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Chapter 14
Afternoon sunlight poured through the domed skylight.
The scent of old wood paneling and parchment filled the study, lightly tickling the senses.
Rayden had not slept properly the night before.
He stared at the deep green wallpaper engraved with the imperial crest, drumming his fingers on the table in a habitual rhythm—tap, tap. His long fingers occasionally paused mid-motion.
When Vivianne had rejected every conventional answer he expected after offering her a “contract reward,” she had instead chosen something entirely different. He recalled the conversation.
<Please guarantee my personal safety.>
<How foolish. You cannot be harmed during the contract period anyway. Have you already forgotten that?>
<Only we know about the contract in this palace. Others don’t know my usefulness, so they might try to harm me.>
She had a habit of wrinkling her nose slightly when she was displeased.
<Do you really think anyone would dare touch the Emperor’s spoils?>
Vivianne had been visibly stunned by his arrogance.
There were still supporters of Logan Valder within the imperial palace. Logan, who had vanished with his lover Flora and, according to the original story’s ending, abandoned all power to live happily ever after.
In the side story, however, Rayden still had to deal with the lingering remnants of Logan’s faction.
But Rayden, unaware of what Vivianne was thinking, only scoffed.
<If there is some deranged fool who wants to be bitten by a mad dog, perhaps it could happen.>
<…There are always one or two lunatics anywhere.>
She added,
<Fanatics consumed by madness too. Like that voodoo priest.>
<Others once called him a hero. They didn’t even know he was a voodoo priest. They praised him as the one who eliminated the seed of tyranny. Yet you call that devotion madness.>
<Calling a voodoo priest a hero is madness too.>
Rayden found that remark memorable. It didn’t seem like something crafted to please him. Or rather, he hoped it wasn’t. For some reason, her irritated expression pleased him.
<The act of erasing the Emperor’s spoils would be the strongest possible insult to imperial authority.>
<There will be those who claim that destroying Nasira’s blessing is a sign of Valder’s downfall.>
<Yes. So please give me the safest place in the palace.>
<You want to become a consort?>
Even the way her cheeks turned red at that had been worth seeing.
<You don’t seriously think that would be safe, do you?>
<Then…>
<A maid’s position, please.>
Rayden had waited for her to continue.
<Somewhere with minimal enemies… and as little attention as possible…>
He immediately understood whom she meant.
<So I think… Sir Aaron…>
<I will assign you a suitable position.>
What a sly little thing.
Rayden stopped replaying the memory.
Tap, tap. The drumming on the table grew more forceful.
His mood soured.
Because she had mentioned his name.
If she had made some greedy or frivolous request, he could have simply dismissed it as expected. But this—
“Damn it.”
There was something between them. Something he could not define.
“When did that appear?”
At what point had it formed?
If Aaron wanted something, Rayden would give it to him. Power, status—anything. But what if what Aaron wanted was the Emperor’s blessing itself?
…He couldn’t exactly hand over a woman who existed under a contract like some bargaining chip.
Vivianne Lethe. A useful talent. His secret contractual asset.
Someday, Aaron would understand.
“By now, rumors about that princess must have spread everywhere.”
Rayden’s fingers stopped.
* * *
“Haah… haah…”
Moonlight poured into the indoor training hall.
A man stood alone.
Bare-chested, he was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows. His sculpted upper body rose and fell heavily from intense exertion. He sheathed his sword, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back. Platinum hair shimmered as it moved.
After a while, he opened his eyes again—and drew his blade toward the darkness.
“…It’s me.”
Despite the opponent’s high-level stealth technique, Rayden recognized him instantly.
A figure stepped forward. Long black hair contrasted beautifully with his pale face.
“Aaron.”
“Your Majesty, the sun of the Empire.”
Normally, Rayden would have told him to stop with the formalities. But not tonight.
Tonight, he didn’t feel like it.
“Why are you in the training hall at this hour?”
“I heard you came here. And also…”
“And also?”
“I needed to clear my mind.”
Rayden’s brow twitched slightly.
“I see. What troubles your mind so greatly?”
“A knight of the Empire cannot be at ease. Everything is burden and responsibility.”
“When did you become a philosopher? When troubled, one uses the body.”
“It has been a while since we sparred. I will fetch wooden swords.”
“No.”
Rayden’s blade glinted sharply.
“Use a real sword.”
Clang!
Steel met steel in the air.
Clean, precise strikes. No wasted motion. Sweat gathered on both men’s faces as they moved like a dance under the moonlight—beautiful, yet merciless. Neither held back.
Rayden could not read what lay behind Aaron’s blue eyes.
But he could feel it.
A subtle imbalance. A deviation in angle, in rhythm.
Something was off.
Aaron Clark.
One of the few people Rayden truly trusted in this suffocating palace.
From the beginning, Aaron had been his man. Not merely a subordinate, but something beyond hierarchy.
He had fought countless battles with Rayden, saved his life, and known his secrets.
Even the fact that Rayden was becoming something less than human.
Aaron had been the one to find him after the voodoo priest’s attack, half-dead near the cliff. He had also been the one to suppress Rayden’s madness before the ministers.
But this time was different.
Why had Aaron, who never showed interest in women, suddenly defended the “Star of Lethe”?
Why was his sword shaking?
“Tell me,” Rayden said, pressing forward.
“What happened to the princess of Lethe?”
Clang.
Steel rang sharply.
“Worrying about her is understandable. You personally brought her in front of everyone at the imperial auction.”
“Are you asking about me… or her?”
Clang.
The sound turned colder.
“How dare I compare anyone to Your Majesty?”
“She is quite remarkable. Not only the Emperor of Valder, but even the saint of the Blue Jewel Court. Your competition is quite extraordinary.”
“Stop mocking me, Your Majesty.”
“Your sword is shaking.”
“I was the one who placed her name in the auction.”
“I know. At first I thought it was your mother’s scheme. You failed to see what was right in front of you.”
The clash of blades intensified.
Aaron knew this sparring would not end easily.
Then—
His balance broke.
In the next moment, he found himself on the ground.
“…!”
Rayden’s sword was planted right beside his ear, pinning a white handkerchief beneath it. The pale blue eyes above him darkened instantly.
Aaron recognized it immediately.
Even now, instinctively, he thought of her.
He wanted to save her.
Not out of justice. Not out of pity.
Something else entirely.
He had only tried to place her in the auction to ensure she would be protected under controlled conditions. He would take responsibility for her himself.
But when Count Yanin raised his bid card, his heart had merely skipped.
When Rayden raised his—
It had fallen off a cliff.
“Why did you do it?”
Aaron couldn’t answer.
How could he explain this strange feeling? This unfamiliar warmth?
The first emotion he had ever experienced like this made him reckless.
The moment he thought of those pink eyes, his chest grew hot.
“I noticed it was tied to her ankle.”
Rayden crushed the handkerchief under his blade.
Aaron’s emotions surged at that moment—not fear, but something closer to relief.
So he had kept it.
“You met her before the auction.”
“…I saw her in the dungeon. I simply gave it to her because her hand was injured.”
“Because you were concerned?”
Aaron closed his eyes internally.
He had already done it a thousand times.
“Even Alan would have been about that age.”
That was the worst possible answer.
His dead younger brother was invoked as justification.
Rayden’s expression softened slightly.
After a brief silence, he extended a hand.
Aaron took it and stood.
Rayden sheathed his sword.
“Go. It’s late.”
“Will you be able to sleep tonight?”
“I’m fine. I’m exhausted thanks to you. I’ll fall asleep before I can even feel pain.”
Rayden turned—but stopped.
“By the way… why the glass slipper?”
“…A memento of victory.”
Aaron lied again.
“Why did Your Majesty take her?”
“Same reason.”
Rayden did not answer truthfully either.
“Don’t worry. She is the safest person in this world.”
Then, quietly—
“From me as well.”
And in that moment, something formed between the two men.
The first secret they would ever keep from each other.
