Chapter 83
Dominic knew he was dreaming just from the scene unfolding before him. Otherwise, there was no way a young Angela, wearing such a clear, bright smile, would be sitting right in front of him.
Angela was perched on a chair where her feet didn’t touch the floor, dangling them in the air as she read a book.
Come to think of it, he vaguely recalled hearing from someone that Angela loved reading books. He couldn’t remember who had told him, when, or where, which probably meant he’d brushed it off at the time with a casual “So what?” After all, she had been a child who meant nothing to him.
Even when he believed she was his own daughter, it had been the same. He hadn’t cared how Grace raised her. Every time the thought crossed his mind that he couldn’t cast Grace aside because of that child, it had irritated him.
There was no way a child he had treated like that—knowing full well how she was being regarded—would smile so radiantly in front of him.
Yet, why was she smiling so purely and brightly?
Even as he sensed something was off, Dominic suddenly reached out toward Angela. He expected her to dissolve like an illusion upon touch… but a vivid sensation met his fingers. Her pale cheek felt soft and smooth.
The child, feeling her father’s hand on her cheek, lifted the corners of her mouth even higher. She rubbed her face against it, shaking her head playfully.
It was adorable, and utterly endearing.
“What book are you reading?”
At Dominic’s curious question, the child looked up at him steadily. Then, with her face still full of laughter, she hopped down from the tall chair and dashed away, clutching the book to her chest.
Dominic, overcome by an inexplicable tenderness, chased after her. And he finally caught the swiftly running child in his grasp.
But why was this happening now?
The moment he seized her, fear began to fill the child’s eyes as she looked up at him. Her body trembled and shrank in terror.
The radiant smile from before had vanished somewhere, and all that rose on her tiny face was a desperate plea to survive.
Why? What had he done? He had only wanted to cherish her and not let her go.
Just then, the child in his hands began to struggle. It was a plea to be released. He knew that, but the thought that she would flee the moment he let go made it impossible for Dominic to release her.
So, he held on and pulled her into his embrace. He locked her in with both arms, pouring strength into them to keep her from going anywhere. The child, as if suffocating, pounded his chest with her small fists. But even so, she lacked the strength to push an adult away.
How long did she resist like that? The child in his arms went limp. Her hands dropped weakly. At the same time, the book she had been holding fell to the floor. The open pages depicted nothing but pitch-black darkness, like a moonless night.
“Gasp!”
Dominic bolted upright in bed, frantically scanning his room. His back was drenched. It was from the cold sweat pouring down. But that didn’t matter. He rummaged through the room, searching for what he had lost.
Where is it! Where!
His child had to be somewhere here. He had clearly been holding her in his arms. But she was nowhere. He had let her go. Let her go… Yes, he had let her slip away…
A very… very long time ago…
“Hah, hah…”
Dominic swept back his sweat-beaded hair. He breathed heavily to regain his senses. Drinking the water from the table somewhat quenched his thirst. Yet, fully coming to his senses wasn’t easy.
Outside the window, the world had greeted the morning. He was sure it had been pitch-black night when he opened his eyes, but in his frenzy to search for the child, morning had arrived. He felt like he was going mad.
Dominic, who had been inhaling and exhaling deeply through his nose and mouth, finally couldn’t endure the sensation any longer and shook the bell cord hanging by the bed.
A maid quickly entered the room and bowed. Dominic issued a curt command to her.
“I need to see my daughter. Bring her here.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The maid left the room immediately. And soon after, the door opened again. What entered was undoubtedly Dominic’s daughter.
“Ah, Father?”
“Beatrice…”
The maid had indeed brought his daughter as he had ordered. Yet, a crushing sense of despair welled up in one corner of his heart.
“Father!”
His daughter, startled by her father’s sinking expression, rushed closer, fidgeting in confusion. Her face grew pale.
The daughter Dominic had wanted to see wouldn’t act like this. Even if he collapsed right in front of her, she would gaze down impassively and turn away coldly. Just as he had done. He couldn’t understand why he longed so much to see that cold demeanor.
Knowing it was shameless, a greedy desire surged within him—that the child be within his reach, where he could call her and she would come running, or rather, where he could run to her, right here in Bilton Manor.
* * *
Rasill was feeling immense satisfaction as he gazed at his reflection in the enormous mirror. Several days had passed since the coronation, yet the joy filling his chest showed no sign of subsiding.
All that had been added was a crown atop his head. Yet, his appearance, which had always felt like something was missing, now looked perfectly picturesque.
“Haha.”
This was just the beginning. It was his era now. Discard the old and embrace the new. The first thing to cast aside was that useless sense of defeat. What was Phaelon, anyway?
“Now, everything is at my feet.”
Rasill prepared to leave the mirror he had lingered before for so long. It was time to handle his duties as king one by one and savor the position he had ascended to.
It should have been so.
“Your Majesty, reports say the Alcyon flocks have returned to the eternal snowfields.”
The first report from the knight commander he had newly appointed was something like this.
“That can’t be!”
Reacting sharply, Rasill headed straight to Grace that very moment.
Alcyons and Red Wolves were monsters that inhabited only the uninhabited eternal snowfields due to the extreme cold, but they were always a headache for the Taran Kingdom.
This was because the eternal snowfields encircled the Taran Kingdom entirely, making passage through them essential to reach the outside world.
Of course, there were routes that avoided the area altogether, but they required several times the time and expense for travel.
With monsters firmly entrenched there, it was bound to be troublesome. Passing through the eternal snowfields unscathed was difficult without a substantial escort of soldiers.
While he was wracking his brain over this issue, news came from Phaelon that they had succeeded in completely eradicating Red Wolves within their territory.
Stimulated by the cheers from the foreign land, Rasill thought they could do the same and led troops to the eternal snowfields.
However, it wasn’t as easy as he had imagined. Soldiers who witnessed their comrades being torn apart alive fled in panic. Even the knights who stayed to fight couldn’t unleash their full abilities against the endless waves of monsters and the unrelenting cold of the snowfields, and they collapsed.
It was a complete failure. The expedition returned empty-handed, unable even to recover the bodies of the fallen soldiers, and received no applause.
That incident, which had damaged Rasill’s popularity during his time as crown prince, Grace had accomplished without batting an eye. Simply by existing.
‘What on earth is going on? Am I dreaming?’
In the eternal snowfields, amidst that absolute cold, Grace sat alone, yet neither the Alcyons nor the Red Wolves made her their prey. Instead, the moment she was brought into the Taran Kingdom, the monsters began to slowly shift their territory.
When asked why, she replied it must be fear. Fear of what? Of a frail woman, stumbling and weakened, stripped of her strength?
“They must instinctively know,” Grace said coolly, “that I gained my power from the blood of their kin I slaughtered.”
In that moment, Rasill could almost see the red stains of a Red Wolf’s blood on her lips and sharp fangs gleaming in her mouth.
But what? Now those monsters were back?
That meant something had gone wrong. And at this precise moment, when he had just become king, it was far from a welcome problem.
“Grace!”
As he flung open the door, a wave of stifling heat hit him. Wrapped in heavy clothing, Rasill found Grace’s room oppressively warm. But today, instead of complaining about the strange heat, he had something else to say.
Approaching Grace, who sat blankly before the fireplace, passing the time, Rasill demanded without preamble, “I’ve had a report that the Alcyons have returned to the eternal snowfields. What’s going on?”
Grace, as if it were no big deal, turned her gaze from the fireplace to Rasill. His anger flared, and he raised his voice.
“Didn’t you say they fled because they feared you? So why are they coming back to where you are?”
“Well,” Grace replied lightly, “maybe they’ve gotten over their fear.”
Her flippant response made Rasill sit down to meet her eye level. The heat from the fireplace seemed to sear the side of his face, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.
“The people think I’m the one who drove the Alcyons out of the eternal snowfields.”
When the monsters had vanished, the people had finally proclaimed that Rasill, the crown prince of the Taran Kingdom, deserved their applause.
“And now they’re back? That puts me in a very difficult position, you know? You need to take responsibility for this!”
Grace regarded the fuming Rasill with a lingering, almost tender look. Then she asked, “So, what exactly does His Majesty King Rasill expect me to take responsibility for?”
Her tone dripped with mockery. But if this situation could be resolved, Rasill didn’t care about her attitude.
“Kill them. Wipe them all out, every last one of them.”
While Rasill ground his teeth with venom, Grace responded with the casual ease of someone discussing a trivial task. “Oh, alright.”
“What…?”
Her nonchalance caught Rasill off guard. Grace looked at him with a mocking smile.
“You said to kill them. I’ll do it. So stop whining and go do your kingly duties.”
She was granting his request, yet Rasill felt strangely unsettled. Declaring he trusted she’d handle it, he stormed out of the room, glancing back at Grace’s silhouette.
Once he’d fully exited and closed the door, he instinctively touched his throat. It was still there. So why did his mouth feel so parched, his throat burning with an almost unearthly thirst? It’s just… the heat in there, he told himself, shaking his head as he walked away.
* * *
As Rasill hurriedly shut the door behind him, Grace let out a soft, derisive chuckle and thought of Angela.
Even when she had lost her strength, the Alcyons had trembled in fear of her. If they had now returned to the Taran Kingdom, there could only be one reason: Angela had used her power to control the beasts.
This step-by-step mastery was troublesome. A good daughter would remain ignorant, offering her power to her mother until the very end.
No choice, then. Today, she’d have to torment Dominic a bit more—until he drained his own daughter dry.
* * *
“Your Highness, they said we were almost at Ron, but is this Ron? Are my eyes playing tricks? All I see is the ocean!”
Cecil sneered as he gazed down at the sheer cliff and the churning waves below. The landscape was hardly what one would expect from Ron, a landlocked region surrounded by solid earth.
“Cecil.”
“What? What is it?”
At Ian’s call, Cecil turned to him with barely concealed irritation. It was then that he noticed Ian staring intently at the sea.
Only then did Cecil realize His Highness the Crown Prince must have come here with some purpose.
“Haa.”
Ian’s sigh was heavy, as if it might sink into the depths of the sea. With rumors of war brewing with the Taran Kingdom, Cecil wondered if this was related. He waited quietly for Ian to speak.
“…We took a wrong turn, Cecil.”
With the gravest expression in the world, Ian muttered the most absurd thing.
“This isn’t it. Should we have turned right yesterday? We’re in trouble, Cecil. Let’s turn back.”
“Ian, Your Highness!!!”
Cecil’s anguished cry echoed as it plunged off the steep cliff.
