IDGM 07

Chapter 07

“If you want to escape, this may be your only chance. If you take my hand and leave the imperial palace with me, then…”

“Then?”

He left the sentence hanging and simply smiled again.

‘Was he always someone who smiled this much? Yesterday, he looked so sharp it was suffocating.’

But why does his smile feel so terrifying?

‘What on earth is he about to say…?’

I swallowed dryly and looked up at him.

Though it was long ago, some emperors in the past were said to bathe in children’s blood for pleasure or offer human sacrifices to pray for victory in war.

The imperial family has always been full of bizarre, grotesque stories.

‘Andrea and Lady Kabala even staged my mother’s suicide and branded me insane.’

Given the kind of environment I grew up in, I couldn’t dismiss his words as a mere joke.

These days, anyone caught doing such absurd things would be publicly condemned and socially destroyed.

But that only applied among the nobles in the capital. Who’s to say what things were like in distant Ronhaim?

Ronhaim had only recently been incorporated into the empire, and it still remained a mysterious land with few connections to the mainland.

‘Wait… could it be that he keeps looking at me like that because I look… tasty?’

When he entered my room, I did think he resembled a wild beast. Maybe that was my instincts warning me of danger.

I cautiously asked,

“Marquis, are you planning to eat me if things go wrong?”

“…?”

“Is this a threat? That you’ll devour me if I stop being useful to you?”

I stared at him seriously.

“If that’s what it is, then you won’t be able to eat me.”

Because I plan to take everything Andrea has been greedily hoarding.

And in doing so, Callias would gain, not lose.

At my firm expression, he suddenly bit his lower lip gently. Then he let out a deep sigh.

‘What’s with that sigh?’

I couldn’t figure out what it meant.

“To devour Her Highness the Princess… haha…”

He let out another sigh.

“…wouldn’t be happening.”

‘Why does he keep sighing? Is he disappointed he can’t eat me?’

I spoke with more conviction in my voice.

“Yes. Eating me would be a huge loss for you. You’ll see. Besides, as you can see, I’m far too scrawny. There’s not much to eat.”

He sighed again and said,

“Ahem… I don’t eat my business partners.”

“Then that’s fine.”

Hearing a clear answer made me feel a bit more at ease. Not that I was completely unafraid, of course.

But it was obvious that keeping me alive would be far more beneficial to him. I didn’t trust him—just that fact. And soon, he would realize it too.

As long as my safety was guaranteed, I didn’t care what kind of person he really was.

Stopping our deal to expose his cannibalism, or revealing his true nature to save future victims—those weren’t things within my power.

It might be selfish, but just escaping the palace alive was more than enough for me right now.

He finally let me go and bowed politely.

“If your resolve hasn’t changed, I’ll see you on the day of departure, my fiancée.”

He acted as if convincing the Emperor and Empress would be no trouble at all.

The carriage carrying Callias exited the palace.

And the moment it did, he burst into laughter that he had been holding back all this time.

“Ha ha ha!”

He laughed so hard that the coachman even peeked in through the connected window to see what was going on.

Callias laughed until tears welled in his eyes.

“Marquis, are you going to eat me if things go wrong?”

“I’m far too scrawny for you to eat anyway.”

Why were the eyes that looked up at him while saying such things so adorable?

From the moment he reunited with Chloe, only one thought had filled his mind:

‘She’s still just as cute as she was back then.’

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He had to take deep breaths to stop himself from laughing when she earnestly declared that eating her would be a loss.

‘I only meant to scare her a little…’

He couldn’t figure out what Chloe thought of Ronhaim.

Did she really think about what marrying him would mean?

He didn’t know why she wanted to leave the palace, but if she had chosen him with such shallow reasoning, he hoped his words would frighten her into choosing someone else.

Because Ronhaim wasn’t a place for the fainthearted.

Had she not begged him to take her there, he wouldn’t have even made an empty promise to invite her someday.

‘Once she’s in Ronhaim, she might cry and beg to return.’

He was deeply worried.

Because as much as he had missed her, he wanted her to be happy.

Such thoughts darkened Callias’s expression.

‘Was agreeing to this deal just my own selfishness? Wasn’t there another way to help her?’

That question weighed heavily on his heart.

But rumors were already spreading that she was insane, even though she seemed perfectly fine.

And just as she said, her emaciated body worried him.

‘For her to propose marriage to me, someone she didn’t even remember… it must mean she’s desperate enough to cling to anyone who could help her escape.’

The amount of information she knew was impressive, but what struck Callias even more was the suspicion he had felt since seeing her at the party—that she was being horribly mistreated.

That’s why he accepted the deal.

‘So the rumors that the Empress and Crown Prince killed the Empress Consort and are now targeting Chloe… weren’t baseless after all.’

There had been such rumors about ten years ago.

But they eventually disappeared after reports spread that Andrea and Empress Kabala were taking great care of Chloe—and that Chloe got along well with them.

Since then, there had been no major issues, and he had assumed she was living peacefully.

But now…

Callias’s expression turned icy as he thought of Empress Kabala.

‘I won’t let her harm Chloe too.’

Helping Chloe was the obvious thing to do.

After all, he owed her a great debt from the past.

And he also had a grudge to settle with Empress Kabala.

A rainy midnight.

Two palace servants were secretly moving through the marble halls, careful not to leave any footprints.

They were carrying a chest just large enough to fit a person.

“Someone’s dead again…”

One muttered anxiously, but the other snapped at him in a low voice.

“Shut your mouth. Just move.”

“But this isn’t the first time—”

“Shh! What if someone hears?”

The two hurried through the hallway and out the back exit, clearly trying to avoid being seen.

Their wet footsteps on the grass were quickly drowned out by the rain.

But behind a column in the corridor they had passed—where they thought no one was—someone stepped out.

It was a man with a long scar over his left eyebrow.

“……”

He silently watched the servants disappear into the darkness, then retraced their steps—heading straight for Empress Kabala’s residence.

A lady-in-waiting standing guard at the door recognized him and opened it.

“Her Majesty has been expecting you.”

The man walked into Kabala’s bedroom like it was second nature.

The room, decorated with crimson drapery and black furniture, was both fiery and antique.

It was chaos inside, with the windows wide open despite the pouring rain, allowing wind to howl through.

The maids inside tried hard to hide their unease behind blank expressions.

“You’re here, Denev.”

Kabala, freshly bathed, welcomed him and dismissed the maids.

“I need to speak with the Marquis. You’re all dismissed.”

Kabala exuded a captivating aura, with her voluptuous body barely hidden by her bathrobe and her thick auburn hair flowing down.

She looked far too young to be someone with a son in his thirties.

The man—whose rugged demeanor made him seem more mercenary than noble—was Denev Blansco, her younger brother.

He offered a suggestion.

“You need to replace the servants who handle the cleanup. They talk too much.”

Kabala frowned.

“They were gossiping again? Those damn loose mouths.”

She sighed briefly but soon returned to her relaxed expression.

“Take care of it as you always have.”

“Yes, sister.”

Kabala sprayed perfume on her face and asked,

“Anyway, what about the matter I asked you to look into?”

“I investigated. Lord Rodrian’s aides were drinking at a tavern and talking.”

“Did you hear anything useful?”

Denev stepped closer and whispered,

“As the rumors said, there is a separate key to awaken the relic the Saint of Ronhaim once held.”

Kabala, who had been looking in the mirror, quickly turned around.

“So it was true. No wonder it never worked, no matter what I tried for over a decade.”

A sharp smile curved her lips.

“Where is this key? Who has it?”

“Callias Rodrian. He’s the only one who knows.”

Kabala spoke with greedy intensity.

“That must be retrieved. At all costs.”

“Yes, sister.”

Denev bowed—and saw a smear of red at the hem of her robe.

He stared, and Kabala, noticing what he was looking at, smiled sweetly.

“I had a little fun today.”

It was a smile that sent chills down one’s spine.