Chapter 32
The one who caught Karlcia by the ankle as he was about to leave was Arahan.
“And I’m certain I made myself clear. She’s the woman I intend to give my whole heart to. So don’t treat her carelessly, Karlcia.”
What left Arahan’s mouth was not the title of the noble and great Emperor of the Morc Empire.
It was the name of his friend.
A name he had never once spoken since that friend had been crowned Emperor.
And when Arahan used that name, it was no different from a silent warning.
Karlcia knew exactly why the warning had come. It meant Arahan would not tolerate even the smallest flaw in the investigation of Elizabeth’s poisoning.
Still, there was one part Karlcia didn’t like.
“I’ve never treated the young lady carelessly.”
At Karlcia’s cold reply, Arahan’s brow twitched.
His dignified golden eyes slowly closed and opened again. When they settled back on Arahan, Karlcia spoke in a slightly chilled tone.
“And Rath. You’d better hope I really do think of her as nothing more than a hidden card. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“…What?”
For a moment, Arahan didn’t understand what Karlcia meant.
But the instant the meaning sank in, he bit down hard on his lip.
It was a warning—Karlcia’s own.
That he was deliberately drawing a line.
That he was intentionally keeping his distance.
So Arahan shouldn’t expect anything beyond that.
Reading the meaning beneath those words, Arahan’s dark-blue eyes burned as they fixed on Karlcia.
“Hah. That doesn’t change anything.”
“You never know. As you said, Rath—we were once engaged.”
“…Ha! You call that something to bring up now—?!”
“So don’t cross the line.”
“And who do you think should be saying that—!!”
“Rath Arahan. Before you are my friend, you are my subject. Show proper respect.”
Realizing this was no joke, Arahan pressed a hand to his forehead.
There was no law saying Elizabeth—once a candidate for Crown Princess—couldn’t become Empress.
Besides, Elizabeth liked him.
He knew that well enough—hadn’t he used her feelings to ask her to infiltrate the nobles’ ball?
Who would’ve thought that would come back to bite me…!
Even if many opposed it, Karlcia was the kind of man who could assign multiple political meanings to Elizabeth becoming Empress and push it through.
If the Luciella family hadn’t sided with the noble faction, he likely would have chosen her instead.
He was, above all else, a public-minded ruler.
For the Empire’s benefit, it didn’t matter to him who became Empress.
If he truly decided on Elizabeth, there would be no reason to refuse. Rather, if she herself wished to become Empress, it would only strengthen imperial authority—an ideal outcome.
And above all, persuading anyone who opposed Elizabeth’s ascension would fall to Arahan himself.
“…So it would be wise not to provoke me, Rath.”
“Hah…”
Karlcia meant every word.
He was barely suppressing the irritation that crept back up from recalling the situation earlier—when he had struggled to keep hold of his composure.
Seeing that, Arahan found nothing he could say in rebuttal. After a long sigh, he finally spoke.
“I’ll take my leave now.”
Watching Arahan walk away and disappear from sight left a bitter taste in Karlcia’s mouth.
Everyone had tried to use Elizabeth.
Not just himself—Arahan too.
Otherwise, why would he have asked her for a dance he couldn’t even properly perform?
The late Emperor had been the same.
That was why he had considered making her Crown Princess.
Yet overnight, she had gone from that position to being branded the villainess of the age—living under people’s scorn and cold stares.
And as her behavior gradually changed, Karlcia had assumed the reason was the countless poisoning attempts and assassination plots against her.
That must also be why she rarely appeared in public.
Of course, Anais’s overprotectiveness had played a role too.
Otherwise, Elizabeth would have participated at least once in events most noble ladies attended—the hunting festival, the harvest festival.
…Wait.
“…Changed?”
Karlcia repeated the word softly, struck by the strange sense of déjà vu it carried.
Elizabeth had changed.
But he couldn’t remember what she had originally been like before this change.
It didn’t feel like a childhood memory so distant it had faded.
I’m sure I’ve felt this déjà vu somewhere before…
Elizabeth Arlesia had definitely changed.
Not in the way Arahan meant. Not just in what Karlcia himself had recently felt.
Why had she suddenly become known as a villainess?
Why had she stood there silently, never answering back, even under such contempt and hatred?
Anais had been the same.
Silence.
Even Anais—who had always shown extreme sensitivity whenever Elizabeth was involved—had kept silent.
“…If even Marquis Vincent remained silent, there must be a reason.”
Without even organizing his thoughts, Karlcia found his feet already carrying him toward the imperial palace library.
At the end of those unconsciously guided steps, he hoped to find the truth.
To uncover the source of this lingering sense of déjà vu.
The cause was clearly Elizabeth—yet nothing concrete came to mind.
It felt as though someone had intentionally erased it.
If her name had risen high enough to be discussed as a Crown Princess candidate, he should at least remember meeting her at the palace.
Yet all he clearly remembered was:
that she’d been a Crown Princess candidate,
that society knew her as a notorious villainess,
and that she was the Vincent family’s only granddaughter.
The more I think about it, everything’s strange—how did I fail to notice even this…!
The more he dwelled on it, the more irritation crept up—at the unknown thing he’d failed to grasp, at the hazy fragments of memory, at the blank spaces.
But most of all—
what irritated him most was that Elizabeth—the source of this unease—had collapsed coughing up blood.
When he saw her fall, dressed in red and spitting blood, for a split second—
he’d nearly lost control.
If Arahan hadn’t been beside him, he might have seized the imperial physician by the collar just as Arahan had.
She was a woman he’d disliked.
This irritation wasn’t something that could be explained simply because she had changed.
So why, in that instant, had she overlapped with someone else in his mind?
Who was that someone?
It was a dream he used to have often.
One he hadn’t dreamed lately.
Why had seeing Elizabeth collapse in a bloodstained dress suddenly brought it back?
====
『Hello. Long time no see.』
====
Suddenly, countless scenes resurfaced.
Within them, a child with a blurred, erased face spoke to him—
said it had been a long time.
And he had asked what exactly had been so long.
====
『I wonder. More importantly… why are we here?』
====
The child had been unnaturally calm.
Its entire body was gray.
Clothes smeared with soot and dust had lost any shape of the dress they’d once been.
And then—
the child stood there wearing the very color he hated most.
Red.
As the rising memories finally formed one complete fragment, Karlcia stopped walking and stared ahead blankly.
================
『I’ll protect you.』
=================
That was what the child in the dream had said.
The same child who appeared in every fragment now returning to him.
And that child was clearly—
“…Red hair.”
The hair color that had seemed erased now slowly filled in, as though painted back into his mind.
Yes.
The child had red hair.
The red-haired child from the dream.
That child was—
Elizabeth.
Karlcia resumed walking, quickening his pace.
The lingering sense of déjà vu that had followed him until now had vanished.
He didn’t deny the thought.
Normally, he would have rejected the idea that it was Elizabeth.
But the question born from that déjà vu did not push him to deny it—
it gave him certainty instead.
In his memories, once color returned to the scenes, Elizabeth was red in all of them.
A dangerously vivid red.
A dark crimson—like the color of blood.
Elizabeth stood there, unsteady.
At that moment, something long submerged beneath the surface stirred.
And the first thing to rise from below—
was Karlcia’s memory.
=================
Around the time Karlcia’s memories began surfacing—
Arten arrived in the Holy Region to carry out Karlcia’s order and headed for the High Priest’s chamber.
But no one was there.
The chair was empty.
The desk neatly arranged.
There was no lingering warmth in the room, as if its owner had been gone for quite some time.
When Arten stepped closer to the desk, he found a list already prepared in front of it.
Taking the list into his hand, Arten let out a quiet, crooked chuckle.
“…It’s still too early for you to die, Elizabeth.”
Even as he left the room holding the list, a faint smile remained spread across Arten’s lips
