INICIAR SESIÓNThree days of confinement were enough for the bruises on Roselyn’s body to fade from a deep purple to a dull yellow. Thanks to the Elysium from her uncle, the wound on her forehead had dwindled to a thin red line.
Vogard personally ensured that the mark was buried under layers of powder before dragging his daughter to the Imperial ball. He polished Roselyn until she was once again the perfect 'Holy Rose.'
"Be grateful the Duke hasn't called off the wedding. Seduce him tonight and secure that position as Duchess," Vogard commanded. He squeezed Roselyn’s hand with bruising force just before the ballroom doors swung open. "It should be easy for you, shouldn't it, Rose? Don’t make your father have to strike you again."
"I understand."
As the name of House Sirius echoed and the doors parted, every eye in the room was drawn to them. Behind feathered fans, noblewomen hid their sneers, waiting to see what flaw the center of high society might reveal tonight.
The moment she escaped her father’s shadow, Roselyn snatched a glass of champagne and retreated to a corner. To her, every man who approached looked like a replica of Derrick—different faces, but the same hungry glint in their eyes; wanting to taste something sweet before eventually discarding it.
Roselyn refused every invitation to dance, citing her fragile health, until she grew sick of the air and slipped away to the farthest balcony. She drew the heavy velvet curtains shut, blocking the view from the gala inside.
The waltz music continued to flow from the ballroom. She didn't even hear footsteps, yet suddenly, a shadow fell beside her. When she turned, Derrick was standing far too close.
"I closed the curtains because I wanted to be alone."
"I know," the Duke replied, twining a strand of Roselyn’s hair around his finger. "That is why I followed, Rose. I didn't want you to be lonely."
"The Duke should be dancing with the ladies inside."
"I only wish to dance with what is mine... you."
"I belong to no one! We agreed to call off the engagement."
"Since when? I merely gave you time to reflect, but it seems my bride-to-be has misunderstood."
Roselyn’s eyes widened as she struggled to break free from his hold. "I am no longer your bride."
"If not me, to whose arms will you run, Rose? Even if I let you go, your father will simply sell you off."
"I don't care. Even if I must go to hell, I hope we never meet again!"
"Stop talking nonsense. Let us finish what we started the other night."
Derrick tightened his grip. Ignoring her struggling frame, he crushed his lips against hers with brutal force. One hand pinned both of Roselyn’s wrists above her head, while the other shoved her shoulder back against the cold stone railing. Roselyn gasped to scream, but Derrick moved faster, silencing her with a deeper, searing kiss.
The blue-eyed man let out a low chuckle before pulling her back into his embrace. His hands grew wilder, pawing at her chest until finally—
SLAP!
The first strike landed hard on Derrick’s cheek. Roselyn trembled from her head to her toes.
"You ... are disgusting."
Derrick wiped the blood from the corner of his lip. He wasn't angry; he looked amused.
"You are full of surprises, Rose."
"Leave me before I scream!"
"Then scream."
Derrick became increasingly brutal, leaving Roselyn no room to turn away or even draw breath. With overwhelming strength, he locked her body in place once more, ignoring the violent tremors racking her shoulders.
His rough hand gripped her jaw, making her wince in pain. He forced her face up, ensuring his dark blue eyes looked directly into the fear radiating from her.
"Please don't, Duke..."
"Don't cry, Rose. I’ll marry you after this."
Roselyn’s breath hitched; her chest felt as though it were being crushed by a heavy stone. Her dignity was being trampled mercilessly beneath his feet. In the midst of that sickening siege, Roselyn’s hand fumbled along the balcony edge with the last of her strength. She found a crystal glass. With a desperate, furious jerk, she hurled it toward the door.
CRASH!
Just as Roselyn felt her strength completely drain away, a long shadow fell over them. The balcony door, which had been only slightly ajar, swung wide.
A man leaned against the threshold, hands buried in his pockets. His silver hair shimmered pale under the moonlight, like a mountain peak blanketed in snow.
"The Duke of D'Arest’s tastes are lower than I thought. Not only are you skilled at seducing married women, but you even stoop so low as to defile your own fiancée."
Derrick flinched, turning with ragged breath and a flushed face. "Grand Duke Valthorne, this is a private matter."
"Oh, I didn't realize you were deaf. The Lady clearly rejected you, didn't she?"
"Be gone before you regret it."
"Regret, is it?" Kaelus repeated the word. A small dagger flicked from his sleeve, grazing Derrick’s cheek before thudding into the pillar behind him. "I haven't known that word for a long time."
"You bastard!"
But before Derrick’s fist could fly, Roselyn threw herself forward, slipping between the two men. "Stop it!"
She looked at them both with a gaze full of hurt and restrained fury. "Even if you are enemies, do not drag me into your ridiculous feud! And you, Duke D'Arest—leave. Now!"
Derrick froze, his clenched fist slowly going limp. He stared at Roselyn for a long time, and only then did he truly 'see' her condition. Red marks stained her neck. Anyone could see what had happened to her by her disheveled gown. Above all, her eyes—which usually looked at him with such affection—were now brimming with tears.
"Lady, I only—"
Kaelus gently pulled the woman behind him. "Do you intend to harass her again, Duke?"
Without another word of defense, Derrick retreated into the ballroom.
Silence reclaimed the balcony, leaving only the sound of the night wind biting at her skin. The moment Derrick’s shadow vanished, the strength that had been holding Roselyn up vanished with it. Her knees went weak, and her shoulders shook violently as her pale fingers tried to pull up the torn sleeve of her gown.
"Calm yourself, Lady," the Grand Duke said, covering her small frame with his cloak.
"Yes."
"I will leave some guards for you."
He turned to leave, but his steps halted. Roselyn’s trembling fingers had caught the edge of his clothes.
"Wait, Grand Duke …." Roselyn looked up, her eyes swollen. "Please stay here. Just for a moment ...."
The pain that struck her chest that night did not shatter Isabella into nothingness. Instead, the cruel betrayal she had witnessed with her own eyes acted as a sharp, agonizing whip.It forced her tear-stained eyes wide open, shattering the long, foolish dream she had clung to for so many years.Even though she had allowed herself to be treated as an ignored puppet empress, reduced to a mere quiet ghost in the grand imperial estate, she vowed never to let this blood-soaked throne destroy her family or her homeland. Yet, deep down in the quietest, most vulnerable depths of her bruised heart, a tragic truth remained—she still loved Cedric.She loved the man who had once been her entire world, the man who had held her hand before the crown consumed his soul.
Isabella stood frozen at the threshold, her wide eyes locked onto the woman's distinct features.The face was painfully familiar—the very same face painted on a hidden canvas inside Cedric's private study.She was the Princess of Sorox, Cedric's first love and childhood sweetheart who had been torn away from him by past political rivalries.The soft creak of the door caused the woman's playful laughter to abruptly cease.Cedric turned his head toward the entrance, a brief flash of surprise crossing his sharp crimson eyes.Yet he made no effort to move or remove his arm from around the foreign princess's waist."Isabella?" Cedric called out, his voice unnaturally calm and voi
Although the Southern Kingdom was officially a neutral territory, its rulers had never forgotten the nobility of Hera's former emperors.For generations, the throne had been occupied by sovereign leaders whose wisdom guided the continent through volatile times.However, everything shifted dramatically when Cedric’s father ascended the imperial throne.Not only did he look entirely different from his predecessors, but he also harbored an insatiable hunger for political dominion.To consolidate his absolute rule, the emperor swiftly banished his own nephew, Kaelus, to a frozen outpost at the edge of the border.Standing beneath the vast gray sky, Isabella watched the clouds drift across the horizon.
The patter of raindrops tapping against the waiting room window slowly blurred Isabella’s reflection. The sound carried her mind far back to a cold night seven years ago.A night when her destiny became inextricably bound to a young man who now stood on the precipice of ruin right before her eyes.Her fingers touched the cold glass. A thin veil of condensation clung to the tip of her index finger.Seven years. She could still smell the damp earth from that night.Under the cover of a night sky shrouded in thick fog, Isabella walked slowly along the riverbank at the outermost boundary of the palace grounds. The rustling water and the murmur of the night wind were the sole comforts for her frail body.“Princess, let
Isabella let out a soft, bitter chuckle. It was a faint, fragile sound, yet sharp enough to make Cedric’s brow furrow deeply."Laugh all you like, Isabella," Cedric snarled."And if I refuse to play along in your farce?" Isabella asked, her tone eerily calm."The imperial physician will examine you this afternoon," Cedric replied, smoothing his leather gloves with casual, practiced control. "So that the entire court witnesses just how deeply I care for my wife’s fragile condition.""So that everyone hears your manufactured diagnosis.""So that everyone hears the truth.""A truth you constructed yourself, Cedric."Cedric lea
In the most secluded corner of Hera Palace, the room was bone-chillingly cold and practically devoid of light. The fading afternoon sunlight could only peer through the narrow slats of a high, iron-barred window, casting thin, gloomy shadows across the damp stone floor.Isabella sat rigid on the edge of a bare wooden bed. Her frame trembled faintly—not merely from the draft creeping up from the flagstones, but from the searing ache that throbbed beneath her garments.The heavy wooden door groaned open on rusted hinges. Two middle-aged maidservants stepped inside without bowing or uttering a word of greeting. Their faces were devoid of warmth, entirely stripped of the profound reverence they once displayed when Isabella sat exalted upon the throne as Empress."Stand up, Your Majesty," one of the maids commanded, her voice flat and stiff. "His Majesty has ordered us to dress you before the banquet begins."Isabella offered no response. She blinked slowly, drawing upon whatever strength
"Prove your love, Lady. Try serving me tonight."The voice was soft, yet it carried no melody—only the toll of a death knell.Roselyn remained motionless on the cold marble, letting her knees go numb. Her dignity as the sole daughter of Count Sirius had long been cast aside. All that remained was a
A stifling silence enveloped the balcony, broken only by the sound of Roselyn’s ragged, fractured breaths. Before her, Kaelus stood motionless, like an ice sculpture untouched by time.Roselyn lowered her head, trying to steady her racing heart. "Forgive me for forcing you to witness such a shamefu
No one greeted Roselyn as she left the room. There was only a silence that felt like an insult, making her misery complete.A few servants were called to drag her away, but Roselyn brushed their hands off.Step by step, holding onto the wall, she walked down the corridor with every joint in her bod
Roselyn ran out without looking back. The night chill pierced her skin, shielded only by a thin gown, but it was nothing compared to the frantic hammering of her heart. It throbbed between anxiety and a strange sense of satisfaction for having just trampled on the Duke’s ego.The four-hour journey







