Chapter 6
Amin’s eyes once gleamed brightly as he held Gram.
That fierce gaze was nowhere to be found in this drunken mess of a man.
“To think the Empire’s greatest Sword Master has fallen this far…”
It was hard to believe.
For five years, I had crafted this sword while thinking of Amin Wilhelm.
I believed he would be the one to kill Valter.
I believed he would avenge me.
And how hollow that belief turned out to be.
Breathing raggedly, I glared at Amin.
Should I just stab him?
Should I kill him here and now, forget the Marquis of Rochen, and flee to some far-off borderland?
“Forget all about revenge…”
The thought made me bite my lip.
My grip on the sword tightened.
The blade, gripped in my pale fingers, seemed to weep.
Gram.
My sword, crying beneath the moonlight.
Then, something cold touched my cheek.
It was Amin Wilhelm’s hand.
He wiped away my tears and let out a hollow laugh.
“I guess you can’t do it. Goodness. Our lady is too softhearted.”
At his mocking, I shot him a murderous glare.
Damn bastard.
I was just about to spit at him when—
With a soft shh sound, he snatched Gram from my hands.
He moved so fast.
Even though I was holding the sword, he slipped past me in a flash and grabbed the hilt with expert ease.
If this had been a spar, my wrist would’ve been hit.
If it were a real duel, my neck would be lying on the floor.
“With that kind of skill…”
Just as he took Gram from me—
A maid outside the door cleared her throat to signal her presence.
“…?”
Did he sense someone outside?
I didn’t notice a thing.
I’d heard that swordsmen who use aura have heightened senses, and I guess it was true.
He set Gram back atop the fireplace, turned to me, and smiled.
“Come in.”
A maid entered with a tray of wine and snacks.
“Ah. The wine I’ve been waiting for.”
Amin beamed at the wine.
But my face remained tense.
And for good reason—
That wine…
It’s poisoned.
I can see the future now.
Well, only up until Diana Isla’s death. Beyond that is still a mystery.
But at least for the next year and a half, I know exactly what will happen to her.
Including the most horrifying event of this wedding night.
It was that wine.
Amin Wilhelm drank the poisoned wine, collapsed while coughing up blood, and chaos erupted in the castle.
Fortunately, having developed poison resistance since childhood, Amin didn’t die.
But from that day on, everyone began to suspect Diana.
Of course, it was eventually proven she hadn’t poisoned the wine.
She couldn’t have—she brought no servants or maids with her, nor did she know how to procure poison here.
The culprit was a maid who had recently been hired at Wilhelm Castle.
Her identity was completely fabricated.
Name, hometown, background—all fake.
She was actually an agent bought by Valter.
He used the wedding as a distraction to try and assassinate Amin.
“Maybe he orchestrated the marriage just for that.”
Or maybe he had other schemes.
Either way, after that, Diana’s position in the castle hit rock bottom.
She was already unpopular, having once openly been Valter’s lover.
So in a castle that had just fought a war with Valter, she was never going to be welcomed.
But being seen as a traitorous woman who switched brothers was one thing—being suspected of trying to poison the lord was entirely another.
Even for me now.
“Shall we make a toast, my lady?”
Amin cheerfully picked up a glass from the tray, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
My mind swirled.
I dug through Diana Isla’s memories.
Where exactly was the poison?
“Diana drank wine that night too.”
And she was fine, which only deepened suspicion.
So the wine bottle wasn’t the issue.
“The cup was poisoned.”
I looked at the lord’s cup.
In the northern region, wedding cups are traditionally gendered.
The man’s has an eagle engraved on it, the woman’s a great tree.
It comes from northern mythology.
So they must have poisoned that specific cup on purpose.
I watched Amin pour wine into both cups.
As expected, he handed me the one with the tree.
“Why? Not in the mood to celebrate?”
Amin smirked.
“Still sulking over losing the bet?”
He shrugged.
“Don’t worry too much, my lady. I’m sure you’ll have more chances to kill me.”
That chance… might be now.
I hesitated, then picked up my glass.
Just as Amin was about to clink his cup with mine, I intentionally let mine slip and crash to the floor.
Amin’s face twisted.
He set down his own cup and stared at the shattered one.
I spoke before he could retrieve another.
“It got dirty.”
Then I pointed to his cup.
“I’ll drink from yours.”
“Then what about me?”
Amin lazily pulled his cup back.
Seriously? Are you really arguing over who gets what cup right now?
I’m trying to save your life, idiot.
Not that he would’ve died, given his poison resistance.
I pointed to the wine bottle.
“You drink from that. Like you just did earlier.”
He drank rum straight from the bottle like it was nothing.
You’d think he was some blacksmith’s assistant, not nobility.
“My lady, the lord’s body is sacred.”
He said that in an annoyingly smug tone, then picked up his cup again.
Ugh.
He smiled faintly and set the wine bottle in front of me.
Drink from the bottle.
That’s what he meant.
“I can’t let anyone steal my cup. Not even my lady.”
He raised it to his lips.
No—stop, you crazy bastard!
What do I do?
Should I knock it from his hands?
Would that even work… against a Sword Master?
As that thought struck me, a chill ran up the back of my neck, making my hair stand on end.
“…Sword Master.”
Right.
Amin is both a Sword Master and a royal.
He trained from childhood by ingesting small doses of poison to build resistance.
To prepare for assassination attempts.
That’s right.
My assumption was wrong.
Amin Wilhelm is a madman.
I looked at Gram, resting on the fireplace.
A broken sword he kept beside his bed like a talisman.
Completely, utterly mad.
“…You know, don’t you?”
At those words, Amin’s hand froze.
The shimmering red liquid in his cup stilled—just shy of his lips.
In the dark, his golden eyes met mine.
Like a lonely moon floating in a pitch-black lake with no stars, his gaze glowed with eerie dignity.
“Know what?”
He didn’t smile.
He’d been so quick to laugh at everything until now—but not this time.
That told me everything.
The broken sword hanging in the bedroom.
[If it were me, I would’ve just died.]
The face that hadn’t changed despite Diana Isla’s insults.
[I can’t let anyone steal my cup. Not even my lady.]
His unwillingness to let go of that poisoned cup.
“You know there’s poison in that cup.”
This man—
He wants to die.
He, trained thoroughly in poison detection, attuned beyond ordinary senses through aura…
There’s no way he didn’t recognize it.
If he didn’t sense it when the cup appeared, then surely—
Just as I finished, the corners of his lips lifted.
But his eyes still shimmered with loneliness.
A dry, barren smile.
For the first time—
I was seeing the real Amin Wilhelm.
“You caught me.”
