LVSMLA 44

Chapter 44

The sky was completely covered in thick gray smoke. From beyond the massive flames came screams sharp enough to tear through the eardrums. One corner of the mansion collapsed, and the deafening crash shook the air.

Firefighters could be seen running about, struggling to contain the blaze. The rear of the mansion, leading to the garden, seemed somewhat under control, but the front still burned fiercely, engulfed in raging flames.

I stood frozen in shock.

My father stopped the carriage, jumped down in haste, and turned back to me.

“It’s dangerous. Stay here. I’ll go assess the situation.”

“F-Father… I’ll go with you.”

Pulling myself together, I hurried toward the mansion with him. Terrified servants stumbled out of the burning building one by one. Some appeared badly injured, while others, pale-faced and disoriented, rushed toward my father.

“M-My lord… the fire suddenly… we don’t know where it started. There was no sign of trouble… I-I’m sorry.”

“Calm yourself, Cliff. You seem badly hurt.”

Cliff, his face blackened with soot as though he had barely escaped, stammered in a cracked voice. I quickly asked:

“Cliff, where’s Callisto? Where is he?”

“What? He went out first as soon as the fire started… hasn’t he come out yet?”

Cliff’s usually steady expression faltered greatly. I scanned the surroundings, but there were only servants groaning and collapsing here and there—no sign of Callisto. My father’s expression hardened.

“He left first? When?”

“As soon as the fire broke out, I went to find Lord Callisto. I saw him heading toward the garden. Then I went back inside to help the others… I thought he would’ve come out long ago, but if he’s not here… M-My lord!”

There was no need to hear more. If Callisto had escaped first and still wasn’t here, something must have happened.

Ignoring my father calling out in alarm, I ran into the mansion.

The scene inside was horrific. Blazing flames flickered, blocking my vision. Smoke filled the air, making my eyes sting and my breath catch. Covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve, I made my way toward the back garden—the last place Cliff had seen Callisto.

Fortunately, the rear leading to the garden was somewhat under control. Blackened grass, trampled into ruin, spread before me. The rose vines and old trees that once adorned the garden wavered through gray smoke.

But there was no sign of anyone.

Then, through the acrid smoke, a strange smell reached me.

“Oil…?”

Only then did I notice the damp ground. The scent assaulting my nose was oil soaking the grass. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. My clenched fists trembled.

The massive fire that consumed the Winyates mansion was no accident. Someone had doused it in oil and set it ablaze—taking advantage of the moment my father and I were away at the Empress’s invitation.

The culprit and their motive were obvious. The Empress must have anticipated that we wouldn’t bring Callisto with us. Regardless of any explanation my father might offer, she had set the fire to kill Callisto—ensuring there would be no chance of survival.

And if that were the case, it wouldn’t have been just arson. She would have sent assassins as well, to make certain of it. The fact that Callisto, who had escaped first, still hadn’t been found likely meant—

“No… that can’t be. Callisto is skilled with the sword…”

I shook my head, trying to dispel the ominous thought. Instead, I hurried forward, searching for him. The fire here had already died down—he must be hiding somewhere in the garden to avoid the attackers.

Callisto couldn’t have been harmed.

“Callisto…?”

But as if mocking my desperate hope, I saw the back of a child lying face down behind a charred rose bush.

It was Callisto’s clothing.

“Calli—!”

No matter how desperately I called, the small body didn’t move. His black hair fluttered faintly in the wind.

I rushed over and dropped to one knee beside him. As I lifted him and turned him over, I gasped.

Half of his body and face had been completely burned. The round, adorable features were gone without a trace.

A scream mixed with sobs tore from my throat.

“No… Callisto!”

Despair swallowed me in an instant. Clutching the child, I screamed until my vision flickered black—

—and I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes, everything was silent.

An unfamiliar ceiling and furnishings greeted me. For a moment, I was startled, but then the memory of the fire came rushing back.

I bolted upright.

“Calli—!”

“Young master, please calm down.”

The nursemaid, who must have been at my side the whole time, rushed to stop me. Grabbing her clothes, I forced out a trembling question:

“Calli… Elsie, is Calli really… gone?”

But the answer didn’t come from Elsie.

“So it seems. A tragic affair, Etienne.”

A cold voice pierced my ears.

My trembling shoulders stiffened. Slowly, I raised my head to look at the speaker.

Golden hair that seemed to glow, and eyes as blue and cold as a winter lake—Roen stood there, a faint, chilling smile curling his lips.

“…What brings you here, Prince Roengreen?”

My voice came out stiff. My hands trembled, so I hid them behind my back. I couldn’t clench my fists in front of a prince—but I couldn’t calm my pounding heart either.

I was in no state to face him. The mere thought that Callisto might be dead—even if I refused to believe it—made me want to tear Roen apart.

“Callisto cannot be dead…”

I gritted my teeth and said it firmly.

Roen only smirked as if hearing something absurd.

“I understand you’d like to believe that. But I just came from seeing the body myself.”

“The… body? You confirmed it?”

His smile twisted.

“Yes. Though the face and body were damaged beyond recognition, the black hair and build matched that child perfectly. There’s no other child of that age in Winyates, is there? And the servants confirmed the clothes were his.”

“That’s impossible… It can’t be…”

“Believe it or not, that’s your choice. But denial won’t bring the dead back.”

Roen shrugged.

Even so, I couldn’t accept it.

His explanation was logical—but Callisto was the protagonist of this “story.” Even if things had changed since I entered this world, it shouldn’t have diverged this far.

Even if Roen had seen the body, I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it myself.

No—I refused to believe it.

But while all the circumstances pointed to the worst, my belief that Callisto was alive had no real basis.

Roen was likely telling the truth.

Fear tightened painfully around my heart.

Watching my face, Roen looked satisfied. He didn’t even pretend to mourn.

Unable to bear looking at him any longer, I lowered my eyes and murmured:

“I’m unwell, Your Highness. I don’t think I can receive you any longer today.”

“Ah, of course. You’ve been through a lot. Get some rest. We’ll speak again.”

“…Yes, Your Highness.”

With a graceful gesture, Roen took his leave. I stared at his retreating figure long after he disappeared beyond the door.

The fire that consumed the mansion had been massive. It would take a long time to rebuild. Since we couldn’t return, I was taken to a villa not far from the count’s estate—a place where I often stayed with Callisto during the summer.

Now, as winter approached, the villa had lost all its vitality. The garden was barren, the interior cold, and the servants wore somber expressions.

They all knew about Callisto.

After Roen left, I remained bedridden the entire day. I needed to see the body myself—to confirm that the burned child wasn’t Callisto.

But fear gripped me.

I couldn’t bring myself to go.

As night fell, I dismissed all the servants, including Elsie. I wanted to be alone.

Heavy silence filled the room.

Only then did the tears I had held back all day spill over.

“Calli… Callisto…”

He wasn’t meant to die like this.

He was supposed to be acknowledged as the rightful second prince of the Peron Empire, defeat the Empress and Roen, and avenge his mother.

Had everything gone wrong because of me?

Because I changed fate?

No… it was my fault.

If not for me, Callisto might not have found love—but he would still be alive.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Curled up, I sobbed as though my heart would break.

And then—

Tap.

Something hard struck the window.

Tap. Tap.

The sound came again, repeating against the glass.