"...She still hasn't woken up?"
The question had been asked—
Repeatedly.
Daily.
Relentlessly.
And every time—
The answer remained the same.
"...Not yet, Your Highness."
Rael stood by the tall window of his study, one hand resting against the frame, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the gardens.
Unmoving.
Unwavering.
Unconvinced.
"...I see," he said quietly.
But the silence that followed stretched longer each time.
Because he did not believe it.
Not fully.
Not comfortably.
And yet—
He had chosen not to know.
Inside the estate—
A very different reality existed.
"...This is perfect."
Esmeralda lay sprawled across her bed like a noblewoman who had officially resigned from responsibility.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warm and soft, brushing across her face as she stretched lazily.
No nobles.
No politics.
No assassination attempts.
"...Peace," she sighed, smiling faintly.
Belle stood nearby, arms crossed so tightly they might as well have been tied.
"My lady... you've been 'unconscious' for three days."
"...And I've never been more alive."
"That is deeply concerning."
"It is deeply refreshing."
The Duke stood near the doorway, watching the scene with quiet amusement.
"She wishes to rest," he said simply.
The Duchess nodded, her gaze gentle as it lingered on her daughter.
"And we will allow it."
Belle looked between them in disbelief.
"...We are actively deceiving the Crown Prince, your Grace."
"...We are protecting our daughter," the Duchess corrected softly.
A pause.
"...I suppose I should support this decision," the Duke added calmly.
"...Of course you do," the Duchess muttered.
Meanwhile—
Outside that carefully constructed lie—
Rael was very much not at peace.
"...She should have woken by now."
His voice was quieter this time.
Less controlled.
His aide, Jack, stood nearby, arms loosely folded, gaze thoughtful.
"...The physician said recovery varies," he replied.
"...It's been days."
"...Yes."
Silence settled between them.
Heavy.
"...You removed the spy," Jack added.
Rael's jaw tightened slightly.
"...She wouldn't like it."
"...And now you don't know anything."
A pause.
"...I know enough," Rael said.
But his eyes—
Still fixed on the estate—
betrayed him.
Back in her room—
Esmeralda sat up, stretching her arms overhead with a satisfied sigh.
"...Alright," she said. "Let's assess my progress."
Esmeralda began counting on her fingers.
"Avoided public humiliation."
"Maintained family reputation."
"Prevented engagement—temporarily resolved. Awaiting heroine"
"Survived kidnapping."
"Survived poisoning."
She nodded to herself.
"...I'm doing exceptionally well."
"Near death.. a minor inconvenience." She thought to herself but stopped midway.
"...I am terrifyingly efficient." she realized to herself.
Then—
Her expression shifted.
Subtle.
Serious.
"...There's one thing left."
Esmeralda rang her bell to call for her personal maid, Belle.
"Yes, my lady?" Belle arrived.
"Oh, my dear beloved friend—"
"...I don't like that tone."
Then—
"...I want to go to a tavern."
Belle froze.
"...You what?"
"...Just once," Esmeralda said dramatically, clasping Belle's hands. "Before I die."
"You are not dying."
"Before I almost die again."
"That is not better."
"...I have never experienced common life," she continued, voice softening just enough to sound convincing. "The noise, the atmosphere, the people..."
"...The bad decisions," Belle said flatly.
"...The bad decisions," Esmeralda agreed solemnly.
Belle stared at her.
Long.
Deeply.
Then sighed.
"...Fine." Belle gave in.
Esmeralda hugged her maid tightly.
"You're the best Belle!"
"Just remember to return before the 10 p.m. I do not want to be the cause of another disaster, my lady. And bring a guard with you! I swear—"
"I will!" Esmeralda assured.
Despite her assurance, Esmeralda didn't intend to bring anyone with her. She had to do it alone or it will be very suspicious that she suddenly went to find a man.
Finding a man who was close to her age would create the biggest scandal in society.
But this man was no ordinary man, he was the second son of her grandfather, the duke's half brother. The former Duke remarried when the former Duchess died. It was chaos at that time but it was already resolved within the family. This uncle of hers was just a few years older and has lived as a mercenary since his mother died. In the novel, he helped with the downfall of the duchy by siding with the heroine and falsely accused the duchy as savages who supported slavery. He even planted false evidence since he fell in love with the heroine and wanted the downfall of Esmeralda's family. It was like he also held a grudge against the Duchy. Esmeralda wanted to know why and the only way to know was to find him herself.
The commoner's tavern was where Marcus frequented in the book. Also the place he met the heroine.
---
The tavern was everything Esmeralda expected—
And worse.
Loud laughter.
Clinking glasses.
The smell of ale and smoke woven into the air.
Life—
Raw and unfiltered.
"...This is fascinating," she whispered.
And then—
She saw him.
Dark hair.
Relaxed posture.
Emerald eyes, a feature the Schuan duchy carried.
Scars on his chin, carrying experience far beyond his years.
A man who blended in—
But didn't belong.
Marcus Schuan
my uncle
"...Found you," she murmured.
She approached.
Without hesitation.
Of course she did.
"You look like trouble," she said casually.
The man blinked slowly.
"...Excuse me?"
"...You have the energy of someone who causes problems."
"...And you approached me?"
"...I enjoy problems."
A pause.
"...You're annoying."
"...That's not a denial."
"...That's a warning."
Yes.
Definitely him.
"...Have we met? Your eyes are very familiar."
"...No. but I'm here to fix that." she replied.
"...You shouldn't."
"...You're difficult."
"...You're worse."
Perfect.
"...My lady."
The voice froze her instantly.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Too dangerous.
"...Oh no."
Rael stood at the entrance. He was in the city to do his unobtrusive night rounds. This was what he usually did for the duties he performed in the empire. Halfway through it, he followed a glimpse of a familiar silver hair.
Hoping—
Praying to himself—
That even though it felt like a lie, he had seen the girl he thought had been unconscious for a couple of days now.
"...Explain."
Still.
Watching.
Not amused.
Not pleased.
Worried.
"Excuse me for a while. I will get back to you, sir Marcus."
"How did you—"
Before Esmeralda could hear his question, she pulled Rael to the side.
"...You're supposed to be unconscious." Rael said in a low tone.
"...You're supposed to be in the palace." Esmeralda replied.
"...No."
"...You disappeared."
"...I rested."
"...In a tavern?"
"...I expanded my definition of rest."
"...That is not reassuring."
"Marcus! The boss wants to see you." a voice called out.
Esmeralda heard this and had to run towards Marcus.
"W-wait!" Esmeralda said quickly.
"Young maiden, I don't know how you know my name but I hope you don't recklessly approach men in taverns. Give yourself a favor by respecting yourself. "
Esmeralda could not retort his statement and just watched him go away without explaining herself. She looked at Rael with dismayed eyes.
"...Rude, Your Highness." she muttered.
"...You were flirting," Rael said.
"...I was networking."
"...In a tavern."
"...Connections come in all forms."
"...That was not a connection."
"...You interrupted it."
"...Intentionally."
Silence.
"...We're leaving."
"I refuse."
"You don't have a choice."
"I always have a choice."
"...Not tonight."
And yet—
She followed.
-----
The carriage ride was quiet.
Too quiet.
The rhythmic clatter of wheels against stone filled the space between them, steady and unrelenting—like a heartbeat that refused to calm.
Rael sat across from her, posture composed as ever.
But only at a glance.
Because the moment one looked closer—
The tension was there.
In the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee. In the way his gaze lingered—far longer than usual. In the way he had not looked away from her since they left the tavern.
"...You're worried," Esmeralda said finally, breaking the silence.
Her voice was softer now.
Less teasing.
More certain.
Rael didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth—
was far more than worry.
It was the memory of her collapsing.
The stillness of her body in his arms.
The faint—barely there—breath that had terrified him more than anything he had ever faced.
"...You disappeared," he said instead.
The words were controlled.
But the weight behind them wasn't.
"...I was fine."
"...You almost died."
"...I didn't."
"...You could have."
This time—
his voice faltered.
Just slightly.
Almost imperceptibly.
But it was there.
And that alone was rare enough to matter.
Silence followed.
But it wasn't empty.
It was heavy.
Filled with everything he wasn't saying.
He shouldn't care this much.
He knew that.
He understood it clearly.
She was an ally. A political necessity. A valuable connection to the stability of the kingdom.
That should have been enough.
But the image of her lying motionless—
refused to leave.
And the thought—
that he might have been too late—
settled somewhere deep and unwelcome.
"...I'm fine," she said again, softer this time.
She met his gaze.
A small smile.
"...See?"
And that—
irritated him.
Because she said it so easily.
As if it had been nothing.
As if he hadn't—
He exhaled slowly.
"...Don't do that again," he said quietly.
This time—
it wasn't an order.
It wasn't even a command.
It was something else.
Something closer to a request.
Something he wasn't used to making.
She tilted her head slightly.
"...No promises."
Of course.
Rael closed his eyes briefly.
Just for a moment.
"...Troublesome," he muttered.
But there was no real irritation in it.
Only relief.
And something quieter—
something he still refused to name.
"...Controlling," she replied.
And just like that—
The rhythm returned.
The bickering.
The familiar exchange.
But beneath it—
The silence between them had changed.
It was no longer empty.
It was full.
Of something neither of them was ready to acknowledge.
Something real.
And somewhere—
A mercenary walked away.
Unaware—
That the girl he dismissed so easily would one day decide his fate.