I finally drove in the wedge.
"Something terrible will happen soon because of what you're planning now."
Callius's golden eyes narrowed slightly. His expression remained impassive, but I caught the subtle shift in his posture—the tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers stilled against the garden balustrade.
"Something terrible?" he echoed, his voice dangerously soft.
"This is something you absolutely do not want. The snowy mountains of Ronheim will once again be stained with blood."
And you will be killed by Andrea while trying to protect Ronheim.
I left the rest unspoken. Talking about a person's death—especially someone as proud as Marquis Rodrian—would only provoke defensive hostility. Better to lead him to the conclusion himself.
Instead, I offered specific details. Concrete proof that my knowledge was real.
"If you sell that gold mine to Count Elbern to raise funds for training your army..."
There was no significant change in his expression, but I caught it—that single heartbeat of absolute stillness. The kind of silence that screamed louder than any words.
He's surprised. He didn't expect me to know about his plans.
The sale of the Ronheim gold mine wasn't public knowledge. It was a desperate, secret negotiation born from necessity. Callius's northern territory was hemorrhaging money trying to maintain adequate defenses against constant border threats.
But I knew. Because in my past life, this very transaction had led to Ronheim's downfall.
"Count Elbern will use that place to join hands with Andrea," I continued, keeping my voice steady despite my racing pulse. "The Count doesn't really want the gold mine. He wants to station troops there. He may look naive, but he's a cunning man who has already pledged his allegiance to my brother."
"Let's assume that's all true." Callius's tone was carefully neutral. "Why would Count Elbern do something like that? What would he gain by betraying me?"
"Because Andrea—who will eliminate me and become the next Emperor—hates the Marquis."
If Andrea spent so much time around me trying to drive me into madness, that meant I had spent just as much time observing Andrea in return.
I knew far more about my dear brother than he ever realized.
Andrea harbored a strange, intense dislike for Callius Rodrian. It made no logical sense—Callius had no particular contact with the imperial family and spent most of his time either in his frozen northern territory or on distant battlefields. They had no reason to encounter each other, let alone develop enmity.
Yet the hatred was there, festering like an infected wound.
In my past life, Andrea tried to kill Callius whenever opportunity presented itself.
That was one of the two reasons I chose Callius for this desperate gamble.
I looked up resolutely at the man before me, meeting those unsettling golden eyes without flinching.
I will save this man with my own hands.
From Andrea, who was desperate to destroy Callius by any means necessary, I would protect him by any means necessary.
My goal in this second life was simple: hinder everything Andrea wanted to achieve and take away everything Andrea wanted to possess.
As a first step toward that revenge, I planned to save the man Andrea hated most by marrying him.
If I announce my intention to marry Marquis Rodrian, Andrea will be furious. He'll object violently, desperately.
I wanted to see it. That expression of helpless rage twisting Andrea's beautiful, lying face.
Callius tilted his head slightly, studying me with renewed intensity.
"Weren't you on good terms with the Prince?"
The question was a test, I realized. He was gauging whether I truly understood the implications of what I was proposing.
"There are rumors about that, I suppose," I replied with deliberate lightness. "Just like there are rumors that I'm insane and that you're a cannibal who bathes in the blood of his enemies."
"..."
A flicker of something—amusement? respect?—crossed his features before vanishing behind his usual iron control.
I straightened my spine and met his gaze with aristocratic composure, channeling every ounce of imperial dignity I possessed.
"You'd better choose me, Marquis."
I said it with absolute confidence, as though I were bestowing a tremendous favor rather than making a desperate proposal in wine-soaked pajamas.
But Callius was not so easily swayed.
"If what Your Highness says is true, then why would you want to marry me in exchange for what you claim is a useless gold mine?"
His sharp eyes looked deeply into mine, as if trying to read the thoughts I kept carefully hidden.
"What will Your Highness gain from this marriage?"
It was a fair question. A necessary question from a man who had undoubtedly been betrayed before.
I answered without hesitation, offering him the truth—or at least, part of it.
"I want to leave this place."
I couldn't reveal everything. Couldn't confess that I had died and returned from the future, that I knew exactly how both our stories would end if we didn't change course now.
But I could give him this much honesty.
I looked at him with steady, earnest eyes.
"I feel like you could take me as far away from here as possible."
At those words, he smiled—that same strange, unsettling smile from before. But this time, there was something almost knowing in it.
"If Your Highness wants to escape as far away from the capital as possible, Ronheim is certainly the place to do it."
The word escape came deliberately from his lips.
Not travel. Not relocate. Escape.
He understood. Or at least, he was beginning to.
At that moment, I caught sight of movement near the banquet hall entrance. Andrea's attendants were emerging, scanning the garden with systematic precision.
They're looking for me.
I spoke urgently to Callius, stepping closer despite propriety.
"If you're considering this deal, come see me. Soon."
There was no more time for careful negotiation. Andrea's servants were spreading through the garden like hunting dogs on a scent.
"Then that's—"
Before I could finish my farewell, Callius caught my wrist. His grip was firm but not painful, his calloused fingers warm against my pulse point.
"Let me ask you one more question."
His voice was low, meant only for my ears.
"Why does Your Highness desire that gold mine so desperately?"
I could have told him the truth. That the "worthless" gold mine he was planning to sell would soon yield not just gold, but mythril—the rarest magical ore in the empire, worth more than a hundred gold mines combined.
That Andrea knew this and was orchestrating the entire scheme to steal that wealth from under Callius's nose.
But some truths were too valuable to share so easily.
Instead, I answered with deliberate vagueness, letting him draw his own conclusions.
"I want to make a flower garden."
"...A flower garden?"
His tone suggested he thought I might actually be as mad as the rumors claimed.
"As I said before, I really like flowers."
If mythril can be considered a flower, then yes—it will be a flower garden whose value cannot be compared to mere gold.
The hand holding my wrist loosened.
Before I could step away, something heavy and warm settled around my shoulders. Callius had removed his outer coat and draped it over me in one smooth motion.
"...?"
I looked up at him, genuinely startled by this unexpected courtesy. His face was unreadable in the moonlight, but there was something almost... gentle in the gesture.
"Your clothes are wet."
Was it my imagination, or did his voice sound warmer than before? Less like the feared "Beast of Ronheim" and more like... a person?
"Oh. Thank you. Yes."
I hadn't prepared for kindness. Hadn't scripted a response for gentleness from a man who was supposed to be a savage warlord.
My farewell came out stiff and awkward as I turned to flee.
I headed toward my palace quarters using the shadows along the garden wall as cover, staying where the moonlight couldn't reach. The coat he'd given me smelled faintly of pine and steel—the scent of northern winters and distant battlefields.
From behind me, I heard it—soft, almost inaudible.
Callius was laughing.
Not the cruel laughter I'd heard from so many others. Not mocking or contemptuous.
Just... quietly amused, as though I'd done something unexpectedly entertaining.
What's so funny?
But I didn't stop to ask. Andrea's servants were still searching, and I had no intention of being caught.
After Chloe disappeared into the shadows, Callius remained in the garden.
He stayed there for a long while, staring at the spot where she had vanished, his coat still carrying the faint warmth of her body.
"I heard rumors and was worried that you weren't doing well."
He murmured the words to himself, remembering the determined expression on her face when she'd talked about creating a flower garden.
It was such a stark contrast to the ominous, desperate atmosphere she'd carried when speaking of blood and betrayal and death.
"You've grown up to be quite an interesting person, Chloe."
The things she'd told him were extraordinary. How did she know about his secret negotiations with Count Elbern? How could she predict future events with such confidence?
And what, exactly, was her real situation?
At first, he'd been wary—suspicious that she was trying to manipulate him by somehow learning his vulnerabilities. Perhaps another of Prince Andrea's schemes, using his naive sister as bait.
But when he'd heard her voice trembling with genuine fear, seen the way her hands shook as she made her desperate proposal...
His extreme wariness had seemed almost cruel.
"You're shaking. Who's going to eat you?"
He'd said it mockingly at the time, but the truth had been obvious even then.
Someone is hurting her. Someone she's terrified of.
His gaze lowered slightly, his expression softening into something that might have been regret.
"It's disappointing that you don't recognize me."
The words were barely a whisper, carried away by the night wind.
Then Callius turned and walked back toward the banquet hall, his face once again an impassive mask.
But his mind was already working through the implications of everything Princess Chloe had told him.
If even half of what she said is true, I need to act quickly.
After parting ways with Callius and leaving the garden, I hastily pulled his coat tighter around my shoulders.
The late summer wind wasn't particularly cold, but my body—which had always been sensitive to temperature—quickly lost warmth even in the mild breeze.
The hem of my wine-soaked skirt swept around my legs with each step, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably and sending chills across my skin.
Thank heavens I wore my thick pajamas tonight.
Callius's coat helped tremendously, but it was the unseasonably heavy nightgown beneath that truly kept me from freezing.
I'm probably the only person in the entire empire who wears winter-weight sleepwear in late summer.
But that peculiarity had served me well tonight. If I'd worn typical summer pajamas, the thin fabric would have been completely transparent when wet, and I certainly couldn't have gone wandering around the palace gardens in such a state.
Not that the maids Andrea assigned to me would have let me leave in the first place.
Andrea claimed he worried that his mentally unstable sister might endanger the dignity of the royal family with erratic behavior.
So despite my status as an imperial princess, I had no ladies-in-waiting, no servant girls, no attendants of my choosing.
Instead, Andrea graciously provided me with maids from his own household—women who stayed by my side every waking moment, never leaving me alone for even an instant.
Such noble devotion. Such touching concern for his troubled sister's wellbeing.
They were jailers, not servants.
The surveillance was constant and suffocating. Every movement monitored. Every word reported back to Andrea.
Which made tonight's escape all the more satisfying.
I'm rather proud of myself for breaking through that surveillance and sneaking into the banquet hall.
It had required careful planning, precise timing, and more than a little luck. But I'd managed it.
I wonder how Andrea will react when he hears that I showed up at his precious banquet in my nightclothes?
The thought made me smile grimly. His perfect mask of the devoted brother would crack, if only for a moment.
I gritted my teeth as fresh anger surged through me.
The feeling of betrayal—of having been so thoroughly deceived by someone I'd trusted implicitly—cut deeper than any physical wound.
"I won't be the same fool twice. And... I'll get my revenge."
The words came out as a vow spoken to the empty corridor.
I will make you feel the same pain and misery that I endured.
It was at that moment that a voice interrupted my dark thoughts.
"What happened at the banquet hall that made you use such a brutal word as 'revenge'?"
The voice was young, cheerful, and came from behind one of the corridor's marble pillars.
A boy emerged from the shadows—skinny, perhaps twelve years old in appearance, dressed in shabby clothes completely out of place in the opulent palace. He carried an old sword at his hip, the blade visibly nicked and worn from heavy use.
Despite his youthful, not-quite-developed features, he was already handsome in that way that promised devastating beauty in adulthood.
His most striking feature was his eyes—bright gold, sparkling with mischief and confidence as he smiled at me.
I knew this boy.
"Karl."
He was my oldest friend—the one person who had stayed by my side through everything.
Karl possessed a body that would never age beyond twelve years old, the result of a curse placed on him in childhood. Despite his youthful appearance, he was actually close to my own age.
I didn't know how he managed to sneak into the heavily guarded palace every time, but Karl would regularly appear through some secret passage known only to him. He became my conversation partner, my confidant, my link to the world beyond my gilded prison.
From the time we first met when I was ten years old, all the way until the day I died...
He had been the only friend who stayed by my side. And no one—not even Andrea—knew about him.
Karl's expression shifted from playful to horrified as he took in my wine-stained pajamas and disheveled appearance.
"Are you all right? What happened?"
I managed a bitter smile and nodded.
"Everything went according to plan. This stain was part of it."
Spilling wine on my nightgown had been unavoidable—a necessary sacrifice to create a natural reason to separate from Callius without arousing suspicion.
"I felt strange because people were staring at me so intensely," Karl admitted with a sheepish grin. "I thought if I sneaked in while everyone was distracted by... well, by you appearing in your pajamas... no one would notice me."
"Wasn't that a bit naive?"
"It was wishful thinking," he conceded.
"The hopes were too high. How could people just pass by an imperial princess who appeared at a formal banquet in her nightclothes?"
I shrugged, unconcerned.
"Everyone already says I'm insane anyway. Isn't it perfectly normal for crazy people to do crazy things? This outfit suits me just fine, by that logic."
Karl's smile turned mischievous.
"That makes sense, actually."
Then his expression shifted, becoming more serious despite the lightness of his tone.
"But what if Marquis Rodrian rejects you?"
Karl knew about my plan. I'd confided in him about my intention to propose marriage to Callius—though not the reasons behind it.
Even Karl—my most trusted friend—couldn't know the full truth.
How could I confess that I'd died and returned from the future? That I carried memories of a timeline that hadn't happened yet?
If I said that, even Karl might think I'd truly gone mad.
From his perspective, my sudden change must seem bizarre. One day I'm the obedient, confused princess who trusts her brother implicitly. The next day I'm declaring Andrea my enemy and plotting to marry a man I've never properly met.
But Karl supported me anyway. He asked no probing questions, demanded no explanations.
He supported me because he hated Andrea just as much as I did—though for his own reasons, which he'd never fully shared.
I answered Karl's question with confidence.
"He won't refuse me."
Callius must have been tempted by my offer. The information I'd given him, the warning about Count Elbern's betrayal, the promise of the gold mine...
He's probably in desperate need of a helping hand right now. I'm offering him exactly what he needs.
Karl didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let the matter drop with characteristic good grace.
"If you say so. But why him? Marquis Rodrian is someone you don't even know properly."
"Well..."
"...?"
I paused, considering how much to reveal. Then decided on a truth that was both honest and deflective.
"I like his face."
"Ugh!"
Karl made an exaggerated gagging expression that was so comically horrified I couldn't help but laugh.
"That's why you're going to marry that man? Because of his face?!"
"Why not? Isn't that as good a reason as any?"
"Haven't you heard what Andrea's maids gossip about? They say Marquis Rodrian bathes in the blood of the people he kills on the battlefield. That the smell of blood never leaves him."
I pretended to consider this seriously.
"Is that some kind of special skincare regimen? His complexion looked excellent tonight. Very smooth."
"...Chloe!"
Karl's expression of scandalized disbelief was so endearing that I let out a genuine laugh—the first real one I'd had in far too long.
"Sorry, I was joking. I don't actually believe those ridiculous rumors. You know how it is—people only believe Andrea's lies when they gossip about me being insane. Why should I trust their gossip about anyone else?"
Karl nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Well... yes, that's true. But it's not just because of his face, is it...?"
I looked at Karl for a long moment, studying his features in the moonlight filtering through the corridor windows.
Those golden eyes. That particular shape of his face. The way he carried himself despite his perpetually youthful appearance.
And I told him the second truth—the one I hadn't shared with Callius.
"That man looks like you."
"...What?"
Karl froze, his expression shifting through several emotions too quickly to identify.
"Marquis Rodrian. He has your eyes. The same color, the same shape. And something about the way he moves reminds me of you."
I smiled softly at my friend.
"You're the only person who's ever been kind to me, Karl. The only one who saw me as a person rather than a mad princess or a political pawn. So when I met someone who reminded me of you... I thought perhaps he might be trustworthy too."
It wasn't the whole truth. I couldn't tell Karl that I knew Callius would be murdered by Andrea. Couldn't explain that saving Callius was both revenge against my brother and atonement for my past life's ignorance.
But it was true enough.
Karl had been my anchor to sanity when everyone else insisted I was losing my mind. If Callius possessed even a fraction of Karl's integrity...
Then maybe this desperate gamble has a chance of succeeding.
Karl's expression had gone strangely unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.
Finally, he just shook his head with a rueful smile.
"You really are something else, Chloe. I hope you know what you're doing."
"So do I," I admitted quietly. "So do I."
Karl walked with me back to my chambers, keeping to the shadows and avoiding the patrol routes we'd both memorized over the years.
When we reached the servant's entrance he used for his clandestine visits, he paused.
"Will you be all right? If Andrea finds out you went to the banquet..."
"He'll be furious," I finished calmly. "Good. Let him be angry. I'm done being afraid of his moods."
Karl studied my face for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"You've changed. Since that night you told me you were going to stop trusting Andrea... you're different."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No," he said firmly. "It's good. This version of you is... stronger. More like who you were always supposed to be."
The words touched something deep in my chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with Callius's borrowed coat.
"Thank you, Karl. For everything."
"Don't thank me yet. Save it for after this insane plan of yours actually works."
He flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the secret passage.
I made my way to my chambers, where—as expected—my maids were waiting with expressions of barely concealed panic.
"Your Highness! Where have you been? We were so worried—"
"I went for a walk," I said mildly, brushing past them. "Is that not allowed?"
"Of course it's allowed, Your Highness, but to go to the banquet hall in your nightclothes—"
"I felt like it. Is there a problem?"
The senior maid's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. She clearly wanted to scold me, to lecture me about propriety and scandal, but she couldn't quite bring herself to openly berate an imperial princess.
No matter how "mad" everyone claimed I was.
"I'm tired. I'll be retiring now. Please don't disturb me."
I swept into my bedchamber and closed the door firmly before any of them could protest.
Alone at last, I removed Callius's coat and laid it carefully over a chair.
The heavy fabric still held traces of his warmth, that scent of pine and steel and distant northern winds.
So the first move is made.
I'd presented my offer. Shown Callius that I possessed knowledge I shouldn't have. Given him reason to believe I could be useful as an ally.
Now all I could do was wait to see if he would take the bait.
Come see me, Marquis Rodrian. Accept my proposal.
Marry me, and together we'll destroy the man who wants us both dead.
I looked out the window toward the distant northern mountains, barely visible as dark shadows against the starlit sky.
Somewhere out there was Ronheim—the frozen territory that would soon become either my salvation or my tomb.
Everything depends on what Callius decides.
---