TCCIO 26

Chapter 26. A Sensible and Neat Ending
“Are you… a princess? The princess of Iorenti?”

At Aaron’s question, Delia’s blue eyes trembled slightly.
The enemy’s commander had discovered her identity. Her mind went blank, and her breath caught in her throat. Her legs gave out, and she barely held herself up by grabbing the edge of the table.

“H-How did you…”

There was no way he could have known. Her departure had been a closely guarded secret, known only to her parents and a few trusted aides.
Yet Aaron knew not only the movements of the royal guards but also their exact numbers.
How on earth had he found out?

Delia blinked as she stared into his sharp, ashen eyes.
Whenever she closed her eyes, those strange symbols she had seen a moment ago floated up in her mind.
Whenever she opened them, Aaron was still there, staring at her.

Delia wrapped her arms tightly around her trembling body, consumed by confusion.

“No… No way. There’s no way the enemy could’ve known…”

She muttered unconsciously—and then her eyes widened.
The voice she had heard by the campfire, the one that had lit up the black night, echoed in her head.

[I’ve already sent word to investigate. The truth will be revealed soon enough.]

A shock ran through her entire body, freezing her in place.
A spy.
There was a spy from the Stilleitz Empire inside Iorenti’s royal palace—deep enough to know royal secrets and the movements of the royal guard.

Pale-faced, Delia glanced quickly at the code sheet lying on the table.

“A princess… The princess of Iorenti…”

Aaron muttered to himself in disbelief as he watched Delia avoid his gaze.
The one word—princess—answered all his lingering questions:
The militia’s military-level discipline, her obsessive protectiveness over Iorenti, her arrogant confidence and bold orders, her refined vocabulary and swordsmanship.

Now that he knew she was royalty, everything made sense.
No other word described her more perfectly than princess.
The tent’s air, which had been warm and humid, now felt like a white frost had settled over it—cold and sharp.

“So?”

Delia slowly closed her eyes, then opened them again.
The panic had vanished, replaced by a glint of sharp clarity in her blue eyes.
Her voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

“So what? Are you going to use me to lure out the King of Iorenti? Kill my parents? Kill me too?”

Aaron pressed his lips tightly shut at her biting questions.
That had been the plan.
Now that her identity was exposed, they were to use the pretext of prisoner negotiations to lure out the king, end the war swiftly, and eliminate the royal bloodline.
As the Empire’s commander, it was the best possible card he could play…

But it was too late.
He had already tasted the forbidden fruit—one he should never have touched.
And now he knew just how sweet and intoxicating it was.
It was the only salvation for his unquenchable thirst.
He could never bring himself to kill her.

Aaron’s gaze darkened, like a stormy gray sky.

“No. As I said earlier, there’ll be no negotiations. I’ll form an escort unit to take you somewhere safe.”

Delia bit down hard on her lower lip, the same lip that had touched his not long ago.
Her white hand, gripping the table, trembled violently.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re no longer just a prisoner. No, Princess—you’ll step away from this war entirely. You’re going to the Bergen territory of the Empire. Right now.”

Delia’s face contorted in fury at his unexpected words.

“Are you insane? Why would I go to the Empire?”

“Forget everything about your life as Iorenti’s princess. Start a new life there. I’ll prepare everything.”

“And who the hell gave you the right to decide my life? I have no reason to follow your orders.”

Despite her fierce words, Aaron remained calm.

“You’ll obey. Quietly.”

“Oh? And why should I?”

“To stay alive.”

There was no happy ending for a royal from a defeated kingdom.
Loyalists would cling to her, trying to use her to rebuild their power.
As the heir to the throne, she’d be dragged from one group to another, used endlessly.
Worse, as someone who could bear a future heir, she would be hunted—consumed.

And the Empire?
They wouldn’t sit idly by.
They’d see her as a threat, a seed of rebellion to be uprooted.
Ambitious men, hungry for glory, would come to kill the last remaining royal.

Aaron couldn’t leave her in that chaos.
Killing her himself was unthinkable.
And he couldn’t afford to wait for her permission.

Everything was moving rapidly in his head, leaving no room to hide behind his usual smiling mask.

“If you leave my protection, you’ll die. So stay by my side and live.”

“I’d rather die than beg the enemy’s commander for my life.”

“Don’t think. This isn’t the time to think. It’s time to act. Go to Bergen first. I’ll follow once I’ve tied things up here.”

Delia glared at him fiercely, her eyes blazing.

“You’ve lost your mind. Iorenti hasn’t fallen yet. This is kidnapping.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re no longer Iorenti’s princess. I’ll give you a new title, a new name.”

“I don’t need any of that.”

“As soon as the war ends, marry me. Live as the Grand Duchess.”

He was completely insane.
His eyes held a mix of logic and madness, reason and obsession.
His gaze bound her in invisible chains, and his icy voice froze her to the bone.
Delia took a sharp breath and stepped back.

“I’d rather die than survive like this.”

The more she stepped back, the more distance she put between herself and Aaron—but his gaze only grew stronger.
He didn’t try to stop her.
He just watched with eyes as cold as steel.

“I won’t let you die.”

“I’d rather die defending Iorenti than be dragged to the Empire.”

“I said—I won’t let that happen.”

Delia gritted her teeth.
Even as she put distance between them, she could still feel the grip of his gaze.
She had to get away—before that unknowable gaze pulled her under.

“You think things will go your way?”

She turned and headed for the tent’s exit.
Even as she pushed the curtain aside, Aaron’s unwavering stare bore into her back.
The farther she walked, the sharper that gaze seemed to become.
Like a steel rod piercing her body and soul—he wouldn’t let her go.

Delia felt that if she looked back at him for even one second longer, she would go mad.
Her stomach twisted, and she turned away, leaving the tent behind.

She couldn’t be taken like this.
She would rather die here than be dragged to the Empire.

As Delia pushed through the curtain and stepped outside, the cool breeze of the forest brushed past her.
Between the mountains in the distance, Iorenti’s sun cast a crimson glow over the land.
She was Iorenti’s princess.
To abandon her parents, her nation—unthinkable.

There was no way she would play along with a mad commander’s twisted tune.
Gritting her teeth, Delia marched forward.
Sharp stones and coarse dirt tore at her bare feet, but she paid them no mind.

“Gasp—”

The soldiers, preparing their evening meal, froze in shock at the sight of her.
Startled, confused, and alarmed, their gazes all turned to her.
Delia walked straight through them, head held high.

“Stop right there!”

A soldier stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
She shot him a cold glare.

“Step aside.”

“You can’t leave the camp without permission.”

The soldier quickly scanned her from head to toe.
Her golden hair tinged with red, the oversized shirt fluttering in the wind—it was the commander’s shirt.
She was under his special care.
She was a prisoner of utmost importance.

“Move.”

“I can’t allow that.”

“Do you even know who I am?”

“No matter who you are, you’re still a prisoner.”

Delia sneered and glared at him.

“You didn’t treat me like an ordinary prisoner. If you had, you would’ve locked me up in a camp and let me rot.”

She shoved past him and walked forward.
But a few steps in, the click of a gun being cocked rang out behind her.

“Stop.”

She didn’t need to turn around.
She knew the barrel was pointed at her.
Ignoring the chill running down her spine, she kept walking.

“Go back.”

But she didn’t get far.
Two more soldiers blocked her path, guns raised.

“Well? Gonna shoot? I’m a prisoner escaping—aren’t you going to stop me?”

Delia’s mocking tone stung.

“So this is the Empire’s military discipline? Letting a prisoner escape without even trying?”

She stepped closer, provoking them further.
Still, they said nothing.

“Cowards. You can’t even pull the trigger with the enemy right in front of you.”

Delia stepped right up to one of them—her forehead touching the barrel of his ornate silver gun.

“Shoot. If you don’t, you’ll be the one who dies.”

The soldier swallowed hard.
They gripped their guns tighter, but still didn’t fire.

“Tch. If you can’t do it, I’ll help you.”

Delia lunged forward and slipped under the gun, plunging into the soldier’s chest.
He gasped, unable to stop her in time.
He tried to retreat, but it was too late—she had already stolen the dagger from his belt.

With a sharp slash—

“Get back!”

Another soldier pushed his comrade aside and blocked her strike with his gun.
Despite the quick defense, her blade grazed his side, and blood spurted out.

“How about now? Feel like pulling the trigger yet?”

Blood splattered onto Delia’s pale face.
She wiped it with her sleeve, leaving a red streak across her cheek.
Looking down at them coldly, she spoke.

“Make a choice. Shoot me or move.”

She pointed the blade at the soldier blocking her.
If she killed him, others would come.
Then, as Iorenti’s princess, she could die fighting the enemy.

That, to Delia, was the most sensible and clean ending.

She should’ve done this sooner.
Before he had learned who she was.
Before she saw how warm his gray eyes could become.
Before she became addicted to the gentleness in his touch.

She should’ve done this earlier.

Gripping the sword tighter, Delia pushed down the ache of regret.

“It’s not too late.”