Rowell's enlarged eyes captured the figure in front of her. The platinum blonde hair disheveled on the pale forehead, contrasting with the azure wall. Despite the bright appearance, an ominous and fierce atmosphere couldn't be hidden.
All these descriptions pointed to only one person.
Peter. Her childhood friend. Her only lingering attachment.
But why on earth was Peter here?
Rowell walked unsteadily, confused. The hand that had been clutching the hem of her skirt had long since relaxed. She approached him with her hands outstretched in a daze as if she were a person navigating through darkness reaching out for someone. Naturally, the man in front of her, Peter, was the exit from the darkness.
But Rowell couldn't escape the darkness. The moment her hand was about to touch the man, the man grabbed her hand roughly. The man she met a short distance away made Rowell's confidence even clearer.
“… Peter.”
It's definitely him. It can't be anyone else. Even if the bone structure has become more robust and the face has changed, the intuition of the body is more certain than the head.
Even without comparing his features in detail, she was able to recognize the man in front of her. She was sure it was Peter.
Just as joy was about to fill Rowell's dark eyes at the unexpected encounter.
“Do you even learn acting now?”
A cold mockery woke her up. Only then did she escape from the boy in her memories. The man in front of her was coldly mocking Rowell while holding his wrist.
"With black hair and black eyes, I couldn't believe it when I heard it. I didn't expect to bring a woman so similar."
So similar that it's disgusting.
The man muttered so and then, gripping her wrist, threw her as if she were nothing. Due to her vulnerable state, Rowell was pushed back without resistance and curled up on the bed. Although the thickly padded skirts protected her from any pain, it was evident that her appearance had become a mess.
And there was someone enjoying this sight right in front of her.
The man who had approached her suddenly grabbed Rowell's chin.
His gaze, as blue as a frozen river, was fierce and cold at the same time, as if it would cut her at any moment.
"Tell me. What did those who sent you to me say?"
“… What,"
“When you dare to come before me with that face, isn’t there a purpose? Did they ask you to seduce me? Did they say if you call me Peter, I’m going to tear up and lift the hem of your skirt to wipe my tears?”
The pitchless voice seemed peaceful at first glance, but Rowell could feel the suppressed anger inside it. She also knew the name of the emotion contained in those eyes staring at her.
Rage.
"Did you think I wouldn't kill you?"
"...Yes."
If she didn't answer here, she would die. Rowell, who was already in this situation, had expected this much. Naturally, she had prepared words to answer.
“You need me.”
The emperor's brows narrowed. The hand gripping the chin tightened, but Rowell continued to speak resolutely.
"I heard... that you've reached your limit. If it progresses a bit more, it will be difficult for you to maintain your sanity."
Rowell's breath trembled. Facing the Emperor's intense gaze was not easy for her either. Moreover, what she was saying now particularly touched on his sensitive nerves.
There are two well-known facts about the Von Derain family of the Belf Empire.
The first is that they are of dragon blood.
Although they were mixed with dragon blood, their appearance was not much different from that of an ordinary person.
The problem is the second fact.
The second fact is that madness runs in the veins of the Von Derain Belf family. It was an abnormal reaction that occurred because a non-dragon person inherited dragon blood.
And there is only one way to suppress that madness - finding a mate.
If they don't have an obsessive mate, the madness will devour them.
The living proof of this is the current emperor, Peter Von Derain Belf.
He had been without a mate for a long time, and as a result, the fact that the current Emperor was suffering from madness had long been a public secret among the high nobility. The reason why there was a state of emergency among all the nobles when the Emperor said he would seek a bride was also because of this.
Without a mate or something similar, the Emperor would truly go insane.
The Emperor, understanding Rowell's intention, let out a faint laugh.
"So, is that the reason I should spare you? There are plenty of women out there.”
"But there are hardly any women with conditions like mine."
The reason the Emperor had not sought a mate until now.
His first love, the deceased Emperor's first love, had black hair and black eyes.
Although no one currently knows who she was or how she died, at least the rumor has spread that she was unusually born with black hair.
"Only I... can suppress Your Majesty's madness."
"Haa."
In the end, the Emperor let out a short laugh. He released Rowell, then slowly approached the bed.
"Yes, you're right. If you want to deceive me using someone who's already dead to that extent, fine. I'll accommodate you."
Although he had a smiling face, it was evident that the Emperor was far from in a cheerful mood. The Emperor's voice, scratching harshly as it flowed through his dry throat, revealed this.
"Open your mouth. I'll do as you wish."
"Wait a moment..."
Rowell's desperate voice leaked from her lips, but she was cut off before she could complete her sentence. The Emperor's lips had crudely engulfed hers. The intrusion was fierce, like a wild assault, due to her startled reaction.
Rene was right when he said that she would have to bear the wrath of the emperor. Rowell couldn't close her eyes even for a moment. The overlapped bridge of the nose, the sharp breath, and the hand holding her all seemed to shake her mind in a strange way.
Never before had she experienced any crisis that could break through her defenses like this. No temptation of death she had faced was as sweet, and no suffering had left her breathless like this.
Thus, this was the instinctual boundary being breached. The moment she let go of that string, she would be swept away like sand caught in a wave. Realizing this, Rowell pushed the Emperor away. As if the intense closeness just moments ago was something false, the man smoothly parted his lips.
"You really haven't been properly educated. I'm not someone who gets excited by forcing himself on a reluctant woman."
The Emperor's hand pressed Rowell's lips, who was breathing heavily. In that moment, Rowell's lips were red and swollen, as if to prove the rough kiss.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? If you came here to seduce me, you should do it right. You dared to say you'd accommodate me."
If she acted this way, it would only mean she wanted to be killed.
At the end, Rowell curled up on the bed. It was because the Emperor had thrown her there. Looking down at Rowell with a contemptuous gaze, the Emperor spoke.
"This time, they've found dolls that are good at acting."
It was a blatant mockery. It was a statement that reminded her that her situation was nothing more than a puppet to be played with.
If she were an ordinary person, she might have felt humiliation at such treatment. She might have trembled with tears in her eyes.
But Rowell was indifferent. No, she was even pleased.
From the beginning, what she truly wanted was not to survive.
'...It's over now.'
The reason she didn't immediately push the Emperor away when their lips met was simply to confirm her doubts. Was this man truly not Peter? Was it just her delusion?
And the conclusion came more easily than she thought.
'There's no way someone like him is Peter.'
Peter, whom Rowell loved, and who loved her more than anyone in the world, was a boy who could easily smile at a single flower. He was an innocent boy who, with a cynical expression, used to chase Rowell's footsteps and considered combing her hair as his happiness.
Just recalling him made her feel happy, so whenever life became too difficult, she would think of that boy as if holding onto a lifeline under the bright sun.
If Peter were someone like the Emperor before her eyes...
‘… I’ll kill him.’
Rowell seemed unable to forgive anything.
In the past 10 years, Peter has never returned to Rowell.
Peter never returned, and the Hessen family was annihilated by the imperial family as soon as he left.
Could these two things truly have no connection whatsoever?
Somehow, Peter was involved in the Hessen mansion's fire.
'Boldly keeping quiet about such a topic, still living as if nothing happened.'
As soon as she realized this fact, a hot flame surged fiercely from within her abdomen.
The only memory that allowed Rowell to exist as Rowell, the one that let her live, became a sharp blade, tormenting her. It took only the blink of an eye for longing to turn into betrayal.
If the Emperor before her eyes were Peter, even such a humble household would evoke such strong emotions.
'I can't forgive it.'
Therefore, the Emperor had to be someone other than Peter.
He had to respond to the nickname "Peter" as if it were unrelated to him, the act of seeking a woman with black hair and black eyes had to be irrelevant to him. He just had to be someone she resented, someone she had to kill.
He must not tarnish the only light she had left to live. Please, at least this...
"While you are by my side, you are Rowell."
In that moment, something heavy settled within Rowell.
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