Episode 17: From Now On, Things Will Change

Rubero, with his dark skin and red hair. Ivella, taller than most men, with her black hair. Gregor, who looked more like a butcher than a prince. Rubero’s full-blood siblings, Maximo and Desirio. And even Marinoe, whose only merit was her beauty. They were faces Alec had grown sick of.

Not once had he ever missed his family. In fact, he had no feelings toward his father either. That was why there were no stories he could tell Afrosa about them. Every time he tried to say something, their faces would surface in his mind, leaving him repulsed. His mother was no different.

His mother, once the emperor’s young empress and second wife, passed away just a few years after giving birth to him. But even before her death, there had been no tenderness toward him. She had ordered him to be taken away by a wet nurse, out of her sight, as soon as he was born.

What young maiden could willingly embrace a marriage to an old emperor who already had six grown children? Reflecting on her life, he couldn’t entirely fault her. Sharing a bed with such a man must have been pure torment. Especially since she had a lover she truly cared for.

She wasn’t like the other noblewomen whose sole ambition was to marry into the royal family and become empress.

His mother was a woman who dreamed of building a family with the man she loved, raising children who resembled him. He understood her unwilling marriage and pregnancy. Yet, understanding her didn’t mean he could love her.

Perhaps that’s why, whenever he tried to talk about her, his mouth went dry.

It wasn’t because his memories of her were faint. Even faded memories can carry emotion. But there was nothing—no feeling at all.

He felt nothing, not even on the morning she died. Even during her funeral, he remained composed. He hadn’t even bothered to feign tears, and no one thought it strange. That was just how the royal palace was.

“She despised me. Hated me so much that she sent me here.”

“Without a single person to look after you?”

“There was someone at first, but they fled.”

Afrosa went pale as a sheet. Alec watched her reaction and was reminded of the day he first arrived in Laurent. It was less than a month after his father had passed. Rubero had launched a massive purge to solidify his power.

He accused Alec’s mother, the late young empress, of secretly consorting with another man. It gave him a pretext to destroy the families that had supported her, cutting them down one by one. With Rubero in control, there was no way for Alec to survive. Rubero had ensured that not even the smallest official loyal to Alec remained.

It was a miracle Alec was even alive. The bloody purge had been so merciless that one might think Rubero was being extraordinarily kind in simply exiling him. Yet, the exile was no kindness.

Rubero likely hoped Alec would dig in the dirt for food, vomit blood, and die. Or that he’d starve, wandering the hills until some beast devoured him. Rubero always wanted him to die miserably. It was to be expected.

“What about your siblings…?”

“All of them hate me, Afrosa. You might find it hard to believe, but my brothers and sisters despised me from the moment I was born. They even condemned and vilified my mother.”

“….”

“What child would welcome a young woman marrying their aged father, who already had grown children?”

Afrosa opened her mouth to speak but could only move her lips in silence, seemingly lost for words. Alec stood and approached her. She looked up at him with wide eyes before whispering softly.

“I’m sorry. I thought, as a married couple, we should know more about each other, more deeply. But I feel like I’ve ended up poking at a painful part of you.”

She lowered her gaze, but Alec gently lifted her chin with his fingers.

“It’s not like that.”

“….”

“You’re right, Rose. We’re husband and wife, so there shouldn’t be secrets between us. We should know each other better.”

He stroked her soft hair, then grasped her shoulders with a tender yet firm grip. The strength in his hands felt unexpectedly overwhelming. Afrosa, attempting to force a smile despite the suffocating sensation, stiffened and looked up at him.

“We can’t ever be apart, not even for a moment. We must never leave each other, no matter what happens. You’re my wife and only mine, just as I’m your husband and only yours.”

Her shoulders ached under the pressure. Afrosa stared at him without nodding or speaking.

“Isn’t that right?”

Alec asked again. Afrosa, her expression tense, finally gave a small nod. Releasing her shoulders, Alec knelt before her. The coldness of the floor seeped into his knees.

“Promise me. No matter what happens, you won’t leave my side.”

Holding both of her hands in his, Alec pleaded earnestly. Afrosa looked down at him, her gaze unreadable, before nodding faintly.

---

Alec closed his eyes, the texture of her hair slipping between his fingers.

In two days, Rubero would send Nasca to end his life. Nasca was an assassin.

This extrajudicial organization, operating under the emperor’s direct command, existed solely for the emperor’s power and convenience. Part of its forces resided within the imperial palace, while another part was stationed near Travis, not far from the city, alongside a contingent of troops.

And in two days, the person Nasca would kill wasn’t Alec—it was Dallas Suhr. The consequences of this assassination would be devastating. Alec narrowed his eyes.

He had already lived through these events. They were moments that had perhaps crumbled into irrelevance, erased from existence. Yet, his body trembled uncontrollably, as though the memories had a grip on his very core. Cold sweat beaded on his skin, and he felt the urge to retch.

These were things he had been powerless to stop from losing. Things far more precious than the throne of Travis.

The revolting compromises he had endured to protect what truly mattered surged chaotically in his mind.

He sat motionless, watching his sleeping wife. Finally, he shifted his body upright. Afrosa, who had been resting her hand against his bare chest, twitched her eyebrows as if stirred. Before she could react, Alec reached out and clasped her delicate fingers.

The sensation crawling up his spine filled him with dread, making him feel nauseous as his stomach churned with rising disgust.

How could even the smallest details be exactly the same? Everything that hadn’t been intentionally altered by him remained identical to his past life. On that night as well, he hadn’t been able to sleep. Though, the reason back then had been different. It wasn’t because of his current situation but due to the series of seismic shifts happening in Travis at the time.

One of the most significant events of that year was the imprisonment of Mankel, the prime minister of Empostium and a towering figure in politics. Born to a common maid and the son of a minor noble, Mankel had risen from the lowest ranks of government to the position of prime minister. He had been the empire’s moral compass and steadfast pillar, guiding it through countless crises, both great and small.

As a close aide to the emperor since the time of Alec’s grandfather, Mankel had tempered Rubero’s tyranny and reckless actions, managing state affairs without provoking his volatile temper. Without Mankel’s efforts, Alec might not have survived.

It had been Mankel who urged the emperor to spare his younger brother’s life. Without that goodwill, or if Mankel had resigned as prime minister and withdrawn to his private estate, unable to endure Rubero’s despotism, Alec would never have been alive to enjoy the fortune of marrying Afrosa. And so…

“I must save him.”

He had to save him and make him his ally. Alec rubbed the furrow between his wife’s brows. She seemed to be having a bad dream, and the faint crease in her forehead evoked his sympathy. As the dawn broke, he held her frail body close. The press of their abdomens stirred an unfamiliar swell of emotion in his chest.

It was the first thing he had ever lost—the thing he hadn’t even realized existed. The guilt that had flooded in after losing it, just as it had begun to sprout.

Alec, tracing his wife’s eyebrows with his fingers, lowered his hand to caress her lower abdomen. The softness of her skin stirred desire in him, but he chose instead to close his eyes and try to feel the life within. In his past life, he hadn’t even known about the child she carried at this time. Completely oblivious, he had only resolved to protect Afrosa.

How foolish and pathetic he had been—so much so that it made him want to crush that version of himself underfoot. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that time had passed and no longer existed, he remembered everything.

Afrosa, who had turned her back on him so effortlessly. Afrosa, for whom all the time he had struggled to protect her had meant nothing. Afrosa, who claimed their love had been meaningless. The vivid, searing memories of her rejection cut through him like freshly inflicted wounds, unbearably raw and relentless.

Alec lowered his head and pressed his lips against his wife’s rounded earlobe, holding it softly for a moment. Then, with a sigh-like murmur, he whispered,

“I will change everything, one by one.”

For you. I will start over.

“This time, I’ll twist fate and make sure I don’t fail….”

This time, I will find happiness. Because the reason the gods brought me back is so I could have you again.

---

The ground beneath her feet felt soft, like walking on clouds. Afrosa looked around at the endless fields of barley stretching in all directions before shifting her gaze to the man holding her small hand. Shielded from the sunlight, she couldn’t quite see above his chest, but somehow, she instinctively felt that he was her father.

Who else but her father would walk beside her, holding her hand? Memories of moving to Lorange surfaced. She was so young when she first met her father, too young to remember the exact year. Even when she later settled in Lorange and met Alec, she hadn’t been old enough to clearly recall people or surroundings.

But the day they walked this road to Lorange was vivid in her memory. It was a season of fresh green, when the world was painted in the hues of lush foliage. A spring breeze had cooled the sweat forming on her forehead. That morning, she and Investigator Dallas had missed the wagon carrying their belongings, leaving them no choice but to walk along the road.

By then, they should have been riding in the wagon on their way to Lorange. Afrosa had tucked her mother’s small shoes—kept as a memento—into her newly bought bag and taken her father’s hand. Holding only a map leading to Lorange, her father had started down the road.

“Rose.”

Partway into their walk, a smooth, deep voice spoke above her head. Afrosa tilted her head upward to look at the man. It wasn’t her father’s voice. Startled, she tried to shake off the hand gripping hers. But the grip only tightened, making it impossible for her to pull away. Panic-stricken, she struggled to free herself, but the force holding her was unyielding.

Realizing something was wrong, Afrosa began to cry. The dirt road she thought she was walking with her father transformed into a smooth marble path. Her chest tightened, leaving her gasping for air. Overwhelmed by a fear so intense it threatened her sanity, she collapsed onto the ground, heaving for breath.

“Rose.”

The man bent his knees. A large hand slipped under her arms, lifting her to her feet. Startled, Rose stood and looked at him. When she finally saw his face, she realized it was a young man. Thick eyebrows, a high, elegant nose, features both stern and noble—his sharp eyes and strikingly chiseled face were breathtakingly captivating.

Her husband.

“I will change everything, one by one.”

Change what? What was he talking about? Afrosa stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. His gaze was fixed on the horizon. What had seemed like an endless field now held a grand white palace, standing tall and majestic where the sky met the ground.

Afrosa watched the man with a growing sense of unease. Her damp eyelids trembled uncontrollably. She felt like she might lose her mind, gripped by anxiety and fear. Something was terribly wrong. Something was going astray.