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Chapter 65
You Shouldn’t Have Abandoned Me
The season was shifting from autumn to winter, and the air was biting cold. Cutting through that chill came the fierce shouts of men in training.
Bare-chested, their bodies glistened with sweat. Against the crisp air, the heat radiating from them seemed to make the air itself quiver.
The very first thing King Giscar did upon arriving was drill his knights. Naturally—his power came from their loyalty. Noble knights polished like steel, men who had taken up the sword out of sheer necessity, and mercenaries as savage and vicious as a pack of wolves.
It was Prince Giscar Lodbrok—the Dragon Slayer, the one who killed a dragon—who had subdued and united them. Gathering the mercenaries and swordsmen who followed him, along with sons of the nobility, he founded the Vargrhati Knights.
Like Hati, the wolf-beast that swallows the moon, they were fierce, brutal, and fearless. They cut down everyone who refused to follow— even those who opposed his coronation. They were the same ones who slew his own father, Ragnar, and Duke Eirik, Ragnar’s staunchest ally.
Their bodies bore scars everywhere, their eyes radiating the untamed aura of beasts. Though they had been given the honor of knighthood and their fangs filed down to uphold chivalry, cruelty still flowed in their gaze.
“Your Majesty. Are you truly going through with this?”
Among the burly men, one stood out—he alone had not stripped off his tunic. Giscar gave no answer, only continued watching the knights. A blatant dismissal. Rebüs narrowed his eyes.
“Your Majesty! Duke Levean will be outraged!”
“Then sweep them away too.”
“Even Duke Blake has voiced opposition—this is not wise!” Rebüs shouted.
There had always been questions surrounding the former king’s death. Naturally—because Giscar himself had killed him.
Even in a kingdom that revered swords and strength, there were lines of decency. Giscar had crushed his father’s army and imprisoned him; no wonder people doubted the king’s sudden death.
And yet, it was Duke Levean who had stood on his side.
“What will you do if the Round Table opposes you?”
Unlike Farnborough, where royal authority was supreme, here the dynasty had shifted countless times and civil wars never ceased. Dukes held enormous authority. All carried royal blood, and if they stood united, they had the right to defy the crown— even depose the king.
Such was the unique trait of the Lodbrok Kingdom, where every noble carried the royal bloodline.
“If they oppose me, I’ll make them agree.”
“Then you might as well start your own country!” Rebüs exclaimed in exasperation. Giscar’s coronation was still fresh, and the nobles had only just reached consensus on the matter of Farnborough’s annexation. He had rewarded them with land and wealth according to their achievements, and they were busy enjoying those gains.
And now, Giscar intended to push ahead with a marriage. Rebüs, unable to hold back his fury, snapped:
“Why a mere noblewoman—not even royalty from Farnborough? If anything, marry the Ionian princess!”
“It has to be her.”
Rebüs stared, aghast. Giscar’s eyes did not waver in the slightest. He would never change his mind.
“Think, Giscar. That woman will hate you even more than the Ionian princess ever could.”
“……”
“What good is keeping her house alive? You killed her father, and what you did to her brother was monstrous.”
“……”
“I might say they deserved punishment—but do you think she’ll see it that way?”
Giscar’s eyes narrowed.
“She even attempted suicide the moment she heard she was to marry you. What can you possibly gain from wedding such an unstable woman?”
“What can I gain?”
He lifted his gaze to the distant sky, where the moon had not yet risen. A faint smile curved his lips.
“The fulfillment of my goal.”
“……”
“She is my goal. I’ve staked my life on it.”
“……”
“Whether she dies or not doesn’t matter. Whether she refuses doesn’t matter. Hatred? Let her hate me.”
He’s insane. Giscar wasn’t normal. A strange, mad satisfaction twisted his face. At that look, Rebüs knew. Ah. This can’t be stopped.
Just then, a maid ran up to Giscar.
“Your Majesty.”
A maid? He was always attended by servants, never maids. Which meant—this must concern her. The maid hesitated, unsure whether she should even speak.
“What is it?”
“Y-Your Majesty, I was ordered to report directly to you about the lady…”
Judging by her awkwardness, she was newly hired. Unsure even if her message was right. Giscar turned sharply toward her, wholly unlike his dismissive attitude toward Rebüs.
“What is it?”
“T-the lady has collapsed with a fever.”
“……”
Rebüs watched Giscar’s expression crumble. Yes. This was truly beyond saving. He finally gave up trying to persuade him.
***
“My name is Mabel.”
The head maid’s stiff greeting made Diana give a bitter smile.
“I shall serve you with utmost devotion.”
A middle-aged woman with her hair tightly wound, her face stern and unreadable. Diana knew well that this woman loathed her.
“Let me go!”
Her mind flashed back to her first life, the day her pride had been utterly trampled.
“Hurry and dress her!”
Maids pinned her like dogs holding down prey, stripping off her clothes. She screamed and struggled like livestock dragged to the slaughterhouse, all nobility forgotten.
“No, I don’t want to!”
“You are to be queen. Act with dignity!”
“Why!”
“If you don’t become queen, you’ll be executed. Be wise!”
They forced her into the wedding dress. Giscar had mocked her by bringing her here, but never before had she been treated so degradingly. Her dignity was torn to shreds.
Slap!
Diana could not endure it any longer—she struck Mabel across the face.
“Is this barbaric and vulgar conduct the court etiquette of Lodbrok? Savages!”
She screamed. In that instant, both the long-surviving head maid’s pride and Lodbrok’s courtly dignity shattered.
“If she resists, bind her.”
“Let me go, you madwomen!”
Mabel and Diana’s relationship had been poisoned from then on. Even when Mirva had been present, Mabel repeatedly humiliated her.
Remembering that day, humiliation and resentment welled in Diana’s chest. But now, she had no strength to bare her fangs.
“Whatever station brought me here, I’ll be in your care.”
She didn’t want to clash with Mabel this time—it would only bring trouble. In her past life, she had frozen in winter when heating was withheld, or sweltered when cooling orbs were delivered late in summer. Her rooms had gone uncleaned, her dresses left wrinkled.
It was humiliating, but Diana decided she wouldn’t worsen her wretched life by antagonizing the woman.
Mabel looked at her strangely. The lady she was to serve seemed gentle—but not servile.
“Do you have any discomforts?”
“Not really… I don’t think so.”
Diana’s voice faltered.
“Then let’s begin with a bath.”
“I’ll do it myself.”
“I’m sorry, but His Majesty ordered that you are never to be left alone.”
“Then… it can’t be helped.”
Diana’s words trailed off. The maids exchanged glances—expecting defiance, yet she complied.
She was attended in her bath. Perhaps from exhaustion, drowsiness soon weighed down on her. Though the water wasn’t particularly hot, her face burned.
“……”
She could guess what was happening. Groggily, she rose, her wet hair long in drying, eating a meal that had no taste.
“His Majesty will come tonight.”
“Yes.”
Her reply was hollow. Though shivering with chills, she forced herself to appear composed. Showing weakness would only invite exploitation. Though not yet queen, Diana still carried the habits of her past life.
“Would you like to take a walk?”
At Mabel’s suggestion, Diana nodded and stood. The world spun. She pressed her head.
“My lady.”
“I’m fine. I don’t mean to trouble you—don’t mind me.”
She braced against the wall, breath growing shallow. She tried to rise again but couldn’t.
“Pardon me… heavens!”
Mabel pressed a hand to Diana’s forehead, gasping. Diana’s consciousness was slipping away. Illness, again. Just like before. Only this time, instead of collapsing on a journey, it was here.
The maids’ cold service only made her pain worse.
***
Diana fell deathly ill. Unlike before, she could not quickly shake it off.
Ah… if only I could just die now.
If I could simply leave this world while bedridden, it would be better.
The ending was inevitable. Even a second chance didn’t lessen the suffering.
God, why are you so cruel to me?
You deceived me.
Diana wept in her fever. Fate had betrayed her, and she thrashed in a mire deeper than in her first life.
“Anne, I… I hope you’ll be free…”
Philip’s voice, holding her, weeping, grew faint in memory.
“I’m sorry, Anne… forgive me. Please, be happy…”
“Philip…”
No. I can’t. I’m doomed to unhappiness. Diana sobbed endlessly, her body burning, lost in a storm of dreadful memories.
“Do you despise it that much?”
Suddenly, through the nightmare, a voice pierced. Diana nodded faintly.
“This is what you wished for.”
Fingers, damp with her sweat, brushed gently across her fevered brow. Her eyes were too swollen with tears to open. She wanted to speak, to say this wasn’t what she wanted.
“In the end, it didn’t matter who it was…”
“……”
“Be satisfied with me, my lady.”
“……”
A warm hand enveloped hers. Breathing hurt, her throat burned. But the warmth of that hand—it almost made her cry.
“So you shouldn’t have abandoned me. You.”
No… it wasn’t abandonment. I only wanted you to be free. She shook her head against the voice drilling into her mind, but it clung, refusing to leave.
