Chapter 57. The Beast Is Waking from Its Sleep
How many kisses had it been by now?
As Frida accepted Daniel’s lips that showed no sign of stopping, she grabbed the collar of his clothes. As if he finally noticed the signal that she needed to breathe, Daniel’s shoulders—still pressing her down as if to bury her into the bed—lowered slightly. At the same time, rough breaths spilled from their parted lips.
Daniel narrowed his eyes as he brushed back his sweat-damp hair.
Should he stop here for today? Or should he force himself forward and feel her soft skin a little more?
His mind was confused and unable to decide, but his body—honest to instinct—kept leaning impatiently toward her. As his shoulders slowly lowered again, Frida suddenly grabbed him.
“J-just a little more. Please let me rest more.”
Frida muttered weakly, her face looking like she might cry at any moment.
“It’s too… hard.”
Yes. For you, even this much must already be exhausting. While I’m losing my mind trying to hold myself back for your sake.
Stopping now felt empty, yet pushing forward worried him. He thought it would become a fierce battle between reason and instinct—but surprisingly, his body pulled away quickly. It seemed that at least one small piece of reason still remained.
Even so, the deep regret would not fade.
Daniel brushed back the white hair he had messed up and carefully fixed the clothes he had loosened. Then he stepped away from the bed. Outside the window, the sky had already turned dark red, and darkness had long since filled the room with no lights lit.
That meant he had spent the entire afternoon in this room, drinking in Frida’s lips and burying his face in her scent.
Heh. I’ve truly gone mad.
Letting out a hollow laugh, Daniel lit the wall lamp first, then lit the candle on the bedside table. After checking the flame, he turned back to the bed.
In the soft spreading light, their eyes met.
His red eyes, still full of heat, slowly traced Frida. Her swollen lips, softly leaking uneven breaths. Her rose-red cheeks, clearly flushed even in the dark. Her white hair clinging to her cheeks with sweat, unable to fall neatly behind her ears.
Looking at her disheveled state after enduring his storm-like passion made him feel as if he were sinking endlessly underground. His heart wavered wildly.
He knew this would happen. Knowing she could shake him this much, it was still he who crossed the line. He had not held out long at all—raising the white flag was entirely his own choice.
He also knew this choice could put both him and Frida in serious danger.
Even knowing all that, how was he supposed to turn away from this powerful woman who brought him to his knees in an instant?
As Daniel stood silently by the bed, Frida tilted her head as if asking what was wrong. The moment he saw her innocent eyes, unable to hide their confusion, his stiff expression softened.
“The sun has set.”
Daniel gently removed a strand of hair stuck above Frida’s eyebrow as he spoke calmly. Somehow, the thought that he would continue to share ordinary days—sunrise and sunset—with her made his heart ache.
“Yes… it has,” Frida nodded softly, then hesitated. “Um, Daniel…”
Daniel waited patiently for her to finish, watching her search for the right words while meeting his eyes. He did not dislike that 모습 at all.
“Um… well…”
Daniel kept a gentle smile and waited.
“Aren’t you… hungry?”
The moment he understood her question, hunger rushed in as if it were a lie.
Longing. Obsession. Hunger.
Daniel’s forgotten senses awakened one by one, stretching and returning to their places. The beast that had been quietly suppressed was waking from its sleep.
Frida’s innocent eyes—having no idea what she had done—fluttered noisily as they complained of hunger.
Not long after a carrier pigeon arrived from the eastern border, another message reached the palace—this time from Count Chamberlain in the west. Even while reading about the Solon tribe, long quiet for years, crossing the eastern border again, the Dowager Empress’s calm expression twisted instantly.
“Just when is he planning to return to Chellino… to stay there to the end like that…”
She had known Leopold would go to Daniel, which was why she had sent Chamberlain with him. But hearing that it had truly happened made her head throb more than expected.
As she let out a low groan and pressed her brow, Count Klima, her aide, stepped closer.
“Your Majesty, shall I call a physician?”
“No.”
When the cause of the headache was so clear, a doctor would only be annoying. Marguerite waved her hand and pressed her aching brow with her knuckles.
“Is Baron Boild staying quiet?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. There has been no particular report yet.”
Sending someone clever and quick would only get them killed in Daniel’s hands without a trace. That cunning man would throw them into a wolf’s den himself and pretend ignorance. Even before losing consciousness, he had acted obediently loyal to the Imperial family, but his defiance had grown more frequent.
He’s grown too big. It’s about time to remove him—but there’s no suitable replacement.
With no better option, she had decided to at least place a watcher. Knowing that anyone sent might simply die, she had deliberately chosen the slow but upright Baron Boild.
But now, that slowness was the problem. Or was he still unsure where his loyalty lay?
“He has prepared what I ordered, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We have prepared a claimant to Baron Boild’s estate and territory, along with forged documents to support the claim. Once you give the order, a request to settle the dispute will be submitted to the Imperial court.”
A noble’s land was always a source of conflict. Every year, dozens of requests reached the palace asking it to judge ownership of lands passed down through marriage and inheritance. The Imperial court’s basic rule in resolving such disputes was the existence of notarized documents.
No matter how insignificant, to maintain noble status one needed land and an estate. Once those were threatened, no one could ignore the Empire’s gaze.
“Those who originally had nothing cling harder to what they gain.”
If he would not move, then she would make him move.
If he hesitated, she would force him to choose.
“Begin. I can only hope Baron Boild is smart enough to realize why he’s in trouble. If not, there’s no need for us to waste time—just find someone else.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“How frustrating. There are so few people who can do their part on their own.”
Without her direct hand, nothing worked properly. It was suffocating.
“Haah…”
The Dowager Empress let out a long sigh and pressed her forehead. As time passed, her past mistakes returned as bitter regret.
Should I have spared at least a few of them?
She had wiped out every family that could become an obstacle to Leopold—and an unexpected problem had arisen. The enemies were gone, but so were the people left behind.
The Weizen family had always been short on heirs, and Richard had only Leopold as its last bloodline. The imperial throne had been given to the Reiningen family because, despite their numbers, they lacked capable male siblings. The Fonheim line was also nearing its end.
The Twelve Dukes were gone—but that was where the real problem began.
She had focused only on cutting out the rot and forgot that the wound itself was still part of the body. Without lips, teeth could not be protected. Without skin, bones were exposed.
How could I, Marguerite, called the greatest mind of Weizen, make such a basic mistake?
For three hundred years, she believed the chaos of the Svergen Empire came from a weakened imperial authority. As long as the descendants of the Twelve Dukes fought over the throne, peace would never come.
She still believed that judgment was not wrong.
That was why Weizen kept its distance while the Twelve Dukes maintained pure bloodlines through close marriages. Perhaps because of that, in three hundred years Weizen produced neither madmen nor those with hereditary diseases.
But it also produced very few strong sons.
That was why Weizen focused on intellect rather than war. They could not afford to sacrifice their precious sons on the battlefield.
Breaking three hundred years of tradition, Weizen chose marriage with the Richard family—one of the Twelve Dukes—entirely by Marguerite’s own will. To make Richard emperor, and Weizen empress, and continue the Svergen imperial bloodline perfectly.
The elders had unanimously agreed.
Marguerite, raised from birth to be empress, stepped into the world carrying Weizen’s future, armed with a flawless plan built over generations.
Laura… if only it weren’t for you.
Her hand clenched into a fist. Unlike herself—heavy, dark, and cold—Laura was a lowborn woman from Lapas who brightened everything simply by existing.
The humiliation she and her husband had inflicted was not something Marguerite wished to recall.
The mother nearly ruined her grand plan, and the child tried to block her son’s path. Or perhaps… she truly had.
If Leopold’s inability to produce an heir was truly because of that incident—
No. No. I checked it again and again. That can’t be.
She had even tested it on servants. No one became infertile from taking echinacea once. Leopold having no child had to be coincidence.
And yet, this lingering unease would not disappear.
I should have killed her child along with her.
Then the people of the Empire would not know the name of “Duke Daniel Richard” more than that of their emperor, Leopold Volshtark II.
Marguerite lowered her hand and looked at Count Klima.
“Send more assassins to Utrecht. Choose only the most capable—ready to act the moment even the smallest clue appears.”
“But, Your Majesty, as you know, almost no one returns alive from there.”
“Then choose even better ones. Since His Majesty will be going there soon, hiding them among the Imperial Guard may work.”
If Daniel had secretly fathered even a bastard child like his mother—
If Leopold never produced an heir, then even a half-blood child would be the Empire’s only royal blood.
I would rather die than see that.
The title of Duke Richard must end with Daniel.
“Send a messenger to the border marquis and have him investigate the Solon tribe further. Ask whether reinforcements are needed.”
No matter what, Laura’s low blood would never be allowed to stain the Empire.
