The voice she had heard in childhood echoed in her ears.

“Fides... my poor... my pitiful son......”

Words blurred by sobs.

“Y-you’re Majesty! People are whispering about our Fides!”

Rabenia, the imperial consort.

His mother.

She had entered the palace under the Empress’s favor.

And in the end—drove a knife into her back.

“I merely fulfilled my duty, Your Majesty, Empress.”

“......”

“How could I defy His Highness? If he desired me so, was I supposed to refuse? That’s what I said.”

With Fides resting on her lap, Rabenia chatted idly with the maids.

“You should have seen her face then. The former Empress was like an old fresco. Beautiful from afar, but up close—no light, no breath, nothing. That’s why the Emperor abandoned her.”

“Of course. Nothing like you, radiant and beautiful, Your Highness.”

“Exactly. Just look at Ardiana. She takes after her mother—always pressing her lips together. A girl with neither warmth nor charm.”

He had heard it to the point of nausea.

How the Empress was dull and hypocritical.

And how Ardiana, her daughter, was a wretched creature that ought to disappear.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? Some call it mercy. They say the former Empress saved me when I was dying. What nonsense. To me, that day was nothing but humiliation.”

“......”

“It’s so easy for those above to feel pity. They can do whatever they want and call it mercy. If that’s mercy, then I’ve shown it a thousand—no, ten thousand times already!”

“......”

“The Empress was the same. That look from above. When I became pregnant with Fides, her usually unmoving eyes twisted for the first time. You should have seen it.”

Rabenia hated the Empress.

Even after her death, that hatred never faded.

“Just thinking about that woman makes it smell like rotten figs. I can’t breathe.”

As he grew older, Fides came to understand.

The problem was not the Empress.

It was Rabenia.

A homeland burned to ashes.

Beauty born in poverty, where she had crawled through mud to survive.

That deep-rooted inferiority never vanished, even after she became a consort.

A person given more than they can bear inevitably breaks.

“Even if I hadn’t given birth to Fides... you would still love me, right?”

“......I said I had to go.”

“Answer me at least that! Work can wait! I... I’m locked in this palace like a prison every day, waiting only for you! Uu...”

The Emperor seemed weary of Rabenia.

Yet he could not cast her aside.

“......Do you miss your homeland?”

“I do. Not the burned one—the one before the monsters came. There was a large lake. I swam every day, ran, my parents were alive......”

At the table.

Before sleep.

While walking in the garden behind them, Fides would inevitably hear these stories.

“I grew up in poverty, but I will raise you differently, Fides.”

“......”

“Remember this. You came before her. You are the Emperor’s first child.”

“......”

“A legitimate daughter, succession rights—those are just a shell. A shell breaks easily. But you have the Emperor’s love. Because your mother is me. Rabenia, mistress of the palace.”

He was ten.

On a hill where they had gone to see flowers, he saw a half-collapsed cliff.

Ardiana stood at the edge, her back to him, gazing down into the endless abyss.

With eyes like the dead Empress.

Stone-like.

“Brother. Why do you not answer.”

The world suddenly sharpened.

Fides drew a heavy breath and met her gaze.

‘Those eyes again.’

Everything around him seemed to blur.

The lavish banquet.

The stares of the people.

Even the quiet sigh of the Emperor behind him.

And Rabenia’s voice rang in his head like a curse.

“Wake up already! How much longer must I do everything for you?! When will you finally take everything into your own hands?! You must protect me! Seize the palace as soon as possible, or I will suffocate!”

His heart pounded violently.

His mind wavered—and forgotten memories snapped together.

“......Do you want to push me?”

Standing at the edge of the cliff, Ardiana asked in a child’s voice.

Even now, he did not understand why he had extended his hand.

Why he had even thought of pushing her.

But—

“Go ahead.”

The moment he heard those words, his body turned to stone.

Fides could do nothing.

Like a rabbit before a lion—he was utterly defeated.

“If it will make you feel better, kill me.”

Ardiana was only eight.

Yet she feared nothing.

Not the abyss at her back.

Nor the hand that could push her.

And—

“That’s enough.”

The Emperor, who had witnessed it all,

“On a day like this—such behavior.”

Never spoke another word.

Fides slowly turned his head.

The Emperor looked at him with ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) a cold face.

“The Princess is right. It is time to announce this here.”

He shifted his gaze to Ardiana.

“Until now, the Princess has been secretly handling state affairs and matters concerning mercenaries.”

The hall stirred.

“As you know, the Princess was removed from governance due to poor health. That is why she lived in seclusion, despite her right to succession.”

Everyone knew it was a lie.

Not just Fides.

Everyone present.

The Emperor had always treated Ardiana the same way.

Neglect.

And distance.

And so Fides had been able to justify himself.

The poisoning attempt at thirteen.

And all the plots that followed.

“So.”

But the Emperor continued calmly, as if none of that past existed:

“Let us mark the Princess’s recovery with a toast.”

The hand bearing the signet ring raised a glass.

The nobles rose hesitantly.

“To Tallocium.”

“To Tallocium!”

The frozen atmosphere quickly thawed.

People began speaking again, louder and brighter.

Feeling the Emperor’s gaze move away, Fides clenched his fists and looked at Ardiana.

“......Come. We need to talk.”

“Very well.”

She replied without emotion.

Grinding his teeth, Fides turned away.

But Ardiana did not follow immediately.

She stopped and leaned slightly toward Astie, who stood nearby.

Neatly shaped brows.

A pale forehead.

And in her mind surfaced the letter Tesetan had secretly sent her weeks ago.

[I learned something beyond dimensions.

You must learn it too.]

She had thought about it for a long time.

What exactly had he meant?

Fortunately, she had plenty of time to think in the palace.

And her memories began to return.

“What do you mean... pregnancy?”

“My apologies, but......”

In a dark, cramped place.

With a single candle.

An old physician bowed his head.

“Your body has endured too many poisons. Now even ordinary medicine no longer works.”

“What does that mean?!”

“You consumed antidotes like water. Now your body treats any medicine as poison and rejects it. Poisons and medicine—everything......”

A faint breeze stirred the child’s hair.

“What did you do to Her Ladyship?!”

When she learned the truth in the palace dungeon, she felt something strange.

She loved Tesetan.

And the thought that he would have a child with another woman in the future—it hurt.

‘I was curious.’

Who was Astie’s mother?

It certainly wasn’t her.

So—someone else.

And that stung.

But then—

“......The medicine didn’t work.”

Last night.

Another memory surfaced.

She herself—was breaking down.

Clutching her only maid, Cadia, she cried as if facing death.

“My body rejected the medicine. Because of my mistake, a child was conceived. I will kill this child. It will die, just like me. I... I......”

Ardiana’s gaze, fixed on Astie, trembled.

Not like stone.

But like a drop of dew trembling at the tip of a blade of grass.