chapter 17
It was ridiculous, but he was satisfied. Even the pain felt like a kind of privilege. As they tumbled together into hell, he felt no shame. In fact, he felt a strange sense of relief, knowing that he was the only person in the world who could make her so unhappy.
‘How much longer will I be at your mercy, Isabel?’
Of course, he already knew the answer. She had chosen this future, and he was simply making it happen. Time would pass, and they could stay together for as long as they wanted.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I understand.”
Isabel nodded slowly.
Her face was even paler and more bloodless than usual tonight, but the skin around her eyes was flushed red.
Watching her struggle not to show a hint of fatigue in front of him, Kailhart’s grip unconsciously tightened.
“You…”
You’ve taken the top spot in my thoughts, and now my blood is rushing to my head because of you!
“Don’t you care about yourself at all?”
‘Because I do.’
There was a time when touching her at all had seemed impossible. Back then, brushing against a single strand of her hair would have been more than he could have hoped for. He would have been grateful for it, almost delirious with joy.
“Is that really how you see yourself? Just a vessel?”
She was merely a vessel destined to give birth to the world’s future saviour — nothing more, nothing less. He muttered these words as though they were a bitter sigh, sliding his hand from her cheek to grip her jaw.
The warmth of her skin against his made his insides twist. He was a mess — he knew it.
“Your sister means a lot to you, doesn’t she, Isabel?”
Enough that you’d stake your life on a prophecy she left behind. He gave a wry smile.
“Why is she so important to you?”
“Well, of course—”
“Is it because she took on your responsibilities? Did she live a life she never wanted, all for your sake? Did she sacrifice everything — her entire life and her final breath — for the kingdom, just so that you wouldn’t have to?”
“Your Majesty—”
“When you looked at your sister, didn’t you ever feel like something was off?”
Ah, those transparent eyes, always turned towards him, yet never truly seeing him.
As he dragged the long-buried truth into the open, he noticed a change in her expression for the first time. It made his insides churn and his heart scrape painfully against glass.
“Have you ever stopped to wonder how your sister was born with such extraordinary vision, yet seemed so ordinary as a child? Didn’t that ever strike you as strange?”
“What exactly are you saying?”
Isabel’s voice trembled. This was a secret that Saint-Au had tried desperately to hide. Now she was cornered, she began to shake and tried to pull away, but Kailhart wouldn’t let her.
“The answer’s simple.”
‘If your façade is so impenetrable, I’ll peel it away, layer by layer. If that’s a privilege I have, then I’ll gladly take it.’
“Those eyes never belonged to your sister in the first place.”
🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁
‘What is he saying? What does he mean?;
Isabel’s heart pounded wildly. The thundering beat in her chest and ears was so overwhelming that she had to clench her fists to steady herself.
Isaya, renowned for her unparalleled gift of prophecy, had appeared to be an ordinary child — a secret known only to a select few.
Her prophetic powers didn’t begin to surface until she was approaching adulthood.
In anticipation of this, her family began searching for other blood relatives, eventually finding Isabel and her birth mother. They forced Isabel to live in Saint-Au’s royal palace from the age of thirteen.
But…
Was she missing something critical…?
A chilling certainty gripped Isabel, making her body go rigid.
Kailhart took her wrist, his jaw clenched tight. When she glanced down, she saw blood on her fingertips—the wound from the broken paint jar had reopened.
Only now, belatedly, did the pain begin to register. As Kailhart gently licked the cut, trying to stop the bleeding, the sharp sting finally reached her.
Eyes squeezed shut, Isabel forced herself to ask.
“So… are you saying my sister Isaya’s eyes—her sight—was never hers to begin with?”
She could hardly believe the words coming out of her own mouth.
“That’s right. For generations, they’ve dared to keep up this deception.”
Yet even as Kailhart spoke, his eyes glowed red—like burning coals in the pitch darkness.
‘Generations of deception?’
Isabel barely had time to process the words before a chill ran down her spine.
Suddenly, a shattering crash rang out—a window breaking behind her.
She reflexively started to turn, but before she could move, Kailhart pulled her into a fierce embrace.
Isabel caught sight of something being thrown through the broken window and held in the crook of his arm. A rectangular object flared with a crimson light that seared her retinas. This was followed by a deafening roar which engulfed the world in darkness.
Scarlet smoke surged in, and the ringing in her ears was sharp and violent, like an explosion.
It felt as if the abyss itself was reaching out to embrace her.
“You have to survive, sister. No matter what.”
🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁
“Y-Your Majesty!”
By the time the imperial soldiers, alerted to the terrorist attack and breach within the palace, stormed into Princess Isabel’s chambers, it was already too late—everything was over.
They found the emperor alone, standing over the corpses of the intruders.
The sight of him—blood dripping from his hands as he cradled his bride to his chest—left everyone speechless. Instinctively, the soldiers shrank back, averting their eyes.
After giving curt orders to pursue any fleeing attackers and secure the scene, Kailhart strode away with Isabel in his arms, his face locked in a hard, impassive mask.
Only when he reached his own chambers and dismissed the attendants did he finally loosen his hold, settling onto the edge of the bed with Isabel still limp in his arms.
Her face had lost all color. She was as pale as death, her wide eyes still echoing the shock of what he’d told her just before.
“Isabel.”
“…”
“They say your sister, that girl, dared to prophesy the end of the world.”
He knew she couldn’t hear him—she was unconscious—but he murmured softly anyway.
“Claimed that God has destined everything for ruin.”
Kailhart did not believe in God.
He had no need for such faith; he already had something—someone—he believed in.
He believed that only one person was worthy of his faith: his cold-hearted master, Isabel, who had once saved him, only to throw him into ruin.
Only her.
It was only when his hand touched Isabel’s cold, lifeless face that Kailhart realized his own fingertips were trembling.
D*mn it—an empty laugh slipped from his lips.
He had completely lost his mind when Isabel collapsed. He couldn’t even remember how he dealt with the intruders who streamed in through the shattered window. He’d opened a spatial rift, seized whatever weapon he could reach, and cut down anything that tried to take her from him.
By the time he came back to his senses, Isabel was cradled in his arms.
“Isabel…”
His jaw clenched. He ground his teeth, fingers tightening reflexively.
Her pale, ashen hair brushed against his hand—blood red.
That cursed color.
The afterimage still throbbed in Kailhart’s vision.
In that moment, when the world went dark and it was just the two of them, he held her even tighter. When her eyelids fluttered open, he saw that her clear blue eyes were stained crimson.
‘Why, Kailhart.’
‘You’re the only one who ought to face her properly.’
‘It was your trap—your decision, wasn’t it?’
The pain felt like his lungs were flooding, but he couldn’t look away. He watched as her lovely face contorted, then smiled, even as his own expression twisted in agony.
“Isabel.”
The hallucinations faded, and only silence remained.
Looking down at Isabel’s unconscious, bloodless face, Kailhart let out a ragged breath.
“What am I supposed to do with you?”
Heat stirred deep in his core. He wanted to carve even this soft, steady breath into his very being—never to forget it.
He wanted her.
‘What do I have to do? What can I do to hold the real you in my arms again?’
Even when he kept her close, Isabel was never really with him. The only part she cared for was his body—never his heart.
“Thank you, Kail.”
The memory of her smiling back at him—so sweet, so loving—was now his alone to remember.
‘Isabel. My Isabel.
You, who can’t remember me.
You, who only sees me as a tool.
You, who hated me but grit your teeth and come to me anyway…
What am I supposed to do with you?’
🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁
As the haze of confusion lifted and she opened her eyes, Isabel found Kailhart gazing down at her.
‘How long has he been there? Was he really waiting for me to wake up?’
Even though he was right in front of her, she could barely sense his presence. This startled her, though her unease was brief.
“How are you feeling?”
Kailhart asked quietly, his face as composed as ever. Dark, worn eyes—yet when he looked at her, his gaze was always unwavering, his nose straight, his lips set in a firm line.
“I’m fine.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, so please—you can continue what you were saying earlier.”
She had a vague sense that, just before everything went dark, he’d been telling her something important. That Isaya’s sight had never belonged to her, that the royal house of Saint-Au had carried out a deception for generations.
Hearing about her sister from his lips was painful, but it was a pain Isabel welcomed.
“Do you know you’ve been lying here for three days?”
Three days?
Only then did Isabel register her surroundings beyond Kailhart. She was lying on the same conservatory bed she’d seen once before.
“This place is…”
