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Volume 2 Chapter 5
The victory parade of the Admiral of the North Sea was not approved until ten days later. Roen, who had been handling state affairs, resisted until the very end and refused to allow the celebration.
But by then, rumors about the admiral who had pacified the entire North Sea had already spread throughout the Empire. The whole nation was in an uproar over the unfair treatment of the admiral, and in the end, when the admiral began marching toward the imperial capital with his soldiers, even Roen could no longer hold out.
At last, the day of the triumphal ceremony arrived.
During those days, I had spent my time almost out of my mind, unable even to rise from bed. Father visited often to check on me, though he himself looked half-dazed.
“Do you really think that admiral is Callisto?”
We were on our way to attend the ceremony. I stared blankly out the carriage window before suddenly asking the question. Father remained silent for a long while. Hope and worry flickered across his face.
“There have been countless people claiming to be the missing Second Prince. But every one of them was exposed when the so-called ‘imperial mark’ they presented turned out to be a crude fake tattoo.”
“But this time it could be real. If he were an impostor, he wouldn’t dare make such a huge spectacle out of it. It’s not just an ordinary scar either—how could anyone fake a mark that only appears under sunlight…?”
“No one knows. The Admiral of the North Sea has earned tremendous merit. If he somehow manages to make the mark convincing enough to be acknowledged as the Second Prince, he could seize power within the imperial family in an instant. There may be forces backing him for exactly that reason.”
“But Callisto said he was put in command of a fleet. In his last letter…”
“That was already two years ago. Don’t let your hopes rise too high, Etienne.”
Instead of replying, I turned my gaze back toward the window.
I remembered Callisto suddenly appearing at my window that night. Until now, I had believed it was merely a fever dream brought on by illness.
But everything was far too coincidental.
Struggling to suppress the hope swelling inside me, I leaned against the window and closed my eyes.
It was the first triumphal ceremony held in decades. The event was lavish beyond compare, instantly capturing the attention of imperial citizens long worn down by famine and political unrest.
The enormous plaza outside the imperial palace gates overflowed with people gathered from every corner of the Empire. Flowers were constantly thrown into the sky. Fireworks crackled without pause. Even before the procession appeared, the atmosphere was already festive.
First came the navy soldiers dressed in crimson uniforms. The naval forces lined up in perfect formation, raising their swords high into the air at their commander’s signal—a salute welcoming the victorious procession.
Behind them appeared a four-horse carriage drawn by black stallions. A raised platform had been mounted onto the open carriage.
Then the admiral standing atop the platform revealed himself.
“Waaaaah!”
“Admiral! Admiral!”
Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd filling the plaza. But Father and I had to remain near the innermost part of the palace with the Emperor and the nobles, so we could not clearly see his face. I could only vaguely make out the tall figure of a man in a crimson naval uniform and full military regalia. A black cloak billowed behind his broad shoulders.
I clenched my fists tightly, my face tense. Father patted my shoulder.
Only then did some of the tension ease. I glanced toward the imperial family gathered inside.
The Emperor, appearing before the public for the first time in a long while, sat at the very center. Though he had only just passed fifty, more than a decade of illness had left him looking far older and utterly drained. The dignified and imposing man from his youth was nowhere to be found.
Yet his eyes, fixed upon the admiral’s procession, were razor-sharp. The Emperor must have already heard the rumors claiming the admiral was the Second Prince. The naval admiral he had secretly appointed might, in fact, be his long-lost son.
On either side of the Emperor sat the Empress and Crown Prince Roen. The mother and son, so alike in appearance, both wore cold and severe expressions. Roen’s blue eyes glinted sharply as he stared at the admiral’s carriage. A faint trace of icy pheromones drifted from him, barely restrained. Perhaps he was letting them leak intentionally.
Though we were not particularly close, my body—still not fully recovered—reacted immediately to Roen’s pheromones and trembled. Fighting to steady myself, I straightened my back.
The military band arrived first with solemn music. Behind them came the procession of spoils seized from the pirates. When wagons carrying North Sea pirate captains bound in shackles appeared, the cheers grew even louder.
And finally, the admiral’s carriage stopped before the Emperor and the nobles. Music roared amid deafening cheers and exploding fireworks.
The admiral stepped down from the carriage.
With each step he took forward, the noise gradually died away. Soon he stood directly before the Emperor. Slowly, the Emperor rose from his seat.
The moment he saw the man’s face, life suddenly returned to the Emperor’s eyes.
The music stopped.
No one spoke, but I heard several nobles gasp in shock. Cracks formed in the Empress’s icy expression. Silence fell across the plaza.
The elderly Emperor looked pale and sickly, while the young man standing before him radiated youth and vitality. Yet despite their different atmospheres, the two resembled each other so strongly that anyone could tell at a glance they shared the same blood.
I could not take my eyes off the admiral for even a second.
Standing beneath the sunlight, he gazed directly down at the Emperor.
He had brushed back his black hair, exposing a pale, neat forehead. Beneath his dark brows, large eyes shimmered with brilliant golden light. Receiving that gaze head-on, the Emperor murmured almost like a groan.
“Your eyes are exactly like Marie Louise’s.”
At those words, the admiral’s red, full lips curved into a beautiful smile. A gentle yet resolute expression spread across his face, as though carved from marble.
Sunlight blazed behind the admiral’s broad shoulders.
Then he spoke.
“Callisto greets his father.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
That night had not been a dream. Nor a hallucination.
Callisto had come to me exactly as he stood now.
Callisto was alive.
He had returned to me alive.
Tears threatened to spill over. I forced myself to hold them back, but I could not stop my eyes from growing wet. Father discreetly grasped my wrist to avoid drawing attention. When I glanced at him, I saw his eyes were red as well.
The Emperor asked in a trembling voice,
“You said… Callisto?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Even from afar, I could tell you were Marie Louise’s son. Just where have you been all this time…? And when did you grow so much…?”
“Your Majesty, do you truly believe this man’s words?”
A cold voice interrupted the exchange between the Emperor and Callisto.
Roen strode toward them, lifting one eyebrow with a chilling smile. The Emperor frowned, but Roen ignored him and glared at Callisto with his chin raised proudly.
“I acknowledge your achievements in the North Sea, but impersonating a prince is treason. How dare you address His Majesty so casually?”
Callisto slowly turned his head.
Looking down at Roen from his greater height, his amber eyes glinted briefly before narrowing into a soft smile.
“It has been a long time, Brother.”
“…What?”
For the first time, Roen’s usually calm and detached expression wavered.
A moment later, his eyes widened.
“Callisto…”
Roen’s blue eyes flashed sharply.
“So it was you.”
The half-brothers’ gazes collided in midair. Roen’s ice-cold stare swept over Callisto.
At that moment, the Empress frowned and sharply addressed the Emperor.
“There is no proof this man is the Second Prince, Your Majesty!”
“Empress, you knew Marie Louise. How can you say such a thing?”
“There are many people who resemble others. We cannot acknowledge him as the Second Prince based on his words alone. You—do you have any proof?”
Callisto did not answer.
Completely ignoring the Empress, he turned back to the Emperor and tilted his head slightly with a smile.
“If you require proof, then of course I have it. Your Majesty, there is the imperial mark, is there not?”
“The mark? You possess it as well?”
“Of course.”
Color returned to the Emperor’s wrinkled face. But Roen’s expression visibly hardened. It was unlike him—even when Harrington had fallen into crisis, he had remained composed.
Callisto slowly began undoing the golden buttons of his crimson uniform jacket.
Beneath the opened jacket appeared his firm chest and sharply defined abs. Each time he exhaled lightly, his chest rose and fell. He pulled the uniform open further, revealing his narrow waist.
Long scars stretched across the smooth ivory skin of his waist. Not only there—his muscular chest and hard abdomen were also covered in sword wounds.
My chest ached painfully, and I lowered my gaze.
Then the sun emerged from behind the clouds.
Warm sunlight illuminated Callisto’s waist.
Wherever the light touched, a mark slowly appeared. It resembled two crimson swords crossing each other—a massive scar-like emblem.
The Emperor took a step toward him.
“…You truly bear the mark.”
His voice trembled.
The Empress hurriedly interjected.
“He may still be an impostor, Your Majesty! You must summon the royal physicians and confirm it isn’t fake!”
“No. There is no need.”
The Emperor shook his head.
“Others may not know, but I recognized it instantly. The imperial mark on my own body is exactly the same… Even the royal physicians have never seen mine, so such a shape could never be forged.”
“That’s impossible…”
Cracks spread across the Empress’s beautiful face.
Imperial marks appeared in many forms, but it was rare for a prince to bear a mark identical to the Emperor’s. Even Roen’s mark, according to rumor, differed slightly.
Yet occasionally, a prince was born with the exact same mark.
The symbolic meaning of that was enormous. Most often, such a prince inherited the throne.
No wonder the Empress had gone pale.
Unlike her, the sickly Emperor now looked invigorated, as though his youth had returned.
Finally, he declared:
“He is truly the Second Prince.”
The silence hanging over the crowd shattered into deafening cheers.
“Your Highness!”
“Waaaaah! Your Highness the Second Prince!”
Callisto knelt on one knee before the father he had reunited with after twenty years. The Emperor personally reached out with both arms and lifted him up.
“You have returned safely. And you returned in triumph.”
His wet voice trembled faintly.
Then the Emperor asked,
“As the victorious general, what is it that you desire? Speak. Whatever it is, I shall grant it.”
A conquering general who earned a triumphal ceremony had the right to request one reward of any kind. And now that he had also been recognized as the Second Prince, Callisto could have demanded even a ducal title.
‘He should ask for land and a title to secure his power.’
So this was what Callisto had aimed for by insisting on the triumph. Once he received a title, the true battle for the throne would begin.
I was busy enjoying Roen’s twisted expression from afar when suddenly Callisto turned toward me.
His long lashes fluttered softly as his eyes curved beautifully.
The moment I met that radiant face, my mind went blank.
Staring directly at me, Callisto spoke.
“I wish to marry Etienne of House Winyates, Your Majesty.”
I froze completely.
