Chapter 139

The Northerners and Southerners differed starkly, from the tones of their skin to the typical shapes of their eyes and noses. Yet, these individuals bore such an unusual mix of Southern traits that their origins were difficult to discern at a glance. It was evident that they had been meticulously selected. Every one of them was dressed as a sailor.

Drawing a cigarette from his pocket, the duke lit it with a deliberate flick of his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating his face. He spoke with a calm yet commanding tone.

“You said it’s a ship departing from Pier 5? Board it in advance. As for the Argans there—eliminate everyone except for a couple of hostages.”

“Yes, Your Grace. We’ll leave immediately.”

The soldiers of Rotiara, clad in their sailor disguises, filed out of the dimly lit inn without hesitation. Their footsteps faded into the night, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

At last, Barnon pieced the situation together, clarity dawning on his face like a storm breaking over the sea.

He’s planning to disguise his men as our troops and send them to Argan. If that’s the case, then his target must be…

The Emperor.

The Emperor of Argan. Elizabeth’s twin brother.

The ultimate target Rezette Kyrstan aimed to eliminate was none other than Andrei.

“You bastard…!”

Barnon’s voice erupted in rage as he overturned the table between them with a resounding crash. Rezette stepped aside smoothly, his movement as fluid as water, avoiding the falling furniture without so much as a flinch.

Barnon rose to his full height, kicking the overturned table aside. His face twisted in fury as he roared, “How dare you! Do you think His Majesty would fall for such a cheap ruse? Don’t underestimate the power of the greatest mage in Grandel!”

Rezette took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a slow, deliberate stream. His expression remained utterly impassive. “The greatest mage in Grandel is said to be nothing more than half a man without his sister.”

“Rubbish!”

Barnon’s denial was instantaneous, but his voice wavered just enough to betray him. The secret of the twins was a tightly guarded one, known only to a select few within the empire. Among the nobles, aside from the royal family, only Duke Bellator and Barnon shared the knowledge. Even Elizabeth herself had only learned the truth recently.

How this man had uncovered such a guarded truth, Barnon couldn’t fathom. But he knew one thing for certain—he would never acknowledge it, not even in the faintest gesture.

Before Barnon could muster a retort, Rezette interrupted, his tone dismissive and edged with finality.

“I’m not asking for confirmation. I simply want you to know before you die.” His sharp gaze pierced through Barnon, unwavering. “Why the Emperor of Argan must disappear from this world. If you truly count yourself a friend of Elise’s, you may not agree, but you should at least understand.”

Rezette glanced toward the door. “Ruben, bring it.”

At the command, Ruben, who had been silently standing guard, stepped forward with purpose. From his hands, he passed a longsword to Rezette.

“They say those who live by the sword should meet their end by it,” Rezette murmured.

Without hesitation, the duke unsheathed the blade, the soft shing of metal slicing through the tense silence. He adjusted his grip with practiced ease, the longsword seeming as natural in his hands as an extension of his own body. His movements were effortless, almost artistic—yet carried a lethal precision honed over countless battlefields.

“Last summer, you survived alone,” Rezette said, his voice low and even. “This time, it’s your turn, Duke.”

With a decisive motion, Rezette drove the sword downward. The strike was clean, deliberate, and infused with chilling intent.

Thunk!

The blade pierced the wooden floorboards, embedding itself in the narrow gap between Barnon’s thumb and forefinger. Splinters exploded from the impact, scattering like shrapnel. A jagged line of blood traced down Barnon’s jaw where the flying shards had grazed him, yet he didn’t flinch—not even as the blade hovered on the edge of severing his fingers.

“Oh, right.”

Rezette’s voice was detached, almost casual, as he straightened and regarded the man before him. His cold, unreadable gaze lingered.

“Before that, I have a question.”

It was the reason Rezette had come in person, leaving Elise’s side—a mystery he needed to resolve before finishing the man off. The task could have been delegated to his subordinates, but this question demanded his own presence.

***

The carriage jolted and rattled as it traveled down a snow-covered side road. The uneven path, slippery with fresh powder, caused the wheels to skid now and then. The Duke’s staff hadn’t yet cleared the route, leaving the journey slow and treacherous.

“Old junk always lets you down,” Genovia muttered irritably, glancing out the window. Her tone carried a sharp edge as she tapped a finger impatiently on the sill. “And we’re short on time.”

Beyond the dense forest, the sprawling estate of Irrien was fading into the distance, swallowed by the snowy landscape. Their unmarked, nondescript carriage pressed on, heading toward the city with neither crest nor flag to betray their presence.

Elise sat rigid, her thoughts a storm of confusion. The sudden change of events had left her reeling.

As they’d fled through the rear gate, a commotion had erupted in the main building behind them. Whatever was happening, it was serious enough to make her stomach churn with unease.

Genovia sighed, the sound tinged with frustration. “The Emperor’s knights have arrived. We barely avoided running into them.”

“The Emperor’s knights?” Elise repeated, her voice faint as realization dawned.

She’d known Rezette wasn’t the only one pursuing her, but now the urgency of her predicament struck her like a blow. The Emperor, who had branded her a fugitive across Van Yela, was also hunting her.

“Sending an entire battalion means they’re serious about this,” Genovia added flatly.

“…Could the Grand Duke have summoned them?” Elise asked hesitantly. The possibility left her uneasy. If the Emperor’s soldiers had come here, it meant someone had informed them of her location. Coincidentally—or perhaps not—they had arrived when Rezette was absent. It wasn’t a leap to suspect his involvement.

But Genovia scoffed outright, her lips curling in disdain. “Do you still not know your husband at all? Get a grip. Rezette Kyrstan, handing you over to the Emperor? Please.”

“Then who—?”

“It’s my father’s doing,” Genovia cut in, her words sharp and unyielding. “He must’ve found out you two were hiding at the estate and tattled to His Majesty. Honestly, the man’s so spineless.”

Genovia clicked her tongue in irritation, tossing a bundle of clothing toward Elise.

“If I get caught with you, they’ll mark me as an accomplice. I’ve no intention of being branded a traitor,” she said curtly. “Once the harbor comes into view, get off. Either board the ship early or hide at the inn near Ricardo’s Mast with your crew. The ship leaves tomorrow morning, so you just need to lay low for a day.”

“…I’ll manage,” Elise replied, her voice steady but quiet.

She picked up the coat Genovia had thrown and slipped it on, layering it with a heavy robe. Pulling the hood low over her braided hair, she adjusted it to obscure her face.

If this is my only chance, then I’ll take it—whatever the outcome.

Advancing the plan by a day wouldn’t change much. Over the past few days, her condition had improved remarkably. The medicine prescribed by the physician had worked wonders: her nausea had lessened, and the pain in her chest had all but vanished. Even more surprising was the faint but undeniable return of her magical power.

Two days ago, she had tested it on a magic circle. The moment her fingers brushed the intricate lines, energy had flowed through them, lighting up the circle with a soft, radiant glow. It wasn’t much, but it meant she still had some spells left in her arsenal—a reassuring thought for the uncertain road ahead.

With the snowfall finally easing, the timing seemed perfect. Elise had been waiting for an opportunity to slip past Rezette’s watchful eyes since yesterday. Yet, even with her resolve, she hadn’t expected the chance to come so soon.

Once again, I’m leaving without saying goodbye.

The thought brought a pang of guilt, but she steeled herself. Instinctively, her hand drifted to her stomach. Though still nearly flat, a subtle change had begun to take shape beneath her navel—a sign she hadn’t fully understood at first.

It wasn’t Elise or even the attending physician who had first noticed this change.

It was Rezette.

It seems they’re eager to grow quickly. Their heartbeat is already strong.

Rezette’s words echoed in Elise’s mind. His touch had always been devoid of warmth, and his piercing gaze often left her shivering. Yet, he was the only one who could confirm their child’s well-being.

Now, as she faced the uncertain road ahead, the thought of protecting the child on her own brought a faint unease. Elise pressed the pang of regret deep down.

Even so, your father is not a bad man, my child. He’s just… cold to a terrifying degree.

If she left now, the child would grow up never knowing their father’s face. She wished Rezette had spoken even a single kind word to the unborn life they shared. Just one moment of tenderness, so that someday she could tell the child, “Your father cared for you.”

But some things were beyond fixing.

I’ll do twice as much for you instead, she promised silently. I hope you’ll like the South.

Genovia’s sharp voice broke the silence, cutting through Elise’s thoughts like a knife.

“Is it really that precious?” she asked abruptly, her gaze hard with disapproval.

“What?” Elise blinked, startled.

“The child. You were a mess at first—crying, fainting, the works,” Genovia remarked dryly.

“I know.” A soft chuckle escaped Elise’s lips, surprising even herself. “I don’t even know when I came to treasure them so much.”

It was ironic, really. The more Rezette distanced himself from the child and criticized its existence, the more fiercely Elise’s affection grew. Even if the child truly fed on her lifeforce, as Rezette claimed, she felt no regret.

My life was fragile and fleeting to begin with, she thought. If I can use it for something worthwhile, why not?

Once, her plan had been clear. She had intended to give everything to Andrei.

As a twin-born who couldn’t generate his own magic, Andrei had relied on her power. Her intention had been to transfer her lifeforce to him entirely, ending her own life peacefully in the process. That was why she had to return to Argan.

Twin-borns were incomplete alone, intrinsically bound by their shared existence. It made sense to empower the healthier one. If only one of them could survive, it had to be Andrei—the Emperor, the one destined to restore their kingdom.

Rezette hadn’t been entirely wrong when he accused her of walking willingly toward her death.

But that was before she knew of the child.

Elise’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Why do I cherish them? Maybe because they keep me alive.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Genovia shot back, her brow furrowing in frustration.

“Perhaps they came to teach me,” Elise mused softly. “Not to think poorly of life. To reflect.”

Life, it seemed, always found a way. Just when she thought she was destined to walk into the abyss, reasons to live kept appearing, one by one.

If you’re my future, I’ll do whatever it takes to get there.

Until the day she could finally meet her child—perhaps even beyond that—Elise wanted to hold on. For the first time in what felt like ages, her resolve didn’t feel like a desperate grasp at survival, but a quiet, steady flame.

Her cheeks glowed faintly, warmed by the thought of the fragile life inside her. She brushed her fingers along the edge of her robe absently, the gesture almost tender.

Genovia, who had been watching Elise with her usual sharpness, faltered. Her conflicted gaze lingered on the woman before her, something unspoken brewing in her chest.