March 1, 2021
"You’re working hard."
Alicia’s eyes widened slightly at the shadow cast over her. When she met Cabelenus’s gaze, she smiled.
"Sorry, I was so focused I didn’t hear you come in."
She set down the pen she had been holding.
"Is the translation going well?"
"It’s slow since I haven’t used this language in a long time, but I’m getting faster."
"Just don’t overdo it. This isn’t something you need to push yourself for."
Cabelenus’s gaze flickered to the papers in front of her. The pages were densely filled with neat, precise handwriting—just like her.
"I know."
"For someone who knows, you’ve written a lot. Are you sure you’re not overworking yourself?"
He gestured to the growing stack of papers beside her. The pile had noticeably thickened since the last time he saw it.
"The sooner I finish the translation, the better. Besides, I’ve already learned a lot from these texts."
Alicia turned her head toward the mural on the wall.
It depicted wolves gazing at the sun, standing side by side with monsters.
"The stories written here are completely different from the myths told by the Prime Temple."
"That’s not surprising. The temple has always twisted history to suit its needs."
"Even so, it’s hard to fully believe what’s written here. Especially considering who recorded it..."
Alicia carefully ran her fingers over the translation she had written.
This wasn’t just a collection of ancient stories—it was someone’s diary.
It wasn’t an objective record but a raw, emotional account. And within those entries, a name appeared—one that should not have been there.
"Does it seem strange that Prime was a monster?"
"Of course it’s strange. He was worshiped as a god..."
Her voice trailed off.
To think that the one they praised as a god was the very being they despised—
Even though she had never truly believed in Prime, the revelation was shocking.
"The temple chose to call him a god. But if you think about it, he was never truly divine. He was merely a vessel of devotion."
"You’re incredibly calm about this, considering you’re an imperial."
"It’s not a bad thing. If the temple’s so-called Prime God is revealed to be a monster, their entire foundation crumbles."
"But we can’t convince people with just what’s written here. You know that."
The Prime Temple had existed since the founding of the empire. It wasn’t something that could be toppled so easily. If anything, they would likely be the ones branded as heretics.
"Then we’ll make them believe it."
"How?"
"By legitimizing the monsters. We’ll reverse their roles—make the temple the villain instead."
"...Is that even possible?"
Alicia furrowed her brows.
Cabelenus reached out and gently smoothed the wrinkle between them.
"Only if communication with the monsters is possible."
"Are you saying... you’re willing to ally with them?"
"If necessary, yes."
"...Will you be alright?"
Her voice trembled slightly.
Alicia knew exactly what monsters meant to him.
Cabelenus smiled as he looked into her worried eyes.
"I’m fine now."
"But—"
"I mean it."
"..."
Alicia wrapped her arms around his waist.
Without another word, Cabelenus slowly ran his hand down her back, comforting her.
The blood of monsters still coursed through his veins. To him, it had always been a curse.
That power had been the root of every nightmare in his life.
But he no longer resented it the way he once had.
That same blood had prevented him from living a normal life—but it had also kept him alive.
And because of it, he had met Alicia.
"They’ll come again soon."
"Yes."
"And when they do... we’ll know for sure."
Whether they are our allies... or our enemies.
Cabelenus pulled Alicia closer. She instinctively leaned into him.
***
"You’re up early, my lady."
"It’s a habit. Are you leaving for somewhere?"
"Something came up. I’ll be away for a little while."
Fenril hadn’t expected to see her before his departure. The chance encounter made him smile without realizing it.
"Then..."
"Oh, I won’t be gone for good. I’ll definitely return."
Fenril’s voice came out faster than intended.
"I see. Safe travels, then."
"Of course. Ah, and about those cookies you gave me—I really enjoyed them."
"Were they to your taste?"
"Yes. They were delicious. You have quite the talent."
"I wouldn’t say that..." Alicia replied with a soft smile.
Encouraged by her reaction, Fenril spoke even more enthusiastically.
"No, really! They were so good that after I finished them, I even wanted the ones in His Highness’s office!"
"In His Highness’s office?"
"Yes. There were cookies just like the ones you gave me in his office as well."
"Oh, but I didn’t bake those."
"You... didn’t?"
Fenril’s voice faltered.
It didn’t make sense. The cookies in Cabelenus’s office had looked and tasted exactly like the ones Alicia had given him.
"Those were made by His Highness."
"...By His Highness?"
For a moment, Fenril thought he had misheard.
Without realizing it, he touched his ear, as if to check if it was functioning properly.
"Mikael played a little prank, you see."
"...So you’re telling me His Highness actually baked those cookies?"
Alicia chuckled, but Fenril’s expression darkened instantly.
He suddenly recalled all the praise he had showered on the cookies in front of Cabelenus.
"Apparently, he has a talent for it. I only showed him once, but he picked it up right away."
"...I see."
Fenril forced an awkward smile.
But the shock didn’t fade so easily.
Just imagining the Duke of Schwarhan baking cookies was enough to make his stomach churn.
"I’m glad, though. I was worried they might not suit your taste. If you’d like, I can bake some more for you next time."
"Would you really?"
"Baking isn’t difficult."
"Then, I’ll be looking forward to it—if it’s not too much trouble."
Despite everything, there was still a glimmer of hope.
Even in the midst of all the looming darkness, there were still moments like this.
Fenril barely managed to steady himself, his green eyes shining with amusement.
Alicia looked up at him, noting the color of his gaze—a shade reminiscent of fresh greenery.
Ever since learning that Fenril was the youngest son of the Roakin leader, she had found herself paying more attention to him.
Few people still remembered the fallen princess of Neuschwein.
Looking at Fenril felt like looking at a remnant of the past.
It was strange.
But Alicia chose not to dwell on it.
That was a past long gone.
Fenril had been just a child back then—he wouldn’t even remember the brief engagement they had never acted upon.
There was no point in digging up old memories.
The present mattered far more.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
"I’ll bake as many cookies as you’d like, so be careful on your way."
"I suppose that’s reason enough to return safely."
After offering his final farewell, Fenril turned away.
Yet, only a few steps later, he found himself glancing back.
But Alicia never once turned around.
Unlike him, she kept walking forward, disappearing from sight without hesitation.
***
"We meet again."
"..."
"You look much worse than when I last saw you. I suppose that’s to be expected in prison."
Fenril smirked as he peered through the iron bars.
The man inside was a far cry from his former self.
His once lustrous silver hair was tangled and unkempt, his eyes bloodshot beneath the messy strands.
"...Did you come to mock me?"
Chapped lips parted slowly.
"What do you think?"
Fenril chuckled darkly.
"If you’ve seen enough of my miserable state, then get lost. I have no interest in—"
"Shall I set you free?"
"...What?"
"Do you not wish to leave this place?"
Fenril casually dangled a set of keys before him.
James’s eyes wavered.
But only for a moment.
"And what would I do if I left? I can no longer paint—I can no longer be an artist."
James raised his arms with a sneer.
His once-skilled hands now dangled limply—useless, broken beyond repair.
"Was it the Duke?"
"Yes. It was him."
James’s voice was filled with seething hatred.
He could still see it—Cabelenus’s cold gaze as he severed the tendons in his hands.
"Then that’s all the more reason to leave. Don’t you want revenge?"
"You’re talking nonsense."
"Then will you stay here and rot? Even though your death is inevitable?"
"..."
Fenril’s gaze shifted to James’s hands.
This wasn’t just a matter of injury anymore.
The wounds, left untreated, had begun to fester.
"If you stay, you’ll die just as the Duke intended."
"..."
"You’ll wither away in this filthy cell, suffering as your body decays—a slow, agonizing death, exactly as he planned."
"...What is it you want from me?"
James thrashed against his chains, but his restrained body barely moved.
"I already told you—I’m here to free you."
"You expect me to believe you’re not one of the Duke’s lackeys?"
"I only pretend to be."
Fenril tilted his head slightly, slipping his hands into his pockets.
His smile disappeared.
And with that simple change, his entire presence sharpened—like a blade unsheathed.
"I am Fenril Roakin, the sixth son of Palamar, Lord of Roakin. And once... I was Alicia’s betrothed."
"...What did you just say?"
Judging by James’s reaction, he hadn’t known.
"You didn’t know? Well... no matter. Now you do."
Fenril nonchalantly unlocked the cell door.
James instinctively stepped back.
"Alicia’s full name is Alicia Neuschwein. She was once the princess of Neuschwein."
Before the Duke destroyed everything.
Fenril stepped closer, ignoring the rancid stench clinging to James.
"The Duke didn’t just annihilate her homeland—he executed her parents and siblings on the guillotine."
"..."
"And in the end, she lost everything. She now lives alongside the very man who murdered her family. And worse, she has been deceived into trusting him."
Fenril’s face twisted in mock pity.
But in reality, he was closely watching James’s every reaction.
"I want revenge on the Duke. And I want to free Alicia from his grasp."
"...Then why are you helping me? You’ve seen what he’s done to me."
"I don’t have the power to strike him down myself. But I know exactly how to destroy him."
"You know how?"
James’s face twisted in suspicion.
"I need you to be my voice."
"My voice?"
"The empire already had its grievances against Roakin. But lately, tensions have escalated—getting close to the Emperor is more difficult than ever."
Fenril smirked.
"So I need you to do it for me."
James scoffed.
"That’s absurd. I’m no noble—I’m just a commoner."
"That’s not a problem. Making you a noble is easy enough."
"...You think I can become a noble?"
James’s voice wavered.
"I’ll handle everything. Clothes, status—you’ll have everything you need."
"..."
"You’re hesitating."
"...How can I trust you?"
James’s gaze darkened with distrust.
But Fenril only laughed.
"Why are you laughing?!"
"Because what choice do you have?"
"What?"
"Stay here and die, if you’d ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) prefer. There are plenty of others who want the Duke dead. It doesn’t have to be you."
But it would be a waste if it wasn’t.
Fenril’s hand brushed over James’s trembling shoulder.
Pushing desperate men past their limits had always come naturally to him.
