Chapter 2
Taking advantage of the fact that all the staff had vacated the annex for Marquis Bartel’s pre-wedding party, Clen attempted to smuggle out slaves from the Holy Kingdom of Ivtan. Since slavery was still legal in the Terlon Empire, Clen’s actions were, in every sense, a crime. Encountering an unexpected presence during such a risky operation was nothing short of a nuisance.
“Go ahead and kill me.”
The man was flabbergasted. He had found it odd she hadn’t screamed, but he hadn’t expected this.
Even he—well-trained, battle-hardened, and stoic—wasn’t immune to this kind of situation. Her softly curving eyes held absolutely nothing within them, and for a moment, he was genuinely taken aback beneath his mask. Not that it showed on the surface.
‘Who the hell is this woman?’
He subtly shifted his eyes, using the faint light from a distant white lamppost to take in her appearance.
A faint scent of alcohol lingered, but layered beneath it was a subtle, refined rose fragrance. Her skin was pale and clear, as if untouched by sunlight. Her features were tidy, and her hair and makeup meticulously arranged. The jeweled accessories, the fine fabric, and the intricate lacework on her gown all made it obvious—she was nobility.
For someone like that to behave so composedly in this situation… It made no sense to him.
That was why he hadn’t even considered silencing her with a hand.
‘An assassin disguised as a noble? No, she was subdued too easily. And more importantly, her eyes… they’re already dead.’
Incredulous, he pressed the dagger closer to her neck, narrowing his eyes to try and grasp her intent.
Unaware of his confusion, Lavian calmly looked up at the man who had pinned her, hoping—truly hoping—that he would kill her.
*Better to die here than go back.*
Even though Lavian had long grown accustomed to killing her emotions, burying her true feelings, and surviving like a dried-up husk, a faint spark had always remained deep inside.
Now, that spark surged into an uncontrollable blaze.
The ruin of House Elder, her indifferent bloodline, the way Marquis Bartel treated her like a toy, the scorn of others—none of it was bearable anymore.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could endure with all these wounds festering inside.
“Do it. I won’t blame you. In fact, I’d be grateful.”
Her voice, flat and sunken, repeated the request.
At this point, the man had lost all will to threaten her.
He had only meant to scare her—but what was fear to someone who looked like this? Someone who stared blankly and spoke of death so casually? Even that intent melted away.
“C-Captain…”
Just then, a quiet voice called out nearby, as if they could delay no longer. Without taking his eyes off Lavian, the man clicked his tongue softly.
Lavian turned her gaze dispassionately toward the shadowed figures in the dark. Aside from a woman dressed similarly to the man, there were three trembling children from Ivtan clinging to one another and a frail, emaciated woman. Judging by their appearance, they were likely slaves purchased by Marquis Bartel.
“…Ah.”
Lavian let out a soft sigh and moved her hand.
“Don’t.”
The man, voice intentionally altered, barked out a warning and frowned under his mask, telling her not to move.
“Take them. Ivtan isn’t far. Use this for bribes or whatever you need. After killing me, take my necklace too. You can strip my dress if you want. Just… leave the undergarments. I’m still a woman, even in death.”
She calmly removed an earring, completely unfazed by his threats. She wanted to take off her necklace too, but the blade made it impossible.
The man let out a dry laugh and finally released her.
“Keep it. I don’t need it.”
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“……”
He didn’t answer. Not one for needless explanation, he stayed silent—but someone else in the group stepped forward in his place.
“We only meant to scare you. As long as you don’t do anything foolish, you’ll be safe. Captain, we really have to go.”
“…Ah.”
His voice was detached, yet oddly kind. It unraveled the tension in her chest, and Lavian felt her body go limp with a sense of futility.
That subtle thread of tension snapped—and now, she felt embarrassed. She’d asked a total stranger—one who hadn’t even intended to kill her—to end her life. Shame crept up, and her ears flushed pink.
“…Wait.”
When the man turned down the jewelry, Lavian took a few urgent steps—something unusual for her—and approached the slaves. She stopped at a respectful distance, careful not to scare them, clasped her hands, and bowed deeply.
“I’m sorry.”
Lavian wasn’t the one who enslaved them, nor had she purchased them. She had no obligation to apologize.
But she was the granddaughter of the former Count Elder—a man who had tried to reform the Empire’s slave system and was killed for it.
She had always taken pride in that fact. So she bowed her head without hesitation.
‘Grandfather would have done the same.’
In that fleeting moment, life returned to Lavian’s once-dead eyes.
Proud beyond words to be the granddaughter of the late Count Elder—the previous Earl of the Elder House—Lavian once again bowed her head and apologized in the language of Ivtan.
“I’m truly sorry.”
Though she wore a veil, anyone could tell she was a noblewoman.
For someone like her to bow so easily was shocking. The masked woman beside her was stunned, and the man looked at Lavian as if she were some strange, unknown creature.
‘She was someone who wanted to live—more desperately than anyone,’ he realized.
At that moment, a small child with the dusky skin and luminous violet eyes characteristic of Ivtan came trotting forward and quietly took Lavian’s hand.
The child gently stroked her hand again and again.
Though rough for a child’s, the small hand was warmer than any she’d ever felt. Lavian, feeling an unexpected comfort rise within her, forced a smile as her nose stung with the urge to cry.
“I’m really sorry. Please return safely…”
“We have to go. There’s no time.”
The woman gently ushered the child away, her voice pressing with urgency.
As she did, a cloth wrapped around her wrist came loose and fluttered to the ground, revealing a geometric pattern stretching from wrist to the back of her hand.
She quickly glanced at Lavian, picked up the cloth, and wrapped her wrist again in haste.
Lavian had seen the mark but pretended not to.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Bye, sister.”
The child blinked rapidly, waving before following the others.
Only when they had taken several steps did Lavian softly respond.
“Goodbye.”
She had always been taught to hide her true feelings. But just this once, Lavian smiled brightly—truly.
Under the moonlight, she looked breathtakingly beautiful.
The man, watching quietly, waited until the others had gone ahead before stepping toward her and holding out his hand.
“Give it.”
“…What?”
“The money. For bribes.”
“Oh.”
Lavian blinked stupidly for a second before placing the necklace and earrings into his large palm. He only took the earrings, returning the necklace with a word.
“The earrings will do.”
“O-Okay. Thank you for saving them.”
“I don’t need your gratitude. And besides…”
“…”
“Were you really trying to die? You don’t want to die.”
“…Sorry?”
“You want to live. Don’t you? To be happy, like people always say.”
With that cold, blunt statement that sounded almost like mockery, he turned away without hesitation.
Lavian stood there, staring blankly at his retreating back, heart thudding heavily in her chest.
She kept replaying his words in her head, over and over. Eventually, she bit her red lips hard.
It was the only way to keep herself from crying.
Just then, she heard movement not far away. There was no time for tears.
More than wanting to give up on life, she now wanted desperately for them not to be discovered.
‘They mustn’t be caught.’
It had to be someone looking for her—likely wondering why she hadn’t returned.
Lavian turned on her heel and deliberately walked toward the sound.
Hearing the sudden footsteps, the man turned back.
Her hair color—indistinct under the dim light—and the hem of her dress clutched in her thin fingers swayed like tree branches in the wind.
She shone, pure and white, in the darkness.
He stared for a moment before a drop of water landed in front of his eyes. It seemed spring rain was on its way.
Clen gave a small, inexplicable smile, then turned and hurried off.
***
The events of the previous night had vanished as if they’d never happened.
Without uttering a single word about the slaves, Lavian quietly returned to the Count’s estate.
When morning came, chaos broke out at the Marquis’s manor over the missing slaves, but with an important event approaching, no one dared to escalate the commotion. The incident was conveniently brushed aside.
Even the downpour—which had been far too heavy to be called spring rain—left no trace behind. The thick clouds that had once blanketed the sky were gone without a single wisp remaining, and the blazing sun chased away even the damp humidity that followed the storm.
Thanks to that, the outdoor wedding between Marquis Bartel and Lavian could proceed without issue.
“Lady Lavian, we will place the veil now.”
Lavian gave a small nod and gently lowered her head, her eyes cast downward. Her eyes, colored like the blue of the sky, were half-hidden by her lowered lashes, making her look both delicate and somehow sorrowful.
The sheer veil settled softly over her platinum hair, which gleamed like moonlight.
The maids, seeing the breathtaking bride before them, beamed with joy.
“Oh my, how can someone be this beautiful? They say she’s the empire’s most beautiful woman, and it’s clearly no exaggeration.”
“Hair as soft as silk, skin like milk, delicate features on that tiny face—she looks just like an angel.”
“Angel? No, she’s a goddess.”
Even veiled, her beauty could not be concealed, and the maids continued to shower her with praise.
But the bride simply sat there, her eyes empty and expressionless.
“You chatter too much. Quiet down.”
“We’re sorry, my lady.”
The head maid silenced the excited chatter and stepped forward to hand Lavian her bouquet.
But just as she did, the deputy maid entered the room in hurried steps, disrupting the process.
“Head maid!”
“What is it?”
With a strange tension about her, the deputy maid leaned in and whispered something softly.
“…Ah.”
That quiet whisper drained the color from the head maid’s face in an instant.
But she quickly composed herself and finished handing the bouquet to Lavian with perfect poise.
“I’ll go check that everything outside is in order. Please wait here comfortably.”
“All right.”
Lavian’s graceful voice prompted a strained smile from the head maid, who then ushered everyone else in the room out with her.
A long while passed, and Lavian was left alone in the room.
Finally, someone came rushing in.
“Sis! Sis!”
The youngest of the Elder family came running breathlessly, stepping on the hem of Lavian’s white dress and throwing herself into her arms.
“Seyan?”
“Sis! The Marquis Bartel… he… he did it!!”
“What?”
The veil quivered violently, and the bouquet slipped from Lavian’s hands, falling to the floor with a soft thud.
“That damned old bastard!”
The doors burst open and Count Elder, Celeno, stormed into the bridal waiting room, spewing curses as he ripped the boutonnière from his chest and threw it to the ground.
His arrogant greed spilled out in ragged breaths.
“Dear, people are watching,” said Lady Liriane, the Countess, trying to calm her husband, but to no avail.
Celeno was not the sort to be stopped by anyone. He shoved his wife away roughly.
“Mother…”
“Aaah!”
As Lavian rushed to catch her staggering mother, her voice was drowned out by Celeno’s furious bellow.
But even shouting didn’t satisfy his rage—he huffed and snarled, completely losing control.
Moments earlier, the space had been filled with bright, cheerful sunlight. Now, an eerie, chilling wind blew in.
And with it came dreadful news, echoing throughout the ceremony hall.
“Marquis Bartel… is dead!”
