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Chapter 12
As soon as he turned the corner and was out of Cassielope’s sight, Regis collapsed onto the floor.
Clutching his head as the ringing in his ears grew unbearable, his face contorted in pain.
“Cough—!”
He coughed as though vomiting up everything he had held back in front of Cassielope, and blood gushed out of his mouth in a red torrent.
He barely managed to cover his lips with his hand, but his once-clean hand was now soaked in crimson.
A searing pain, as though his heart were burning, surged through him. Regis instinctively reached into the inner pocket of his coat.
His fingers met emptiness.
Rope took it earlier…
Realizing he hadn’t gotten the vial back from her, his trembling hand dropped helplessly to his side.
On the polished floor, a bloody handprint was left behind—stark against the shine.
It had become a habit—one that crept in recently—to look for that bottle of poison whenever the pain struck.
A pitiful thought whispered: Wouldn’t it be less painful to just drink it?
Each time that thought arose, Regis felt disgust and self-loathing well up inside him.
He had caused Cassielope to suffer, yet he couldn’t even endure something as trivial as this.
So he had to endure. No matter what it took, he had to withstand it.
Until the day he could return the sacred throne safely to Cassielope Clemens—the woman he loved beyond reason.
“Khuk…!”
Regis coughed up blood again.
His clothes were now so drenched in red that their original color was impossible to tell—he looked as if he had been wearing crimson from the start.
The ringing in his head grew louder. His breathing became ragged.
His vision blurred, and his body refused to obey him.
Just as the blue of his eyes began to flicker with a strange red gleam, a voice—twisted and otherworldly—tore through his mind.
<This is not your burden to bear.>
The tone dripped with fury. It wasn’t something heard with the ears, but a message echoing inside his skull.
Recognizing it as a threat, Regis’s lips curled into a faint smile.
“It’s mine.”
<Foolish one, Regis Euriel!>
“Regis Clemens,” he corrected, smiling faintly. “I’ve taken my wife’s name.”
<So you truly mean to defy me.>
Even at that grotesque, spine-chilling voice, Regis chuckled quietly.
The face that had been contorted with agony just moments ago now bloomed with satisfaction.
The fact that he could hear that voice meant only one thing—he had succeeded. The pain still gnawed at him, but laughter came easily now.
<I hope you don’t regret your choice. The greatest torment awaits you.>
Regret?
Regis let out a hollow laugh.
What was there to regret? This was the moment he had longed for.
Pain? He could endure it gladly. There was no pain greater than losing Cassielope.
He looked up toward the empty air, his expression filled with a serene sort of happiness.
It was done. This was enough.
It would hurt for a while longer, but in the end, everything would return to its rightful place.
Cassielope. And the Empire.
“Heh… hahahaha!”
<Do you truly think things will go your way?>
His laughter stopped abruptly.
The life faded from his eyes; the red light flared again. His expression went blank, emotionless.
His hand rose slowly through the air—then closed around his own throat.
Struggling against the invisible force that bent his will, Regis forced his hand downward—toward the small dagger he always carried.
A longsword would take too long to draw. He had only a split second to decide.
Clutching what little sanity he had left, Regis gripped the dagger’s hilt. The metallic ring of the blade echoed through the corridor.
He stared at his thigh. Without hesitation, he drove the blade into it.
Pain exploded through him as steel tore into flesh.
Through clenched teeth, a low groan escaped him.
When he saw the blood spilling from the wound, the blue returned to his eyes.
“Not… yet…” he rasped.
Feeling his body obey him again, Regis smiled faintly.
Perhaps it wasn’t yet time—the being’s control over him was still weak.
<Pathetic struggle. Do you think this will change anything?>
At the mocking voice in his head, Regis gave a bitter chuckle.
No—the same tragedy would not happen again. He was sure of it.
Cassielope Clemens. Noble and sublime.
He knew well the depth of her love for the Clemens Empire.
How she had volunteered to go to the battlefield, willing to sacrifice her body for the realm.
The true sovereign who had poured every ounce of herself into this Empire.
The Clemens Empire was Cassielope, and Cassielope was the Clemens Empire.
To protect it, she would draw her sword—no matter the means.
Even if the blade’s point were turned upon herself.
That was why Regis was certain—if he ever tried to destroy this Empire, she would strike him down without hesitation.
She was not a woman who would crumble just because he was gone.
Even her own loyal subordinates had been cast aside without mercy if they erred.
Cassielope… she’ll be fine.
There was no need to tell her the truth.
Even if he revealed the real reason behind what he was doing, Cassielope would not falter.
If anything, it was he who would break—because she would accept it too calmly.
“Thank you for always staying by my side, Regis.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I couldn’t have come this far without you.”
Her dreamy violet eyes curved softly as she smiled.
Seeing Cassielope’s radiant face before him, Regis froze for a moment—but then realized it was only an illusion from the past.
A faint, wistful smile escaped him.
Of course. It couldn’t be real.
He could swear—so long as he lived, he would never again see Cassielope’s pure smile.
The wind blew, and the phantom’s red hair streamed behind her.
Regis reached out toward the long hair tied neatly behind her head, but naturally, his hand passed through it.
She often told him that she had come this far thanks to him—but he knew those were just words of courtesy.
To Cassielope, he had always been nothing more than a nominal fiancé, arranged between noble families in childhood.
Even without him, she would have succeeded in everything she did.
He was unnecessary. Convenient, perhaps, as the scion of a reputable house—a fiancé useful in name alone.
Though he loved her deeply, Regis knew he could never be her first priority.
And yet, he had never felt bitter or resentful about it.
He was simply grateful to remain by her side at all.
Even knowing that the Cassielope before him was but an illusion, he mouthed the words painfully.
“I know you’re lying, Rope…”
He smiled gently.
He wondered—if he ever spoke those thoughts aloud, what would she say? Would she deny it with a shake of her head? Look startled, asking how he knew?
It didn’t matter.
Even if such a moment were possible, it would never be reason enough for him to leave her.
“…Still, it’s okay.”
It would have been nice if her words had been sincere—but even if they weren’t, it didn’t matter.
For someone as straightforward as Cassielope to lie meant, in its own way, that she cared.
Nothing came before the Empire in her heart.
If only you can be happy, he thought, then I don’t mind being crushed beneath your feet. Your happiness is mine, Cassielope.
Regis whispered softly.
Perhaps he had grown numb to pain, because her smiling face was beginning to fade.
Regis pressed the dagger deeper into his thigh; the blade sank another inch.
Hot blood soaked through the fabric.
Having already coughed up so much of it, dizziness began to overtake him.
Without hesitation, he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stay conscious—just a little longer—to etch her smile into his eyes.
Loving her had always been accompanied by pain.
And for Regis, pain had long since become familiar.