2. She Didn’t Want Him
“I mean, it’s because I don’t love Your Highness.”
“…You don’t love me?”
Benerucia asked back, as if he couldn’t believe it.
He always reacted like this whenever Senelia brought up breaking up.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me not to love you.”
Benerucia’s lips tightened.
After a moment of silence, he responded with a face twisted in pain, as if stabbed.
“You do love me. I know you do.”
Maybe it was understandable.
For one year, she lingered silently by his side, and for another year, she openly pursued him. They had been in a relationship for six years.
For eight years, Senelia had never once been dishonest with Benerucia.
Though she had only ever spoken the word “love” once—when they first met.
“Did you forget? I don’t love Your Highness. That was the promise between us.”
Senelia answered calmly.
“That damn promise…!”
Benerucia, momentarily enraged, stood in stark contrast to Senelia’s composed demeanor.
But he had no right to question that promise.
Realizing it, he forced himself to calm down.
“…We broke up. Doesn’t that mean the promise is already void?”
“Exactly. So isn’t it stranger to talk about love with your ex?”
Their conversation circled back again and again.
Benerucia, frustrated, tugged roughly at his cravat.
“What is the problem, Selly?”
He had confessed his love and even proposed.
And yet, Senelia still didn’t believe him.
He had no idea what more he could do.
“There is no problem. Why would there be a problem between us?”
You and I… are nothing.
So, there’s nothing at all.
That’s what her words meant.
“Hah…! Selly, do you have any idea what happens when you break off a marriage promise with royalty?”
Benerucia knew how petty his words sounded.
But when faced with Senelia’s firm rejection, this was all he could come up with.
“It was only a verbal agreement. Or was it not a proposal but a command?”
Senelia asked politely.
She insisted on maintaining the distance between a duke and a low-ranking noble, never a lover.
Crack. The sound of Benerucia’s teeth grinding was unmistakable.
He glared at Senelia with a tenacious gaze.
Which was exactly what she wanted.
She had to remain like a thorn in his mouth—impossible to ignore.
So that even if he turned back to Lucalina, every word he spoke to her would be haunted by Senelia.
She gave eight years of her life to Benerucia for this.
Without such effort, she could never steal the male lead away from the original heroine.
“Yes, it’s an order.”
Gritting his teeth, Benerucia held something out.
He told himself he would make it up to her for his current attitude—later.
If she didn’t believe in his love, he would keep her by his side and prove it.
“An imperial order from His Majesty himself.”
It was an imperial decree, written with a magic pen on thin sheets of gold-leafed paper.
Benerucia smiled crookedly.
“So, you have to marry me, Selly.”
Eight years. This was the moment Senelia’s patience and effort bore fruit.
✦ ✦ ✦
Senelia’s first meeting with Benerucia was all planned.
And to be clear—it was never what she wanted.
In fact, she disliked men like Benerucia Afron.
She was the kind of person who wanted to keep a very safe distance from such men.
Men who were so brilliant that people constantly surrounded them.
Men who made you feel insignificant just by standing beside them.
Senelia knew well she didn’t have what it took to handle a man like that.
If not for that day she suddenly realized the world she lived in was actually a novel… Senelia would never have become entangled with Benerucia.
“Lady Daphne, His Majesty has summoned you.”
One day, a royal carriage arrived at the front gate of the viscount’s estate.
Without even knocking, the royal knights burst through the doors.
The Viscount family had never involved themselves in politics and had always quietly managed their land.
A royal summons out of the blue?
That alone was enough to send fear through them.
“What on earth is this about, Commander…?!”
Her timid father rushed down from the second floor, breathless.
He turned back and forth between his daughter and the knight commander with a pale face.
He was clearly terrified by the sudden intrusion.
“Why is His Majesty calling for our daughter?”
Even her usually composed mother couldn’t hide her unease.
A humble viscount family like theirs had no reason to ever meet the commander of the imperial knights face-to-face.
Senelia was no different.
Her idea of the future was simple—inherit the estate and become a good lady of the land.
Just that.
“You’ll understand when you meet His Majesty. Please prepare.”
The knight commander said indifferently.
His tone made it clear that no more questions would be tolerated.
Senelia clenched her hands tightly. They were trembling with tension.
She turned anxiously to look at her parents.
Her father, helpless, couldn’t even make a decision.
In the end, her mother nodded.
Senelia bit her lip hard.
These were people sent by the Emperor.
A single wrong word could get her killed.
Carefully, she spoke.
“Could you wait a moment? I’m not dressed appropriately to go to the palace…”
She had no plans to go out today, and wore only a light indoor dress.
It was unlikely anything she wore would impress the palace, but she wanted to look a little less shabby.
“You’d best not keep His Majesty waiting.”
The commander warned sternly.
To Senelia, it sounded like: Don’t even think of delaying or running away.
Not that she intended to. She nodded quickly.
“I’ll be ready in a moment.”
Ten minutes later, Senelia left the estate.
Even with all the maids helping, it was far too short a time for a noble lady’s preparations.
That’s how urgent she felt.
It was a miracle she didn’t twist her ankle rushing out.
It was as if they already knew Senelia wouldn’t dare resist—the road to the palace was smooth and uninterrupted.
Her heart pounded. She wanted to stop someone, anyone, and ask:
Why is the Emperor calling for me?
But the knights escorting her carriage didn’t even glance her way, as if she didn’t exist.
She felt utterly insignificant.
“Once you greet His Majesty, do not speak until he addresses you.”
Senelia was the daughter of a minor viscount. Hardly fit to be involved with the imperial family.
She never imagined she’d step foot in the palace—what she knew of etiquette came only from books.
So, she only nodded obediently to the head maid’s words.
✦ ✦ ✦
The audience chamber doors opened, then closed behind her.
Senelia steadied her trembling voice and knelt, bowing toward the throne.
“Senelia Daphne, daughter of Viscount Daphne, greets the sun of the Empire.”
The Emperor did not respond.
He only stared at her silently, yet the weight of that gaze made it hard to breathe.
Just as her knees began to tremble from staying bowed, the Emperor finally spoke.
“Why is it that you didn’t love Benerucia?”
The question was so out of nowhere it made her gasp.
Benerucia Afron. The Emperor’s younger brother.
“…Pardon?”
She reflexively asked back—and quickly covered her mouth.
Clifford Heliosa.
The man before her had slaughtered every blood relative but one to seize the throne.
And here she was, speaking without permission before him.
She couldn’t help but be afraid.
But the question was absurd enough to startle a response.
Senelia was just a minor noble from a small estate. Why would she ever be involved with the Duke and imperial prince, Benerucia Afron?
“You were fated to love him.”
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed.
Clifford had a stunningly handsome face—but Senelia thought his gaze felt like a serpent’s.
A chill ran down her spine.
His massive figure was fitting for a man who’d butchered his way to power.
The Emperor rose from the throne and stepped toward her.
Each step radiated overwhelming pressure.
She could barely breathe.
He soon stood just before her—and bent down to meet her eyes.
Staring into hers with those snake-like eyes, he asked:
“Are you a Thorn of the Cloracaen?”
In the beginning, there were three gods—Clo, Rake, and An—who spun the fates of all living things.
They used their own spindles to weave the threads of destiny.
But sometimes, a sharp thorn would prick the spindle—distorting the threads and twisting the fate the gods had set.
Those who defied fate were called “Thorns of the Cloracaen” in the Empire—people who shaped their own destinies.
Only the imperial bloodline knew that term.
Thorn of the Cloracaen.
The moment she heard it, strange images flashed through Senelia’s mind.
Tall gray buildings. Four-wheeled machines that moved without magic.
A girl with brown hair struck by a fast-moving “truck” in the middle of a street.
It was her.
A blood-stained book fell from her hand, its cover reading:
<Thorn of the Cloracaen>.
“Oh my… you truly are a Thorn of the Cloracaen.”
The Emperor’s lips curled into a chilling smile.
A murderous smile.
