In the end, she had to cruelly bring up matters she had vowed never to speak of again, for the sake of her friend’s honor.
“Who was it that saved you when you were abandoned by your father, treated like livestock, and living like a beast?! It was me! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have made it to ten, let alone formed a family! Have you forgotten all of that?!”
At Akali’s outburst, the dead look in Asmoff’s eyes flickered. But she quickly suppressed any emotion, responding in a detached tone as if she had never been shaken.
“Yes, that did happen.”
“Then if you remember, leave us alone now.”
“But even without that debt, the balance still doesn’t add up.”
Ignoring Akali, Asmoff reached past her toward the children behind her—Rubal’s offspring. Akali’s face turned to utter despair.
“Let’s do it this way. I won’t kill the princes—for now.”
“‘For now’?”
“But there must be a contract. One sealed with magic.”
No sooner had she declared it than the mana in the air began to ripple. The fierce golden mana, emblematic of Grand Mage Asmoff, swirled ominously.
Sensing danger, Akali and the children tried to flee, but within the golden mist that now ruled the space, there was nowhere to hide.
“Because of Rubal’s atrocities, I lost eternity. And with the death of my only child, Edi, the history I built will end with me. My great history, built with pain and obsession.”
“Doing this won’t change anything!”
“It’s not right for only Rubal to be remembered as a noble king.”
“Asm!”
“In exchange for sparing the children’s lives, I will ensure Rubal suffers for eternity.”
With that firm declaration, the children cried out. The mana turned to razor-sharp blades and sliced the tips of their fingers. Blood floated in the air, forming perfect droplets that hardened into crimson gems, like brilliant rubies.
Once her task was done, the mana withdrew from the children. Akali rushed to check on her sons’ faces. Regardless of her furious glare, Asmoff calmly collected the golden mana again and formed a scale the size of her own body.
“Is this Rubal’s blood? So red. Disgusting.”
“What are you trying to do?!”
“I’ll place these here. And then…”
“W-wait, what are you—?!”
Akali’s eyes widened in horror. A scream of despair filled the room.
There was no time to shield the young princes’ eyes. The metallic scent of blood instantly saturated the air, clinging to their noses, eyes, clothes—and memories.
Asmoff placed the two red gems on one side of the scale, then placed her own heart on the other. Coughing up blood, she stood pale-faced and balanced the scale.
“Ugh… This… is my resentment. Cough… Haah… Beneath the scale, the unquenchable flames of hell shall burn. And whatever tips the balance will burn until it turns to ash.”
“Asm! What are you doing?! Are you insane?! Guards! Someone! Is no one out there?! Call the royal physician, hurry!”
Akali screamed, her face turning white as she watched Asmoff dying. As the mage faded, the mist she had controlled dispersed. The servants and physician rushed in, but it was too late.
In one morning, Akali lost both her partner and her closest friend. She writhed in despair. Why? What had destroyed their bond? The memories of days built on trust and belief were still vivid, and the pain was unbearable.
“Hah… Will Rubal’s blood disappear first… or will my resentment? Hah… How unfortunate I won’t be able to watch and see.”
“Asm! Asmoff Rubaltverhi!”
The body of the great mage who once ruled the continent collapsed in a miserable heap. Asmoff died, surrendering herself to vengeance, her friend’s tear-streaked face the last thing she saw.
She had no regrets. She had repaid her debt to Akali, and in a world without her family, she had no lingering attachments. All she wished for was to meet Rudvalt again in hell and spit her curse in his face.
—
“But this… this is something I never imagined.”
The woman who had once died so horrifically for revenge now lay down in a completely different place, countless years later. Not on a blood-stained carpet, but on a damp, moist bed.
She couldn’t bear to look at her reflection in the mirror. Though it was a face she had seen countless times, the overwhelming sense of disconnection nearly drove her mad.
Just then, someone knocked harshly on the door far from the bed. Without waiting for a response, the door burst open.
“What are you doing, Duchess?! If you’re awake, you should have informed us! Do you know how worried the physician is?! Honestly, such trouble!”
“‘Trouble’?”
“Unlike the main family of House Pandeon, we’re all very busy! It’s been six years since you married in—learn our ways already! Anyway, I’ll fetch the physician. Wait here!”
The maid, dressed in a thick, rough dress, rattled off her complaints and slammed the door shut. As she said, the woman was now the mistress of the Pandeon ducal family. That arrogant woman was her personal maid.
“Karia Pandeon.”
That was her name now. Karia frowned, as if it were the name of a stranger.
Karia Pandeon. The illegitimate daughter of Grand Duke Luterbert, the emperor’s only brother.
After so many long years had passed, she had been reborn in the empire she once cursed—as a descendant of the Rubal bloodline she had so despised.
—
Karia rose from bed, opened the window, and let the cold wind wash over her as she pieced together the events that had led to this moment.
It all began with a joyful summons.
Six years ago, Karia had been called to her father’s office. It was rare for the Grand Duke to summon her, so she had come with a glimmer of hope—only to receive a portrait without explanation.
“Take a look.”
“What is this, Father?”
“The Duke of Pandeon.”
She’d heard rumors of the Duke of Pandeon—a young head of a noble family, only a few years into his title. Karia studied the man’s handsome features.
A fine appearance, young age, and head of a storied ducal house—though struggling under debts inherited from his predecessor.
“Pandeon is one of the few loyal houses that remained after the empire’s division. He’s about your age.”
“Does this mean—”
The Duke of Pandeon was one of the few suitable matches for Karia, a direct royal descendant. And with the family’s financial troubles, they could hardly reject a proposal from the Grand Duke.
Realizing this, Karia looked at her father with trembling eyes. Without even glancing at her, he continued coldly.
“He has a two-year-old son and a newborn daughter. But his wife is dead, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”
“A newborn daughter? Then it’s only been—”
“She died in childbirth. The children are young; they need a mistress in the household.”
Her guess was correct. Her father intended to marry her off as the second wife of a man with two children. Karia couldn’t hide her disappointment. She had been happy just to be summoned—only to hear talk of marriage without even a cup of tea.
“As you wish, Father.”
It was sudden, but she had always obeyed her father. She expected a political marriage eventually. At least the age gap wasn’t too bad.
The wedding preparations proceeded swiftly. Her father pushed the arrangement, and the Grand Duchess oversaw everything—from ceremony planning to dresses and gifts.
Karia had only met the Duke a few times for meals and dress fittings before finding herself standing at the altar. Guests offered congratulations to the picturesque couple, but the newlyweds barely spoke a word.
“Madam, I will respect you.”
That evening, in the bridal chamber, her husband—Rubidov Pandeon—spoke in a calm, low voice.
“This may not be a marriage of love, but if we respect each other’s space and lives, we can be friends.”
“Friends?”
“Yes, friends.”
On her wedding night, sitting on the bed, Karia was told they would be “friends.” Though it sounded courteous, it was effectively a declaration that he could never love her.
“I won’t demand anything from you. You don’t have to be a good mistress or a good mother. Just do what you want, quietly. Don’t stir up trouble in the house.”
With that, Rubidov turned his back and lay down. Though his breathing became steady, she knew he wasn’t asleep. He simply didn’t want to talk any further.
