RAL 29

In the dim, fading violet eyes of Dvaltin, names were reflected—clearly inscribed.

“You understand, don’t you? No matter what happens, mistakes will not be tolerated.”

…This was torture.

The most effective—and cruel—kind of torture.

And at the same time, an unspoken threat toward a son who kept subtly going against her will.

Just like the last time, when she had forced him to kill George with his own hands.

Dvaltin knew it. He knew it all too well—and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her command.

As always, to Hella, Dvaltin was nothing more than a puppet that had to move exactly as she wished. And to Dvaltin, Hella was someone he could never defy.

…If I say I can’t do this—if I refuse—she’ll slowly dry me out and kill me. Just like she’s done all my life. Effortlessly. Without even lifting a finger.

The people of the Yeshuan Empire always said the same thing: that Crown Prince Dvaltin Bacalar had been born with an incredibly powerful backing. That with Empress Hella as his mother, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he had been born with everything.

But perhaps… the truth was the exact opposite.

If his mother hadn’t been Hella—if, like George, he had been born to a woman with weaker influence—he might never have become crown prince, nor even had a chance at the throne.

But at least… it would have been better than this.

At least… it wouldn’t have been this painful.

In the end, the woman before him was the root of every misfortune in his life.

And despite knowing that, she had turned him into someone incapable of resistance—an evil spirit that endlessly gnawed away at his life and his heart.

“Leave at once.”

Hella looked down at her son with a cold expression and spoke as if issuing an order.

Still keeping his head bowed, Dvaltin clenched the execution list she had thrown at him—his hand veined and pale with strain—and slowly rose to his feet.

Whisner watched Dvaltin prepare, his face filled with worry.

“……”

What could he possibly say? What words could ease even half of that suffering?

But no matter how much he thought, nothing came to mind.

By then, Dvaltin had already dressed himself entirely in black to avoid notice, and taken up a finely honed sword.

Then he stood there, staring out the window with lifeless, extinguished eyes.

After a moment of hesitation, Whisner carefully stepped closer to his side.

“…It’s raining heavily, Your Highness.”

“……”

“So please, allow me to accompany you.”

Despite the plea hidden in his words, Dvaltin slowly shook his head.

“You already know, don’t you, Whisner?”

Then he spoke quietly,

“What happens to those who show me that kind of kindness… who worry about me like that.”

“But—”

“…That’s enough.”

His voice sank low.

“I’ll return on my own. Don’t concern yourself.”

“Your Highness…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That was the end of it.

After a brief farewell, Dvaltin turned and walked away without looking back, leaving Whisner alone behind.

How much longer…

…must a person be devoured like this?

How far does Empress Hella intend to break her own son before she stops this madness?

No—if Dvaltin had truly been someone who lived only to obey his mother’s commands, she wouldn’t have driven him this far in the first place.

But tragically, Dvaltin was nothing like his mother.

He wasn’t cold like Hella. He wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t cruel.

No matter how much armor he wore, no matter how cold a façade he put on, inside… he was still just a wounded, pitiful boy.

And yet, he still clung desperately to the things he wanted to protect, struggling with all his might.

…One day, at this rate, he will completely break.

Who was the most hateful person right now?

Hella, who kept pushing Dvaltin toward destruction? The countless nobles who joined hands with her for their own gain?

No.

It was neither of them.

The one he couldn’t forgive the most… was himself—for knowing Dvaltin’s true feelings and circumstances, and still being unable to do anything for him.

“…Ha.”

With a guilt-ridden expression, Whisner let out a heavy sigh.

Then, as he watched the endless rain pouring down, he sincerely prayed that Dvaltin would return safely, without harm.

The first page of the execution list.

The very first name written there… was none other than Duke Lesen.

Victor Lesen.

The father of Herina, concubine and mother of the sixth prince—her strongest support.

Dvaltin didn’t need long to understand why Hella had written his name first.

Right after George’s death, his mother Yeriel had immediately sought to ally herself with the remaining concubines.

Of course, they all understood the state of the imperial palace. Some hesitated, fearing Hella’s wrath—but others chose differently.

The first to join hands with Yeriel were the sixth prince and his mother, Herina.

And it was undoubtedly Duke Lesen who had given Herina the strength to make that decision.

…In the end, killing Yeriel alone had not been enough for Hella.

Not even close.

“……”

Leaping down from a tall tree, Dvaltin landed lightly on the protruding balcony. Suppressing all sound, he began to move forward.

His destination was none other than Lesen’s bedroom.

Finding it wasn’t difficult.

In a ducal estate already grand and extravagant, it was the highest, safest, and most lavishly decorated place.

A location that anyone could tell belonged to Duke Lesen.

Just beyond this window.

“Did you call for me, my lord?”

At the sudden voice, Dvaltin froze slightly and hid behind the window.

“What of the Til Mercenary Group?”

Soon after, the voice of Duke Lesen—whom Dvaltin had met several times before—followed.

Til Mercenary Group…

A name known throughout the Yeshuan Empire.

Though called mercenaries, they were ruthless men who would commit any atrocity for their clients.

They were known to be highly selective with their contracts, making even arranging a meeting extremely difficult.

“They said they would inform us of the meeting location a day in advance. They seemed quite pleased with the conditions you offered, so there should be no need to worry.”

“Send someone again. There’s no time—we need to meet them as soon as possible.”

Duke Lesen let out a short sigh and ran a hand through his hair before continuing,

“…At this rate, Dvaltin will truly become emperor.”

“My lord…”

“Look at what happened to George and Yeriel. And Hella never liked Herina to begin with—after this, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they’ve completely fallen out.”

“……”

“So before it’s too late, we must eliminate Dvaltin first.”

…Ha.

Hidden in the shadows, Dvaltin let out a silent, bitter laugh.

“If Dvaltin dies, the nobles aligned with Hella will splinter. In the end, they’ll join our side. That’s our best course.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“I have no intention of losing my daughter and grandchild to that wretched woman. Go at once and deliver my message. You understand what I mean.”

“I will do so immediately.”

Only then did Duke Lesen smile in satisfaction and gesture for the man to leave.

The man bowed and hurried out, leaving Lesen alone.

Standing with his hands behind his back, the duke faced the window.

And Dvaltin—who had erased his presence and remained hidden—slowly stepped forward into view.

His hand tightly gripping the sword at his waist.