Chapter 008. Their Twisted Hero (4)

The Emperor of Hernia had a warm smile that left an impression.

“Come in.”

Lucas, seated on the imperial throne, greeted Sionne. Despite the Emperor’s seemingly kind words, Sionne was forced to kneel by the imperial knights.

The distance between them was impersonal, with Lucas looking down from above. His cold gaze contrasted starkly with his warm smile, revealing the Emperor’s true feelings more clearly than any false words or expressions.

“Show respect to the Sun of Hernia.”

When Sionne only stared blankly at the Emperor, one of the knights roughly pressed down on the back of his head.

‘Show respect?’

Sionne, who had entered the royal family late in life, had to learn everything from scratch.

‘Straighten your shoulders and present your chest.’

‘Please, don’t use honorifics with subordinates.’

‘You should use smaller utensils when eating fish.’

The way he walked, spoke, and even ate—all the freedom he had once enjoyed for 18 years was suddenly taken away from him. It felt like a price he had to pay for the freedom he once had.

‘Do I really have to follow all these rules? It’s just formality.’

‘There’s certainly some truth to that. But nothing shows respect and courtesy more effectively than adhering to these formalities.’

Though Sionne found the etiquette tedious and difficult, he learned it as a way to show respect, just as his mentor had said.

But he had no reason to show such respect to the Emperor of an enemy nation. The fact that he refrained from spitting in the Emperor’s face was restraint enough.

“Leave him be.”

Lucas ordered the knight to release Sionne’s neck.

“That’s not the proper way to treat a guest.”

The knight’s rough hand finally let go of Sionne’s neck, though not without one last hard shove, as if to issue a warning.

“My knight’s excessive loyalty has caused offense. It wasn’t meant to harm or disrespect you, so I hope you’ll understand.”

“…”

Sionne slowly lifted his head. There was nothing to understand.

Understanding was a virtue of the strong, not the weak. For the weak, endurance was the only virtue. To disguise endurance as understanding would be nothing but hypocrisy.

“So, I hear you’ve been staying in my sister’s chambers?”

“…”

“Answer him.”

When Sionne didn’t respond, a sharp rebuke came from one of the knights, who clearly didn’t like his silence.

But the Emperor continued speaking, seemingly unbothered.

“It’s been about two weeks, hasn’t it? Are you managing well?”

Though Lucas framed his question as one of curiosity, it was clear he already knew the answer. He was certain that Sionne’s time with Rosalyn had been anything but pleasant.

“My sister isn’t exactly the easiest person to live with.”

Even after being apart for so long, Lucas knew his sister well. He had watched her grow up, and he had always placed people around her to keep an eye on her.

“She’s always been that way.”

Lucas’s eyes briefly reflected memories of the past.

“Arrogant, always wanting to do everything her way.”

Sionne could sense deep-seated resentment in the Emperor’s words, bitterness that hadn’t been resolved.

His intuition, honed by years of awkwardly navigating royal customs, told him that the Emperor harbored something darker beneath his words.

Luckily for Sionne, in everyday life, intuition was often more useful than etiquette.

Whether on the battlefield, where arrows flew, or in this perilous audience chamber.

“How amusing is it? A mere bastard acting more dignified than anyone.”

It was clear that the Emperor didn’t hold his sister in high regard.

“So, what is it that you want from me?”

Sionne cut off the Emperor’s idle chatter with a direct question.

After all, he had no interest in Lucas’s complaints about Rosalyn.

Whether she had always been strange or had only become that way after the war didn’t concern him in the least.

“…What exactly is your relationship with my sister? Could it be… love?”

“?”

Sionne blinked, momentarily baffled by Lucas’s words.

Love. That thing that wandering poets dedicated their entire lives to praising. Just hearing the word conjured images of soft, tender feelings, sweet and sentimental.

Could such a word ever be used to describe what existed between him and Rosalyn?

“Did you two lock eyes on the battlefield or something? Otherwise, why would my sister be so protective of you?”

Lucas massaged his temple as he spoke, clearly trying to make sense of why Rosalyn was treating Sionne the way she was.

Sionne’s half-sister had confined the fallen prince in her chambers, ensuring he couldn’t leave. It was the safest place to keep him hidden.

And then there were the expensive medicines and luxury goods provided to him. For a spoil of war, these gifts were excessive—though the recipient didn’t seem too pleased about it.

“To think I would love a Hernia royal who deserves death? Am I insane?”

Sionne spat the words, glaring at the Emperor, his killing intent directed sharply at Lucas.

At that moment, a hand struck him.

Whack!

“If you insult the royal family again, I will personally see to it that your tongue is removed,” said one of the imperial knights, as blood filled Sionne’s mouth from the blow. He turned his head back and spat the blood onto the floor.

“Enough, Sir Hart. I was just asking out of curiosity.”

Lucas said, once again pretending to intervene after the action had already taken place.

“A love between Hernia and Feitan? Ridiculous.”

“…”

“It just seemed strange to me, that a man like you—who understands honor—would continue to stay as my sister’s lover.”

Lucas wore an expression of genuine confusion, as if Sionne’s very existence contradicted his expectations.

The implication was clear: Lucas believed that Sionne should have taken his own life by now. And truthfully, Sionne couldn’t argue with that reasoning.

“Hm, then it seems what I heard was true. My sister is holding your people as hostages, isn’t she?”

Lucas finally broached the real issue.

Hearing Merilyn and Anna’s names mentioned by yet another enemy caused Sionne’s mood to plummet. His bloodshot eyes fixated on Lucas, filled with hatred.

“What do you want?”

The Emperor must have wanted something, or else he wouldn’t have mentioned Sionne’s weakness so blatantly.

‘Finally, someone who can negotiate.’

Lucas rose from his throne, walking towards Sionne with firm strides.

“Let’s make a deal, Sionne Feitan.”

“A deal…?”

Lucas looked down at Sionne from up close.

“I’ll save your people.”

Lowering his voice, he commanded in a hoarse whisper.

“And you kill my sister, cleanly.”

* * *

As Sionne walked back toward the princess’s palace, he was deep in thought.

He had known since his days in Feitan that bonds like family and loyalty meant little among nobles.

Hernia, it seemed, was no different.

‘Once you reach Anata, kill Rosalyn de Anata. Then I’ll guarantee the safety of Merilyn and Anna.’

Sionne couldn’t fully trust Lucas’s offer. The man didn’t even know Anna’s name properly—how could he truly guarantee their safety?

Still, if he had to choose between siding with Rosalyn or Lucas…

‘It’s better to side with the Emperor.’

The reason was simple. With Rosalyn, there was no clear end in sight.

How long would he remain her spoil of war? Until she grew bored of him? When would that be?

‘A year? Three years? Seven? Or… forever?’

The very thought suffocated him. He couldn’t bear the idea of living indefinitely as her spoil.

But siding with the Emperor came with a defined term.

Until the moment he killed Rosalyn.

After that, Sionne could be free. Merilyn and Anna would be freed as well.

‘If the Emperor upholds the deal, you and your people will be granted the status of free citizens.’

Sionne hadn’t immediately accepted or rejected the Emperor’s offer.

But the more time passed, the clearer his path became.

His emotions, combined with the logic of the situation, solidified his resolve.

‘Rosalyn de Anata must die.’

As he followed the servant guiding him back, Sionne looked down at his hands. He had the skill to kill Rosalyn; physically, he was stronger.

‘But…’

He couldn’t kill her.

He had a compulsion, a moral barrier against killing women and children. As long as that remained, killing Rosalyn was impossible.

‘But this time, this time I have to…’

He ‘wanted’ to kill her.

No, he ‘had’ to kill her. To save Merilyn and Anna, there was no other choice.

‘I ‘will’ kill her.’

Sionne clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles standing out sharply. It was the first time he had ever felt such raw, overwhelming desire to kill.