Chapter 12
While Asha and Alesto were lost in their own little world, Cedric couldn’t stay seated any longer—the heat rushing to his head was unbearable.
He abruptly pushed his chair back and left the building, his chest so tight and dry it felt like it might crack.
When his eyes had first met Asha’s on the balcony, he realized for the first time that a human heart could actually beat that fast.
A tiny spark of hope had flickered within him.
Would she recognize me?
After all, they were supposed to be matched through an arranged marriage. Maybe she had seen his portrait beforehand and would remember him.
But as if mocking that fragile hope, she had soon turned to the Crown Prince, smiled sweetly, and said that this was her first romance.
For a moment, everything went dark before his eyes.
The heavens truly had no mercy.
Born as the heir of a coastal region plagued by pirates, Cedric had lived his whole life under oppression and exploitation.
And now—even his fiancée had been taken right in front of him.
He was furious and heartbroken, but reality was cruel.
The man beside her was not just anyone—it was his benefactor, the Crown Prince himself.
Benefactor, and more.
If he wanted to keep his life—and his title—he couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the Crown Prince.
Everyone in the Empire knew the truth: even the Emperor himself was rumored to be little more than Alesto’s puppet.
And it was no exaggeration.
To even request an audience with His Majesty, one first had to receive permission from the Crown Prince.
To harbor feelings for that man’s woman?
It would be no different from laying oneself in a grave.
And that wasn’t even the biggest problem.
The real issue was—Asha didn’t even know who he was.
That was the reality.
Whether it was by a narrow miss or by a cruel twist of fate, they were strangers now.
He had to give up.
No matter how he thought about it, there was simply no way forward.
He would have to smother the fire in his heart with dirt if he had to—force himself to look at another woman.
He knew that.
He knew it was the right thing to do.
But why did it feel so suffocating?
As he stood there, lost in that bitter turmoil, his steward approached him.
“My lord.”
Cedric didn’t answer immediately. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled in a long, heavy sigh.
He couldn’t bring himself to calm down.
After a long silence, he finally turned around, the lake now at his back.
Then, as if coming to a decision, he spoke quietly to his aide and longtime friend.
“I’ll be postponing my return to Dalbert.”
The steward’s tone dropped, heavy with concern.
“…My lord…”
Cedric gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder, feigning a casual tone.
“What are you thinking? We’ve driven off the pirates—now we need to prepare for sea trade. Since we’re already in the capital, we might as well gather some information.”
At that, the steward’s face instantly brightened.
“Ah! Then perhaps you should attend a few banquets, my lord—expand your network a bit?”
“That sounds like a fine idea.”
“I’ll have your formal attire prepared right away!”
The steward clapped his hands, delighted, and Cedric concealed the flicker of guilt within his chest.
He knew.
He couldn’t spend the rest of his life pining after someone else’s woman.
The best course was to meet another lady as soon as possible and then return home.
But—
Though his mind understood, his heart refused to obey.
He couldn’t return home while feeling like this.
So just until this burning inside him settled—
Just a little longer… he would stay.
In the carriage heading back to Blossom Palace, Alesto sat quietly with his eyes closed.
He had asked Asha whether she wanted him to confirm who that man was, but by the time she hastily told him not to, his peripheral vision had already caught sight of the man behind him.
He hadn’t seen the face clearly, but the white formal coat trimmed with gold embroidery was unmistakable—the traditional attire of a southern noble.
The mere fact that she had been so easily distracted annoyed him enough. But to make matters worse, that man was none other than Marquis Cedric Dalbert.
Asha’s original fiancé, the very same man she had supposedly chased after through the lavender gardens of the temple.
And she had told him—the Crown Prince—that it would be fine if he “confined” her until trust was built? She must have said the same thing to that man as well.
Does she still have feelings for him?
It was a strong possibility.
After all, she had tried to escape just the previous night.
If her stamina hadn’t failed her, she probably would’ve gone straight to the Marquis.
There was a good chance Asha had turned back time more than once—and that she was still in love with Cedric Dalbert.
Or perhaps she had some other purpose for approaching him.
Either way, one thing was clear: she wanted to go to Dalbert.
The Marquis is a lucky man, Alesto thought darkly.
Back in the restaurant, when Asha had shouted for him to stop, Alesto had two options.
One: turn around, meet Cedric’s eyes directly, and challenge him to a duel.
It wouldn’t have been hard to justify—something about an insolent nobleman casting improper glances at the Crown Prince’s lady would have sufficed.
Cedric could hardly deny it, either.
Honestly—
Asha wasn’t exactly his type, but objectively speaking, she was beautiful.
Even without her ability to turn back time, any man would have turned to look twice.
And that slightly unkempt air about her—
Even when dressed up for a date, she couldn’t quite hide that faintly scruffy, earthy charm.
Was it because she was small?
Something about her just made people want to take care of her. She stirred a man’s protective instincts.
So yes—it made perfect sense that the Marquis would have taken an interest the moment he saw her.
The second option, however, was the one he chose: to respect her request, not to turn around—and in return, to claim the right to confine her.
In other words, he’d traded the chance to cripple the Marquis’s position for the chance to keep Asha within his grasp.
Not a bad bargain, he mused.
She didn’t seem particularly opposed to the idea of being locked up anyway. So for now—
He’d keep her there. And continue their little “romance.”
Meanwhile, Asha…
How did it come to this?
All she had wanted was a comfortable imperial confinement.
And yes, she was on her way to be imprisoned by the Crown Prince—but the “comfortable” part seemed to have been lost along the way.
She’d imagined a captivity with sunny walks and good food.
But now—
As she stole timid glances at Alesto sitting across from her, he suddenly spoke.
“You said it was your dream to be captured and loved by a handsome man, and you granted me permission to confine you. So, may I assume you have no objections?”
His tone was calm—too calm—and that made it all the more terrifying.
“Uh… y-yes…”
When they arrived at the Almond Palace, Alesto courteously opened the door for her.
“Please, go in.”
His voice was so gentle, so considerate.
Still imprisonment, though…
Dragging her reluctant feet, Asha stepped into the Almond Palace. Before the door closed, she caught it and asked cautiously,
“May I ask… how long you plan to keep me confined?”
He held her gaze steadily before replying, slow and deliberate.
“Until trust is built.”
The uncertainty in that answer made her shoulders sag.
“I’ll visit again tomorrow,” he added softly.
And then—the door shut.
Thud.
The next day, in the Emperor’s Palace—Forest Palace.
The long corridor was shrouded in silence.
A deep red carpet stretched along the floor, lined by golden candelabras and priceless paintings on the walls.
Then—footsteps echoed in that still air.
Tap. Tap.
When the man reached the open archway dividing the hallway and the dining hall, all the maids waiting inside immediately bowed low.
Passing them without a glance, Alesto walked straight to the head of the grand dining table and took his seat.
As always, he arrived a little late.
And as always, the Emperor waited for him.
The table was already laden with food.
Only after Alesto murmured, “Please, begin,” did the Emperor finally lift his fork.
A bizarre scene—but no one in the hall questioned it.
As the quiet meal went on, the Emperor cleared his throat and cautiously spoke.
“I was thinking… I’d like to go out for a bit.”
Alesto slowly chewed his food, swallowed, and took a sip of wine.
“…Excellent aroma.”
At that low murmur, one of the attendants immediately stepped forward to provide the answer.
“It’s a Vipong, vintage 607, Your Highness.”
Alesto raised a brow, genuinely surprised.
Vipong wine had long ceased production—its rarity unmatched. Especially the 607 vintage, of which no known bottles remained.
“There was still Vipong left?”
The attendant lowered his gaze respectfully.
“His Majesty the Emperor prepared it for you, Your Highness.”
Alesto’s lips curved into a knowing smile.
Ah. So that’s what this was about.
Not a bad start.
Yes—
If one sought permission, one should at least show sincerity first.
