Chapter 10
The sky pressed heavily down, as if it might pour rain at any moment.
A white horse moved slowly along a road tangled with fleeting light, blood, and mud. It walked as though following the gaze of the woman riding on its back.
The red-haired woman seated atop did not spare a glance for anything else. Her eyes were fixed on one place alone—
The place where the most blades gleamed.
The place drenched entirely in blood.
Guided only by that sight, she urged the horse forward.
And finally, when she reached it—
Rudiche dismounted slowly and walked toward it. In the middle of a pool of blood lay the cold corpse of a man, already lifeless.
Without a word, Rudiche looked down at him, then knelt and sat by his side.
His platinum hair, now soaked in blood and stained red as if it were her own. His tightly closed lips.
After a year apart, the man before her was no different from her memory.
“…Quinlan.”
At last, she whispered his name. But the man gave no reply.
Rudiche gently pulled his head into her arms.
She bent down to embrace him, yet he did not move at all.
“Quinlan.”
She called a little louder, but the lips already cold and stiff did not part.
KRRRR-BOOM.
Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by the heavy drops of rain.
The drizzle quickly turned into thick sheets of rain, streaming down her dry eyes like tears and trailing along her cheeks.
“…I’m sorry.”
The frail voice of a woman slipped out amidst the rainfall.
“I’m sorry I was late.”
I’m sorry, Quinlan.
After those words left her lips, Rudiche no longer stirred.
As though her own life had ended as well.
For a very long time.
In her past life, she had personally gathered his remains, held the funeral, and fought desperately to protect House Draphania that he had left behind.
But on her own, it was never enough.
Too many enemies had been gnawing at Draphania bit by bit, without her even realizing it.
Only in her dying moment did she come to understand all of it—how foolish she had been.
“Rudiche?”
At the sound calling her back, Rudiche startled out of her sinking memories.
Clear blue eyes, filled with worry, looked at her.
“You don’t seem well. Shouldn’t you rest?”
At that, Rudiche let out a small laugh.
Quinlan, worrying about her. Such kindness was unfamiliar.
Perhaps because, in her past life, she never once had the chance to exchange such words with him. At the sight of this side of him she hadn’t known, Rudiche smiled softly.
“I’m fine. I was just… thinking.”
“…”
“My words must sound strange to you.”
Her gaze shifted to Quinlan, whose golden eyes glimmered like sunlight.
“I used to think that all we had to do was lay low and survive. That if we avoided conflict and quietly grew stronger, we could withstand the enemies circling House Draphania.”
“…”
“But now I’m not so sure. Do you think the Crown Prince’s reinforcements were late by coincidence? If we keep quiet, they’ll only grow bolder in scorning us.”
Her lips curved into a slanted smile.
One reason her enemies dared to covet Draphania was that there was no heir to succeed it.
That fact made them think Draphania could be theirs.
“This time, I won’t allow it.”
At her words, Quinlan’s brow twitched. Something in her tone snagged at him, uneasy.
But before he could grasp what it was, Rudiche continued.
“I will build strength. Enough so that no one can lay a hand on Draphania.”
Her cheerful smile made his expression turn grave. Quinlan spoke with careful seriousness.
“I agree with that much. But why bring this up now?”
“Because I intend to change the contract I offered you.”
“A change to the contract?”
Rudiche leaned forward slightly, resting her folded hands on the table.
Her movements flowed with elegant grace, once again drawing his eyes.
“Forget the foolish things I said back then, Quinlan. From now on, I mean to do this properly.”
“…Properly?”
“Yes. Properly.”
As deeper lines creased Quinlan’s brow, Rudiche smiled brightly.
Her smile only grew, until Quinlan felt a chill of foreboding.
Opening her red lips, she whispered,
“From this moment on, I will be the true Duchess of Draphania—your wife. So…”
She paused deliberately, as though savoring the drama.
Then a particularly sweet voice flowed out.
“Did you forget? The contract said we’d revise it in a year.”
“…!”
“I want to revise it now, Quinlan. Let’s consummate our marriage.”
Her face bloomed with a dazzling smile—seductive, radiant.
Quinlan stared at her, struck dumb. His usual rigid composure vanished, replaced by sheer shock.
Seeing his expression, Rudiche leaned back, clearly pleased with herself for surprising him.
“The clause about no conjugal relations was meant in case we ever parted ways.”
She went on lazily, unhurried.
“But I have no intention of parting. We may have begun with a contract, but why not become a real couple?”
“W-wait. Rudiche, let’s talk this over calmly—”
“I am perfectly calm.”
Rudiche leaned toward him, fire sparking in her eyes.
“From now on, whether on the battlefield or in the estate, I will follow you everywhere. I will never leave your side—so be ready.”
“Haah.”
At a loss for words, Quinlan opened and closed his mouth before finally exhaling a long sigh. A sigh heavy with helplessness.
“Rudiche, just what are you…”
At that moment—
“My lord.”
The steward entered the breakfast hall.
Judging by the extra line on his furrowed brow, something unusual had happened.
“What is it?”
Both Rudiche and Quinlan looked at him expectantly. With a stiff face, he replied,
“A royal envoy has arrived.”
“…!”
Rudiche’s expression hardened.
It seemed she might face her enemies far sooner than expected.
The imperial envoy carried the emperor’s command: Rudiche and Quinlan were to come to the palace to deliver their victory report.
It was only natural for Quinlan, the duke, to go. But…
Why is the emperor summoning me as well?
Emperor Nordin was an unfathomable man. He always wore the genial face of a kindly uncle, smiling warmly—but the scheming beneath that facade was unmatched.
The Crown Prince, Berze, perhaps because of his youth, lacked such cunning. His immaturity showed in how openly he revealed his dislike of Quinlan.
They could not disobey the emperor’s decree. They would have to enter the palace.
But Rudiche could not shake the sense that it wasn’t merely for a victory report.
In her past life, after bringing Quinlan’s body home and holding the funeral, a month passed before the emperor summoned her.
But this time—he had summoned her the moment they returned. A much earlier encounter.
Tok.
Rudiche tapped the armrest of her chair, recalling.
—Do you know anything about Draphania’s treasure? Did Quinlan leave nothing behind?
That was the emperor’s very first question.
He never asked how Quinlan had died, nor how heavy their losses were. The treasure was all he wanted to know.
—I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I have never seen it.
—Never, not even once?
—No.
—Have you not even visited Draphania’s treasure vault?
Old houses kept vaults for their collected treasures. Draphania was no different.
But Rudiche only learned of its existence after that audience.
Until then, she had known nothing about it—for Quinlan had gone to war before he could introduce her to the ducal estate.
—I apologize, Your Majesty.
—I see. …So Quinlan did not regard you as a true member of Draphania.
—…!
Though spoken lightly, the words lodged in her like a thorn.
—If only you had truly been of Draphania’s house. A pity.
After that, the emperor never summoned her again. Until the day she died.
“…Will he ask the same question this time as well, Your Majesty?”
