Because Dante abruptly turned his head away, he ended up locking eyes with Rowan. She grinned like a cat spotting a fish.
Dante scowled—though this time, for a different reason—and asked with clear annoyance,
“… Why are you smiling like that?”
“Oh, it’s just… I’ve never seen Your Grace talk this much before.”
“Hmph.”
Dante promptly shut his eyes as if to block her out. Unfazed, Rowan started poking his arm with her finger.
“Well, well, would you look at this? I’m getting a weird feeling here. Is it what I think it is?”
“Quiet.”
Dante swatted her hand away like he was chasing off a pesky insect. Watching their playful exchange, I suddenly clenched my skirt and raised my voice.
“Anyway! I’ve decided to start over as a new person now that I’ve left Kleene’s estate! So please—give me anything to do. I’ll do my best!”
At last, it felt like my life was truly beginning. I puffed out my cheeks with determination.
Rowan, watching me with a fond smile, let out a light laugh behind her palm.
“That energy is lovely. But really, you don’t have to do anything.”
“… Pardon?”
They’d gone through all that trouble to hire me—what did she mean I didn’t have to do anything? Rowan chuckled softly, then added,
“You don’t have to do anything. Just coming with us to the capital—that’s your only job.”
“That’s…”
Why do they need someone to come with them?
And why does that person have to have silver hair and green eyes, of all things?
I tilted my head at the string of questions that came to mind, then quietly asked,
“… Did you hire me because you thought the journey would be too lonely?”
That was the same reason why Rossiane had grown close to Countess Kleene. A noblewoman needed someone to carry her bags during outings, and Rossiane was the one who had carried Countess Kleene’s.
‘So they’re planning to have me do that too.’
Still, for that kind of role, being picky about appearance seemed suspicious.
‘Would they break out in hives if the person didn’t have silver hair? It’s not like they’re picky about people—Rowan accepted me the moment he saw me.’
Before I could dwell on my thoughts any further, Rowan casually pointed his thumb at Dante and said,
“It’s close enough. Just imagine being stuck in a cramped carriage for two weeks with that stiff brick wall—who wouldn’t feel suffocated?”
“Aah.”
Regardless of whether Dante was a good person, I also found him hard to talk to, so I could fully understand the feeling of being suffocated.
I nodded before I realized it, and at that moment, Dante—who had apparently opened his eyes—arched one of his thick eyebrows and repeated,
“Aah?”
Only then did I realize how that must’ve sounded. Panicking, I waved my hands frantically and blurted out,
“N-no! I meant ‘aah’ as in I understand how awkward it must be for the two of you to be together! Not that you’re a stiff brick wall or anything!”
But it was too late to fix things. Dante, who had been staring at me with sharp eyes, let out a sigh as he pressed a finger firmly to the corner of his eye.
“Even if the whole world calls me a stiff brick wall, you shouldn’t. You’re the one who locked me in a room the first time we met, made me sit there for over an hour… while you cried your eyes out…”
“Aaaah!”
He’s bringing that up?!
I let out a scream and clumsily got to my feet, slapping both palms over Dante’s mouth.
His ruby-red eyes stared at me as if speaking without words.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
The warmth from his lips under my hands was startlingly hot—and it wasn’t cooling down. In fact, it was only growing warmer.
Was it from my embarrassment… or was it his body heat?
Flushed red, I shouted desperately,
“S-stop talking already! I’m embarrassed, too, you know! Just how long are you planning to milk that story?!”
Dante, staring quietly at my face—now red as a poinsettia—gently took hold of my wrists and pulled my hands away as he replied,
“It hasn’t even been a full day yet.”
“Tha…!”
He was right. It felt like so much had happened one after another, but in truth, it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since we first met.
‘Ugh, I really managed to cram all the most ridiculous, out-of-character things into a single day.’
At least I hadn’t gotten drunk on our very first meeting. If I could turn back time, I’d slap myself to stop it from happening.
Beer. That’s the real villain. Never drink it again.
‘Why did I have to be curious…’
Mortified, I hung my head low, and Dante, with his usual bluntness, said one more thing.
“And you’re far too handsy.”
“H-handsy?”
What is he talking about now?!
Startled, I looked at him with trembling eyes. Dante simply tapped his lips with a finger—the very lips I had just covered with my palms.
“Even when we first met, you were all too eager to pull me into a private room…”
“That’s not true! It’s not! You’ve got it all wrong!”
Back then, I was completely drunk and out of my mind, terrified that someone might recognize my face.
My heart pounded wildly at Dante’s words. As I flailed in embarrassment, he let out a low chuckle.
“Haha.”
It was the first time I had ever seen him smile. It wasn’t much—just the faintest curve of his lips—but still, it was a smile.
Eyes wide, I stared at Dante as he quietly laughed. I wasn’t the only one taken aback—Rowan, too, was looking at him as if she were seeing something utterly unfamiliar.
Catching Rowan’s gaze, Dante furrowed his brows and quickly returned to his usual stiff expression.
“What’s with that look?”
“… Are you sure you’re Duke Christopher? You’re not someone else? Maybe a demon in disguise? Come to think of it, the demon might be the nicer one.”
At this rate, Rowan looked ready to throw salt at him. Dante sighed and turned his head sharply to the side.
Let’s just not talk anymore.
The unspoken words seemed to echo in the air.
* * *
The carriage carrying Yvonne was now headed toward a single destination.
The heart of the Empire—the capital.
At the very center of that capital, the Imperial Palace stood in utter silence.
It had been just four months since Emperor Iliad had collapsed.
Ignoring his physician’s pleas, the Emperor had insisted on going hunting. Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he suddenly lost consciousness and fell from his horse.
Though his life had been narrowly saved, the fall had broken bones that punctured his internal organs. Now, no one could say how much longer he would go on breathing.
And when death draws near, anyone—no matter how mighty—begins to reflect on their life. The Emperor Iliad was no exception.
In a bedroom thick with the pungent scent of medicine, like a fog clinging to the air, the Emperor barely managed to move his lips.
“…We must find the princess… the former Imperial Princess Yvonne… the last one left from the former line…”
“Father…”
At the sound of his voice, Crown Prince Bentley and Empress Guinevere, who had been keeping vigil at the foot of his bed, raised their heads.
There was no such thing as a “former Imperial Princess” in the current royal household. Yet the Emperor, as if desperate to reach for something just out of grasp, moved his fingers weakly and mumbled about finding the missing princess.
“This is my punishment… The throne should’ve gone to her…”
It was the confession of an old sin—the one that had weighed on Emperor Iliad’s soul for years.
Originally, Iliad had been a distant relative of the royal bloodline, never meant to inherit the throne. Had the young and capable previous Emperor remained in good health, the crown never would have come to him.
But the former Emperor had been cursed by a witch while rescuing a persecuted fairy. As a result, his lifespan was drastically shortened—far shorter than that of an ordinary human.
All he left behind was a daughter, Yvonne—the former Imperial Princess—born from his alliance with the fairy empress, Lillian.
Yvonne was just five years old at the time, and the Empress knew nothing of the human world.
In that moment, a dark greed spread through Iliad’s heart like spilled ink.
〈This is an opportunity. That child is too young. If she takes the throne now, the Empire will collapse. I should take it instead.〉
And so he raised an army, killed the Empress, and forged the late Emperor’s will. In the chaos, the young Imperial Princess slipped through his fingers—but Iliad never stopped searching for her.
At first, it was to kill her. But as time passed, his goal began to shift. As he aged and grew weaker, the weight of his crimes settled heavily on his shoulders.
“…The former Imperial Princess… the rightful heir… the throne must be returned…”
For Emperor Iliad, it was a late confession. But for the Crown Prince, who had spent his life preparing to inherit the throne, it was like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
‘Everyone involved is long dead, and no one even remembers the lost princess anymore.’
And now, the Emperor himself spoke her name aloud at every opportunity.
Trying to salvage the moment, Empress Guinevere softened her voice and gently tried to placate him.
“Please, Your Majesty, collect yourself. How could you say such things and hurt our Crown Prince’s feelings?”
“Silence, you venomous snake!”
Though his voice had been weak and fading just moments ago, when rebuking the Empress, it cut like a whip—sharp and fierce, as if a dying flame had suddenly roared to life.
