Watching her movements through the window, Varkas left the corridor and descended the stairs. Stepping outside through the rear entrance, he found his view blocked by dense shrubs whose branches were tangled together.

Making his way between them with hurried steps, Varkas suddenly stopped upon discovering Talia seated beneath a red barberry bush.

The moment he saw her sitting directly on the ground in nothing but a thin robe, his throat stung as though he had swallowed shards of glass.

Suppressing the harsh words rising within him, he strode over to her.

“What are you doing in a place like this?”

The woman who had been silently staring at the flowerbed raised her head. Her unfocused eyes wandered through empty air. Varkas frowned.

“Did you burn sleep herb?”

“...No. I didn't. I'm just a little tired.”

Answering in a languid voice, Talia lowered her gaze back toward the flowerbed.

Following her eyes, Varkas discovered a bird lying limply among the overgrown grass and his expression hardened.

It had apparently been mauled by a stray cat. Between the torn skin of its belly, ants and maggots crawled over the exposed entrails.

She had once shuddered at the mere sight of insects. A woman who hated filth to the point of obsession and loved beautiful things enough to be criticized for extravagance had, at some point, begun turning her eyes toward ugly things.

That strange change unsettled him.

With somewhat rough hands, he pulled her to her feet.

“If you're tired, you should be resting inside. Why are you sitting here?”

“...I felt suffocated, so I came out for some air. The room felt strangely hot.”

Talia muttered as though making excuses.

Frowning, Varkas placed the back of his hand against her forehead.

There was no fever. If anything, her skin felt cool, likely because she had come outside dressed so lightly.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Varkas removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Come inside now. Your body is cold.”

“Say...”

With one arm wrapped around her, he was about to lead her back toward the rear entrance when her tightly restrained voice caught his steps.

He lowered his gaze again.

Shadowed blue eyes filled his vision.

Biting her lips as though struggling with hesitation, Talia spoke with difficulty.

“A long time ago...”

“So this is where you were!”

At that moment, a booming voice cut off the rest of her words.

Varkas turned his head toward the sound.

Daren Dru Siorcan, followed by five or six subordinates, was crossing the garden while trampling the wildflowers along the narrow path.

“I have something urgent to report. I stopped by the inn and met informants from the capital. They said the movements in the Imperial Palace are unusual. It seems the Empress has finally begun expanding her influence in earnest—”

The man, who had been speaking rapidly, discovered Talia and abruptly closed his mouth.

Varkas glanced at her.

The face that had looked as defenseless as a lost child moments ago had frozen over.

Taking a step backward, she muttered in a low voice,

“I'll return to my room, so take care of your own business.”

“I shall escort Your Highness to your chamber.”

“I can go alone.”

“Haven't I repeatedly told you that you must not wander around without an escort?”

At his reproachful tone, faint dissatisfaction appeared upon her beautiful face.

After looking over the knights behind Daren, she pointed at the smallest one.

“Then assign that man as my escort.”

The soldier who had been singled out shrank his shoulders awkwardly.

Ever since his wife had rushed at Lucas threatening to tear out his tongue, [N O V E L I G H T] the warriors of the house had begun treating her as a person requiring caution. The man she had pointed at was no different, hesitating uneasily while looking toward Varkas.

Varkas snapped coldly.

“What are you standing there for? Escort her immediately.”

At his command, the soldier hurried over.

Varkas reluctantly withdrew the arm wrapped around her. Talia moved away from him without the slightest hesitation.

He watched her retreating figure for a moment before turning back toward Daren.

As though he had been waiting, Daren withdrew a bundle of parchments from his coat.

“These documents record everything that has happened in the capital since Your Grace departed the Imperial Palace.”

Varkas read them carefully.

The reports stated that divisions had begun to appear among the conservative nobles and that the Empress had openly begun gathering supporters for the Second Imperial Prince.

Wrinkles formed around his eyes.

‘This isn't like her.’

The Emperor was still healthy. Unless something unforeseen occurred, Virus Roem Gwirta's reign would continue for another decade at least.

Then why wasn't the Empress waiting until the Second Imperial Prince came of age?

The incomprehensible move filled him with suspicion.

Just as she had used her daughter to provoke Gareth, was she now planning to use her young son to stir up chaos?

If she was deliberately driving Gareth toward recklessness, then something far more dangerous might be hidden behind this marriage arrangement.

Reading the part discussing the serious negotiations over an engagement between the heir of House Heimdal and the First Imperial Princess, Varkas crushed the parchment irritably.

Strengthening ties with the North itself was not a bad thing.

But entrusting Aila to them was a rash decision.

The northerners were people obsessed with bloodlines. Were they not the descendants of those who had even practiced generations of incest to preserve the platinum hair and red eyes of the ancient giants?

There was no way they would willingly accept a black-haired Imperial Princess as their lady.

They surely had another motive.

Touching his lips with a thoughtful expression, Varkas left the garden.

Led by the head butler, he entered the study, where a young attendant brought him writing materials.

Sitting at the desk, he drafted several documents.

They were orders demanding a thorough investigation into the size of the army assembled by House Heimdal and the flow of funds supporting it.

After sealing them and handing them over to a courier, he wrote two more telegrams to be sent to the capital.

One was addressed to Marquis Oristein.

The other, to Gareth.

Carefully wording his concerns about the dangers of the North as gently as possible, Varkas signed the documents and pressed his seal onto them.

Watching beside him, Daren awkwardly asked,

“Do you intend to stop the First Imperial Princess's marriage?”

Varkas looked at him curiously.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well... if Your Grace intervenes, won't it look rather strange?”

Scratching the back of his head, Daren continued.

“People may think the Grand Duke of Siorcan still has lingering feelings for the First Imperial Princess.”

Varkas let out a dry laugh.

“You concern yourself with the most pointless things.”

The gossip spread by idle tongues in the Imperial Palace had little effect upon the East.

His vassals had already firmly acknowledged their new Grand Duchess.

At present, it was far more dangerous to allow the conservative nobles to believe that his relationship with the Crown Prince had completely broken down.

Rolling up the parchments, he stamped them with wax.

“Choose the swiftest rider and send him to the capital.”

After making an odd expression for a moment, Daren took the parchments and left.

Leaning back in his chair, Varkas turned toward the window.

A fine rain had begun falling from the sky.

Suddenly, the image of Talia standing alone in the garden flashed through his mind.

What had she been trying to say?

Remembering those desolate eyes that had been staring at the dead bird, an unpleasant sensation rose in his chest.

Overcome by inexplicable unease, Varkas tapped the desk for a moment before abruptly leaving the study.

The hall was bustling, as though preparations were underway for a welcoming banquet.

Passing servants bowing their heads, he climbed the stairs.

Opening the bedchamber door, he saw a small figure curled up on the broad bed.

He approached the bedside.

A faint flush had appeared upon the elegant curve of her snowy cheeks.

She had drooped all day like a sick chick, and now she had apparently come down with a fever.

Exhaling deeply, Varkas picked up a clean towel from the shelf.

Just as he was about to wipe her face, a strange smell brushed against his nose.

He froze.

A dark crimson stain had spread around the corner of her mouth.

Staring blankly at it, he gently shook her body, which was lying on its side.

Her neck, damp with cold sweat, lolled limply to one side.

Only then did he notice the red stains spreading across the pillow.

Blinking slowly, Varkas carefully lifted her head.

The heavy scent of blood struck his nose.

The red liquid gathered at the corner of her mouth ran down her deathly pale throat.