Chapter 57
“When I become Emperor, Elia could soon become Empress. How can you treat her this way?”
At those words, Horace, who had been quietly standing behind Reiffers, snapped back angrily.
“But she’s so arrogant, especially trusting the Crown Prince!”
“Enough! How dare you speak out of turn.”
Reiffers rebuked sharply. Horace with a face full of displeasure, stepped back reluctantly. Bowing his head to the stern-faced Rias, Reiffers spoke again.
“Don’t be distracted by small matters with the great task ahead. I will carry out your will faithfully.”
Rias wiped his face in confusion. The servants exchanged glances, having roughly tossed Elia aside like a burden, waiting anxiously for their master’s command.
“Master, what shall we do?”
Reiffers narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge Rias’s thoughts. Elia, collapsed and losing consciousness in broken gasps, murmured one clear phrase among the crushed words.
“Father, please… Cyrone…”
A low sigh escaped Rias’s lips. It was deep and weary as if expelling every last trace of emotion. He drew back the curtain and slowly stepped forward, closing the distance to the fallen Elia.
“Elia, do you know who I am?”
His voice was gloomy and cold. Through Elia’s bloodied, swollen eyes, a figure approached. Elia squinted as if trying to recall who the man was, but her fading consciousness couldn’t come.
“No… No one, never Cyrone…”
Watching Elia call out for Cyrone even as her mind slipped away, Rias roughly swept his hair back. His once orderly black eyes now held blatant displeasure. He felt his patience finally run dry.
Turning his back, Rias glared at Duke Reiffers.
“I want to see your daughter lose her love and cry before I feel any relief.”
Rias bit down on his teeth and sneered. He thought that if he could at least speak harshly, his heart might feel lighter. But it did not.
The time he had spent protecting Elia was no less weighty than the time she had spent protecting Cyrone. Though he had resolved not to expect any of that feeling returned, he could no longer bear it. Even just having her empty shell by his side would ease his torment.
Rias slowly clenched his jaw.
“Bring me that bastard’s head.”
With Rias’s chilling voice ringing out, Elia finally lost consciousness and collapsed.
5. Follow Me Into the Dark
On that chilling night when the wind carried the changing of the seasons, a red-flagged army lit their torches. At their head, the horses were clearly heading toward the main gate of Welrod Palace.
“Your Highness, the rebels have raised their banner.”
Nielsen’s voice, calm as ever, sounded as he entered through the gate. His expression showed no surprise, as if everyone had long expected this.
“Faster than I thought.”
Cyrone, standing atop the highest tower, took in the Empire shrouded in darkness with his blue eyes. He saw torches flickering endlessly like fireflies on a summer night. Without knowing the circumstances, one might have found the sight quite beautiful.
Murmuring as if lost in deep thought, Cyrone spoke quietly.
“Elia will blame me.”
Years had passed since he had first traced Elia’s face by connecting the stars in the night sky. Yet tonight, he could not paint any image in his mind. Cyrone had waited for this night, spending many nights with the same thought.
What expression would Elia have once this night was over?
“You must give up one thing.”
Cyrone stayed calm even in such dire circumstances, barely stirred. Nielsen raised an eyebrow without much surprise. Watching the flickering torches lighting the holy city below, he continued.
Lost in thought, Cyrone turned his head and looked at Nielsen. His eyes were dry, showing no tension or fear.
“After all, the leader of the rebels is the Reiffers family. The lady cannot remain safe.”
Nielsen cleared his throat awkwardly. He had once believed that if God made humans devoid of reason, it would be Cyrone, his master.
But recently, he had come to realize that even someone as precise and cold as Cyrone had one exception.
“What if she isn’t safe?”
The moon was unusually cold that night. Its light only deepened the chill in Cyrone’s eyes as they hardened on Nielsen’s collar. Elia was Cyrone’s only weakness. The sole vulnerability of a conqueror destined to rule not just the empire, but the entire continent.
For Nielsen, who stood beside Cyrone as his aide, Elia was a presence he found troubling.
“All rebels will be executed by beheading. Especially the Reiffers family, at the center of the rebellion. Their titles must be stripped and their line erased for three generations. Then what of the lady…?”
Cyrone’s eyes narrowed sharply as he looked down at Nielsen. The bold words faltered. Cyrone’s gaze settling on Nielsen’s cheek made the man flinch.
“That is for me to decide.”
“But Your Highness—”
At Cyrone’s curt reply, Nielsen stopped his words.
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