The group trudging through the soggy ground eventually reached a river and began crossing an old wooden bridge. Lyman, riding in a carriage flanked by twenty knights, glanced out the window and clicked his tongue. The river was swollen with water. Though Clozium was renowned for its expertise in wooden architecture, crossing a river during a rainy season like this was far from ideal.

“Why choose a place like this?” he muttered.

Transporting corpses in such conditions, with the unpredictable weather and persistent rain, was almost impossible. Even Lyman knew that. The stench of decaying bodies would likely prevent them from even reaching the border. Yet, he still questioned the choice of traveling alongside the river. There were alternatives—heading north through the mountains might take two weeks, but it was an option. However, traveling from Virel to Vera via this route only took four days, making it the more efficient choice despite his unease.

Meanwhile, back in Karileum, voices criticizing the Crown Prince’s unauthorized departure were growing louder, a sentiment Lyman himself had fueled. Using this momentum, he had consolidated his grip on state affairs and began rallying support to strip Ail of his title, even if he managed to return. His plan was to name Nathan as Crown Prince, setting himself up as regent for the incapacitated emperor. Yet, fate seemed to be on his side—Ail had conveniently died abroad.

As these thoughts surfaced, Lyman’s earlier irritation faded, replaced by a smile. Ruth’s death, though unfortunate, was inconsequential. Even if Leysha were to find out, she was now just a powerless woman. Had she remained in Vera, things might have been different.

It occurred to him how little Ruth and Leia resembled either him or Leysha. Marrying Leysha had been partly a power play to crush her pride and partly a move to secure beautiful children who resembled their mother. He had envisioned their beauty and charisma being useful tools, unlike the children from his first wife, who, though clever, lacked exceptional looks. Leia had fulfilled her intended role, but Ruth had ruined his plans by joining the knights. However, in retrospect, Ruth had proven useful, leading Ail to his death.

If Ruth had been as sharp and daring as his mother in her youth, or as cunning and ambitious as Lyman himself, he might have survived. Leysha had taken time to break because of her arrogance, but Ruth had folded too easily, being fragile and indecisive—a trait that made him easy to manipulate.

The clattering of hooves echoed loudly against the wooden bridge. Glancing out the window, Lyman saw they were halfway across. Clicking his tongue at the sight of the river’s rushing waters, he was interrupted by a voice from outside.

“We’ve crossed the bridge.”

“Good,” he replied, reclining deeper into his seat.

Now all that remained was to reach the meeting point and confirm the bodies. Once that was done, he planned to return to Karileum, leaving the corpses behind. With Ail having been absent from the palace for two weeks, there was no need to officially announce his death. Simply stripping him of his title after an appropriate delay would suffice. Announcing his death would only complicate things politically.

The only concern was whether the Red Scorpions, who had orchestrated Ail’s assassination, might try to leverage this for further demands. Though Lyman had brought along plenty of mercenaries and knights as a precaution, the elusive nature of the Red Scorpions left him uneasy.

As Lyman approached the meeting point, these thoughts weighed heavily on his mind.

—

Sitting in the inn, Ruth stared blankly out the window, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps. Judging by the size of the group, it was clear Lyman had arrived—true to his distrustful nature, he hadn’t come alone. Without looking back, Ruth lifted the pendant around his neck and pressed it to his lips.

He could predict Lyman’s reaction: either he’d be shocked and demand an explanation upon seeing him or summon his knights to kill him on the spot. But in the end, the result would be the same—Lyman would once again point his sword at Ruth.

Ruth didn’t entirely understand why he had come here. Perhaps he simply wanted to confirm something—what exactly, he wasn’t sure. But there was something he needed to see for himself, one last time.

Clutching the pendant tightly in his hand, Ruth closed his eyes, then opened them just as the footsteps stopped outside the door. The rain had lightened, but the dark clouds looming overhead cast a heavy gloom over the room. Moments later, the sound of the doorknob turning reached his ears.

Slowly, Ruth turned to face the door, his expression unreadable. As he stood there, the door creaked open, and the voice of a messenger boy rang out.

“Please, come in.”

Behind the boy’s quiet voice came the sound of three sets of footsteps. Soon, they entered the room. The room was dim—not so dark that one couldn’t distinguish shapes, but enough to make discerning colors difficult. Having just walked in from a brightly lit hallway, it took them a moment to adjust to the faint darkness.

As their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Lyman spotted a man standing by the window. For a moment, the knights behind him instinctively gripped the hilts of their swords. Slowly acclimating to the dim light, Lyman’s gaze fixed on the face of the man staring back at him—and his eyes widened in shock.

For the first time in his life, Lyman felt what it meant to have his heart drop into his stomach.

The pale, beautiful face, soft light-brown hair, and gentle brown eyes—Lyman recognized them immediately as his son’s. But the sight filled him not with relief but with overwhelming fear and dread. His lips parted in a faint groan that seemed to echo his panic and suppressed fury.

“Ruth…”

His voice trembled with astonishment, regret, and something like a lament. At that moment, the two knights standing behind him—both familiar to Ruth—recognized the figure by the window and drew their swords. The gleam of the blades shone sharply in the dim room, but Lyman raised a hand, halting their actions.

The door shut behind them with a resounding thud.

Lyman gritted his teeth in frustration. He should never have trusted assassins to handle such a matter.

Now the space was sealed, leaving only Lyman, two knights, and Ruth in the room.

For a moment, the two simply stared at each other in silence.

Ruth’s face was surprisingly composed, but Lyman’s palms were damp with sweat, his anxiety betraying him. His initial shock had given way to anger, and that anger, in turn, mingled with a suffocating nervousness. Ruth being alive meant Ail might also still be alive. And Ruth’s presence here indicated that the Red Scorpions had shared everything with him.

“Are you alive after all?” Lyman finally asked, his voice tinged with tension.

Ruth nodded. “Yes.”

“And His Highness?”

“He is alive.”

Lyman clenched his fists tightly, his breath halting for a moment. His eyes flashed with murderous intent as fury coursed through him. His trembling hands betrayed his growing frustration, and his face turned pale with the weight of his anxiety.

Watching him, Ruth took a step closer. As he moved his hand toward the sword at his waist, the knights behind Lyman adjusted their swords, angling them threateningly toward Ruth. However, Ruth calmly drew his weapon and tossed it onto the floor before them.

“I have no intention of using it,” he said plainly.

Lyman laughed bitterly, as if mocking Ruth’s predictability.

“Of course not. You’ve never been the sort to wield it. Now tell me, where is Ail Linus?”

Relieved but still wary, Lyman eased slightly as he posed the question.

“I can’t tell you,” Ruth replied.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll harm him if I do.”

“He has to die for us to live,” Lyman spat.

“No,” Ruth said, his voice steady. “For you to live.”

“No matter how much you deny it, you are a member of the Kaizel family. The prosperity of the family is your prosperity, and its downfall will be your ruin. Tell me where he is,” Lyman demanded.

Ruth, who had heard this same rhetoric countless times since childhood, responded with a disdainful smile.
“I have already severed all ties. I no longer wish to be bound by anything.”

Ruth’s gaze was calm and unwavering, his demeanor resolute. There wasn’t the slightest hint of hesitation in his eyes.

Lyman grew increasingly anxious at Ruth’s determination. His throat felt dry, his voice nearly choking on the panic. He couldn’t even swallow. Ail might be nearby, or he could already be en route to Karileum—or worse, he might have already arrived. The thought burned him from the inside out, his heart pounding violently.

“Your mother and sister—do you want to see them die a horrible death? Tell me, or they will suffer,” Lyman threatened.

“I have already let go of that bond as well. I intend to sever everything connected to you—even the blood of yours that flows through my veins,” Ruth replied with chilling clarity.

His words, spoken with such finality, caused Lyman to grit his teeth in frustration. He wanted nothing more than to command his men to strike Ruth down immediately. But as long as Ail was alive, Lyman couldn’t afford to kill him without confirming Ail’s whereabouts. Was Ail still in Clozium, on his way to Karileum, or already there? Without knowing, Lyman couldn’t act decisively. Killing Ruth without that information would only harm his own position.

Lyman forced himself to hold back, but Ruth’s piercing gaze, filled with disdain and reproach, grated on him. The contemptuous look in Ruth’s eyes filled him with a sense of humiliation, as though Ruth dared to judge him. Words rose to his throat—How dare someone like you presume to judge me?—but he swallowed them down, keeping his voice composed.

“Ruth, I understand your resentment toward me. But this isn’t an issue that can be solved with emotions. For your mother and sister to live, he must die. At this point, he must already know what I’ve done. If he isn’t killed, the entire Kaizel family will be executed for regicide. That includes you,” Lyman reasoned coldly.

Predictably, Lyman’s attempt to drag Leysha and Lea into the conversation earned a bitter smile from Ruth.
“I’ve already prepared myself for that.”

“For what?” Lyman pressed.

“To protect someone I love,” Ruth said firmly.

“What?” Lyman let out a derisive laugh, the kind that questioned Ruth’s sanity. But when he saw Ruth’s serious expression, his laughter faded.

“Do you have nothing you wish to protect?” Ruth asked, his voice unwavering.

“The only thing I want to protect is the Kaizel family,” Lyman replied flatly.

“No,” Ruth countered, “it’s the emperor’s throne you wish to protect.”

“Becoming an imperial in-law will elevate the Kaizel family. Once Ail Linus is dead, Nathan Linus will ascend as crown prince, inherit the throne, and I will become regent. Then my son will follow as emperor. Eilen will become emperor, and the imperial lineage will no longer be Linus—it will be Kaizel. Don’t you see? If that happens, you will be part of the imperial family too,” Lyman said, laying out his grand ambitions.

Ruth scoffed at the elaborate fantasy.
“After I’m dead, you mean?”

For a moment, Lyman faltered, stunned into silence. He was a man who always knew what to say, twisting words to manipulate others and get what he wanted. Yet Ruth’s sharp retort struck him speechless, leaving his usual sly tongue tied.

Their gazes clashed, the air between them freezing. Ruth’s calm yet scornful eyes locked onto Lyman’s, which burned with anger and desperation.

“Sacrificing for the family is a given,” Lyman finally said.

“Not for the family,” Ruth corrected, his voice steady. “For yourself.”