DEDLB | Ch 17

Episode 17  Midnight Visitor

“You must be tired from the trip to the summer palace. Your eyes keep closing. May I excuse myself first?”
“Do so. It’s better to go to bed early.”

The ministers stood one by one and bowed to Yvonne as they left. She barely acknowledged them and slipped out of the banquet hall.

“Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?”
Back in her room, Lucy asked in a worried tone while Yvonne changed into a nightgown.

Yvonne waved her hands. “No, I’m fine. Just tired. You should go to bed early, too.”
“All right, Your Highness. I’ll watch until you lie down.”

Lucy tidied the sheets and blew out the candle on the bedside table. “Sweet dreams, Your Highness,” she whispered and left the room quietly.

After the door closed with a soft click, Yvonne sat up slowly. Saying she was tired had been an excuse — she didn’t feel like sleeping. Her mind was too restless, so she decided to stay awake.

She wandered the big Empress’s bedchamber and stopped in front of the glass case holding the tiara. It glinted faintly in the moonlight — the tiara Alexandrа, the late empress and Frederick’s mother, wore at big ceremonies.

What had she once imagined as a child, staring at that tiara? That she would someday be an imposing empress by Frederick’s side? The thought felt empty now. Letting go of the thing she’d wanted most left a hollow ache.

“Is revenge against Frederick and Sildron really what I want?” she wondered. The life she’d been born for—wife of the Emperor, future Empress—had demanded she give everything to Sildron and him, and all she’d received was humiliation.

She still remembered the same pattern from her past lives: Frederick introducing his mistress as empress in front of her. Priscilla Molina Schultz — tanned skin, emerald green eyes — had always outshone and shoved Yvonne aside in every loop. The mistress would appear, take the throne, and publicly humiliate Yvonne. It was intolerable.

At least Yvonne had learned from repeating lives. She sat on the sofa, sighed, and tried to read, but the words wouldn’t stick. Her mind kept wandering back to one thing that hadn’t followed the loop this time: Ricardo’s sudden arrival.

“Is there really a god…?”
Sildron had religions, but it didn’t force faith. The biggest faith was the Dike religion, worshiping a single creator named Dike. Yvonne had attended Dike ceremonies in her role, but she herself didn’t truly believe in gods. Still, after living through repeated lives and strange returns, she couldn’t help but wonder if some god or force was moving her through time. Maybe a timeless being had trapped her in this repeating loop for reasons she couldn’t grasp.

She was thinking about researching old histories and religions when a voice cut through the heavy silence.

“What are you looking at with such interest?”

Yvonne jumped — she dropped the book she’d been holding. A big hand caught it before it hit the carpet. “Be careful,” a low, deep voice said.

Her heart raced. The window nearest the bed was open without a sound. She turned slowly and saw Ricardo standing there, holding the book she’d dropped.

“How—how did you—” she started, stunned.

“They don’t guard this place as tightly as you’d think. I didn’t meet a single guard coming here,” Ricardo said casually. He glanced at the book’s cover. “‘Royal Costume History’? Who reads something like that?” He teased, but Yvonne had no time to joke back.

“Why did you come here? What if someone saw you?” she demanded, pale.

He looked completely composed. “I told you — no one crossed my path.”

“You were lucky.”
“You underestimate me. I am called a beast.”

The Wolf of Naha. He had the kind of skill that could get him into places no one else could, but Yvonne still checked the door handle quickly. She tied the handle with a hair ribbon and locked the door — just in case someone heard and tried to come in.

“No need,” Ricardo said, casual as ever.

Yvonne, uncharacteristically flustered, started to ramble, “If there’s trouble, tell me now. I’ll figure something out — I’ll help you however I can.”

Ricardo shrugged. “It’s not that.”

“Then why risk so much to come find me?” she asked, trembling.

He moved slowly, and the calluses on his fingers — proof of a life spent on the sword — touched her hand. “To say goodbye,” he said. He bowed slightly and then kissed the back of her hand.

The moment was speechless. A cool breeze from the open window brushed her cheek. His lips were rough but warm on her hand. The man who was spoken of as a cursed beast had just pressed a kiss there.

“Don’t worry. I know the way out. I’ll be fine,” he murmured.

“I… I—” she stammered.

“I might regret saving a beast like me someday, but I won’t forget this favor.” He meant to let go, but he didn’t. Holding her hand like that was improper by court etiquette.

“Let go of my hand,” she tried to say, face heating for no good reason.

Suddenly, he tightened his grip. Yvonne, caught off-guard, stumbled toward him.