“Daphne.”

Edmund knocked on the door. He raised his voice slightly.

“Daphne.”

There was no response from within.

“I’m coming in.”

He turned the doorknob. Thankfully, the door wasn’t locked, and it opened quietly.

As he pushed the door open, Edmund glanced back at Baroness Nouvelle and gave her a nod. Though she was clearly anxious, she turned away as he’d instructed.

Edmund stepped into the room, holding a bowl of thin soup in one hand. The curtains had all been drawn, cloaking the room in darkness.

Still, Edmund had no trouble locating Daphne. He could sense her presence. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, staring blankly into space. Only when Edmund approached did she turn her head to look at him.

A faint sliver of light slipped in through the barely open door, briefly illuminating her face. Her already slender frame looked even more emaciated.

“I was told you’ve been refusing your meals.”

“…What about Damian?”

Her voice was hoarse, the dryness in her throat betraying that she hadn’t even sipped water.

Since the moment she’d regained consciousness, no one had given her a straight answer. Every question was dodged, and she wasn’t even allowed to leave the house.

Even when she’d gone outside under the escort of Baroness Nouvelle and two knights, the world had felt unnaturally still. It had never been like this before. Yet no matter how many times she asked, no one would explain why.

She had tried to seek out Edmund, who clearly must have orchestrated everything, but all she got was that he was busy, or unavailable. He was deliberately avoiding her.

That’s when she stopped eating. It had taken a full two days before she finally saw him again.

“I’ll explain after you eat.”

“Tell me now.”

“Daphne.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Daphne clamped her hands over her ears and shouted. Her breathing turned ragged, shoulders rising and falling sharply with each gasp.

Every time Edmund called her name like that, she wanted to cover her ears. The soft, coaxing tone, the look in his eyes, like he was trying to soothe a child, was unbearable.

“…Just tell me.”

“I did this for you.”

“I… I never wanted this.”

Daphne shook her head, murmuring.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

She buried her face in her hands. It felt like talking to a wall – suffocating, maddening. She inhaled deeply and let the breath out in a long exhale. Then, slowly, she raised her head.

[“I came here because of you.”]

[“I’m not lying.”]

A ridiculous thought crossed her mind.

“…You.”

Her throat tightened.

“Do you really….”

Love me?

She couldn’t remember whether she’d said it aloud or only in her head. But one thing was certain: Edmund had understood.

Daphne placed her hand on the bed and stood. Her body wavered from sudden dizziness, and Edmund instinctively reached out. But she turned away, stumbling back, avoiding his touch.

“…”

“…”

She stared at his outstretched hand frozen in the air, her expression full of confusion, and slowly took another step back.

“…Get some rest.”

Edmund gathered the now-cold soup and left the room.

All Daphne could do was stare blankly at the door that had just shut behind him. Everything he’d said in the cave had been true.

“This can’t be real.”

She staggered and collapsed onto the bed.

“…Ha.”

A bitter smile curved her lips, yet a single tear slipped down her cheek.

She didn’t bother to wipe it away, just blinked slowly, dazed. She had longed for this moment for five years, yearned for it with all her heart. And yet, she felt no joy. Quite the opposite.

Tears streamed endlessly down her face, as if trying to express a heart she could no longer understand.

Daphne stared into space and thought: 

Edmund loves her. But only now, when she no longer wanted his love.

* * *

The sound of familiar footsteps made his eyes open instinctively. Damian blinked slowly and tried to move his gaze, but his head drooped limply, no longer obeying his will.

The footsteps came to a stop right in front of him.

“S-Saintess!”

The shaman, who had been nodding off beside him, jumped up in alarm and quickly bowed.

“Ah, I didn’t realize you’d arrived. If I had known, I would’ve–”

“Still nothing?”

Vanessa cut him off and lifted Damian’s chin. The lack of gentleness in her gesture made Damian’s brows knit together.

“It’s strange… Nothing seems to be working.”

“But I made preparations myself… Unless… it’s him… no, that can’t be.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes, inspecting Damian, then let his head drop again.

“Leave us.”

“Y-Yes, of course!”

The shaman scrambled out, leaving Vanessa alone with Damian.

“My son.”

The word made Damian’s shoulders flinch.

“The more you resist, the more you’ll suffer.”

She gently brushed back his hair.

Damian tried to pull away, but she was faster. Her fingers gripped his hair tightly, forcing his face upward. Vanessa tilted her head in curiosity.

“Why fight so hard? It’s so much easier to let someone else take control.”

She softly caressed the area under his eyes with her other hand.

“You’ve inherited so much from me, my son.”

“…Let go.”

Damian’s voice came out sharp, hoarse from thirst and exhaustion, his arms bound for days.

“This might be the last time I come. I’m a busy woman these days.”

Vanessa turned and gestured toward the shaman.

“Try again. And if it still doesn’t work…”

She glanced over her shoulder at Damian.

“Call me.”

“Y-Yes, of course.”

The shaman bowed deeply, nearly bending in half. When Vanessa finally left, he straightened and smiled broadly.

“Ah, how lucky I am to have spoken with the Saintess for so long… Thank you, truly…”

He began murmuring in an unfamiliar tongue, lips moving with reverence. 

Damian blinked at him. He had woken up underground. From the sounds of pain and screams echoing through the space, it was clear what kind of place this was.

The shaman had attempted black magic on him several times, but strangely, none of it worked.

It’s known that black magic can fail on those with exceptionally strong minds or those who’ve reached a certain transcendence. But Damian knew his mental strength wasn’t that extraordinary.

“You should be grateful. The Saintess visits you every day just because of your bloodline. Do you know how rare that is? Do you have any idea how busy she is?”

The shaman clicked his tongue.

“Now that the imperial family is under her control, I suppose the Winter duchy is next.”

At the familiar name, Damian jerked his head up.

“What… did you say?”

“Oh! You scared me!”

The shaman had been muttering to himself and jumped at Damian’s sudden voice.

“Come to think of it, you’ve got black hair and gray eyes too…”

He tilted his head.

‘He doesn’t know who I am?’

Come to think of it, from the very beginning, the shaman had acted oddly, like someone ignorant of common knowledge, someone raised in complete isolation. He didn’t even know who Damian was.

“Well, let’s begin.”

The shaman closed his eyes and began chanting the incantation for black magic. At the sound of ‘my son’ echoing in his mind, Damian bit down hard on his lip.

[“Damian.”]

Instead, he focused on Daphne’s voice. For some reason, it dulled the pain.

Damian had pieced together the situation. He knew the Emperor’s condition. He’d suspected the Winter family would be targeted eventually, but not this quickly.

Even as pain surged through him, he clenched his jaw and held onto a single thought. 

‘Mother.’ 

You must’ve suffered far worse than this. So I will endure.

T/N: Both mother and son are thinking of each other… my heart is in constant torment… 😭

Hello everyone~

So, we decided to open up a challenge. These challenges, when achieved in a specific time frame, have exciting rewards. Please refer below.

【Challenge 1】[Started: 07/07/2025]

・Reach 50 votes in NU (30/50) – doesn’t need to be five stars, what matters is how you really viewed this novel [08/05/2025]

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