Prologue
In a worn-down chapel marked by the passage of time, a man and a woman dressed in formal wedding attire stood side by side. There were no beautifully arranged flowers, no guests smiling brightly as they offered congratulations, nor any lavish reception to follow. The only person present was the priest, serving both as witness and officiant to their marriage.
Though it was hardly a proper setting for a wedding, with the chapel old and shabby in every corner, Cotton felt so overwhelmingly happy that she feared her heart might give out. Taking a deep breath, she turned her gaze to the man beside her. Standing upright and steady at her side was Richten—once her lover, now the man who would become her husband.
Sensing her fidgeting hands, perhaps stirred by excitement, his deep, ocean-blue eyes turned toward her.
What is it?
Unable to speak during the ceremony, Richten mouthed the question. Cotton, who had nearly responded aloud out of habit, caught herself and silently formed the words instead.
I’m just happy.
His eyes, which had been fixed on her lips, curved gently as if he found her utterly endearing. He then reached for her hand, brushing the back of it with his thumb. Despite her excitement, Cotton had been stiff with nerves at the unfamiliarity of the ceremony. Yet that small touch alone eased her tension, washing it away like a receding tide.
As her trembling subsided, she realized her heart could still race even more. Though her husband had sharp, striking features, his personality was said to be quite rough. She had heard from others that he had spent years on the battlefield. And yet, with her, Richten revealed a softness that seemed reserved for her alone. That contrast made her heart flutter all the more.
Cotton lifted her gaze toward the large cross mounted behind the officiant. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, scattering into a spectrum of colors that shimmered down upon them like a blessing.
She was overwhelmingly happy. So much so that even the dust floating before her eyes sparkled like stardust, that this moment felt like a scene from a romantic poem recited by a bard, that this marriage itself felt like a gift from God.
Cotton sat at the edge of the bed, quietly staring at the unmoving door. After remaining still as a statue, she slowly turned her head to take in her surroundings.
The pitch-dark room had gradually grown dimly lit with the pale light of dawn seeping in. The candles, deliberately placed to set the mood, had all melted away and gone out. The tea they had prepared to share had long since gone cold, no trace of steam remaining.
Gently, Cotton reached out and touched the neatly arranged bedding. A chill seeped into her palm. For a bridal chamber meant for their first night, it was cold and devoid of warmth. She absentmindedly rubbed her arm.
He must be very busy, she murmured softly to herself, and continued to wait.
How much time had passed like that?
A knock sounded from outside, and Cotton jolted to her feet. The shadow that had lingered on her face instantly brightened. Forgetting all disappointment, she rushed to the door and flung it open with a radiant smile.
“Richten! Why are you only now—”
Her voice, bright with joy, faded like a wilting flower. A maid stood there, bowing politely in greeting.
“Your Highness, what would you like for breakfast? Shall we bring it to your room?”
“…No. I’ll eat with my husband. He must be busy—please let me know when he returns to the residence.”
At that, the maid’s expression grew troubled.
“Ah… His Highness is already having his meal.”
Already eating? Had he only just returned at dawn?
Telling the maid she would go as well, Cotton quickly changed her clothes and left the room.
In the dining hall, Richten was already seated, dressed neatly as he ate. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed her presence, as he didn’t look up when she entered. Cotton sat across from him. Seeing the face she had longed for all night stirred emotions she had thought she had suppressed.
“Were you very busy? I waited for you all night.”
She deliberately let a note of disappointment slip into her voice. Only then did Richten seem to acknowledge her, glancing at her briefly. Cotton expected a gentle smile to follow, along with a soft apology—because that was how he had always comforted her before.
“Why? What do you need?”
But the voice that returned was cold beyond measure. Startled, Cotton hesitated before replying.
“What? Well… it’s our first night.”
“Our first night?”
Richten twisted his lips as if he had heard something absurd, openly sneering.
“You don’t seem to understand what a first night means. Weren’t you already defiled? Rolling around with some lowly man—have you lost even the last shred of your upbringing?”
Though he had not yet finished his meal, he set down his fork and rose from his seat. His icy, mocking tone made Cotton’s heart plummet. Just yesterday, he had whispered sweet words of love—so why was he acting like this now?
Shocked by his sudden change, as if flipping the palm of his hand, and unable to comprehend his words, she hurriedly reached out to stop him.
“What do you mean—”
But she couldn’t finish her sentence. Richten had turned his head, and his expression was frighteningly rigid. His gaze, directed down at her, was so cold and filled with displeasure that she couldn’t bring herself to reach for him again.
As her grip loosened, Richten clicked his tongue. Irritated, he shrugged off his coat and tossed it to a maid.
“It’s dirty. Wash it.”
With that, he left the dining hall without another word. Cotton stood there, staring blankly at the door that had slammed shut.
It had all happened just one day after their wedding.
Chapter 1
Cotton descended the stairs, heading somewhere with determination. Behind her, maids followed anxiously.
“Your Majesty, His Majesty is busy—he won’t be in his office again today.”
“That’s right. He’s only recently ascended the throne. Please return to your chambers.”
They tried to stop her, even blocking her path, but upon reaching a certain door, they could only sigh in defeat.
Knock, knock.
Cotton knocked, but there was no response from inside. She had expected as much—after all, she had experienced this countless times over the past year. Without hesitation, she turned the handle. Today, she couldn’t bring herself to simply turn back.
Inside, she saw the back of Aiberdon, the aide. The voice she had heard through the door must have been his. But he was not the one she had come for. Stepping further in, she caught sight of Richten, who had been obscured by the aide. His hair was neatly combed back as he sat at his desk, focused on the documents before him.
She had thought he might be here, but seeing him with her own eyes left her feeling hollow. Memories of the many times she had turned away without entering flashed through her mind. Had he really not been here then—or had he ignored her, just as he was doing now?
“Your Majesty.”
Cotton approached the desk and called out to him. But his gaze remained fixed on the papers, unmoving.
“Your Majesty, could you spare me a moment?”
Even when she called again, there was no response. Aiberdon, who had been standing nearby, began to glance at her nervously. Only after several calls did Richten finally lift his head.
“There seems to be some waste in this budget item. Is the audit even being conducted properly? Have the accounting records brought to me immediately.”
“Y-Yes… understood.”
As Aiberdon hurriedly took notes, Richten continued pointing out issues in other matters. Listening to their exchange, Cotton fell silent and waited. Even standing closer to him than the aide, she remained unseen. She could only hope that once he finished his work, he might spare her some time.
Their discussion dragged on. The longer it went, the more strained Aiberdon’s expression became, and Cotton’s head gradually lowered, like a sunflower wilting at sunset. Standing right before him, yet treated as if she were invisible, the courage she had gathered began to crumble.
“Make sure everything I mentioned is prepared.”
Time that felt like minutes stretched into hours. At last, Richten set down the documents he had been reading. As he stood and reached for his coat, it seemed he was about to leave.
Seeing that he was finished, Aiberdon quickly stepped back, raising both hands politely toward Cotton as if to yield the space. She gave a small nod and walked toward Richten. If not now, it would be difficult even to see him again for some time.
“Richt—”
She had just begun to call his name.
A gust of wind brushed past her as Richten walked right by. Cotton froze in place. She couldn’t even bring herself to turn around. Though she had been treated this way for the entire year since their marriage, she could never grow used to it.
Watching the scene, Aiberdon fidgeted before reluctantly bowing and hurrying after the Emperor.
After blinking blankly for a moment, Cotton finally turned as well, trying to follow him—if only to stop him once more. But through the still-open door, she heard his irritated voice.
“…Didn’t I tell you to keep her out? You let her barge into my office—what exactly are you doing? Make sure she stays quietly in her room.”
Cotton’s steps came to a slow halt in the corridor. The sound of their movement soon faded into the distance. In the silence that followed, she clasped her hands together tightly.
It felt as though all the blood had drained from her body. She needed something—anything—to hold onto.
