Trying to regain her composure, she bit the inside of her cheek until the sharp taste of copper flooded her mouth.
"That's it. If you continue practicing this way, you won't have any problems."
Asella's gaze drifted automatically toward the man riding beside her on his massive black stallion.
A light spring breeze ruffled his dark locks, and through his disheveled bangs, those striking ruby eyes regarded her with unexpected tenderness.
_What's wrong with him? Am I imagining things?_
It was precisely at that moment that Asella was struck by her own treacherous thoughts.
_Wake up, Asella!_
And suddenly, unbidden, Anthony's voice slithered into her mind.
_Are you deluding yourself into thinking you've made a successful marriage? You're a pathetic woman—simply sold for a hefty sum by me and my father._
"Ah—" The sound escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Reality crashed back with brutal clarity. She had been stripped of her title and fortune, then sold to the very man who had murdered her mother. Her entire heritage—the same family that had dreamed of crushing and burying the Charts bloodline—had been delivered into the hands of their sworn enemy. The Benvitos had always been willing to pay any price for this victory.
And yet...
_What is this feeling?_
Somewhere deep in her heart—so wounded it had long since grown numb to pain—a dull ache began to throb. Asella suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry.
_Why? Why must everything be like this?_
Her heart began pounding wildly, erratically. Trying desperately to regain control, she tensed her entire body and unconsciously clenched her legs against the horse's sides.
The animal, sensing its rider's sudden panic, shuddered in fear—and bolted forward with a piercing neigh.
"Asella!"
Calix spotted the danger instantly. He spurred his stallion and galloped after her, but it was already too late. Her horse was rapidly gaining speed, its hooves thundering against the earth.
He caught up within seconds, positioning himself alongside as he shouted toward her deathly white face:
"Pull on the reins! *Harder!* Shi-a-a-a!"
Calix gritted his teeth, trying to understand what had happened—what had gone so suddenly, catastrophically wrong.
But Asella's mind had gone completely blank with terror. She couldn't hear his words. Her hands lost all strength, the reins slipped from her numb fingers, and the horse—now utterly out of control—raced forward at breakneck speed.
"Damn it! *Grab the reins!*"
Finally, some fragment of the desperate male voice penetrated her consciousness. She fumbled blindly, trying to find the leather straps, but the horse was moving so fast she could barely distinguish her own hands from the rushing blur of movement around her.
Then, without warning, the horse slowed—and with a tremendous whinny, reared up on its hind legs.
"**ASELLA!!!**"
She was thrown upward, her body suspended for one terrible, weightless moment—then hurled violently backward. A whistling sound filled her ears as reality distorted and stretched. Somewhere in the distance, muffled and anxious voices called out, but her mind felt as though it were being pulled deeper and deeper into a bottomless black void.
Down...
Down...
---
## — Awakening —
The warmth surrounding her body was so comforting that tears pricked at her closed eyes.
_I don't want to wake up. Not ever. I'll just keep my eyes shut. Just like this..._
"Asella!"
A desperate cry shattered through the peaceful darkness:
"Wake up, Asella! *Breathe!*"
Her mind, which had been sinking into that lulling abyss, was suddenly wrenched upward—like a fish swimming peacefully in the depths, abruptly thrown onto dry, gasping land.
Asella's entire body arched violently. She choked, coughed, then drew in a painful, ragged breath. Her lungs seized the air greedily, and the breathing that had stopped from shock finally resumed.
Consciousness returned in fragments. Vision and thought gradually cleared.
A dark silhouette loomed persistently before her eyes.
_The Prince..._
"Are you all right?"
She couldn't comprehend what had happened.
Asella blinked slowly, her eyelids impossibly heavy, and finally parted her lips.
"What... happened to me?"
"You fell from your horse."
_But how?_
The memory surfaced in disjointed pieces. _I heard Anthony's voice in my head. I dug my heels into the horse without realizing I might frighten it. And then that wild, uncontrollable gallop... When it reared up, I had time to think—this is the end..._
"Then how...?"
Asella lowered her gaze and slowly examined her body. No blood. No pain. Which meant, apparently, no fractures either.
"Have you lost something?"
Her body suddenly twisted in an unnatural way, drawn by some unseen force, then straightened against her will. Only then did she realize she was cradled in a man's arms.
Asella shuddered, instinct demanding she break free. But the embrace only tightened.
"Sit still." Calix pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt. Simultaneously, his other arm drew Asella even closer against his chest. "Next time, I might not be so fortunate."
Asella trembled at the unfamiliar sensation enveloping her back and shoulders. She found she couldn't move. He had never pressed this close before. And the smell...
A rich, heavy masculine scent invaded her nostrils and flooded her lungs. Asella squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to overcome the dizzying sensation. Heat rose to her face, and her head spun. She tried to lean back, her lips barely parting as she whispered:
"No. Everything is fine."
"What were you *thinking*?"
An angry voice rang out directly above her head.
Asella flinched reflexively.
"How could you push the horse to a speed you couldn't handle, then *let go of the reins*? That's pure madness!"
Strangely, the angry voice wasn't frightening at all. Beneath the sharp words, she detected something else entirely—something that sounded almost like concern.
An unfamiliar vibration stirred somewhere in the far corner of her chest. Asella blinked at the strange, alien sensation, then immediately clenched her fists.
_Stop inventing this nonsense, Asella. It's completely ridiculous._
"Don't assume you're any different from a complete beginner simply because you rode as a child. It's far too early for you to attempt anything dangerous."
"I'm sorry..." The words emerged automatically—words she had uttered countless times before. She caught herself, lowered her head, and bit down hard on her lip.
_What is he doing? Acting concerned? Don't trust him. Don't be like a foolish child who believes a villain is good simply because he offered a handful of sweets._
A reproachful sigh came from above.
"If I had been even a *second* later, you would have broken your neck."
Asella finally understood. Calix had saved her. Only now did she fully realize she was sitting astride the Archduke's horse, buried deep within his protective embrace.
She tried to turn her head to look at him, but somehow couldn't manage it. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. So she only whispered quietly:
"For saving me..."
There was only one word left to complete the sentence. But she couldn't finish. Her tongue had gone numb and refused to obey.
"Your Highness! What happened?"
Raizen and Zeke raced toward them at full gallop, raising clouds of dust in their wake. When they drew close, they slowed and halted their horses beside the Archduke's.
"Are you injured, Your Highness?" Raizen's eyes swept over Asella with concern.
"No. Everything is fine."
Raizen released a visible breath of relief.
"I'll summon a physician immediately."
Calix nodded in agreement and pulled on the reins, turning his stallion around. Then he looked down at Asella.
"We're returning to the castle. You nearly fell from your horse—you need to see a doctor."
Disappointment washed through her at his words.
_It's over._
She had made a foolish mistake. But everything had worked out, somehow.
Yet she couldn't bring herself to ask him to continue the training. It wasn't worth testing the patience of a man who had just demonstrated incredible generosity—saving a woman who was completely useless to him. Perhaps making such a request would force him to retract his earlier show of mercy.
"...Yes."
Asella had no choice but to respond exactly as she did. This was the kind of obedience Philip had drilled into her over many years.
_Don't ask for anything._
---
## — Before Dawn —
It was still very early. The gray morning light was just beginning to creep through the windows of the spacious corridor when Calix opened the door and departed Asella's quarters.
The guards, as always, greeted him with silent bows.
Since their master had taken to visiting every night, his presence no longer surprised anyone. What remained strange, however, was that he invariably departed in a foul mood.
Tonight, he was especially grim.
The instant he stepped into the hallway, the space flooded with his ominous energy.
_Perhaps it's because of yesterday's events,_ one guard thought. _The servants said the Grand Duchess had an accident at the riding arena. And that it was entirely her fault._
"Summon Raizen to me."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
It was still terribly early. But no one dared remind the castle's master of this fact.
One subordinate immediately rushed to carry out the order. Calix, however, strode off down the long corridor without pausing or looking back. Only after the suffocating whirlwind of deadly intent trailing behind the Prince had subsided somewhat did the guards allow themselves to exhale.
Only through their extensive training as the Archduke's elite escort were they able to withstand this murderous aura—the kind that would have rendered an ordinary person unconscious.
It was strange. When their master had entered the Grand Duchess's apartment late in the evening, he had seemed perfectly composed. Had something happened between them?
"What's wrong with him?"
"No idea."
"This is how he was last seen on the battlefield several years ago."
The guards exchanged hunted glances, recognizing the unmistakable scent of impending bloodshed. All they could determine with certainty was that his fury was somehow connected to the Grand Duchess.
---
## — Calix —
He walked with heavy, deliberate steps down the corridor toward his office. The space around him thrummed with his deadly energy, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
He was now a very different man from the one who had tried so desperately to restrain himself around his wife—carefully controlling his power for fear that she might awaken.
Finally, he reached his office. The door slammed shut behind him with violent force.
"I'm sorry..."
The words flashed through his mind unbidden. That voice—so timid, so fragile, always ready to fall silent at the slightest provocation.
It was her nightmare again. The same one. Night after night, she dreamed of Philip and Anthony. And each time, choking on tears, she repented of sins she had never committed, begged for forgiveness, pleaded with them not to beat her and to spare her sister.
But last night, the nightmare had lasted far too long.
He had wanted so desperately to wake her, but he was terrified that his presence would only frighten her more. Her face bloodless and white, drenched in cold sweat, she had tossed and turned—constantly begging for mercy, for forgiveness.
In the end, all Calix could do was gather her gently into his arms and rock her like a child.
"Everything is fine. Everything will be fine," he had whispered into the unfortunate woman's ear, no longer certain whether he was trying to comfort her—or himself.
For the first time in his entire life, he had felt truly, utterly helpless.
It was nearly dawn when the exhausted woman finally fell silent. Gazing down at his sleeping wife's haggard, tear-streaked face, Calix felt something dark and terrible rising within him.
A mortal rage.
"Subjected to constant abuse following the death of Marchioness Adele Charts."
The words from an old intelligence report—words he had initially dismissed without a second thought—were now branded into his brain like marks from a hot iron.
_I knew. But I didn't think it was this severe._
_...No. That's not true._
The report had detailed everything: the types of corporal punishment employed, their frequency and timing, even the lasting aftereffects she suffered. It had described the open hostility and contempt she received from Philip's household staff.
But for him, at the time, those had been merely words printed on paper. He had attached no significance to them whatsoever.
Now... now reading those same words was unbearable.
He thought again of that thin wrist covered in dark bruises.
The report stating that she had endured every beating without complaint now left no room for doubt in his mind. The image of his wife lying crumpled on a floor, splattered with her own blood, materialized vividly before his eyes.
He clenched his fist so tightly that veins bulged along his bare forearm.
"**Beasts.**"
*Click. Click.*
His spiraling fury was interrupted by an insistent tapping.
The magical messenger had returned. Calix recognized the sound and crossed to open the window. A bird as black as midnight swept into the office.
An envelope bearing a gold clasp and the unmistakable imprint of the imperial seal dropped onto his desk.
"Rest."
Obeying his command, the bird dissolved into a cloud of dark smoke, dissipating into nothingness.
Calix picked up the envelope slowly, broke the seal, examined its contents—and twisted his mouth into a chilling grin.
---
## — Orders —
"Your Highness, I was informed that you require my presence."
"Here." Calix extended the letter without preamble. "Read this."
Raizen scanned the document, and his eyes widened with disbelief.
"Philip has petitioned for Anthony to be appointed Marquis of Charts?"
Calix allowed himself to imagine how thoroughly this petty man's relentless importuning must be irritating the Emperor. Fernando was currently feeling so unwell that he had been forced to postpone all official business indefinitely.
And that situation suited Calix Benvito perfectly.
"Prepare the basement properly."