RTGD 22

Chapter 22

“Wow, she’s really leaving without even looking back.”

Peeking out from behind the curtain, Isis scrunched up her face.

Her younger sister, who had taken their mother away and entered this house, was now quietly leaving the estate.

She had been the one yelling day after day for her to get out—so she should have felt relieved. But instead, her insides felt heavy, as if they were filled with stones.

“Why did Litricia have to say something so weird?!”

Isis recalled the conversation she’d had with Litricia on the steps of the banquet hall.

“Talking about dying and all that nonsense… She’s just making people worry for nothing…”

Isis, who had been tugging at her pink hair in frustration, glanced out at the yard. All that remained there was the lingering shimmer of golden magic left by the activation of a teleportation scroll.

Staring at the empty space devoid of any trace of Litricia, Isis irritably yanked the curtains shut.

“Ugh, whatever. Now that she’s gone, I finally feel better. I do! Totally relieved…”

***

“Your Majesty! What were you thinking?!”

“…Mother.”

Antonio let out a sigh as the Empress Dowager stormed in, her heels clicking furiously.

“What are you so angry about this time?”

“Are you seriously asking because you don’t know? I heard everything! You gave that Killian a teleportation scroll!”

Bang!

With fury, the Empress Dowager slammed the scroll ledger down on his desk.

“I’ve told you over and over again! You must never give anything to that thing!”

Rustle.

The wind from the impact scattered papers across the desk.

“…It’s nothing major. Just one teleportation scroll, Mother.”

“People are always like that—once you give them one thing, they ask for more. Do you think that thing Killian is any different? He might use something small as a pretext and aim for the throne next!”

For a fleeting moment, a look of weariness crossed the Emperor’s face, but it quickly vanished. Collecting himself, he calmly gathered the scattered documents.

Though the papers were now stacked too neatly to see clearly, one word briefly flashed into view before disappearing: abdication.

“You’re jumping to wild conclusions, Mother. I simply wanted to congratulate my younger brother on his marriage…”

“Brother? How can you still be so naive?!”

The Empress Dowager took a breath, softening her harsh tone.

Then, with both hands heavy with rings, she gently stroked Antonio’s cheek.

“Your Majesty, do you know whose name is most talked about in high society these days? It’s Killian. Everyone’s gossiping about him. Whenever two people gather, the topic inevitably turns to the Duke of Heverus.”

In high society, the more provocative the story, the faster it spreads.

In that sense, Killian’s appearance at the recent ball was the perfect storm of scandals.

Not only had he just ended the long-troublesome Kashar War, earning himself public favor, but now he was marrying a commoner-born adoptee—a story straight out of a romance novel.

And with his almost unreal beauty added to the mix, the aristocracy couldn’t stop talking about him—for once, in a positive way.

“They used to call him terrifying and ominous, and now they’re all swooning over his good looks like brainless fools.”

“Is that so.”

Antonio’s indifferent reply made the Empress Dowager sharpen her tone.

“This is no time to sit around calm. Do you know how hard I’ve worked to ruin that thing’s reputation? And now the public mood has turned just like that…”

Her lower eyelids twitched in frustration.

“I have no choice. Before those clueless nobles start idolizing Killian any further, I need to shift public opinion again.”

“…What are you planning this time, Mother?”

“Hmm. Nothing spreads fear like rumors. And nothing generates negative sentiment like terror.”

Heehee. The Empress Dowager laughed coquettishly, her narrow eyes gleaming with malice.

A recent acquisition by the Godwin family came to mind: a toxic spice that was odorless and colorless.

“Your Majesty, how many wells are there in the Empire?”

“Why do you ask something like that all of a sudden?”

Antonio was instantly filled with dread. That nasal tone—he recognized it. It always came out when she was plotting something.

“No, no. I’ll look into it myself. As always, this mother of yours will take care of everything. You don’t need to worry at all.”

“…Mother…”

Please stop. Whatever it is, just stop.

Antonio wanted to say it so badly, the words caught in his throat—but in the end, all he did was remove her hand from his face.

“…Understood.”

***

While the Empress Dowager’s new scheme was taking shape deep inside the imperial palace, the teleportation scroll faithfully delivered Killian and Litricia to the North.

The swirling colors in their vision, like watercolors mixed with too much water, gradually cleared.

“We’ve arrived, Litricia.”

Killian’s deep voice washed over her just as their feet touched solid ground.

“Oh…”

Litricia gasped softly as the golden magic faded and the northern landscape was revealed.

Contrary to its bleak reputation, the snow-covered North looked like something out of a fairy tale.

It was so white in every direction that it almost felt unreal.

“Do you like it?”

Killian, brushing a snowflake off her head and wrapping a cloak around her shoulders—who knew when he’d even grabbed it—asked gently.

“Yes. It’s… beautiful.”

With sunlight glinting off the snow and Killian’s sharp features looking even colder and clearer, Litricia nodded without resistance.

Killian’s gem-like blue eyes widened briefly—so fast she almost missed it.

“…Good. I was worried you’d want to run away, thinking it was too bleak.”

Crunch, crunch. As she made footprints in the snow, Litricia smiled faintly and shook her head.

“Not at all. It’s amazing. I’ve never seen this much snow before.”

Though snow did fall in the capital during winter, it was usually too warm for it to settle.

Seeing it piled high like this filled her with childlike wonder.

Crunch, crunch. She stomped more purposefully now, but shivered at the cold.

Killian pulled her cloak tighter and—without warning—lifted her into his arms.

“K-Killian! I’m fine today, really…!”

“I know.”

Her face turned bright red from being picked up so suddenly.

Why did Killian keep scooping her up like this?

Before, she could understand—it was because she was sick. But today…

Ah.

Litricia looked down and saw the open-toed shoes she was wearing.

The tips of her toes were already red and chapped from the cold.

“If you walk to the gates like this, you’ll get frostbite.”

“…I didn’t expect we’d come to the North like this…”

Embarrassed by her inappropriate outfit, Litricia’s voice shrank.

“Once we’re inside the walls, it won’t be this cold.”

Killian removed her damp shoes and wrapped her feet in a handkerchief.

Thanks to his long strides, it wasn’t long before they reached the gates.

“Your Grace…! His Grace the Duke has returned!”

One of the guards at the gate spotted Killian and shouted loudly.

“His Grace is back… but who’s he carrying?”

The guard’s eyes, glinting through his helmet, widened at the sight of Litricia.

Litricia, her neck now flushed pink like her hair, tugged at Killian’s shoulder.

“Your Grace, please put me down! People are staring…!”

“There it is again.”

Killian narrowed his eyes at the accidental title. Did he really hate being called Your Grace that much?

He clearly looked displeased.

“I told you, your shoes aren’t fit for snow.”

His tone was even colder than usual.

“Killian, please.”

She wished it was still snowing so she wouldn’t have to see anyone. Being in Killian’s arms in broad daylight, fully alert, was mortifying.

Especially for Litricia, who had lived as an outsider all her life and had no immunity to physical contact—this was intense.

Her feet, dangling mid-air, kicked anxiously.

“We’re almost at the gates. I can walk now. My feet won’t freeze just from this…”

“They will.”

Killian showed no sign of putting her down, and Litricia’s little hands clenched his shoulders in protest.

“If people see this, they’ll think the new duchess is too weak to walk on her own.”

“Or they’ll think she’s a beloved wife.”

“Please… stop joking.”

He was supposed to be a cold, sharp duke standing at the top of the food chain, and yet—Litricia found him annoying.

Pouting, she thumped his firm shoulder with her tiny fists. His Adam’s apple bobbed in response.

Though he made no sound and his expression remained stoic, Litricia realized then—

Killian was laughing.

Yup. He really was a little annoying.