A noble family's status is everything. A disgrace to one member stains the entire bloodline, forcing them to protect each other, preserving their honor at all costs.
They support one another, shielding their dignity until survival demands a sacrifice.
After the war, the three major families lost their "Grand" Duke titles, stripped of honor for failing to support the royal family. Their power diminished, they were reduced to Dukes. Meanwhile, lesser noble families were rewarded, granted territories as a reward for their loyalty to the emperor.
Grand Duke Astraloyn was not spared. His title was revoked, his name tarnished. Accused of conspiring with terrorists—though he had already passed—his legacy was erased by the emperor.
The Marquise Dominic Langford family, the most honorable house, prospered instead. Their unwavering loyalty to the royal family during the war secured their place at the emperor's side. Now, every noble family supports the royal family—not out of loyalty, but out of fear of losing their titles.
For the past year, I've been hunting those who allied with the Marquise Dominic Langford. Three families are already gone, eradicated for their role in the war, their ties to terrorism. Only one remains: Count Vincent Ashford.
Why target them? Simple. Betrayal.
But there's another reason too. The Marquise Dominic Langford's second son is the fourth male lead, caught in a dangerous relationship with Elias Ashford, the eldest son of Count Vincent Ashford. Elias, whose appearance mirrors Tyrian's so closely, is destined to be abandoned when Tyrian chooses his harem. Elias will become a villain, his tragic death inevitable.
In three years, the emperor—the Crown Prince's mother—will die. And the one person the Crown Prince loves will betray him, stabbing him in the back. That person… will be me.
This betrayal will send him spiraling into madness.
The families who betrayed him will rise again, using his anguish as a pretext to start another war. One of them was Marquis Dominic Langford.
And when they learn the truth—that the Crown Prince, whom they feared for his demonic eyes, truly is a demon—it will be too late.
The world will burn.
And i left the evidence in the Blackhound office against Viscount Blackwood—because the commander of Blackhound is the first son of the Marquise Dominic langford...
He holds no fault, yet his only crime is being the brother of the fourth male lead.
So, I made him unworthy of his position.
I wonder... has he resigned yet?
"Hahahaha."
My face flushed with a sense of satisfaction, the twisted nature of the story filling me with glee.
What a complicated, tangled web of love, betrayal, and inevitable tragedy.
The reason I ever bothered to read this novel? The side characters. They were so beautifully written, their stories laid bare, their weaknesses clear.
And now, I know them all.
I must live. I must destroy them before the war even begins.
I want three things from my revenge:
First: The death of all the main characters, and the proof of Grand Duke Astraloyn's innocence.
Second: The Crown Prince must become emperor and live a life of happiness.
Third: My death—without any chance of rebirth.
I clasped the cross in both hands, closing my eyes.
"Thank you, God, for abandoning this empire. Thank you for letting me destroy them."
I hummed softly, a melody slipping from my lips. 🎶
Lalalalalalala... 🎵
Still singing, I stepped out of the room.
"How many guests are staying at the inn today?"
"Eight guests," Emma replied.
I couldn't help myself; I ran over and hugged Sophie tightly.
"Hey, Ivy, what are you doing?" Sophie asked, clearly confused.
"Emma slapped me last night, and it still hurts," I muttered, rubbing my cheek.
"Emma, how could you slap Ivy?" Sophie's voice was stern.
"I did it because she deserved it," Emma replied, pouting.
I crossed my arms. "I told you, Emma. Don't expect anything from me. I've already done everything I could for you. You can't let emotions get in the way of our mission. Yesterday, Emily died. Tomorrow, it could be someone else."
A heavy silence filled the room as both Sophie and Emma processed my words. A dark, uneasy look crossed their faces.
I quickly changed the subject. "Oh, by the way, Sophie, look—I cut my hair. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes, it looks great," Sophie said, offering me a small smile.
"How's my outfit for the new hunt?" I asked, holding up my dress and twirling. "Do you think it looks good?"
"It's beautiful," Sophie said, nodding in approval.
I turned to Emma. "You should smile, too."
"Be—beautiful," Emma said, forcing an awkward smile.
I chuckled darkly, then straightened my posture. "I'll introduce myself now." I took a deep breath and spoke in a polite, rehearsed tone: "Hello, I'm Ivy. I'm taking over for Sophie while her father is ill. It will take about three weeks for her to return. I'll be working here until then."
I glanced at Sophie. "How was that? I've rehearsed it a few times."
"You did great," Sophie said with a smile.
"Ben's waiting for you with the carriage outside," Emma said. "I've already left everything you need in there."
I nodded, checking their affection statuses in my mind. Emma: [Love +4% -5%] Sophie: [Love +3% -6%].
I turned back to Emma. "Tell the old man I left for hunting and won't be back for three weeks."
Emma handed me a set of maid's clothes. "You should change into these while you go."
I pouted. "Why do these clothes never suit me?"
"They suit you, just not as a maid," Emma said with a grin.
I sighed but accepted the clothes. "Okay, I'm leaving now."
I looked at Emma and said, "You've worked hard, Emma." Then, I walked toward the carriage, unsure of what would come next, but determined to succeed.
As I walked away, I heard Emma and Sophie talking behind me.
"Who can save her from all of this?" Emma asked, her voice filled with concern.
"No one can save someone who's already dead," Sophie replied, her tone heavy with resignation.
I rested my head against the carriage window, feeling the weight of sleepiness settle over me.
I shouldn't sleep now. Not yet.
I thought, but despite my best intentions, my eyes fluttered closed, and soon, I drifted into a light slumber.
The royal wedding had ended. The maids were already changing my clothes, preparing me for the evening.
"His Majesty will arrive soon, my Empress," one of them said with a bow before leaving the room.
I was exhausted, my body drained from the day's events. All I wanted was rest. The room was dim, large, and empty. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to gather myself, when suddenly, I saw movement through the window.
There were figures—more than seven—clad in black, their faces hidden. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze. No. Not now. I can't... I can't die again. The fear coursed through me. I wished I could run, but I knew there was no escape. There was no one coming to save me. Is this how it ends?
Then a voice pierced the silence. "What a beautiful empress. A shame to die on your wedding day."
The assassin's sword swiped through the air, and I braced myself for the inevitable strike.
But before the blow could land, I heard footsteps. Step. Step.
A figure entered the room—a shadow moving swiftly. In a flash, they wiped out the assassins as if it were nothing. The ease with which they dispatched the trained killers stunned me.
The bodyguard rushed in, his voice full of concern. "Your Majesty, are you all right?"
I could hear the fury in his tone as he shouted, "How dare they enter the royal palace? How are you allowing this?"
The bodyguard dropped to his knees. "We are to blame, Your Majesty," he said in shame.
"Then die," the man who had saved me growled, his red eyes turning toward me, catching the tremor in my form.
Without another word, he tossed his sword aside and walked toward me, enveloping me in a blanket. His movements were smooth, almost effortless, as he lifted me into his arms. "Stay still," he ordered, and carried me through the room as if nothing had happened.
"Clean the room," he instructed the others.
I was carried down dark hallways, and eventually, we entered a new room. Gently, he set me down on the bed. "Feel free to sleep. This is my bedroom."
I blinked, processing his words. His bedroom? The reality of the situation finally hit me. You want me to sleep here? In your room? And you're my husband.
His gaze softened, a flicker of reassurance in his eyes. "Don't worry," he said with a quiet confidence. "As long as I'm here, no one will dare to harm you."
I gasped awake from the dream, tears streaming down my face. I sat up, my head bowed in shame.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
What a cruel joke. No one will hurt me? But I'm the one who hurt you.
I can't let myself fall for him again. I can't let myself be swayed by feelings that will only lead to pain. I won't repeat the same mistake.
It's better that he lost his memory—he deserves to be happy, to be with the one he truly loves, once everything is over.
I don't love him.
"Ivy, we are here,"