Richard lowered his head and stared at his wrist.
The bandaged area felt strangely heavy.
...Get up.
He recalled Cailus as he had been moments before.
Those crimson eyes cold with fury, his rigid expression, the heavy silence that had settled over him.
It was not how anyone would treat someone they hated.
"..."
Richard was confused.
If Cailus despised him so much, why had he saved him?
He had no reason to.
An insult to my fiancé’s honor is an insult to my own.
Honor?
What a joke.
Richard bit his lip without realizing it.
How could that icy fury possibly be explained by something as simple as "honor"?
He knew better than anyone how hatred worked. Few people became that furious for the sake of someone they hated.
It only made him more confused.
The turmoil weighing heavily upon his chest made his heart pound harder.
Doubt and distrust intertwined until even breathing steadily became difficult.
But there was one thing he knew for certain.
...I have to stop him from breaking the engagement.
This was not a choice.
The moment this engagement ended, he would lose his place in the world again.
Everything he was trying to protect would collapse in an instant.
He had already been forced back to the beginning more times than he cared to remember. He did not want to repeat it again.
Whatever it took, for whatever reason, he had to hold on to Cailus.
Breathing heavily, Richard pressed the back of his hand.
The pulse beneath the bandage raced wildly in time with his heart.
...Whatever it takes.
The sky above the Imperial Palace was unnaturally dark.
Storm clouds hung low, as though a black veil had been drawn across the heavens.
Bells tolled slowly. Heavy and prolonged, they rang out in mourning, announcing the Emperor’s death.
The funeral was held with greater splendor than any ceremony in the Empire’s history.
Black silk draped the path from the Imperial Palace’s main gates to the central square, while nobles and ministers in black cloaks stood in lines to pay their respects.
The scent of incense mingled with the cold air, making even breathing feel oppressive.
"..."
Richard stood quietly behind the curtains.
His body was still battered, but his expression remained calm and composed.
His gaze naturally shifted toward the center.
Two men stood there.
Cailus, dressed in a black formal uniform.
His crimson eyes never wavered. Standing before the altar with an expressionless face, he projected a commanding presence, as though he already embodied the new center of the Empire.
Beside him stood Talinos.
He, too, was dressed in black as he maintained his place. His eyes shone coldly, and his lips were pressed firmly together.
The funeral proceeded with solemn grandeur.
Black drapes stretched from above the palace gates to the square, where countless nobles stood in lines amid long trails of incense smoke.
The Emperor’s body lay beneath a black cloth inside an enormous coffin. Before the altar rested a sword and an orb, the symbols of the Empire.
Cailus stood ahead of everyone else.
As the funeral proceeded, nobles whispered from behind the curtains.
"His Highness the Crown Prince will become the next Emperor now."
"But what of Prince Talinos?"
"Come now. Is His Highness the Crown Prince not the direct heir? Prince Talinos does not share a single drop of blood with His Majesty."
Richard listened with a cold, impassive expression.
Naturally, he had no interest in the subject.
Cailus was destined to become the next Emperor anyway.
But...
How can I stop it?
That was the question.
How could he prevent Cailus from breaking the engagement? How could he change his mind...?
His mind raced through every possibility.
Establish political justification. Persuade several nobles. Manipulate public opinion.
None of them was a key that could open the door at once. The door was locked from within, and the problem was that Cailus was the one holding the handle.
And then...
...What the hell is that bastard thinking?
Richard’s watery-blue eyes darkened coldly. Even as a regressor, there were times like this when he felt endlessly powerless.
He knew nothing.
Just then, Daphne approached carefully.
"...Richard."
The instant she called his name, Richard flinched and looked up.
Warmth stirred amid the oppressive atmosphere of ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the funeral.
The faint scent of herbs and her familiar fragrance made his rigid shoulders relax in an instant.
"...Are you hurt?"
Her voice was a whisper.
Daphne’s gaze rested on the small bandage affixed to Richard’s face.
"Ah..."
For a moment, Richard was at a loss for words.
Her eyes were filled with concern.
"It’s nothing."
He forced himself to smile calmly.
"I merely lost my footing for a moment..."
His voice trembled faintly. The excuse was so flimsy that even he could hear it, but Daphne did not doubt him.
"..."
She looked at him silently, then let out a very soft sigh.
Raising one hand, she lightly brushed her fingertips near the bandage on his cheek.
"Be more careful. When you get hurt... it troubles me."
Richard’s heart plummeted.
A rush of emotion surged through him, constricting his throat.
"..."
Instead of answering, he forced himself to smile.
Yet his gaze wavered.
...This isn’t the time.
He knew that rationally.
Right now, he needed to find a way to stop Cailus from breaking the engagement.
But a single look from Daphne was enough to make his hardened resolve crumble, if only for a moment.
He lowered his head slightly.
"I apologize for worrying you."
His voice was sincere.
Daphne nodded, but the lingering concern never entirely left her eyes.
...You truly are...
Richard bit his lip lightly. How did she always manage to be there beside him whenever he needed her most...?
Yet even this moment, even the concern she showed him now, would soon crumble if the engagement were broken.
Richard gritted his teeth inwardly.
He wanted to protect Lady Beatus.
And he did not want anything else taken from him.
If he was to keep from losing the small measure of warmth she showed him—
Whether he had to change Cailus’s mind or genuinely seduce him.
Whatever it took, he had to preserve this engagement.
Late that night.
The Imperial Palace remained steeped in the oppressive atmosphere of mourning.
Only a few candles burned in the silent bedroom.
The tapestries on the walls had faded into dim shadows, while the wind slipping through the curtains gently stirred the metal ornaments.
Richard set two wineglasses on the table.
The red liquor gleamed faintly through the clear glass.
...No matter what else may be true, his father has just died.
Richard touched his bandaged wrist as he thought.
Even Cailus can’t be completely unaffected.
Cold and calculating though the bastard might be, he was still human. There had to be moments when his guard slipped.
Grief, anger, exhaustion—it did not matter what kind of opening it was. If Richard could force his way through it and tug even slightly at the door to Cailus’s heart, that would be enough.
He pressed his lips together.
...Now is my chance.
If he could make Cailus open his heart even a little.
If he could create even the slightest opportunity to hold on to the engagement.
A short while later, there was a knock, and the door opened.
Cailus entered, still dressed in his black formal uniform.
His face remained expressionless, but his eyes somehow seemed deeper and more somber than before.
"...What are you doing?"
His voice fell low.
The tone was parched and dry, though its edge was subtly rough.
Richard carefully lifted the bottle.
"Your Highness. Would you care to join me for a drink?"
He gave him a radiant smile.
He softened its curve by the smallest degree and made his eyes appear a little gentler.
He carefully arranged every aspect of his expression and posture to make refusal as difficult as possible.
"..."
A brief silence followed.
Cailus’s crimson gaze swept over the glasses.
It was a look that seemed to pierce straight through Richard’s intentions, taking in the creases in the bed, the placement of the glasses, and even the angle of the bottle’s label in a single glance.
Richard casually shrugged and continued.
"I haven’t put anything in it this time."
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