♡ TL: Khadija SK
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“… What the hell is this? Why did she do that?”
After a moment of silence, Annette answered belatedly, doubting whether she had heard Theodore correctly.
A mother engraving a slave’s tattoo on the back of her own son, who carried the blood of the imperial family?
“She did it to become the Empress. All of this was so she could become my father’s official wife, even though he was already dead, and have her name recorded in history books.”
“What Empress are you talking about? She only made herself a disgrace.”
After Empress Eleonora’s death, Maria had forcibly dragged her son, Theodore, and thrown him at the feet of the new Emperor, Philibert—before the late Empress’s funeral had even ended. She then made him kneel beside her before his half-brother.
Standing next to him was his son, Hugo, looking down at Theodore from above.
“I will raise this child as nothing more than a foolish slave so that he will never become an obstacle in your Highness’s life or in your esteemed son’s. I will never let him know his worth or his status. I will not give him any of the education that the royal family deserves, nor the rights claimed by those with imperial blood. Because I know those things do not belong to this thing in the first place, nor does he deserve them.”
That scene was still vivid in Theodore’s eyes, as if it had happened just yesterday.
The image of Maria, teaching her ten-year-old son obedience and servitude in the most humiliating way, was clear before him.
“I will never allow this child to become Emperor. Instead, make me Empress so that my name may be recorded alongside His Majesty’s in history books and that we may remain together forever.”
Instead of protecting her son’s life and future, Maria chose to become the Empress—for another man from the past.
“Am I still supposed to love my mother after everything she did to me?”
Theodore’s eyes, remembering the humiliation he suffered that day, lost focus and drifted into the distance.
The word “anger” was too weak to describe what he truly felt in his heart.
Back then, Theodore didn’t even know what the word “Emperor” meant.
He had only been ten years old.
Time had passed, but he hadn’t forgotten a single detail of that day—not the scent of his burned flesh as the branding iron pressed into his back, nor the pain that left him unable to feel his body for days.
But the most painful thing was Philibert’s gaze, filled with arrogance and satisfaction as he looked down on him and his mother, along with Hugo’s nod, acknowledging without hesitation that Theodore had become a slave beneath his feet.
What was branded that day was not just the slave’s tattoo on his back—it was the mark of a loser imprinted on his fate.
Annette covered her mouth with both hands.
There was nothing she could say to someone whose own mother had exploited him as a child, leaving him trapped in that past ever since.
Time had stopped for Theodore in those moments, and he was still stuck in that endless spiral of memories.
Annette resented herself for making him bring up such a painful story. She had also realized where his deep-seated inferiority complex came from and now understood why he was so desperate to become Emperor.
It wasn’t just about seizing the throne—he wanted to make those who took it for granted realize the value of his existence. He wanted to ensure they never looked down on him or considered him beneath them again.
In front of her, Annette saw a small boy who must have cried until his strength gave out, clutching his burned back, with no one to comfort him.
Despite her hatred for him, she felt sorry for him.
She couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. She felt heartache for someone who couldn’t even allow himself to feel sadness or anger while telling such a story.
Theodore was a man who didn’t know what kind of emotions he was supposed to feel—he had grown up completely alone, with no one who cared for him.
“I’m sorry.”
Seeing Annette’s shaken expression, Theodore slowly regained focus. He then picked up the shirt he had thrown aside and started putting it back on.
“Well, I didn’t mean to make you feel sorry for me, and I don’t want your apology. It’s not like you’re the one who—!!!”
Suddenly, Annette lunged toward Theodore with force.
His shirt slipped from his hands once again.
“What are you doing?”
“Stay still.”
Annette wrapped her arms around him with all her strength.
Theodore looked down at the small body that had thrown itself at him, its limbs clinging to him.
She was too small to embrace him fully.
Annette buried her face into the back of his neck, trembling as she tried to hold him as tightly as she could.
But she couldn’t fully wrap her arms around his body.
“Are you pitying me?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not hugging you. I’m hugging the ten-year-old boy from back then. You, right now, are a villain who deserves to die in my eyes. But the ten-year-old Theodore… was just an innocent child who needed someone to hold him and make him feel safe.”
Annette had said she wouldn’t cry, but her voice was trembling.
She had the audacity to try to comfort him while she was clearly trembling and in need of someone to comfort her instead.
Theodore laughed when he saw this woman pitying him.
Annette was hugging Theodore now.
But perhaps she didn’t realize that a bird, upon hatching from its egg for the first time, imprints on the first person it sees, considering them its mother and following them everywhere.
More than that, Theodore—who was still human, after all—might remember the warmth of the first person who had ever embraced him with genuine, unfeigned affection in his entire life.
How could she do something that would remain an unshakable memory for him while she lived her life relying on words she would use to leave once she achieved her goal?
If you embrace a ten-year-old child who has never been held before, that child will never be able to forget you and will be attached to you forever.
Unaware of this truth, Annette tried to suppress her tears as she hugged Theodore even tighter.
Theodore’s eyes dimmed quietly as he watched her.
This was the first time he had calmed down so easily after recalling Maria’s story.
Speaking of his mother, Theodore would usually go hunting after talking about her to suppress his rage.
But maybe he was this calm because of the sedatives he had taken while closing his wound.
Yes.
Exactly.
His calmness must be because of the medication, not because of Annette, who was embracing him now.
It should never be because of the very emotions that had driven his mother to obsess over his father to the point of madness—madness that led her to harm her own son.
Strangely enough, the pain from where he had been stabbed vanished.
Theodore had never spent a single day without pain since he endured the burning of his back at the age of ten, screaming so hard that his vocal cords nearly tore.
But now, he felt a strange sense of relief.
Theodore hesitated to lift his arms and embrace Annette’s small frame, but in the end, he put it down again and gave up.
He had been an immature husband who treated his wife rudely, yet instead of him apologizing, he had received an apology from her.
He had subjected her to unnecessary tests and selfishly used her for his own benefit, yet instead of feeling ashamed in front of her, he felt comforted by her.
Her maturity touched Theodore’s pride—the pride that had never matured since his mother sold him as a young child.
“You’re not going to cry now, are you?”
“… Why would I cry for you?”
Nothing spilled, but hot tears welled up in Annette’s eyes, rebelling against her attempt to keep them from falling.
It was a story she hadn’t read in the novel, so she couldn’t help but respond this way to the hidden backstory of the villain.
Annette sometimes sympathized with the circumstances of villains in other novels—so how could she not be moved when the person breathing right in front of her was confessing his inner wounds?
Even if he was a villain from a cliché story, his pain was real right now, carrying an irresistible weight straight into Annette’s tender heart.
Theodore carefully pushed Annette’s body away, his touch cautious enough not to hurt her with his strength.
He felt sorry for how easily her body moved when he grasped her and pushed her away slightly.
It hadn’t been long since Annette had embraced Theodore, yet she had already managed to suppress her tears and return to her usual calm expression.
She had a strangely useless ability to control her emotions so quickly.
“When you’re done with this dramatic performance, get down and look under the bed.”
“… Excuse me? Did I do something wrong that requires me to kneel and beg for forgiveness?”
Theodore chuckled lightly at her absurd remark.
“There’s a false wall behind the bed. A passageway behind it leads to the floor under the bed. Of course, there’s a similar passage in the Grand Duchess’s room as well. I don’t know if you’ll be able to open it with those weak hands of yours, but if you try your hardest, you should be able to open the secret door just enough to escape through it and hide underground until help arrives.”
At that, Annette knelt and looked under the bed.
She had thought it was just an ordinary wall, but the hidden section beneath the bed was skillfully disguised.
As she lay on the ground and peered under the bed, Annette saw something extremely strange there.
“Could this… be a gun?”
The gun was placed in a spot where Theodore could reach it if he extended his arm while lying in bed.
“Is there one in my room too?”
“Not yet. You don’t even know how to fire a gun, so what would you do with one? Come here.”
When she obediently followed, Theodore touched the headboard of the bed, and at that moment, a small dagger emerged from a statue mounted above the bed—one she had assumed was just a decorative ornament.
“But this dagger is in your room too.”
The peacock statue, which she had believed was simply there to symbolize a harmonious married life, had concealed a blade within it.
Annette felt somewhat unsettled and sat down on the bed.
“Is there anything else in my room that’s going to surprise me?”
“Well. All of this is routine for me, so I don’t know what could possibly surprise you.”
Annette turned and saw Theodore’s face looking at her.
He was a fair-skinned and handsome prince, but inside, he was filled with all kinds of ugly and dark experiences.
Despite his hobby of hunting, his pale skin—marked with a few scars from the past—was merely a protective shell, concealing the burns that had disfigured him from within.
Annette couldn’t even begin to guess what kind of life he had lived until now.
It was all scars left by people who didn’t even realize…
That behind that handsome face lived both a wicked monster and an innocent child.
Since the weak child could never defeat the ruthless monster, others would only see his cruel and arrogant exterior.
Annette could understand why this detestable man had dragged her into hell.
Because he lived in hell, the only place he could bring her to was hell.
She closed her eyes, trying to stop herself from reaching out to stroke his hair and pat his head.
She could no longer afford to sympathize with him.
She needed to keep a reasonable distance before she became even more attached to him.
“I thought you had sealed off all the hidden passages when you removed the servants’ corridors.”
“Officially, yes. But I’m not a servant.”
When Theodore inherited the title of Grand Duke and carried out extensive renovations on Flores Castle, all the secret pathways meant for discreet movement and hiding were removed.
But in reality, Theodore had built many alternative routes to compensate for that, creating new passages he could escape through if he were ever in danger.
“Are you really okay with telling me all of this?”
“If you have the same passage in your room, it means you’re in the same danger as I am. We’re in this together, so you have the right to know.”
Together.
Annette pondered that word Theodore had used.
The “together” he spoke of would not end with “and they lived happily ever after.”
Instead, the outcome was likely to be the complete opposite.
“Does that mean I might have to crawl under the bed to save my life, too?”
“You understood me perfectly.”
“Please make sure I sleep on the bed, not under it.”
When would Annette truly die?
She had no idea.
Because she was now living a life where she didn’t know who would kill her or where she would meet her end.
* * *
Was it because she had been shocked by the sight of Theodore’s blood flowing from his waist?
Annette had trouble sleeping that night.
She wandered around the room for a while, absentmindedly fiddling with the bed’s decorations, then pulled the dagger out several times before putting it back in place.
She tossed and turned in bed for a long time, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep.
Then, just as she barely managed to drift off… she woke up again almost immediately.
And then…
Annette saw an unbelievable sight before her.
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