The air in the garden had curdled, turning thick and stale. Olivia didn’t miss the way Leon’s face had locked into a frozen mask of dread—a sharp, jagged contrast to Mathias, whose expression hadn’t shifted by so much as a hair. It was a terrifying display of composure, the kind of stillness that usually preceded a massacre.

​She stepped toward them, her footsteps silent on the damp grass, her presence a cold challenge.

​"Is everything alright, Mathias?" she asked, her voice steady, searching for the crack in his marble facade.

​Mathias turned to her, his features smoothing into a look that was almost pleasant, yet utterly hollow. "Yes. In fact, it’s better than I expected. Just... an administrative matter."

​"Truly?" She arched an eyebrow, the skepticism dripping from her tone like acid. "Then share this ’good news’ with me. I could use a reason to celebrate."

​"Not now," Mathias replied, his voice clipped, final. "Everything in its own time, Olivia. Beautiful things shouldn’t be rushed."

​Leon let out a sound—a short, bitter huff of air that was more of a scoff than a breath. "Yes," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the distant treeline, unable to look at either of them. "You’ll find out soon enough, one way or another. Just... have patience."

​The bitterness in Leon’s voice was a warning bell that Olivia couldn’t ignore. Her heart tightened, a cold knot of intuition telling her that the ’good news’ was likely wrapped in a shroud. But she knew Mathias; she knew that pushing him now would only make the stone wall higher. She had to play along, to wait for the shadows to speak where he wouldn’t.

​"Fine," she said softly, though her eyes remained hard. "As you see fit, Mathias."

The lie hung in the air, thin and transparent, yet Olivia chose not to tear it down. She watched Mathias offer his hand, a gesture of forced normalcy that felt like a bridge built over an abyss.

"Come," he said, his voice regaining that velvet warmth that always felt like a sheath over a blade. "There is a corner of this garden you haven’t seen. I promised you peace today, didn’t I?"

He led her deeper into the estate, where the manicured lawns surrendered to a wilder, older growth of oak and willow. Tucked between two massive trunks was a swing, its iron chains rusted to a dull orange, swaying slightly in the breeze. Olivia stopped, her brow furrowing as if she were looking at an ancient relic of a forgotten civilization.

"A swing?" she murmured, touching the rough grain of the wooden seat. "I’ve never...I didn’t believe in things that didn’t serve a tactical purpose."

"Sit," Mathias commanded softly.

She obeyed, her movements stiff and cautious. As Mathias began to push her, gently at first and then with more conviction, the world began to blur.

The wind caught her hair, pulling the dark strands back, and for the first time, the weight of the palace, the blood of her lineage, and the shadow of the Emperor seemed to fall away.

Suddenly, a sound erupted from her—a sharp, crystalline laugh that didn’t belong to the ’puppet’ Roland had spent years carving. It was raw, youthful, and terrifyingly pure. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Mathias froze, his hands still extended in the air. He watched her soar toward the sky, her laughter echoing against the gray stone walls of the manor. He was transfixed. In his world of carnage and curses, that sound was a miracle he hadn’t earned.

"I will go to any length," he thought, his heart hardening into a diamond-sharp resolve. "I will burn the world to ash and become the traitor they claim I am, just to keep that sound alive. If my head is the price for her to laugh like this in a world that doesn’t deserve her, then it is a pittance."

He didn’t see Leon standing in the shadows of the porch, clutching the imperial decree so hard his knuckles were white. He didn’t see the sorrow in his brother’s eyes. Mathias only saw Olivia, rising and falling against the horizon, a brief moment of humanity before the storm claimed them both.

"Higher, Mathias!" she called out, her eyes shining with a brilliance he had never seen.

He stepped forward, his face a mask of tragic devotion. "As you wish, Olivia. As high as you want to go."

Leon, watching from a distance, felt a bitter ache in his throat. He looked at his brother with eyes heavy with sorrow, wishing that time would simply freeze—that Mathias could continue living like this, caught in a moment of light, far from the agonizing pain that constantly weathered his soul. He knew this peace was a fragile mask, a thin veil over a looming catastrophe.

Exhausted, He retreated to his room and collapsed onto a sofa. His mind was a chaotic blur; every path forward seemed to lead to ruin. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to shut out the world. Within moments, he fell into a deep, leaden sleep—the kind born of pure exhaustion, having spent the previous night standing guard over his brother.

He was so submerged in sleep that he didn’t notice Isabella as she entered the room. She moved with quiet grace, her gaze softening when it fell upon her husband. He looked shattered, the lines of weariness etched deep into his features. She reached for a throw blanket to cover him, but as she leaned in, she noticed a crumpled piece of parchment clutched tightly in his hand.

She pried it from his grip with slow, careful fingers, intending to set it aside. But then, her eyes caught the bold, jagged ink of the imperial seal.

Her breath hitched. She shouldn’t have looked, but the words seemed to scream from the page, freezing the blood in her veins:

"...High Treason... The Duke of Locron is hereby summoned to the Capital to face immediate judgment."

--------------------------------

​The swing eventually slowed, the rhythmic creak of the chains fading into the heavy silence of the garden. The brief flicker of light in Olivia’s eyes didn’t disappear, but it settled into something more guarded as her feet touched the dirt.

​Mathias stood behind her, his hands still resting on the ropes. He looked exhausted, the weight of the lie he was carrying making his posture rigid.

​"I have to go back, Olivia," he said, his voice low and strained. "Work... there are things I cannot leave unattended, even for a day."

​Olivia rose from the seat, brushing the dust from her gown with a slow, deliberate grace. She didn’t look disappointed; she looked like someone who had expected the illusion to break. "I understand, Mathias. Go."

​He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw in a gesture that was genuinely tender, yet felt like a silent goodbye. Then, he turned and walked away, his stride fast and purposeful, leaving her alone under the shadows of the oaks.

​Olivia stood there for a long moment, watching him go. The soft smile she had given him lingered for a second before it twisted into something sharper, more analytical. She wasn’t angry, but she wasn’t fooled either.

​"Another lie You are so bad at lying, Mathias," she murmured to the empty air, her voice carrying a mix of genuine amusement and a hint of sadness. "Truly... you’re pathetic at it."

------------------------------

At that time, within the halls of the Imperial Palace, Kyle was embroiled in a heated argument that threatened to tear the very walls asunder. He had barely set foot in the capital before the imperial decree was waiting for him.

"The moment I return, I find you’ve accused Mathias of rebellion?" Kyle roared, his voice echoing through the Great Hall. "What has possessed you, Father?"

"Kyle, sit," the Emperor replied, his voice calm—a calmness that was a threat in itself.

"How can I sit while you accuse my friend like this?" Kyle continued his outburst, ignoring the warning. "You know better than anyone how much Mathias has supported us with his blood and his army, and now you turn your back on him over mere rumors?"

The Emperor slammed his hand onto the arm of the golden throne. "I said... sit."

A heavy silence fell. Kyle took a step back, then sat with visible agitation, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine, I’m sitting. What now?"

"First, you must learn that emotions have no place in leading an empire," the Emperor said, rubbing his brow with exhaustion. "You speak with the tongue of a friend; I speak with the tongue of a sovereign."

Kyle laughed bitterly. "Emotions? Is that what the man who exiled his own Crown Prince for the sake of the Empress’s eyes says?"

The Emperor’s features shifted, the veins in his forehead protruding. He sighed deeply, struggling to suppress his rage. "Let us not reopen those wounds. She was exiled to the West Palace, and that is the end of it."

"The end?" Kyle stood again, unable to remain seated. "That woman tried to kill my sister! She tried to kill your daughter! Have you lost your mind? Or do you still trust her despite everything?"

The Emperor gazed into the void, a look of deep-seated sorrow crossing his face that Kyle had never seen before. "Your mother... your mother was the ultimate example of how using emotion to steer affairs is the fastest road to the abyss. I trust no one, Kyle. I am simply trying to keep this land together."

Kyle took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. "So, what will you do now?"

"The Duke of Locron is accused of treason, and the decree has already been issued. It is true the charges aren’t proven, but he will have to redeem his image," the Emperor said, looking at the official papers before him. "I cannot clear his name so easily before the nobles who are waiting for his fall. The law must take its course, but I will... make an exception."

"An exception?" Kyle narrowed his eyes warily.

"I cannot ignore high society and exonerate him without a price that satisfies them," the Emperor continued in a soulless tone. "If Mathias wants to prove his loyalty and sweep the charge of treason from his name... he must go to the hell that everyone fears."

"What do you mean?"

"I will send him to lead the army at the Northern Border. If he returns alive, I will tear up the decree with my own hands. And if he doesn’t... at least his family will keep their heads attached to their shoulders."