FMLDM 46

Chapter 46

Macaron’s Past

The boy’s birthday was the same day as the death anniversary of his birth mother, the former Empress.
His mother, whom he never even saw once, left him behind and departed for the heavens on the very day he was born.
The boy learned this when he was only five years old.

Everyone called him “demon” instead of his name, showing him nothing but cold, contemptuous gazes.

“Filthy bug.”
“He’s a child who should never have been born.”

That was what he heard the most often in the Imperial Palace.
He only learned later that behind it all stood Empress Ashelle Rineir.

His father, the Emperor, knew everything but was merely a spectator, turning a blind eye.
From then on, the boy had nowhere to anchor his heart.

The only person who approached him with kindness was his half-brother, Deis Craid.

Empress Ashelle had two sons: the eldest, Riner Craid, and the second, Deis Craid.
Unlike Riner, who persistently bullied the boy since childhood, Deis treated him warmly and followed him around.

Riner resented Deis for this, and Empress Ashelle also disapproved.

“Didn’t I tell you not to associate with that demon?”
“He’s not a demon—he’s my brother. Mother, today he…”

Smack—
The sight of a mother striking her son so mercilessly was horrifying.

And Ashelle did not stop there.
On such days, the boy would be beaten half to death.

No one in the palace acknowledged this hidden abuse.
The Emperor ignored it all and left the boy to suffer.

Then, one day, a major incident shook the palace.

As usual, while playing with Deis, the boy had hidden under the palace eaves to avoid the rain.
Shivering from the cold, he still placed his outer robe over Deis.
As he watched the younger boy nodding off, a mocking voice intruded.

“You shouldn’t be wasting time here playing around with Prince Deis.”

“If you came to pick a fight, just leave.”

The noisy exchange roused Deis.
The boy bristled with tension.

But the servant, carrying out Riner’s orders, spoke.

“His Highness Riner is waiting for you at the Hall of the Sacred Pavilion.”

At once, fire lit in the boy’s eyes, and he bolted.

The Hall of the Sacred Pavilion was where his late mother Ibrina’s soul crystal was enshrined.
Riner often sneered that he should just burn it down someday.

At last, soaked like a drenched pup, the boy reached the Hall, looking ghostly in the rain.

Inside, the crystal lay shattered on the ground, slashed apart by Riner’s sword.

From within came Riner’s venomous words:

“Of course she birthed a demon. She must’ve whored herself somewhere and pretended to carry imperial blood.”

Such cruel words could never come from a child—unless taught.
They were all the poison of Empress Ashelle.

The boy, praised as a prodigy in many fields, was a thorn in Ashelle’s side and a rival in Riner’s eyes.
Raised like a chess piece destined to be Emperor, Riner grew into a devil molded by her teachings.

The real demon was not the boy.
It was Riner.

“This woman is the root of all evil.”

As Riner’s sword shredded the soul crystal, a sharp gleam lit the boy’s red eyes.
His hand instinctively reached for a sword.

But blocking his path—was none other than Deis.

“Brother, not now…”

The boy, consumed by rage, no longer saw Deis.
Deis was shoved aside in an instant, his small body striking the corner of a palace pillar.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

Striding toward Riner, the boy froze only when he saw Deis bleeding profusely.
From that day, he never saw Deis again.
It was the beginning of all tragedies.

Years passed. The boy grew and swept across battlefields, becoming known as the War Demon.

Empress Ashelle, rather than risk her precious son Riner, sent the boy to every war, big or small.

But the boy held no resentment.
It was the only way he could lessen his guilt toward Deis.

Better to leave as the murderer of his half-brother than stay in the palace bearing that sin.

With each scar carved by enemy blades, he learned the ways of survival.
Victory upon victory became his achievements, and his followers grew.

When the world began to praise him not as a demon but as Macaron, he had unintentionally become a formidable force.

Alarmed, Empress Ashelle eventually sent her own son to the battlefield—but only to safe, guaranteed victories.

When the Empire’s triumph was certain in the Stace campaign, Riner joined.
But the hardest battle, the Raelin Gorge campaign, was once again led by Macaron.

Though powerful monsters guarded it, the Romanti Empire had Macaron, whose judgments never failed and who always brought victory.
Even for the grueling gorge, the Empire’s morale soared.

But wars often defy plans—there, human power could not secure victory.

Riner, abandoning Macaron, retreated and left him to die.
By the time Macaron sensed betrayal, it was already too late.

“At least Your Highness must retreat.”
“You must survive.”

But Macaron could not abandon his men.
Knowing it was a trap, he charged into the gorge warded by monsters.

Despite his sacrifice, the battle was lost.
His heart was scarred forever, both physically and spiritually.

Wounds inflicted by monsters never faded and carried contagion.

The Empire mourned its fallen war hero.
Years later, when Macaron returned alive, the grieving citizens mockingly called him a monster.

If not for Kai’s immense healing powers, even imagining that ordeal was unbearable.

It was the work of his half-brother.

He had always known deep down but chose to ignore it.
If he ignored that one truth, perhaps everyone could be happy.

But “revenge” only called forth more blood.

Since Deis’s death, Macaron had never once considered revenge.
For revenge required worthiness—and he bore the guilt alone.

Thus he let everything slip by.

But the truth was different:
It was not Macaron who killed Deis.
It was Riner.

Through Pagan’s memories, the truth revealed itself in horrifying clarity.

Riner disguised Pagan as Deis’s servant and laced poison into his medicine.
Watching his brother die, Riner whispered:

“I’ll soon send that bastard to join you.”

While Macaron spent years shackled by guilt and forgiveness, Riner lived driven by warped desire.

Now, even Deis—the only reason Macaron clung to forgiveness—was gone.

The Stace battlefield, Pagan’s reappearance in Craid territory, Deis’s death, the gruesome future deaths of Macaron’s comrades…
Even Calypse’s life.

All of it was Riner’s plan.

While Macaron bore the title of “monster,” Riner became the real one.

Even if he becomes Emperor, he will raise his blade against me, and it will not stop at me—my people too will be cut down.

If I retreat, I cannot protect anything.

Macaron’s red eyes deepened like blood, piercing the pitch-black night.

Now… I must take another path, brother. To protect my people.

When his consciousness returned, he found himself staring at the eastern annex—Calypse’s room.
Once again, he had wandered here.

Perhaps if he saw her, if he could just confirm something—whatever it was—this restless feeling would subside.

He didn’t even know himself what he was trying to confirm.

Unable to knock at such a late hour, he lingered near the annex.

When I first met her, I never imagined it would come to this…

But visiting her had become routine.
Macaron could no longer imagine a world without her.

He recalled how, even with her own life at risk, Calypse had thrown herself to shield children.
That image consumed him.

Foolish woman.

Thinking of her, he found himself smiling.
On a day he rediscovered his forgotten smile, he realized he had slowly fallen into Calypse’s presence like rain soaking in.

How long had he waited?
The sound of her descending the stairs pounded in his chest.

When he turned, he met Calypse’s startled gaze.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her.
Yet just having her before his eyes brought peace to his heart.

“I came… because I missed you.”

Turning her head with a gentle smile, she shimmered before him like shy spring.
Her violet eyes dazzled like enchantment.

“…Are you alright?”

Normally, Macaron would have brushed it off with I’m fine.
But tonight, the words stuck in his throat.

He feared his new resolve might hurt her.
Feared that she might leave him after hearing it.

Though Calypse had never once abandoned him, tonight he was afraid.

But now that he knew the truth through Pagan, this was no longer something he could back away from.
It was a matter of his family’s lives and safety.

Her words echoed in his mind:

If you don’t have strength, you can’t protect peace. Peace is granted by those with power, as an act of grace.

Gathering courage, Macaron stepped closer.

Never had he imagined that the woman he never expected anything from would become so vital.

Her loosened hair, round eyes like a rabbit, delicate nose, a face so small it could be covered by his palm…
He loved all of it.

Macaron felt trapped in an inescapable snare.
And if this was a snare, he would gladly fall into it a hundred times over.

Standing just a step away, he finally let spill the words he had long held back.

“Just once… may I hold you?”

“…!”