53. A Secret Guest Who Slipped in at Midnight
‘The Marquis of Balton?’
My head instinctively turned in the same direction as Icart’s gaze.
At the carriage station, the line of carriages belonging to visitors of the imperial palace could be seen.
The sounds of horses’ hooves and voices blended together into a noisy clamor. Guards, coachmen, and attendants all mixed to form a bustling crowd.
Amidst the commotion, a man was stepping into his carriage.
A middle-aged man with a thin build and graying hair.
He carried himself with a stiff, upright posture and brisk steps. His downturned lips and stern expression gave him a stubborn, unyielding air.
As he was about to climb into the carriage, I noticed a familiar face at his side.
‘Isn’t that… Evelyn?’
The Marquis of Balton and Evelyn entered their family carriage together.
Evelyn, dressed up splendidly for the palace visit, shone with the dazzling beauty of a rose in bloom.
But her father, the Marquis of Balton, wore a desolate, indifferent face—like the withered branches of late autumn.
No sooner had they taken their seats than Evelyn began to chatter about what she had witnessed earlier.
“The Crown Prince breaking off his engagement—what on earth is that supposed to mean?”
The Marquis raised an eyebrow at the unexpected news from his daughter.
“I’m telling you, the Crown Prince and Lord Serteia had a quarrel! They were arguing seriously about breaking off the betrothal—”
“And just how did you come to hear such an important matter?”
Though Evelyn spoke heatedly, her father looked down at her with disinterest.
“Well, that’s…”
Her words faltered immediately.
She could never admit that she had overheard the conversation while wandering around the palace as she waited for him.
The Marquis narrowed his eyes at her.
“You’ve been listening to the silly gossip girls whisper among themselves again, haven’t you?”
For a brief moment, the Marquis was intrigued by the idea of the Crown Prince calling off his engagement. But when he realized it was most likely baseless rumor, his interest died at once.
If only his only daughter were gifted, or at the very least obedient. If not that, then she should at least secure a worthy marriage to benefit the family.
But this frivolous girl was useless, doing nothing more than gossiping with her equally worthless friends.
“That’s not true! I heard it from someone reliable. If His Highness truly breaks the engagement—”
“Enough. Don’t go around spouting nonsense.”
The Marquis waved his hand dismissively, showing his irritation outright.
Evelyn bit her lip hard.
She believed this broken engagement might be her one and only chance.
According to the law of succession, her brother would inherit the marquisate.
The greatest success she could hope for as the marquis’s daughter was to secure a powerful marriage.
She had long admired Icart, heir to a ducal house, but if the position of Crown Princess became vacant, she intended to aim for it without hesitation.
At that moment, the Marquis asked abruptly, probing her.
“Enough of that nonsense. Have you thought about applying for a position as a palace maid?”
“A maid? Her Majesty the Empress is recruiting new attendants?”
Evelyn’s eyes lit up.
To become a lady-in-waiting to the Empress meant becoming her close aide.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime honor, opening the way to unmatched prospects. And above all, such a position virtually guaranteed an excellent marriage.
“No. I meant the Emperor’s mistress.”
“…That commoner woman?”
Evelyn’s face stiffened.
There was no one in society who did not know of Shylo Valentine, the Emperor’s mistress.
A strikingly sensual woman who drew every eye—yet beautiful looks were all she had.
She was a commoner, far beneath the nobility in refinement and education.
Though the Emperor had introduced her as a daughter of the Baron Valentine family, in truth, he had merely fabricated a suitable background for his favored concubine.
Her excessive extravagance often became the talk of the salons.
In conservative noble society, for a mistress—not even the official wife—to flaunt wealth was scandalous.
She squandered sums far beyond the allowance of past mistresses, buying luxury goods endlessly. People sneered that she confirmed the Emperor’s love by draining the treasury, that she was more splendid than the Empress herself.
Though she still maintained her beauty well into middle age, it was said that once she grew older, the Emperor’s favor would inevitably fade.
“I refuse! How could you ask me to serve that commoner woman? Are you really my father?”
Not a lady-in-waiting to the Empress, but to the Emperor’s mistress?
Evelyn’s pride stung so deeply she felt tears prick her eyes.
Wouldn’t that mean openly declaring that the noble house of Balton bowed beneath a commoner concubine?
If nothing else, the thought of the other noble ladies mocking her was unbearable.
“You foolish girl. Do you not see what an opportunity this is?”
The Marquis clicked his tongue.
“His Majesty himself made the proposal. He asked that we help his mistress properly establish herself in the palace.”
“…!”
“Do you understand what this means? That woman may not remain a mere mistress for long.”
“Th-then what about Her Majesty the Empress?”
“The Empress? She’s already on her deathbed, counting her last days. It wouldn’t be strange if she stepped down at any time. His Majesty is watching the situation closely.”
Evelyn’s eyes grew wide as lanterns.
The situation had changed.
The Empress’s era was ending, and Shylo was the rising star.
If Shylo gained power, now was the perfect moment to align with her.
Moreover, since she was a commoner, there would be no powerful noble family to monopolize her influence.
‘If that mistress truly becomes Empress, then the vacant position of Crown Princess…?’
Wouldn’t the chance fall to her, who had already secured a place as Shylo’s confidante?
Reading his daughter’s ambition, the Marquis gave a sly smile.
“Think it over carefully. This offer is far more favorable than you imagine.”
After a long day, I lay down with a troubled heart.
Exhaustion pulled me quickly into a light sleep, but soon I sensed movement nearby.
“Mm…”
With a strange feeling of déjà vu, I cracked my eyes open groggily.
It was a moonless night, shrouded in pitch-black darkness.
In the heavy shadows, a tall figure loomed over me, casting its silhouette across my face.
“…?”
It was too dark to make out clearly. Perhaps it was nothing but a hallucination.
I fought to rouse myself from the haze between dream and reality when—
“Shh. Quiet.”
My eyes locked with a pair of burning crimson irises.
A chill shot down my spine instantly.
This was no dream, no illusion. Someone had slipped silently into my room and now stood at my bedside, watching me.
“…!”
I was so shocked no scream would come.
Barely, I managed to move my fingers, groping until they brushed against cold metal—my dagger.
“If you stay still, you won’t get hurt.”
The man’s voice was soft, coaxing, almost like soothing a child.
That low murmur tickled like feathers.
The faint glow from the oil lamp on the desk traced the sharp lines of his jaw and nose.
His pale blond hair shimmered faintly, and around his throat gleamed a choker set with a crimson magic stone.
They say demons sometimes tempt mortals with angelic faces.
He wore the devout expression of a priest, yet his smile was devilishly wicked.
For a fleeting moment, his seductive gaze stole my breath.
But then he drew a scalpel from within his coat.
The blade gleamed cold and sharp.
‘This madman—’
Even knowing he would not harm me, my instincts forced me to grip my dagger tight.
Just as I prepared to scream for the guards—
CRASH!
With a violent impact, the window beside the bed shattered into pieces.
“Kh…!”
Shards of glass rained down upon my bed.
At once, the man leapt onto me, shielding me with his body.
His strong arm cradled my head, and his broad back blocked the falling shards.
Thanks to him throwing himself over me, I didn’t suffer even a scratch.
‘What in the world—’
I scanned the surroundings quickly.
It seemed as though someone had tried to break into my room through the window, yet in the darkness, I could see no one.
“Looks like a rat slipped in.”
The man whispered by my ear.
“Judging by the fact they broke through this mansion’s tight security, they must be quite skilled.”
Still holding me in his arms, he rose smoothly, light as if defying gravity.
In one swift motion, he carried me away from the bed, shifting me into a princess carry.
“Of course, no matter how skilled they are—I’m stronger.”
“…Who are you?”
“Me? Your master’s loyal hound.”
His crimson eyes curved in a dangerously alluring smile.






Where on earth did he get a scalpel?