Francesca felt a wave of emotions rise within her.
Her poor, sweet honey bun…
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Still thinking his beloved maids were gone.
Her lips twitched, barely holding back a sly grin.
Oh, my love… you’re going to cry for a different reason soon.
She brushed his hair softly, her voice warm.
"Honey bun~"
Just as she was about to break the news—
"YOUNG MASTER!!"
Javier’s breath caught in his throat.
His body stiffened.
That voice—
That voice he had replayed in his mind for days.
That voice that haunted his dreams.
Slowly—he looked up.
His eyes were still blurry with tears.
His heart pounded violently.
Am I… hallucinating?
Was this just another cruel trick of his broken mind?
Because standing there—in the doorway—
Was Liana.
And beside her—Gloria.
Liana staggered forward, her body weak.
Gloria was beside her, also struggling to walk, but neither of them stopped.
They didn’t care about the pain.
They didn’t care that their bodies hadn’t fully healed.
Because Javier was awake.
And they needed to see him.
Francesca stood up, brushing her dress lightly.
She smiled softly—knowing her son was about to cry again, but for an entirely different reason.
"I should give you three some time."
With that, she gracefully stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Now—they were alone.
Javier stared, unblinking.
His mind refused to accept it.
Liana?
Gloria?
They were standing right there.
Slowly—they reached his bedside.
Liana leaned down, her eyes filled with warmth.
Gloria knelt beside her, her gaze just as soft.
And then—they hugged him.
Javier froze.
His body tensed, his breathing uneven.
Their arms wrapped around him gently.
Their bodies were warm.
Their breaths were soft against his skin.
Warm.
Real.
Javier’s hands shook as he slowly reached out—
And clutched their clothes tightly.
His eyes filled with fresh tears.
"…Is this real?"
His voice cracked.
His chest ached.
His head lowered, pressing against them.
Then—
He broke down.
Sobbing like a lost child finally finding his way home.
"…You’re alive…"
Javier clung to them, his fingers gripping their clothes tightly.
His body trembled violently, his sobs shaking his entire frame.
"I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I couldn’t protect you both…"
His voice cracked with pain, guilt, and desperation.
The memory of that day haunted him.
The moment he saw them stabbed.
The moment he thought they were gone forever.
The rage. The emptiness. The despair.
It all came crashing down on him again.
Liana held him tighter, pressing her forehead against his.
Her warm hands cupped his cheeks, wiping away his tears.
"Young Master… we’re here."
Gloria smiled softly, stroking his back, her own eyes glistening.
Javier wrapped his arms around them, pulling them close—too close.
His grip was desperate.
He needed to feel them.
To make sure they were real.
To make sure this wasn’t just another cruel dream.
Then—
"O-Ouch!! Young Master!!"
"A-Ahh! It still hurts!"
Javier froze.
His eyes widened in panic.
He immediately loosened his grip, his face paling.
"I-I’m sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you!?"
Liana managed a weak smile, still catching her breath.
"We’re fine… Just… a little softer, okay?"
Javier sniffled, nodding.
Then—he hugged them again.
Gently this time.
Carefully.
But with just as much love.
And for the first time in what felt like forever—
Javier felt whole again.
___
Meanwhile in the kingdom.
Inside the grand throne room, the atmosphere was heavy with tension.
King Edmund sat upon his throne, eyes scanning the gathered nobles.
Every lord, viscount, marquis, and duke in the kingdom had answered his summons.
All except one.
The king’s advisor stepped forward, his voice echoing through the hall.
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"ALL RISE!"
The nobles stood immediately.
Their expressions were tense, their bodies stiff.
They knew this was not a meeting of celebration.
They knew the king was not pleased.
"You may sit."
King Edmund’s voice was calm. Too calm.
The nobles lowered themselves onto their seats, waiting anxiously.
King Edmund flipped through the report given by his advisor.
Beside him, his son—the prince—watched with quiet interest.
And standing near the royal throne, Princess Kliatana, listened carefully.
Then—
The king’s gaze locked onto one man.
"Ibzles."
Duke Ibzles immediately stood, bowing his head.
"Yes, my liege."
The king’s expression remained unreadable.
Then, with a slow, deliberate tone—he spoke.
"It seems that this so-called ’holy war’… has not only resulted in a total loss—"
The room fell silent.
"—but it has also thrown your entire region into suffering due to trade collapse."
Duke Ibzles tensed, sweat forming on his brow.
King Edmund leaned back, resting his chin on his knuckles.
"And it has only been, what? A little over a month?"
A sharp pause.
Then—his lips curled into a cold smirk.
"This will result in… low tribute, won’t it?"
His tone dripped with sarcasm.
The gathered nobles shifted uncomfortably.
Because they all knew—
The king was not pleased.
Not at all.
King Edmund’s eyes scanned the room, filled with nobles who now looked uneasy.
He took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply.
And then—his voice thundered through the hall.
"Didn’t I warn every single one of you?"
The nobles flinched.
"Didn’t I tell you all that waging war within our own kingdom—war amongst the nobles—would bring disaster?"
His gaze darkened.
"And yet… you all ignored my warnings."
The king’s advisor stepped forward, handing him another report.
King Edmund glanced at it, his expression growing colder.
Then, in a low and deliberate tone, he continued.
"Not only have you suffered catastrophic losses in your armies—"
He flipped the page.
"—but you have also crippled the market."
Trade routes have collapsed.
Merchants are losing money.
Food shortages are rising, with Armand’s goods cut off.
Inflation is skyrocketing.
Commoners are growing restless due to high prices and lack of supplies.
King Edmund closed the report and let out a long, disappointed sigh.
"And this is just the part."
The nobles lowered their heads, some clenching their fists.
They hadn’t expected the war to turn into such a disaster.
They had underestimated Armand.
And now—they were paying the price.
King Edmund rested his chin on his knuckles again, his smirk returning—but this time, it was dangerous.
"Now then… let’s get to the real issue."
His eyes gleamed with power.
"Tribute."
The nobles froze.
"If any of your tributes this month are lower than expected…"
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then—
His smirk widened.
"I believe it’s time for me to personally oversee your lands."
The weight of his words crashed over the room like a tidal wave.
Everyone knew what that meant.
King Edmund was threatening to take their lands.
If their tribute fell too low—
Their territories would be seized.
The royal army would take over.
And those who once ruled would become nothing.
The nobles gritted their teeth, sweating nervously.
Because now—their survival was no longer about pride, power, or faith.
It was about keeping their land… before the king took everything.
( End of Chapter )