Chapter 2
“So impatient.”
Domenic’s cold, casual tone could’ve sent chills down her back, but instead Bellona just felt a wave of gloom. If things were really that simple, she wouldn’t even be standing here right now.
“That’s not the point. What matters is—I know you’re royalty.”
The second she laid out the truth, Bellona watched with amusement as Domenic froze, his eyes going wide with an unusually naive expression. Maybe helping him would actually be more entertaining than she thought.
“…Proof?”
The flicker of unease quickly vanished, replaced by his usual flat face. Bellona fiddled with the necklace in her hand, wondering how much she should tell him. She hadn’t really thought this through—it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment choice. For a second she even considered dropping the bomb that she was a regressor.
No—better to twist the truth a little.
“I’ve seen the future.”
She leaned in, whispering like it was some big revelation. Domenic gave her a look that screamed are you serious?
“You’re saying you can predict the future? Should I hurry up and announce the saintess has arrived?”
“I’m not the saintess.”
Her reply slipped out smooth before she could stop herself.
The one who’d be called saintess, God’s messenger, chosen one—that wasn’t Bellona. It was her best friend, Davienne.
“What are you even—”
“Anyway, that’s not what matters right now. What’s clear is, you came here planning to burn down this temple. And I came here to stop you.”
She raised her hand to cut him off before he could interrupt.
“Domenic, you’ve got a ring with a bright blue sapphire. It was your mother’s keepsake.”
The second she mentioned his mother, his whole body tensed up.
“There’s an inscription inside: ‘To my most beloved Maribel.’ That ring.”
His eyes started to waver as she rattled off details no one who hadn’t seen the ring could possibly know.
“Maribel, who owned that sapphire ring, was the empire’s first empress. And the last person who had it was your real mother—Princess Olivia, Duchess of Roxseln.”
Domenic glared, face twisting.
“You’re spouting nonsense. My mother was a commoner.”
Bellona shrugged. He could say that all he wanted—she could already see he was listening, whether he admitted it or not. She’d planted the direction of his doubts. It was only a matter of time before he confirmed her words himself.
“Take that ring to the emperor. Claim your rightful place as Roxseln’s heir.”
“If I’m really the emperor’s nephew, then why the hell—why the hell hasn’t he done anything until now?”
There was no joy on his face, only anger piling higher and higher. Understandable. Everyone knew the emperor had doted on his sister. So if that was true, then why hadn’t he tried harder to find her son? That thought naturally turned into rage against the emperor. Rage that would spread into suspicion—that maybe the emperor himself had stood by, threatened by his sister, and done nothing.
“And your real enemy isn’t the high priest. It’s the empress—the one who tried to assassinate your parents and have you killed. The faction that supports the crown prince.”
Bellona nudged his anger toward a more… useful target. At least anger at the empress was justified, so she could work with that.
“…The empress?”
“Yes, the empress. The one most threatened by Olivia and by the child she bore. The current empress.”
Back when Domenic was still in the temple, the high priest had taken one look at his ring and realized exactly who he was—the lost Roxseln heir, a royal with a claim to the throne. And of course he tattled straight to the empress.
The very same empress who had already arranged the murder of the duke and duchess, to clear the way for her own son, the crown prince. The high priest had tried to deal with Domenic on her orders, but when Domenic escaped, he just reported him as dead anyway.
Remembering all that twisted mess gave Bellona a headache, and she suddenly couldn’t be bothered. She sighed and skipped straight to the point.
“More important—stop using black magic. It’s the fastest road to your grave.”
She tossed him the necklace she’d been holding. He caught it without thinking, and the second it touched him, the clear jewel clouded over into a dull gray.
“What the hell is this…?”
“Black magic gives you power now, sure—but it’ll drive you insane in the end. Nothing comes free.”
She cut him off before he could argue.
“So don’t just throw yourself into it blindly out of revenge. Use that necklace to keep yourself in check.”
It was the only relic here that could actually help him. Normally, relics were poison to someone like Domenic—he wouldn’t even think of touching them. But this one simply measured how far a soul had been tainted by dark power.
Surprisingly, Domenic just stared down at it in silence, then slowly lifted his head to look at her. His lips twisted into a crooked smirk, but in his eyes—hidden under all the suspicion—Bellona thought she saw the tiniest spark of hope.
“What if I don’t care what happens to me? What if I just want to slaughter all those nobles and be done with it?”
Even so, his words to her came out sharp and defiant.
“That power will eat you alive eventually. It’ll leave nothing but a lunatic, a butcher who can’t stop killing for blood.”
“I have perfect control over my power.”
He clenched and unclenched his fist, eyes flicking back down to the now-gray necklace. Still—there was a shadow of doubt in his expression.
“Sure, you’d like to believe that.”
Bellona gave a dry laugh. Domenic was arrogant—he always thought he was special, different. That arrogance was exactly what got him defeated over and over.
“You’re proud to a fault. But are you really sure? That you’re not being controlled by black magic, but fully controlling it?”
He turned the necklace over in his hand, studying it from every angle, then finally gripped it tight with a resolved look.
“…Fine. I won’t kill you. Not yet, anyway.”
“How generous of you.”
That alone counted as a win in Bellona’s book. She sighed, then patted his chest lightly in a friendly way before turning to leave. It was about time to head back to the count’s estate.
“First, claim your title as Duke Roxseln. And if you ever need information or help, contact me. I’ll assist however I can.”
But just as she passed him, a cold hand caught her wrist lightly. The touch was startlingly cool, and it made Bellona flinch instinctively, remembering countless hostile encounters with him in past lives. She looked up—only to find his face far closer than she expected, startling her again.
So close that if she breathed out, their breaths would mix.
“You’re just gonna dump all that on me and walk away?”
“Then what, you want me to tell you something else?”
“Your name. What’s your name?”
Bellona realized she hadn’t even introduced herself. She knew him so well, she’d forgotten the basics. Glancing down at his hand still loosely holding her wrist, she answered easily,
“Oh, right. My name’s Bellona Rozentin. From House Rozentin. Guess I forgot to mention it.”
“A count’s daughter with future-sight? How is that possible? You don’t seem to be using black magic.”
His long fingers pressed lightly against the inside of her wrist—checking, she realized. Making sure she wasn’t like him. Black magic users had no heartbeat.
“I never said I predicted the future. I said I’ve seen it.”
She smirked, deliberately vague, teasing him a little.
Domenic slipped back behind that cold mask of his—the one that made him impossible to read, impossible to predict.
“I’ve gotten all the information I need from you. Maybe I should just get rid of you here.”
“Didn’t you just say you weren’t gonna kill me?”
“I’m fickle like that.”
His fingertips were already darkening, stained black with magic. So much for restraint.
“What’s your real goal? Everything you’ve said so far—none of it benefits you. Everyone has a purpose, Bellona.”
Hearing her name in his mouth like that felt strange. His crimson eyes burned into her with a strange hunger. He was too close. Far too close.
Even so, Bellona held her ground.
“Work with me, Domenic. And I’ll work with you.”
She pushed lightly against his chest, uncomfortable with how near he was, but he didn’t budge. His breath brushed against her forehead, almost tickling.
“…Why?”
