Chapter 4
At the empress’s words—so clearly meant to mock her—Ines didn’t unclench her fists. She glared, forcing each word out with cold, deliberate precision.
“If you harm an innocent child, do you really think your own will stay safe? You’re carrying a baby too—you know what that fear feels like. Aren’t you afraid?”
The empress burst out laughing again. She laughed for a long while, then suddenly stopped, her face sharpening with chill disdain.
“What a pointless thing to say. If I were afraid of divine punishment, do you think I would have dared plan all this?”
The moment she finished speaking, something warm and wet trickled down the inside of Ines’s thighs.
The room was small; the metallic stench of blood spread almost instantly.
As Ines’s face drained of color, the empress spoke to her in a tone of false generosity.
“Well. It seems the medicine is starting to take effect.”
Panicked, Ines bunched up her skirt without even thinking. The fact that the empress stood right in front of her meant nothing now. Her skirt was slowly blooming red.
“No… no, no—this can’t…!”
“They said your body was frail, and yet you withstood the drug until now. I suppose even a mother like you wanted desperately to protect her child. Thanks to that, our little chat lasted longer than I expected.”
The empress sat comfortably in her chair, watching with relish as Ines collapsed under the agony of hemorrhage.
Seeing her like this, the empress felt as though she finally understood the eager crowds who woke before dawn just to watch a public execution.
The long, miserable feud with the Greenwood family was at last nearing its end.
That thought made her almost sentimental.
Today of all days, Ines Greenwood’s face overlapped uncannily with that of the former empress consort.
The empress began to speak—to share the secret she had once wanted to tell the empress consort.
“Your aunt said she would curse me. She asked why she had to die. But it was your family who started all this. You worms dared crawl above your station, dared chase the circles of high society. You offended me. You should’ve just stayed on the ground, crawling like insects and nibbling on whatever crumbs fell down there. Why covet what was mine?”
She dressed it up with venomous flair, but in the end, Lea Greenwood had been nothing more than a common noblewoman.
Whatever the beginning had been, she had loved the emperor. Perhaps that was why she had been able to bear his child. Unlike herself.
Ever since she was a clueless girl of ten, her fate had been sealed.
To elevate her family’s status, she had been chosen as the emperor’s bride—a man nine years older—long before she had any chance to love someone else.
For the next ten years, she grew up hearing all the sordid stories of her future husband’s escapades.
How could she ever come to love such a man? All she could do was endure.
The emperor had many women he spent his nights with. Constant scandal dulls a person’s nerves.
The horror she once felt toward his behavior faded far earlier than she had expected, replaced by nothing more than weary indifference.
Perhaps she could have lived that life quietly, tolerably.
If not for Lea Greenwood.
Lea Greenwood, three years younger than herself, came from a humble viscount’s house.
Unlike the empress, who had been sold off like chattel, Lea had the freedom to love. And yet she chose the emperor of her own will. That—above all else—was why the empress hated her.
Lea Greenwood should have been satisfied with the emperor’s affections and with the earldom bestowed on her brother.
The love play of a husband she had never truly cared for should have meant nothing to the empress.
But Lea reaching for the title of “the next emperor’s mother”… that was unforgivable.
“To think she believed I did all this because I loved His Majesty. Your aunt stayed naïve to her last breath. She didn’t believe me when I told her I’d never had such feelings for him. I laughed so hard. Imagine not even considering the possibility of bearing another man’s child while still married—so very like her, isn’t it?”
“N-no… no… this can’t…”
The empress gently wiped away Ines’s tears, as if the girl might not have heard a word she said, curled up and shaking with pain.
“I do feel a little sorry for Duke Angel. If he hadn’t married you, he might have lived a far better life.”
As she looked over Ines’s dying form, the empress’s gaze stopped on something. A ring. It was caught on the fingers of the hand Ines kept in a death grip, knuckles white from effort.
“Ah. So you still have one thing left. Something precious.”
She had taken the empress consort’s beloved son. She had taken the earl’s power. And from Ines, she had taken her cherished husband and unborn child.
The Greenwoods deserved nothing. Not even this—this worthless silver ring.
Whatever value it held, the empress didn’t know. But it clearly belonged to House Angel.
The sight of it made her think briefly of Cedric Angel.
He should have been eliminated with Ines simply for marrying a Greenwood—but he had been a waste to kill.
The empress’s lips twisted. She had meant it when she offered to spare him if he falsely accused the Greenwood family.
But love had ruined him. That clever man had let himself be blinded by it, choosing death instead.
Even in indescribable agony, Ines clung to the ring with raw instinct, refusing to let it be taken.
The empress tried once or twice to pry it from her, then gave up. Ines’s life was already slipping away. It wasn’t worth the trouble.
Everything would end soon enough, and the ring could be taken afterward.
The empress had no desire to remain in this small room steeped in the stench of blood.
She turned away and addressed the maids waiting outside.
“When she stops breathing, bring me the ring.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Their voices echoed faintly in Ines’s ears. Her vision dimmed.
So this is dying.
So the gods have not forgiven me after all.
Strangely, she wasn’t afraid.
She had fallen for the empress’s deception and falsely confessed her husband’s crimes.
They claimed it would be better to admit to something minor, so that the duchy could be confiscated quietly. She believed it.
Cedric died because she believed it.
But what she hated most wasn’t the empress—it was herself.
She, who had watched her husband die and still forced food past her throat afterward. How pathetic.
Yes, she despised herself most of all. Even after witnessing Cedric’s death, she had continued breathing, continued living—as though she deserved to.
She had pretended to be a villain just to protect them, but she couldn’t. Her fragile little one had vanished before ever taking a breath.
The baby’s death destroyed what little desire she had left to live.
Nothing mattered anymore. The only solace was the thought that her child’s soul had left this northern tower and gone to rest in the warm embrace of the gods.
Ines wept, imagining her baby happy in heaven with Cedric, her always-gentle, always-loving husband.
It’s better this way.
It had always weighed on her heart. From the moment she was locked in the northern tower, she must have sensed it—she would never leave this place alive.
Now that things had come to this, she felt strangely at peace imagining that even if she herself fell into hell, Cedric would be there to protect their child.
With the last of her strength, Ines opened her eyes. She dragged herself toward the small window until she could see the brilliant spring sky.
The weather was so fine—just like the day she and Cedric had been married three years ago.
Cedric…
She had tried not to think of him while imprisoned here. But now, at the very end, her feelings for him surged through her like a towering wave.
If I could see you one more time…
But Ines let out a faint, self-mocking smile.
Wanting to see him again—how shameless. Some things truly never changed, even at death’s doorstep.
The empress had been right about one thing: Ines had committed the sin of wanting someone far beyond her station.
No… never.
Not that it mattered now, but if she could turn back time—
I would never meet Cedric. Never cross paths with him. I’d let us live as strangers forever.
Feeling death draw near, Ines moved her lips one last time.
“Rachel… my baby…”
A name she had never dared speak aloud, in fear her pregnancy would be discovered.
Cedric had chosen it himself—he had hoped their first child would be a girl.
The blue sky blurred. Or rather, her vision did.
The child would have resembled Cedric, she thought. They said the firstborn often takes after the father. A sweet child with blue eyes like his.
As she whispered her baby’s name again and again, strength left her fingers. The fist she had kept clenched so tightly—afraid someone might take the ring—slowly loosened until the ring slipped free and fell onto the cold stone floor with a soft, final clink.
The room was silent.
A soft light began to glow from Ines’s hand. It spread, surrounding her body.
Then, with a sharp flash, it burst and faded away.
By the time the maids, waiting outside, deemed enough time had passed and opened the door, the only thing left inside was Ines Greenwood’s cold, lifeless body on the floor.
As ordered, they removed the ring from her hand. It slipped out easily from her thin, stiff fingers, offering no resistance.
“…Hah.”
One maid let out a deflated sigh.
“What is it?”
Caught by the head maid’s glare, the younger maid pointed at Ines and scoffed.
“Nothing. I’m just thinking—she fought so desperately to protect this? It’s only a silver ring.”
At her words, the other maids tittered softly. Had the empress not mentioned it, they might not have noticed it at all—the ring looked so insignificant.
“Exactly. Are we even sure the duke gave it to her? House Angel wouldn’t bother with something so cheap.”
The maid holding the ring laughed and nodded.
“Probably not. Considering how wickedly she drove her husband to his death, who knows what man she was really involved with.”
She turned the ring this way and that—then frowned faintly.
“Huh.”
“What now?” the head maid snapped.
“It’s just… was the ring always this color?”
The tiny diamond in the center had been the only redeeming feature, yet now it was black as coal, making the entire thing look like a shabby trinket sold in street markets.
The head maid clicked her tongue sharply.
“Who cares what color it was? Enough chatter. Clean up. We have to leave soon—don’t you know that?”
The reprimanded maid shrank.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
They hurriedly finished their work and left the tower. Soon the guards would arrive to “accidentally” discover Ines Greenwood’s death.
And so, on the Feast Day of Saint Cristian, March of Continental Year 565—
the last blood of both Greenwood and Angel lines died in quiet loneliness.
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By Anna 💓
