Daphne felt as if she were dreaming for a moment.
A face devoid of any emotion, a limp in his right leg, and a subtle wobble in his gait. He was clearly the person she knew, yet he felt like a complete stranger.
Daphne stood frozen, staring blankly at Johannes as he approached her with terrifying intensity. Before she knew it, he was standing right in front of her.
In disbelief, Daphne murmured, “How… Jeffrey said you were dead…”
Johannes’s face twisted sharply, and he grabbed her by the nape of her neck with a rough grip.
“Ah!”
He started dragging her somewhere. His rough movements made Daphne nearly fall several times, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
The place where Johannes brought her was a balcony overlooking the city.
“Ah…”
Daphne let out a hollow gasp, her mind completely blank.
The entire world was ablaze. The metallic stench of blood filled the air. The acrid smell of everything reduced to ash numbed her nose. Tears, unbidden, streamed down her cheeks as her senses were overwhelmed. The horrifying wails, furious shouts, the screams of those facing death, and the victorious cries—all the sounds merged into a deafening roar.
Everything felt like a dream. Once, she had thought the city might be better off burning. But she had never imagined this kind of hell.
Daphne wept silently. Johannes, gripping her shoulders painfully as if to hold her together, whispered in her ear.
“Why are you trembling so much?”
His voice was oddly tender.
“Are you afraid because the man you thought dead has returned?”
Daphne reflexively turned to him and shook her head like a madwoman.
“Jo… Johan. I….”
“Don’t cry.”
His hand wiped away her tears. The touch was cautious—it was the Johannes she knew.
But just as Daphne’s tension began to ease, even for a moment, the tenderness evaporated like an illusion. Johannes seized her cheek roughly, forcing her to look directly into his eyes as he whispered.
“This is all because of you.”
Daphne’s tear-filled eyes trembled helplessly.
“You’re the one who made us like this.”
“…”
“Why are you making that face?”
That day, Daphne recalled all that he had been forced to lose because of her.
“Did you betray me without even being prepared for the consequences?”
“…”
“If so, you’re incredibly foolish.”
Though his voice was calm, Daphne felt as if he were screaming. She couldn’t bring herself to say, I never betrayed you, or I still love you. At that moment, she hated herself too much. All she could do was apologize.
“I’m sorry… It’s all my fault. I’m sorry… I just…”
“Stop.”
But Johannes immediately cut off her trembling voice.
“Stop talking.”
Closing his eyes tightly, as if holding something back, he eventually called her name.
“Daphne.”
Johannes unknowingly let out a long breath. How long had it been since he’d said her name out loud? He closed his eyes and repeated it softly.
“Daphne…”
My Daphne.
My victory. My goddess.
My soul. My love.
“I chose you.”
But she had chosen differently.
“I understand you. You had no other choice…”
“No, Johan. That’s not…”
Daphne tried to speak, but he gently silenced her by covering her mouth. Her lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.
Suddenly, Johannes spoke.
“In the same situation, I would have acted just like you.”
He understood her choice. But because of it, his soul and love had turned to ashes that day.
Daphne shook her head violently in silent denial.
Johannes silently watched her pitiful figure.
The first thing he’d ever chosen for himself was the woman before him. At the end of everything, all that remained to him was her. So he decided he would hold her in his hands no matter what. And he would survive again, for a long time, atoning for the rest of his life.
Johannes resolved to descend into hell with Daphne.
“Princess of Velarez. From now on…”
Daphne couldn’t take her eyes off the unfamiliar expression on his face.
“You will be far more miserable than you think.”
Forgetting even to breathe—
“I will make it so. So you don’t need to forgive me. Don’t forgive me.”
He continued to whisper.
“Because I will never forgive you either.”
Daphne, sobbing so hard her face twisted in pain, lowered her head. Johannes gently turned her face forward to make her look ahead.
The world was still engulfed in flames. Daphne couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong or where it all started. Her heart pounded as if it would burst, and her vision blurred red.
“Don’t grieve too much. We will be unhappy together.”
He smiled with a distorted expression. It was a face she didn’t recognize.
***
[Oh God, grant her soul happiness and bestow peace upon her.]
Daphne watched the three-story wooden pyre burn without blinking. Her violet eyes seemed to burn along with it.
[Oh God, as she faces death, let her enter Your world.]
The rapidly spreading flames soon consumed the body of her sister, Sione, lying at the top of the pyre.
[Grant us peace.]
The flames roared upward, as if trying to touch the heavens.
One spring a year ago, when flowers were in full bloom, Sione left her homeland as a new bride. By the end of the long winter, she returned as a cold corpse. Even though Daphne had seen her with her own eyes, she still couldn’t believe her sister had died. Even at this moment, during the funeral, she couldn’t shed a single tear.
As the flames soared skyward, someone whispered.
[Her body was covered in bruises.]
[All ten fingernails were ripped out.]
[They said her neck was broken.]
Despite the sacredness of the princess’s funeral, they recklessly gossiped about how she had been beaten to death.
Daphne remained silent. Nothing they said was false. Sione had indeed been beaten to death by her husband. Her body was so disfigured that it was unrecognizable.
Why did Sione have to die like that?
As this question arose in her mind, Daphne scanned her nine brothers, each with their heads bowed low.
The war with the Inacos Union had lasted ten years. For ten years, Velarez had been at a disadvantage. The only reason the kingdom had managed to hold out this long was due to assistance from neighboring countries.
King Bathion of Velarez, after losing two princes in succession to enemy generals, forbade any more princes from going to war. However, he refused to surrender. Instead, he chose to marry off his famously beautiful princesses to neighboring nations in exchange for military support.
Among these allies, the nomadic tribe of Razhan, who lived on the vast grasslands of the western Wesel continent and survived as mercenaries, was essential for the war-inexperienced Velarez. For the proud Velarez, who saw themselves as a divine people, the act of proposing a marriage alliance with the uncivilized nomads was humiliating. However, they judged it better than losing to invaders from across the sea.
Thus, Razhan’s leader, Equila, was given Velarez’s fourth princess, Kesebe.
While the fifth and sixth princesses were married off to other allies, Kesebe died.
Strangely, Equila returned Kesebe’s body to Velarez, claiming that a foreign bride who could not bear a warrior of Razhan was not truly part of their tribe.
Her body was grotesque.
Equila dared to demand another princess. It was a clear provocation. However, Velarez still desperately needed Razhan’s military might, so King Bathion obediently sent the seventh princess, Ariane, to marry him.
And Ariane died.
Her body was grotesque.
Equila demanded yet another princess.
The war dragged on, and finally, it was the turn of the eighth princess, Sione.
And Sione died.
Her body was grotesque.
Out of ten princesses, only two remained.
When Kesebe and Ariane returned as corpses, Daphne and Tisbene had not seen their sisters’ bodies. Sione had stopped them, saying they were too young. Thus, Daphne assumed her sisters had simply succumbed to the harsh environment of the plains and deserts. Only when Sione returned, lifeless, did she understand why her sister had shielded them from seeing the truth.
Had her other sisters died the same way? Daphne couldn’t help but feel an instinctive fear. Her gaze shifted, landing on Prince Jeffrey, who stood beside King Bathion.
[…….]
Jeffrey, the fifth prince, was poised to succeed King Bathion as the next ruler, given that the other princes had died in war or from illness. It was also Jeffrey who had urged the hesitant King Bathion to send the princesses to marry Equila, arguing that only Razhan warriors could save Velarez. As he gazed at the burning remains of Sione, Jeffrey appeared sorrowful. So did the other brothers.
However, Daphne found their grief ridiculous. Their sorrow would only last for this moment. When the time came, they would unhesitatingly send their remaining sisters off to marriage, no matter the consequences.
Daphne held the sobbing Tisbene, whose body was wracked with despair, even tighter in her arms.
Only two princesses were left. Daphne’s turn was next.
