any gem.
She was, in his mind, a perfect product.
And such a perfect product couldn’t be sold to just anyone.
“You’re a gift for the Emperor.”
The word gift made Layla flinch.
“You’ll become the Empress of Inverno.”
“Empress…?”
Layla frowned slightly, wondering if she heard him wrong. But no—he was serious.
The Duke smiled proudly, clearly pleased.
“You’re more than capable.”
His eyes, inspecting her like he was appraising a gem, gave her chills.
Empress? It didn’t make sense.
He had abused and abandoned her for five years, then kicked her out for twelve.
For the past three years, she had lived like a ghost. Whenever there was a party or tea gathering at the mansion, she was locked away in her room.
And now he wanted to put her on the Empress’s throne?
It was ridiculous.
“You’re not unhappy about this, are you?”
“…No.”
Layla didn’t have the courage to disobey him.
She could only lower her head and whisper, “Okay.”
In a Dream…
“Help me… Help me, Easton!”
A voice cried from a pit. Easton ran over and looked inside.
Layla was screaming, surrounded by burning flames.
“Layla…!”
He reached out his hand, but snake-like fire bit at his arms. The pain was horrible, but he couldn’t just leave her there.
“Grab my hand, Layla!”
He pushed through the fire and tried to reach her. But just before their hands touched—
“You can’t save anyone.”
A voice whispered around him like a curse.
Easton turned his head quickly.
Duke La Rose.
The man who had killed his mother and his sister.
“Look.”
The Duke, smiling wickedly, pointed into the pit.
Easton looked back—and his eyes widened.
“Layla!”
“Kyaaah!”
Layla’s body was burning up, turning to ash.
Easton, sweating, reached toward her, but even his fingertips crumbled into ash.
“You can’t protect anyone!”
Laughter filled his ears as Easton screamed in agony.
“Please… no!”
His heavy, wet body suddenly felt lighter. Reality slowly returned.
“Huff… huff…”
It had all been just a nightmare. He sighed in relief, drenched in sweat.
“Damn it…”
He ran a hand through his soaked hair and stood up, walking to the window.
Rain was falling.
It always rained on nights when he had nightmares.
“…Today’s one of those rainy days.”
The palace’s weather was controlled by royal magicians and always felt like spring. But sometimes, a few days each month, rain was summoned for the gardens.
“Sigh.”
He spotted a glass of cold water on the table.
Easton grabbed the bottle and drank deeply. The cool water helped clear his head.
Beside his hand was a small picture frame.
In it, a young girl smiled brightly.
“Psyche…”
His face twisted in sadness.
It had already been three years.
Three years since his beloved little sister passed away.
He couldn’t save her that day.
Right after saying goodbye to Layla and sitting back down, a masked man suddenly appeared next to him.
“Who are you?!”
Before he could draw his sword, the man sprayed something like perfume—and Easton instantly passed out.
When he woke up, he was back at the palace.
And…
“Your Majesty…”
His loyal assistant Jayden, who had never cried before, was sobbing.
“Her Highness… Psyche…”
Easton had come back with the antidote. But he never got to use it.
He lost the only family he had left.
At her funeral, Duke La Rose cried even more dramatically than he had when Prinelle died.
Disgusted by that fake display, Easton vowed never to show weakness again.
He couldn’t afford to.
If he brought the woman he loved into the palace, she too would fall into the Duke’s hands.
So, he locked away his feelings for Layla, his first love.
He made a promise to himself:
Once he became a strong Emperor, he would destroy Duke La Rose—and then go find Layla again.
He couldn’t tell her the whole story, but he thought if he sent a letter saying he couldn’t visit for a while, she would understand.
But when he sent that letter, she never replied.
He wanted to go see her—but right after, the Emperor passed away.
And while waiting for a reply, Easton became Emperor.
But the real power still lay with Duke La Rose.
And since then, Easton had been having nightmares of Layla dying whenever it rained.
Three whole years had passed since he last saw her.
She would be twenty now.
No longer a girl, but a beautiful young woman.
Sometimes, Easton wanted to throw away everything—his title, his duty—just to run to peaceful Elton and see her again.
But ever since becoming Emperor, he had been watched constantly.
He couldn’t risk putting Layla in danger.
“Sigh…”
First loves hurt the most—especially when both sides felt the same but were forced to give up because of their situation.
His eyes drifted to his desk.
It was full of petitions telling him to marry and produce an heir.
Easton frowned and looked away.
“…I miss you.”
He closed his eyes.
What he longed for wasn’t marriage or heirs.
It was—
“Layla…”
Her smiling face, bright and warm like a summer day.
As the impossible dream faded, Easton gave a bitter smile.
