I could not remain silent.
How dare you drag me, a man of the Emperor’s blood, away from my people in front of my own men. ……. Franz’s eyes flared with fire.
“One way or another,…… I will pay you back for the humiliation I have suffered, or at least twice as much as all the humiliations and disgraces I have suffered over the years since the moment I set foot in the imperial palace.”
What retribution, and how. Franz’s anger was half-understood and half-understood again. Stilikov sighed inwardly.
Showing emotion was the last thing he wanted to do when he was planning something big, so it was no wonder he was worried about Franz’s tendency to get emotional.
“What are you thinking of doing, and how?”
“Stilikov.”
“Yes. Your Highness.”
“What harm do you think would be most painful for someone to inflict on you, Stilikov?”
“Do you mean torture? If so, first of all, limbs…….”
“No. It’s the pain they inflict on your body. If you die, that’s the end of it. What is really painful is the kind of pain that makes you think you’d rather be dead?”
“Then…….”
Mental anguish is often worse than physical pain, especially for knights who are accustomed to being wounded in training and on missions.
Archduke Albrecht, in charge of the Imperial Investigations, would be no different, and Stilikov immediately recognized Franz’s point.
“To see your loved ones suffer, that would be the most painful thing.”
“To see those you love suffer.”
In the past, Stilikov would have dismissed this as nonsense, since it was impossible for Karl to have loved ones.
But things are different now. He lost his family at a young age and grew up alone, and the only person he loved was his aunt, Mrs. Pulcheria, but now he has no wife and no children.
“Do you know where Celeste is now?”
“The Archduchess Albrecht has not been seen for some time. No one has seen her, and from the way the people at the Count’s house and the Archduchess’s house move around, it doesn’t seem like she’s in two places.”
It was an Albrechtian secret that he had taken Mrs. Karl and the child and hidden them in the castle of the Archduke of Otaka.
Unaware of that fact, Franz simply attributed Celeste’s absence to the ambush at Kellever Square.
“It seems she’s paying the price for wandering the streets without a care in the world,” said Franz, “for all her boldness and pretense of nobility. Even so, she must be in one of two places, the Count’s or the Archduke’s.”
“I heard you’ve held the covenant ceremony. If so, it seems more likely that you are in the Grand Duke’s residence.”
“Hidden in the Grand Duke’s residence…”
“If you are indeed there, we can’t reach you, Your Highness.”
No matter how agilely one moved or how well-trained the knights were, infiltrating the Grand Duke’s residence was impossible.
“Are you certain he is there?”
“I can’t be sure. However, we could indirectly verify it.”
If money is offered, there would be at least a couple of servants willing to speak.
Stilikov thought it shouldn’t be too difficult to find out, considering they weren’t trying to steal the Grand Duke’s great secret, just confirming if the master had increased from one to two.
“I’ll check if the Count’s residence is also empty.”
There was no response from Franz. Even if he offered no further explanations or commands, Stilikov knew what he had to do from now on.
Franz wanted to inflict terrible psychological pain on Karl, who had injured his pride.
Franz doubted how long the hypocritical nephew, who feigned concern for other moral beliefs above his own safety, could maintain that mask of hypocrisy.
Could he still pretend amidst the horrifying pain and fear right in front of him?
“…Absolutely not. Not if he’s human.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, I’m just curious to see how my esteemed nephew would react to losing his beloved family.”
Did that mean creating a situation where family is lost, rather than witnessing them suffer? Stilikov raised his head in surprise.
That statement seemed to indicate not just wounding Celeste, who had just become Grand Duchess, but outright eliminating her.
Of course, in the past, Franz had threatened Celeste several times, chuckling that it would be worth seeing her die, but both he and Stilikov knew that wasn’t his true intent.
Yet now, he was directly suggesting her ‘death.’ Stilikov needed to understand Franz’s true intentions, looking at his superior with a perplexed gaze.
“Why? Do you look at me that way because I said I would kill Celeste?”
“Your Highness.”
A long-standing, entangled relationship. Stilikov knew well that Celeste and Franz were not connected solely for material reasons.
The long feud began when Celeste’s father, Count Louisette, had to save his daughter and sought help from Marina.
Celeste, who nearly died from a fever, was saved by Marina through dark magic. In return, Marina demanded complete obedience from Count Louisette.
After swearing to dedicate all material, physical, and mental resources, Count Louisette was able to save his daughter.
However, while the start of their bond lay with the father, the burden of responsibility was also placed on the daughter.
Whenever Franz wished, Celeste had to come running. Whatever Franz commanded, she had to do willingly.
Franz recalled the first day he met young Celeste. Those who swore loyalty to their mother faced him with fear in their eyes.
But Celeste was different. Her eyes were devoid of fear or dread, almost empty. This strangely sparked a competitive spirit within young Franz.
He wanted to break that lofty gaze and upright posture.
Although she pretended to bow her head, her expression seemed devoid of any real emotion, which frustrated him.
From that point on, Franz would purposely call Celeste to insult her, or he would demand unreasonable actions from her.
Each time, Celeste moved as instructed, yet she remained indifferent. Her unfeeling demeanor only fueled Franz’s anger more.
The more he pressed her into awkward situations, the more he anticipated that she would eventually show signs of breaking down—perhaps by losing her composure, crying, or losing her calm.
Yet Celeste surprised Franz delightfully. No matter how much pressure he applied or how difficult the circumstances became, she didn’t even flinch.
Franz was exasperated. He didn’t know how to deal with the insolent woman who wouldn’t move according to his wishes.
With a single word or gesture, he could bring countless other women to their knees before him devotedly.
But Celeste appeared unwavering, even in front of the person who held her life in their hands.
This truly displeased him.
“If it’s not mine anyway, why should I care if it breaks?”
Despite having the power to end Celeste’s life, the only reason he didn’t was out of his own mercy.
Franz believed that Celeste was alive and able to walk because of him.
He also thought that she, though silent, shared the same sentiment. He never considered that she might find a family with someone else.
This wasn’t love or jealousy, but rather a possessive desire—a lifelong servant bound to follow his commands.
However, Celeste, who should naturally bow her head beneath his feet and await his commands, suddenly declared her marriage and vanished. Not just to anyone, but to the one he hated most in the world.
“If it’s not mine, I might as well break it,” Franz thought. “If I can’t have it, then no one should.”
Celeste owed a debt to him—strictly speaking, to her mother—but now that she had inherited everything, it was as if that debt now fell upon him.
She should have known that acting recklessly and forgetting one’s gratitude would lead to consequences.
As he recalled Celeste’s figure, he realized it had been quite a while since he last saw her. Franz’s jaw tightened.
How should he label this uncomfortable feeling? Longing? No. While he did think he wanted to see her again, it was far from mere longing.
It was indignation. Yes, this rising unpleasantness at the thought of her stemmed from indignation.
That ungrateful brat who abandoned her principles. The image of a young Celeste, still showing signs of childhood, was superimposed with that of an adult Celeste looking at him apathetically.
Celeste had never looked at him with emotion.
What a wretched girl.
Franz roughly wiped his face with his hand.
