Chapter 1. Prologue (1)
After seven long years, the war against the Allied Kingdoms finally ended in victory for the Persen Empire.
The Emperor decided to hold a grand triumphal parade to honor those who had brought glory to the empire.
On the day of the parade, the crowds filling St. Timant Square erupted in cheers for the heroes who had elevated the name of Persen.
Citizens who came out to welcome the soldiers scattered flower petals wherever the chariots and horses passed, praying that blessings would follow them in the days ahead.
‘Has it really been two years?’
Adrienne, seated at one of the tables set up in the outdoor hall of the Persen Imperial Palace, the final destination of the procession, found herself thinking of someone.
Cyril was the sickliest person Adrienne had ever known.
It had been three years since he voluntarily enlisted in the army and one year since he became a lieutenant, despite being only eighteen.
‘Has that much time already passed?’
As she was marveling at it, a roar of cheers suddenly burst out.
The procession, having completed a full lap around the square, finally passed through the palace gates.
The orchestra began playing an even more majestic piece, and everyone who had been waiting rose to their feet and applauded.
Adrienne stood up as well, following the mood, and voices drifted into her ears.
“So that must be Sir Tesar, right?”
“Look at that dignified bearing. It has to be him. Duke Tesar must be so proud, having such a fine heir.”
“Of course, Sir Tesar distinguished himself greatly as a soldier, but—”
The Comtesse Conte, who had been speaking, lowered her voice and added quietly,
“—I’m certain he’ll also make great contributions to the women of this country. Just look at his eyes. How can someone look so sensual?”
“My goodness, you’re so mischievous. But looking at Sir Tesar like this, it’s hard to deny it.”
“To be honest, I was a bit skeptical. People kept exaggerating, calling him an unparalleled beauty and all.”
After a brief pause, the Comtesse sighed in admiration.
“But goodness! This is my first time seeing him in person, and it’s not exaggerated at all. If anything, the rumors fall short.”
The women’s chatter and praise, all centered on Sir Tesar, continued without end.
Adrienne shifted her gaze toward the front of the long procession.
There he was—Sir Tesar, wearing the royal guard’s distinctive blue uniform.
In other words, Cyril.
Perhaps he hadn’t had time to cut it while at war; his jet-black hair lightly brushed his eyebrows. Beneath it, his long golden eyes seemed deeper than Adrienne remembered.
Though his expression clearly showed no particular emotion, his overly handsome features made his gaze appear faintly melancholic.
Adrienne summed up the women’s excited talk in a single phrase.
A sensual, peerless beauty.
In their stories, Cyril was a flawless being, a man of fantasy whom one could only hope to cross paths with at least once.
‘Cyril Valentin, a man of fantasy? What kind of fantasy could possibly be that messed up?’
Naturally, that description did not apply to Adrienne.
If someone she had lived with for eight years suddenly looked like a fantasy man just because she hadn’t seen him for two years, that would be insane.
Especially when that childhood friend had once been so small and sickly, nothing like the man he was now.
At that moment, several gazes shot toward Adrienne like swift arrows.
Startled by the sudden intensity while lost in thought, Adrienne flinched.
Almost simultaneously, her eyes met Cyril’s.
Cyril, who had maintained a blank expression the entire time, raised one eyebrow.
What are you doing there?
His face clearly said as much. After living in the same castle for about eight years, it was impossible not to know.
‘I told you not to acknowledge me…’
She had personally written it in a letter, yet his talent for betraying expectations was as strong as ever.
Thanks to that, Adrienne found herself under piercing scrutiny and smiled bitterly.
It seemed it would be a tiring day.
＊ ＊ ＊
Adrienne de Casinel Blois.
The noble name of a daughter born to the eldest son of Count Casinel and the second daughter of Count Blois.
The Casinel family had served as border counts for generations, protectors of the empire, one of the original ten great noble houses, and even classified among the new great nobility. A prestigious house in every sense.
And Blois was no less impressive.
It was a family that had once produced an empress—about two hundred years ago—and though no longer considered a great noble house, Blois had once been among the original ten.
In terms of legitimacy, Adrienne was the product of two families that no one could look down on.
A lucky person who could introduce herself using two noble surnames.
‘Is Father doing well? The bastards haven’t invaded again, have they?’
Yet Adrienne never thought of herself as lucky.
Calling them protectors of the empire, claiming unrivaled legitimacy—it was all talk with no substance or efficiency.
Casinel bordered the mountains separating the empire from the Cruten Empire.
They had defended the nation against Cruten, once known as one of the continent’s dominant powers, earning respect for a long time.
But after Cruten fragmented into several kingdoms, its remnants became nothing more than mercenaries and bandits.
No one cared how often they invaded anymore.
Incursions were frequent, support was absurdly reduced, and their name slowly faded into obscurity.
A “pretty but useless prize” was the perfect phrase to describe Casinel and Blois.
“Madamoiselle Casinel?”
“…Ah, yes.”
The procession had ended, and the banquet was now in full swing.
Lost in thought about how deeply in deficit this year’s finances would be, Adrienne belatedly came back to herself.
She met multiple pairs of eyes filled with curiosity, envy, jealousy, and more.
Among them were openly hostile gazes, mostly from those close to the princess.
Adrienne had earned the displeasure of the precious imperial princess because of none other than Cyril. Her crime was probably something like having grown up with him.
“You look very nervous. I suppose that’s understandable. I heard you haven’t been in the capital long.”
“Regrettably so, Madam. Life in the territory keeps me so busy that I’ve never had the leisure to visit the capital.”
“Is that so? Casinel is quite far away. I suppose the news hasn’t reached us yet. I don’t recall hearing anything.”
Should she shout about how many times bandits had descended? About how large were the mercenary gangs posing as criminals?
It wasn’t worth saying. No one would care anyway.
If it weren’t for that blasted debutante ceremony, she wouldn’t have come to the capital at all.
Adrienne smiled politely and said nothing.
Challenging a woman seasoned in high society was foolish, especially when Adrienne had no allies.
“Madamoiselle Casinel, I hear Sir Tesar spent his childhood in Casinel. Then you must be quite close.”
“He’s closer to my father than to me. Just an ordinary teacher-student relationship.”
Publicly, Sir Tesar—whom they knew—and Cyril—whom Adrienne knew—had learned swordsmanship and firearms from Count Casinel.
That was the official story.
She couldn’t exactly explain that Cyril had been sent to Casinel to recuperate because he was so frail as a child.
Doing so would require delving into numerous political reasons, which was best avoided.
“Still, you lived together for nearly ten years, didn’t you?”
“We were in the same castle for eight years. Along with many trainee knights.”
Adrienne answered firmly. Just like the others, Cyril was merely one of many trainees.
“But Sir Tesar hardly seems like an ordinary trainee. With that face and that physique, how many trainees could compare? If it were me, I’d find it impossible not to notice him.”
A blush spread across the woman’s face as she spoke, clearly imagining Cyril from earlier. The others at the table nodded in agreement.
How could you possibly ignore someone like that if he were by your side?
That was the unspoken consensus.
‘He certainly wasn’t ordinary.’
Adrienne barely managed to relax her furrowing brow.
When they first met, Cyril had been tiny. His complexion was so pale that it wouldn’t have been strange if he died the next day.
But the Sir Tesar they knew was nearly 6.2 breu tall (about 189 cm), a sensual and peerlessly handsome man straight out of a fantasy.
To explain that she felt nothing for him by telling everyone he’d once been frail and that she constantly feared he might collapse and die as a child was out of the question.
“Sir Tesar is just a longtime friend. I have no personal feelings for him. Friendship, perhaps, but nothing more.”
Instead, Adrienne repeated the answer she had given hundreds of times over the past three months in the capital.
She and Sir Tesar were nothing. He was just a friend. Merely one of her father’s former students.
“You may feel that way, Mademoiselle Casinel, but what about Sir Tesar?”
“Yes. The way he looked over earlier was far from ordinary.”
“He was clearly looking this way, wasn’t he?”
Faced with Adrienne’s firm response, the arrows turned back around.
Though she couldn’t claim to know Cyril’s heart, Adrienne wished she could answer on his behalf.
That will never happen.
