At the same time, as Sevine and Duke Darconer rode toward the southern region,
a pair of lovers spent a peaceful afternoon in the lily garden of the Winchester estate.
The garden, overflowing with white lilies in full bloom, stood out like a patch of light among the grand, dark buildings.
The sweet fragrance of the flowers filled the air, wrapping their little world in an undisturbed tranquility.
Amidst the sea of lilies, Jayden Winchester and Madeline Blouis sat side by side on an old marble bench, its surface worn smooth by time.
Their voices were soft, their conversation intimate, as they talked about their wedding, now just weeks away.
King Baterville, in a rare show of generosity, had offered his royal palace as the venue for their marriage.
The wedding was set to be a grand celebration—a reward for Jayden, the hero who had crushed the recent rebellion.
Madeline held Jayden's hand gently, afraid that if she gripped too tightly, he might somehow vanish from her side.
Her eyes widened when she spotted new scars decorating his skin, fresh reminders of the battles he fought.
"Don't worry, it's just a scratch," Jayden said, his voice deep and steady like the slow fall of twilight.He turned Madeline's hand over and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles, a simple yet profound gesture.
Madeline let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening."I can never stay calm when you're out on the battlefield," she whispered, reaching up to brush his cheek, as if to convince herself he was truly here.
Jayden gave her a small, lopsided smile. His voice was low and warm when he answered,
"Don't worry. I'll always come back to you, Duchess."
Madeline pouted, giving his firm arm a playful little punch."Hey! We're not married yet! Stop calling me that!" she scolded, her cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink.
Jayden chuckled softly, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. To him, Madeline had already been his world—official or not.
Madeline smiled shyly, her heart swelling.
Jayden Winchester wasn't just the strongest knight in Baterville—he was the man every noblewoman dreamed of marrying.
His strength, his calm, his impossible beauty—he seemed almost like a living legend.
Girls would often scream or swoon at the mere sight of him.Yet that dazzling image was hilariously shattered by one person—and Madeline knew exactly who.
Her mind drifted back to Yelena Darconer's stoic face, a perfect match to Jayden's equally blank expression.They looked so much like indifferent twins that Madeline couldn't help but giggle at the memory.
Jayden turned to her, raising a brow, but Madeline just shook her head, keeping the funny thought to herself.
Soon, Jayden pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as if he could somehow freeze this moment.Then, slowly, he let her go.
"I've been assigned a new mission by His Majesty," he said. "To investigate the missing children down south."
Madeline stiffened. Her eyes filled with frustration she couldn't hide."Why does His Majesty always send you? Aren't there other knights?" she muttered.
She lowered her gaze, trying to hide the sadness rising in her chest.They had already been spending so little time together, and the wedding was so close.
Jayden gently stroked her hair, his touch careful and comforting.
"It won't take long," he murmured. "I want to build a world where you... and our future children... can live safely and peacefully."
For a moment, Madeline forgot how to breathe.Those simple words hit her heart like a thousand sweet arrows.
Her face burned, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.How could Jayden say something so beautiful with such a calm expression, while she was practically melting inside?
All Madeline could do was lower her gaze, hiding her bashful smile, imagining a future where she would wake up every morning to find Jayden sleeping peacefully beside her—her world wrapped safely in his arms.
»»——⍟——««
Back to Sevine who is currently in the slums in the southern part of the Baterville Kingdom
The southern region was far worse than Sevine had ever imagined.
Through the rattling window of the horse-drawn carriage, she stared wide-eyed in horror. Along the muddy streets, emaciated bodies lay discarded in the corners, like broken dolls abandoned without a shred of mercy. Dust-covered, wounded faces gazed blankly at their carriage—hoping, or perhaps too hopeless even to hope.
Children fought over a scrap of stale bread, clawing at each other like starving beasts. The stench of blood, filth, and death clung to the air, making Sevine clutch the folds of her dress tightly, struggling to keep her nausea at bay.
Tears welled up, blurring her vision and filling her chest with a searing ache.
"This kind of sight... is nothing unusual here," Duke Darconer said in a flat voice, as if the horrors before them had long since numbed his soul.
"Isn't there anything we can do, Father?" Sevine's voice cracked, thick with disbelief and anger.
The Duke turned to her, his usually stern gaze softening for a moment. But behind it lurked helplessness. "Being a Duke doesn't mean you can act freely in lands that aren't yours, Yelena."
A heavy darkness weighed on Sevine's heart. Even her father, one of the most powerful men in this kingdom, was bound and powerless.
"Doesn't His Majesty care about the people of the south?" she pressed, her voice trembling.
"He does. That's why every month, the nobles are ordered to send offerings to the northern temple, which are then meant to be distributed here." Duke Darconer exhaled heavily, as if the truth itself was a burden. "But The southerners often sell the food offerings to survive. In the end, their misery is seen as divine punishment from the Goddess."
Sevine clenched her fists tightly on her lap. Her blood boiled with fury.
"Even if the region seems abandoned, there are a few nobles assigned to govern it," her father added.
That was it. Sevine's eyes burned with rage.
Those nobles must be the real thieves—stealing the offerings and then blaming the powerless people.
It was always the same. The poor were made scapegoats for the crimes of the privileged.
"Maybe the ones selling the offerings are the very nobles managing this land," Sevine muttered bitterly, her voice soaked with disgust.
Duke Darconer shook his head calmly. "Impossible. The Ruberius Knights patrol regularly to ensure the offerings reach the people."
Sevine looked away, refusing to believe it. Her eyes returned to the grim streets outside, now burning with a quiet, fierce determination.
She swore to herself—she would uncover the dark truth behind all this
»»——⍟——««
The Darconer party decided to take a two-day rest at the estate of a noble who owed favors to Duke Darconer.
"I am truly honored to host you in our humble home, Your Grace,"
Baron Dormund said, bowing so deeply it looked almost painful. His voice dripped with sickening sweetness, his desperate eagerness to please plain for all to see.
Everyone knew how minor nobles loved to grovel at the feet of those more powerful, hoping for scraps of favor that might lift them a rung higher on the social ladder.
Baron Dormund wasted no time commanding his servants — and even his own wife — to prepare the finest food and open the grandest guest rooms.
"This way, my lady. Please allow me to escort you,"
a young maid said with a timid curtsy, leading Sevine toward the guest quarters.
As they walked, Sevine's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something that made her stomach twist — faint, raw lash marks on the girl's calves.
Her hands clenched at her sides. A thousand questions burned on her tongue, but she bit them back.She had sworn to Duke Darconer she would not meddle in the affairs of others during this journey, no matter how much it sickened her.
When they reached her room, Sevine paused and turned to the maid. Before the girl could scurry off, Sevine caught her hand, slipping three gold coins into her palm and pressing a finger to her lips.
"Buy medicine. And be careful," Sevine whispered.
The maid's eyes welled with tears. She nodded hurriedly, murmured a broken "thank you," and fled down the hall before emotion could betray her.
Left alone, Sevine stepped out onto the balcony.From there, she could see the vast lands surrounding the manor — a glittering jewel set amidst a sea of ruin.
Fields lay fallow. Ramshackle huts leaned against each other as if the very earth could no longer bear their weight. Smoke rose in thin, miserable trails from the village below, and the streets were hauntingly empty. Hunger gnawed at this place, clinging to it like a curse.
And yet here, within these gilded walls, wine flowed and feasts were laid out without a second thought.
A bitter taste filled Sevine's mouth. Sometimes she hated the blood that ran in her veins — hated being part of a world so steeped in cruelty and injustice.
How ironic, she thought, that the sweet romance between Reinhardt and Rose had been born in a world this rotten.
A dangerous idea lit up in her mind. Without hesitation, she crossed the room in quick strides and dug into her travel bag, pulling out a plain, dark cloak with a deep hood.
"Tonight," she murmured, tying the cloak securely, "I find the truth."
»»--⍟--««
Feigning illness, Sevine managed to slip away from the lavish banquet hosted by Baron Dormund without raising suspicion.
She crept through the silent halls, her heart hammering against her ribs. The shadows clung thick to the walls as she made her way to the kitchen — the servants' domain, where gossip and secrets often festered unseen by noble eyes.
There, just as she had noted earlier, a small door stood ajar beside the kitchen hearth — a servant's exit.
Sevine slipped out into the cool night air, the scent of damp earth and old stone filling her lungs.
But as soon as she stepped into the night, a troubling memory tugged at her thoughts.
By the kitchen wall, she had spotted several wooden crates — sturdy, worn, and oddly familiar.Where had she seen them before?
She barely had time to ponder before a group of heavyset men emerged from the same door.
Sevine melted into the shadows of a nearby outbuilding, holding her breath as she watched them.
The men moved in practiced silence, carrying crates toward a squat, grim-looking warehouse at the back of the estate. Their steps were heavy, purposeful.
They were not servants.
They were smugglers.
Keeping low, Sevine moved closer, creeping along the edges of the outbuildings until she had a better view.
The men entered the warehouse and soon emerged, carrying more crates — but these were different. These crates bore thick paper seals, still intact, fluttering slightly in the night breeze.
They loaded the cargo into waiting wagons lined up in the shadows — three, no, four of them.
Squinting, Sevine caught sight of the symbol stamped onto the seals — and her heart dropped into her stomach.
It was her family's crest — the crest of House Darconer.
The memory came rushing back with brutal clarity:
Just days ago, she had seen similar crates being prepared at her home. Vincent himself had overseen the loading, ordering the servants to handle the cargo with reverence.
Those crates had been filled with offerings — sacred food, meant to be sent to the northern temple as tribute to the gods.
And now they were here, being stolen, sold, profaned.
Sevine's blood boiled. Rage clouded her vision.
"So it's true," she seethed under her breath. "That bastard's selling sacred offerings for his own gain."
Without thinking, she surged forward, ready to confront them.
But a hand clamped down on her arm, pulling her back into the shadows.
"Let me go!" she hissed, struggling.
"Shh, calm down, my lady," a low voice murmured, firm but not unkind.
Sevine froze. There was something familiar about the voice — about the presence behind it.
The figure pulled back his hood, and the moonlight spilled across him like molten silver.
Sevine's breath caught.
Silver hair, gleaming like a blade under the stars.
There was only one family known for hair like that.
Ruberius.
And the man standing before her was none other than Sebastian Ruberius —
the Crown Prince's right hand, and brother to Ivanka Ruberius.
»»--⍟--««
Forty minutes earlier, before Sevine and Sebastian Ruberius met:
The mortality rate due to hunger in the southern region had risen sharply lately, a growing concern for the Ruberius Duchy, as they were indirectly responsible for overseeing the temples that distributed the offerings to that poor, starving area.
In the private chambers of the Ruberius family head, Rupert Ruberius—father of Sebastian and Ivanka—furrowed his brow as he read a report from the northern temple regarding the shipment of food offerings.
"I'm beginning to suspect those temple couriers, to be honest," Duke Ruberius murmured, taking a deep drag of his cigar.
"The death toll in the southern regions due to digestive diseases is also rising. Do you think this is normal? Meanwhile, we ensure the offerings are regularly delivered into the hands of the people."
Regulus Wilfrod, the Ruberius family's assistant, offered his opinion. "I don't think this is normal, Your Grace. Something must be happening without our knowledge."
"I agree, Father. They're sneakier than we thought," Sebastian nodded in agreement. Behind his glasses, it was clear to him that his father was deeply troubled by the news.
"Do you think there's a big noble pulling the strings behind this, Your Grace? Perhaps involvement from the Darconer Duchy, given how close the southern nobles are to him—ready to lick his boot at the slightest opportunity?" Regulus asked, his tone bold and irreverent. For a family assistant, his mouth was surprisingly audacious.
The corner of Duke Rupert's lips lifted slightly."Do you know, Regulus, why that old brown fox is wealthier in properties than we are?" he asked rhetorically. "It's because he has a talent for making business connections. Do you think someone as rich as him would engage in a petty, dirty business like reselling the food offerings?"
Regulus fell silent. So did Sebastian.
Duke Ruberius placed his cigar on the table.
"I've never liked Lucas—he's sly and clever. But it's because of his cleverness that His Majesty is closer to him than to me and Aldrich. The fox is cunning, but he's not dirty."
After saying this, Duke Ruberius slid a sheet of paper across the table, filled with the names of southern nobles.
"Sebastian, try to investigate these individuals. We might be able to find proof."
Sebastian bowed respectfully. "Understood, Father."
And that was why, at that very moment, Sebastian found himself in the southern region, and by some strange twist of fate, he crossed paths with Sevine while spying on Baron Dormund's residence.