Episode 10

Francis gazed at Yvonne.

At first, he thought the feelings he developed while serving Hildebrandt and watching over her were simply pity. He was a knight—one who prided himself on resisting such emotions more than anyone else.

After all, as Hildebrandt’s personal guard, he had stained his hands with blood more times than he could count.

It had been difficult at first—but eventually, even that had dulled.

And yet, the one person he couldn’t brush aside with mere indifference was Yvonne.
He knew she was someone beyond his pity—someone he had no right to feel such things for—and yet, she kept drawing his eyes.
She wasn’t physically strong, but she possessed a powerful mind, and that unsettled him.

She was, more than anything, a person of deep responsibility.

He believed that if he had been in her place, he wouldn’t have saved Hildebrandt.
He might have even abandoned him, out of a desire to be free of it all.

No… perhaps, in the moment he realized that Yvonne’s death would be Hildebrandt’s greatest pain, he might’ve chosen to give him that pain instead.

And so, he thought she was remarkable—because staying on the throne, bearing all that weight, couldn’t have been easy.

“I wasn’t curious before, but now I am. Tell me.”

Francis couldn’t help but smile when Yvonne moved her hand slightly, as if preparing to use her powers.

He knew he was, after Yurian, the one who could most easily speak to her alone.
Unlike Marquess Rohan, who desperately sought private meetings with her, Francis only had to ask—and she always made time.

“You once asked me if I wanted to be happy.”

“Ah, that time. You mean when Hildebrandt destroyed the capital during his second awakening?”

“Yes.”

She had instinctively known then that he had awakened as well.
Yvonne, unprecedentedly, was both a guide and a psychic—a phenomenon only made possible because she had once died.

“I’ve been thinking since then. The prince spent quite a long time unconscious, after all.”

She felt a strange sense of dissonance at the gentle turn in his expression.
He had always been so rigid—so cold.

“I am one who receives orders—not one who thinks.”

His family had long been a martial household. The House of Jevenel had produced royal guards and knight commanders for generations.

He had been taught obedience and submission since he was a child.
That to be the best servant was to become the most loyal hound.

But the first crack in that world… was Yvonne.

“In the Jevenel family, the first thing they teach a child is obedience.”

“How?”

“Until the age of five, they raise us with a pet. Then, on our fifth birthday, we must take that pet’s life.”

“With your own hands?”

“Yes. That’s when the training in obedience begins.”

Yvonne’s eyes widened with shock, and Francis thought her eyes looked like gemstones.
Even under the glittering lights of a chandelier, nothing seemed to shine brighter.

“Every birthday that falls on an odd-numbered age, we’re made to kill what we’ve raised, as proof of loyalty.”

“What happens if you can’t?”

“Then we lose the right to inherit the family name.”

Yvonne realized then that his childhood could never have been easy.
She couldn’t look at him with indifference anymore.

“I was taught that obedience was the path to happiness. That’s just how our family was.”

“…”

“The wisest thing a dog could do was obey its master without question.”

But Yvonne knew Francis wasn’t blindly obedient—he was devoted.
He didn’t just follow orders thoughtlessly. He truly wanted to fulfill the wishes of the master he had once served—Hildebrandt.

And maybe because she now understood that part of him, she realized how heavy his newly softened expression—and his words—really were.

“When Your Majesty told me to think for myself, I began to wonder—am I happy?”

“I see.”

“I am happiest when I serve my master. So… maybe that means I’m happy now.”

“And am I that master now?”

“Yes.”

Francis accepted that truth without resistance.
Even without her abilities, he had already submitted to Yvonne.

“A dog follows its master because it knows it’s loved.”

“…”

“You were the first master who ever told me to think.”

“Was that all it took to make you feel loved?”

“People feel things differently. It may have been a passing comment to Your Majesty, but to me… it was heavier than any other word I’ve ever heard.”

Yvonne found herself feeling a bit sorry for him.

“Only then did I truly become human. Before that, I think I was just a dog… or perhaps even an object.”

This time, it was Yvonne who was more shocked—by how calmly he could say something so heavy.

“And I worry for Prince Hildebrandt.”

“Because he was your former master?”

“That’s part of it.
But His Highness is… unstable.
He makes me feel a sort of pity.”

“Does he?”

“Yes. I know I have no right to pity him, but I still want to stay by his side.”

“So… now that you have a new master and still watch over your old one, you’re saying that makes you happy?”

“Yes.”

Yvonne found his complicated heart difficult to understand, but when she saw the sincerity in his eyes, her own heart softened.
If he said he was happy—who was she to question it?

Besides, he was someone who listened even without being compelled by her power.

“What if Hildebrandt says he wants to retrieve his memories and reclaim his powers?”

“Then I won’t be able to help him.”

“Why not?”

Francis looked directly at Yvonne and answered.

“Because I know how much he suffered when he had those memories.”

“…”

“If Your Majesty isn’t going to accept him as a lover, then I hope you seal his memories away forever.”

“I don’t love Hildebrandt. I never have, and I never will.”

“That goes for your own memories, too.”

At that, Yvonne nodded.

She didn’t want to retrieve her memories.

Just as Hildebrandt was unstable, so too was she—without Yurian.

She was afraid that if she remembered everything, she might shatter the stability she now had with Yurian.
She was deeply wary of that.

“If there’s nothing more to report, you may go.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He turned to leave—but paused, then looked back.

“Over there, in the distance.”

Francis pointed outside the window.

“Duke Leonhardt is listening. Behind the wall.”

“…What?”

Because of the C-shaped structure of the palace, the place Yurian stood was on the far side of the same building.

“I believe he’s been there since the moment I entered this room.”

“Is he… spying on us?”

“That, I can’t say. But it’s clear he stopped when he saw I was here.”

With those words, Francis bowed politely and left.

As soon as the door closed, Yvonne let out a quiet laugh and muttered:

“If you’re listening, just come in already.”

And sure enough, shortly afterward, Yurian entered her office—visibly pale and flustered.

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Oh my, really now. Who’d believe that?”

Yvonne found his reaction amusing—this wasn’t the first time, after all.

She was reminded again that both she and he were unstable people…
But maybe, together, their instability created something whole.

She often found that Yurian’s fear of losing her outmatched her own insecurity about being loved.

At first, she’d tried to calm that fear.
But now she was beginning to accept that it would never go away.

To Yurian, Yvonne was like water to a fish—absolutely essential.

“Are you disappointed in me?”

“You’ve done too much already for me to be disappointed every time. Go on—make your excuse. Are you going to say you got lost again, like last time?”

He remembered that excuse and quickly discarded it.

“I’ll just tell the truth.”

“If you lie, you’re sleeping at Leonhardt Manor tonight.”

“I came because I heard Francis Jevenel was visiting.”

“Why? Sir Francis is quite trustworthy.”

Yvonne’s response left him full of things he wanted to say—but none he could put into words.
His lips parted and closed, empty of rebuttal.

As a fellow knight, Francis Jevenel was outstanding—disciplined, obedient, wise, and capable.

That he had become Captain of the Royal Guard at such a young age was no surprise.
He was, simply put, excellent.

“I’m… just narrow-minded.”

He walked toward her and then sat on the floor, resting his head against her thigh like a man asking to be comforted.

He rubbed his hair lightly against her leg and whispered:

“Please comfort me. I got anxious… it felt like you didn’t love me as much.”

Yvonne found his words so amusing that she cupped his chin and kissed him.