Chapter 10
‘So this is how I’ll be cast out, chased away in the duke’s wrath?’
His naturally cold temperament came to mind. Would he once again look at me as though I were no more than a pebble on the road? I had hoped for separation, yes, but not like this. I never wanted to be discarded in such a way.
‘To be misunderstood and then thrown out—it’s unbearable.’
Not like this. I felt as though the blood in my veins had gone cold. My fingertips froze over.
I wanted to explain to the duke. To tell him it wasn’t like that. That I did want to break free of him, yes—but only to survive. Not because my heart belonged to the emperor.
“Luen is my wife. Isn’t that right?”
“Ah, yes.”
For now… yes.
I bit back the rest of my words for the sake of peace. The duke smiled at me—yet unlike his usual smiles, this one was deep, murky, unreadable. I didn’t know what it meant, but it gave me the sense that at least I would not suffer immediate consequences.
‘Good enough. I’m safe for now. Just keep quiet.’
The duke stressed the word wife with deliberate weight, casting veiled blame at the emperor.
“My wife seems to draw much of Your Majesty’s interest.”
It meant: Mind your own affairs and leave mine alone.
But the emperor remained perfectly composed, smiling with an easy nonchalance.
The dread that had ebbed crept back into me again.
“Well, I have yet to sign the papers that declare Luenn Aloha to be Luen fiar.”
In other words: Not husband and wife yet. And why? Because I haven’t approved it. You remember, don’t you? I am the emperor.
I couldn’t guess at the emperor’s true intentions, but the meaning was plain enough. He wished to obstruct my marriage with the duke.
This, after having officiated at our very wedding. To feign ignorance now, with such a calm face—then to add with a smirk that not just anyone could officiate a marriage.
‘Unbelievable. Why are they doing this?’
Now the nobles were openly peering over, eyes glinting as if they had brought popcorn to enjoy the spectacle. I half wondered if I ought to carve up the remaining pheasant drumsticks and hand them around. Honestly, had it not been my own life on the line, I too would have found the drama entertaining.
‘Excuse me, can’t either of you feel those stares? Could we perhaps live in peace? Please?’
All I ever wanted was a quiet, modest life—a simple dream of a common soul. Why did they insist on ruining it?
No matter how desperately I sent signals of dissuasion, the two men were locked in their own world, sparks flying so brightly I feared I might get burned.
‘When dragons clash, it’s the elves who suffer.’
This time, even Julia would agree with my lament.
Just watching the duke and the emperor was enough to drain me dry, and still the nobles’ eyes kept flicking toward me.
‘And what do you expect me to do about this?’
Their gazes pressed harder, as if demanding I resolve it somehow. I tried to ignore them, but the silent weight of so many eyes grew prickling-hot against my skin. The unspoken pressure was suffocating.
At last—
“It is my honor, Your Majesty.”
—I surrendered.
The sight of Luen dancing with a radiant smile was achingly beautiful. So dazzlingly beautiful tonight that the duke’s heart quaked with the reality that she was not dancing with him.
‘She will never know. And she mustn’t know—for if she did, she would run.’
Watching Luen dance with another man, fury surged through him, though most of it was anger at himself for letting slip a perfect opportunity.
The emperor said something during a turn; Luenn laughed shyly. The duke felt his blood boil in reverse. What could they be speaking of? Why was she smiling? What if, blind to the emperor’s cunning, she began to feel something for him? She was too gentle, too kind; he could not rest easy.
Seeing her happy—seeing her fit so well with the emperor—drove him to despair. Perhaps she would indeed be happier by the emperor’s side than by his. And yet… he could not let her go. He could only hope she would be happy with him.
‘That I should dare harbor such feelings for Luenn…’
He knew best of all that desiring her was overreaching greed. He cursed himself for it, but still he could not release her.
‘I am selfish, I know. But stay with me, Luen.’
The emperor was his only true confidant, yet if that friend were to covet Luen, it would change everything. Then, without hesitation, he would bare his blade against him.
The duke unclenched his fist, realizing he had pressed so hard that his knuckles were white, blood cut off.
‘Luen…’
He recalled the look on her face when she had tried so desperately to tell him the truth. How all day she had fretted, restless with her own fabricated lie. The maids had reported that she often sighed deeply, staring blankly out the window.
That troubled expression—seizing every moment to speak, hesitating with visible effort—was unbearably endearing. He had to restrain himself from sweeping her into his arms.
‘Duke, there is something I must tell you…’
No creature, no child had ever stirred such a feeling in him. Only Luen. She made him ache with tenderness and love.
From dawn to night, every moment—he thought of her.
His beloved, beautiful Luen.
Lately he had been drowning in her charms, captivated by every new facet of her.
‘So—you missed me too, Luen?’
‘That’s not it…’
Her expression begged to speak, begged to confess. He deliberately played ignorant, changing the subject, just to watch her try again later. When she finally realized and looked at him with that startled face, his chest nearly burst each time.
‘Come here, Luen.’
Addicted to the feeling, he teased her gently, contriving situations where they would be alone. And just when she would gather courage to speak, he would steer the conversation away. The faintly frustrated looks she gave him—he found them oddly delightful.
She thought he was oblivious. But he knew.
He knew because in this lifetime they had never lain together.
He knew she had feigned pregnancy.
He knew she wanted to escape him.
And still—he would not let her go.
‘You are too precious to me. Without you, I cannot live.’
He wanted to pay for the sin of realizing too late—by making her happy.
He had waited so long for her to come to him. The reason he held back from rushing to her was because he wanted her to come of her own accord, and because he dared not disrupt the original course of events.
‘Fortunately, she still misunderstands…’
Whether or not she carried his child didn’t matter. What mattered was that she stayed by his side. After endless patience, Luen had come to him at last. Now that the chance was here, he would never let her slip away again.
Without her, he could not live. She was his air, his sun. He had endured all this time just for the chance to meet her again.
‘I cannot repeat the same mistake. Never again.’
The duke’s gaze drifted far away. To a very distant past. To the beginning of it all.
“Is that the limit of your ambition? You could wish to unify the continent, to reshape the world itself—and I would grant it. I am offering you another chance. Even now, change your wish, and I shall make it reality.”
The voice dripped with scorn, bereft of all humanity. It berated him relentlessly.
“And yet such a pitiful wish? No ambition at all.”
The man standing there barely twitched, not even bothering to answer.
“Are you truly my descendant? Then again, with that insolence, perhaps the bloodline fits.”
The voice rambled on about useless youth, about how no genius like him would ever appear again, about how the world was in decline.
“You speak of temper, yet you yourself leapt into the sword when rage consumed you, taking control of my hands. Haven’t you done enough?”
“You insolent brat!”
Where did you learn such disrespect?
On and on the nagging poured—how dare a boy with barely dried blood in his veins talk back, how ungrateful he was. The man didn’t care, but every wasted moment grated on him.
With a frown, he gathered mana.
“What are you doing?!”
The sword’s spirit roared louder, but the man paid it no mind. The tirade finally cracked when the voice broke in surrender.
“I yield! Enough, enough!”
He pressed harder with his mana until the sword itself groaned, buckling under the weight. At last he dropped the blade to the floor with a dull thud.
“To treat me so roughly?! You’ll regret this!”
“I have regretted enough to make my head split—because of you. Perhaps it’s time you reflected on your own deeds.”
The sword’s steel glowed faintly red in protest. The legendary demon blade could rage all it liked—he would not flinch. He pressed down harder with a surge of explosive mana.
“You asked me to state my wish to spare your life. You even said it could be undone. Prove it now.”
“You wretch! Must you always have the last word? Fine, I was wrong, I’ve sinned gravely!”
Now the voice trembled, rattling, no longer blustering but verging on collapse.
“I’ve stated my demand. Fulfill it. I won’t endure any longer.”
The man’s expression hardened with deadly resolve. This cursed blade was both the source of all his torment and his only means of ending it. If not for the faint possibility that it could undo his despair, he would have destroyed it long ago.
And he would have destroyed it painfully.
“Otherwise—you, I, and this entire world end here.”
His words fell heavy as iron, a vow forged from truth alone.
“…Fine. Very well.”
Sensing his sincerity, the sword muttered a few last complaints before submitting.
Then, at last, the ancestral blade of House Piar released the full might hidden within its core.
“Khrrgh…”
Time froze. Space froze.
Blinding white light burst from the sword, enveloping the duke. He did not resist, but welcomed it.
Pah—
Moments later, both the duke and the sword vanished. Only a single drop of liquid, from who knew where, fell softly to the ground.
The empty space remained behind, silent and untroubled, as though nothing had happened at all.
