Kaian knelt beside Claudel, reaching to lift her.
In that moment, something clicked into place—a sudden, terrible clarity.
Claudel lay in a field of white marguerite flowers, their yellow centers glowing softly. Her red hair spread across the white petals like blood. Her golden eyes, bright as polished amber on her paper-pale face, lost focus and clouded.
Her small, fragile body barely disturbed the flowers.
She released the handful of flowers he'd given her, watching them scatter from her trembling hands. The white petals fell alongside droplets of red—blood the same color as her hair.
*Click.*
It was as though the final piece of a terrible puzzle had just locked into place.
Even after nights spent in feverish passion, she coughed softly and shivered constantly. No matter how much he urged her to eat, she could barely manage to swallow, wasting away like someone starving in a castle surrounded by plenty. She spoke in whispers, and sometimes her eyes grew distant, as though she could see something fleeting beyond this world.
The gears of understanding turned, and everything aligned with horrifying precision.
He held her dying form as though cradling a tragic masterpiece.
Then he felt like a creature of clay, trampling beauty beneath his feet, destroying and desecrating something precious.
He didn't fully understand what had happened.
But he understood *why* she was this way.
"Butler! Butler!"
Kaian's voice cracked with urgency as he ran toward the castle, Claudel cradled against his chest.
---
## Valmonde Castle
The Valmonde estate, ruled by the Duke of Vermont, occupied the northernmost reaches of the continent.
That Valmonde Castle was built in the coldest place—not just in Oberon's kingdom, but on the entire continent—was no accident. It held symbolic weight. Though the cold exhausted those who lived there, the natives had been born into this harsh environment and accepted it as part of existence.
Beneath the frozen ground lay warmth. The deeper the excavation, the more intense the heat became—so intense that workers had to shed their clothing to endure it. All the precious ores mined from those geothermal depths were rare and expensive.
A wealthy ancestor had deliberately built Valmonde Castle in this inaccessible, nearly uninhabitable place to demonstrate Vermont's power.
Furthermore, Vermont monopolized the sea routes across the North Sea and controlled trade between the continents of Ita and Sol—where the Kingdom of Oberon was located. Vermont had not become a major diplomatic power for nothing.
Now, even in mid-summer, with the tundra moss—soft and green as a child's wet hair—spreading across the landscape, Valmonde Castle still commanded majesty against the setting sun.
---
When the Duke of Vermont returned from a month-long journey, the castle knights immediately lined up in greeting.
"Return to your duties," he commanded.
"Yes, Your Excellency. Welcome home safely."
A servant rushed to drape a thick reindeer-fur cloak across his shoulders as he dismounted. Even in summer, Valmonde Castle remained cold.
The Duchess emerged into the great hall at news of her husband's return.
"You're back," she said simply.
"Hmm." The Duke turned to his traveling companion. "There are thirty cargo carriages. Inspect them for damage on the way and have the knights distribute the food immediately."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The territory had suffered terribly under drought and conflict with Temnes. All eyes turned with gratitude toward the lord who had brought such abundance, finally solving their desperate need.
"How is Claudel?" the Duchess asked quietly.
The Duke's frown deepened. "She's... managing."
The Duchess's voice grew small and pained. "I feel as though I've done something terrible to her."
"Don't speak such things," the Duke replied curtly. "If Claudel hadn't made this choice, our people would have starved next year."
"Still..." The Duchess looked toward the distant catacombs. "I wish she could die in Valmonde, where her parents rest. In the catacombs alongside Evan and her mother's empty coffin..."
"There's no cure for Herzol anymore," the Duke said flatly. "The medicine for a disease no one contracts disappeared three hundred years ago. It was inevitable."
The Duke and Duchess maintained a companionate relationship—they discussed important matters together, whether managing the estate or anything else. The Duchess knew about Claudel's terminal illness but kept secret the Duke's planned attack on Temnes, with partial support from King Valquiterre. The Duke, who had raised and pitied Claudel after her parents' deaths, would have been devastated to learn the true extent of her sacrifice.
Rumors had circulated that the Duchess received enormous jewels when she'd added Claudel to the family register. This was false. The Duchess had registered Claudel as her adoptive daughter unconditionally.
"If only you hadn't bound Evan to this family," the Duchess said quietly.
"Please. I've heard this every night for a month," the Duke replied wearily. "I'm exhausted."
After arranging Claudel's marriage with such haste, the Duke found himself hearing the same recriminations repeatedly. *If only he could hear instead that* *he* *had died of blood poisoning,* he thought bitterly, *then perhaps she'd feel satisfied.*
The Duchess, having placed her emotional burden on her husband's chest in that ungenerous way, changed the subject.
"What of Rowan Castle?"
"The Temnes luxury is extraordinary. Gold frames everywhere—" He paused, hesitating. Valmonde Castle was equally lavish with jewels and gold. He rationalized that at least this luxury came from their own origins, therefore it was justified.
The Duchess smiled, observing his internal struggle. "Lady Elise is a Princess. She couldn't have lived in a shabby castle."
"Temnes will burn soon enough," the Duke said coldly. "Mark my words."
The Duke had endured years of drought, could have found contentment in Kaian if circumstances were different. But there was a need for recognition from others—for respect.
He had cut off food exports for years, starving his own people, to prepare for war against Temnes. The fact that Kaian—barely more than a child in his eyes—dared point a blade at him deeply wounded his pride.
*He's still so young! How dare he?*
If King Valquiterre hadn't warned him of Kaian's military preparations, Claudel would never have been sent away. The Duke hadn't made that decision lightly. Instead of punishing Hannah, who had raged through his office, he'd given her substantial funds and sent her to Rowan Castle.
Hannah still didn't know about Claudel's Herzol.
The Duke had briefly considered telling her—surely she would traverse the entire continent to find a cure if she knew. But Claudel had explicitly requested that Hannah remain ignorant of her illness.
Before Claudel's departure, the Duke had called Hannah aside and pressed a significant sum of gold into her hands.
"Why are you giving me this?" she'd asked, confused.
"Hannah. If something happens to Claudel at Rowan Castle... if the worst occurs... collect her body and bring her home to Valmonde."
Hannah's face had hardened.
"Don't let her be humiliated in that enemy land. Bring her back intact. We cannot leave her there."
The maid had said nothing, simply clenching her fists, then taking the money and leaving without confirmation.
---
"What of the young Duke of Temnes?" the Duchess asked.
The Duke's expression soured. "A man with no conviction."
"Well, he seemed presentable enough," the Duchess offered mildly.
The Duke had first truly seen Kaian on the wedding day at Valmonde Castle. Kaian had arrived precisely for the ceremony, departed immediately afterward, leaving the bride behind alone. He'd remained at Valmonde for less than two hours.
"Better if he weren't the enemy," the Duchess said, though she'd married a Vermonter herself, her origins made her somewhat sympathetic toward Temnes.
"Better if Claudel weren't ill," the Duke replied.
"If that were true, even with this poor marriage, she might have somehow managed."
The couple fell silent in contemplation.
Then light footsteps echoed in the distance.
"Father!"
The Duke's expression brightened immediately at the bright, youthful voice.
"Irena!"
The woman who embraced him and kissed his cheek bore red hair and golden eyes matching his own. Irena was the Duke's blood daughter—his only child before he'd adopted Claudel. According to the Duke, she was God's masterpiece. Her beauty resembled the Duchess in youth, while her coloring came from him.
"Are you unwell? I worried about your long journey," she said softly.
"Don't fret. This father is resilient."
"You should rest today," the Duchess suggested.
"Yes, Irena?" The Duchess continued, "Will you tell us about your visit to Rowan tomorrow over lunch?"
"Of course!" Irena smiled brightly before disappearing.
The moment she left, the Duke's expression darkened.
*If only Kaian weren't Temnes.*
Vermont valued bloodlines above all. He'd had only Irena until adopting Claudel. As the sole head of the house with no collateral relatives, the Duke couldn't fight in the wars himself. So Irena had married a noble's untitled second son.
He'd died one month after reaching the battlefield.
Irena had become a widow while still in her youth and beauty—a difficult situation in a kingdom where eligible men were precious commodities.
*Kaian would be the best match in the entire kingdom.*
If only he weren't an enemy threatening to plunge a knife into Vermont's heart.
The Duke suppressed his appetite.
---
## Claudel
It had been a perfect day.
The fragrance of flowers. The chirping of birds. The sound of flowing water. The sweet, spicy taste of marguerite petals delicately bitten between my lips.
And Kaian.
The man who gave me flowers was the most beautiful flower-holder I'd ever seen.
My heart seemed to quicken slightly.
I naturally lowered my head to inhale their fragrance.
My body couldn't withstand even that gentle motion.
Everything dissolved into darkness.
---
In the pitch-black void where I couldn't see or hear, I caught a distant sound: the crack and spark of a fireplace.
*Valmonde Castle?*
Rowan Castle wouldn't need a fireplace in summer.
As consciousness gradually returned, sensations flooded back—one after another, like stretching after sleep.
I heard the sound of flames.
When I opened my eyes, I saw a roaring fireplace.
I blinked, wondering if I'd dreamed it all, but I lay in the Duchess's ornate bedroom. I sat up slowly.
Then I finally saw him.
Kaian sat in darkness beside the large pillow that had blocked my view until now.
His eyes burned crimson as he stared at me from the shadows.
"You," he said quietly, his voice sharp as a blade. "Are you searching for a place to die?"
---