The moment his eyes scanned the handwritten ink, the curiosity instantly drained from his face. His expression froze into a mask of pure, absolute shock, his blood running cold at the sight of those four, devastating words:

​I am coming for you.

​Cedric snapped his head up, his eyes darting frantically around the Grand Hall. But there was no trace of the guard who had handed him the parchment; the man had vanished completely, as if he had been nothing more than a phantom.

​A dark, suffocating seed of doubt instantly took root in Cedric’s heart. Could it be...? Is it possible that he is still alive?

​He aggressively shook his head, trying to banish the rising panic. "No, no, no... I am just losing my mind," he muttered to himself, his voice a tight whisper. "I am delusional. No one survives a place like that. And even if by some miracle he did, no one would ever descend into that cursed valley for him. I am just imagining things. This... this is nothing but a sick joke from someone."

​Yet, despite his desperate rationalization, he couldn’t convince his own mind. Standing here in the funeral of Elvira—a girl whose very presence used to terrify everyone—and witnessing the fearsome Duke Roland completely shattered, was more than enough to prove that something was deeply, dangerously wrong in the Empire.

​Meanwhile, outside the palace grounds, a heavy, suffocating silence filled the dark confines of the moving carriage. Leon and Olivia sat opposite each other, the rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hooves matching the steady downpour of the sleet outside.

​"That man back there... he was truly strange," Leon spoke up suddenly, his sharp eyes cutting through the dim interior light. "His demeanor, his movements... even the way he collided with you. It felt calculated. It was almost as if he went out of his way to ensure he didn’t actually hurt you."

​Olivia didn’t look up from her lap, her face obscured by the heavy lace of her veil. "What are you even talking about? I think you’ve just become paranoid, Leon. He was a mere royal guard."

​"I don’t know..." Leon countered, his jaw tightening as he leaned back against the leather seat. "I am just not at ease with him, sister-in-law."

​"It doesn’t matter. Forget about him," Olivia snapped softly, her tone dismissing the conversation with finality.

​"There is something else," Leon spoke up again, his voice dropping into a lower, more probing register.

​Olivia sighed, shifting slightly beneath her veil. "What is it now?"

​"I noticed that the Emperor was staring at you for quite some time during the ceremony," Leon muttered, his sharp eyes searching her covered face. "Is there... a problem with Lady Alisha again?"

​Staring at me? Olivia’s mind briefly flashed back to the Emperor’s recent, unexpected apology to her. A cold weight settled in her stomach.

​"I don’t know," she replied coldly, her voice cutting off any further curiosity. "And I do not wish to speak about him."

​Leon held her gaze for a moment, then looked out the window at the freezing sleet. "As you wish."

​Yet, despite her dismissive words, a cold, unexplainable sensation washed over her skin. Beneath her stoic mask, her heart rattled with a strange, haunting familiarity she couldn’t quite name. But just like Cedric, Olivia chose to ignore the warning of her own instincts, completely unaware that the ghost of her past was already walking among them.

-------------------------

​Three days had passed since the funeral that had sent shockwaves through the Empire, yet the suffocating tension hanging over the capital refused to lift. High society remained locked in a stunned, watchful silence. But behind the closed iron gates of the Duchy, time seemed to blur into a quiet, heavy monotony. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

​In the secluded corner of the courtyard, the winter wind swept through the skeletal branches of the trees, but Olivia felt none of it.

​She sat motionless on the wooden swing, the very same spot where she had spent her final, sweetest days with Mathias. Back then, the swing had been alive with movement and low laughter, but now, she simply sat there, refusing to push herself forward. She allowed the stillness to consume her.

​With a slow, careful movement, Olivia placed her hand over her flat stomach. A sleek black cat, Blake, lay curled up in her lap, his rhythmic purring the only sound in the quiet garden. She gently stroked his dark fur, her eyes staring blankly at the frost-covered grass as she began to whisper to the life growing inside her, speaking as if the child could already hear her voice.

​"Right here, my little one... this is where your mother and father used to be," she murmured, a rare, fragile softness creeping into her cold tone. "It is true that you will never get to see him... but your mother is still here, living on the precious memories he left behind. I know... I know I rejected you at first, my sweet boy. But now, I only hope that you will be another piece of him for me to hold onto."

​From a distance, standing near the stone archway of the mansion, Leon stood frozen, his eyes fixed on her solitary figure.

​His mind involuntarily dragged him back to the last time he had witnessed her on that swing. She hadn’t been alone then. She had been wrapped in Mathias’s arms, the two of them laughing with a genuine, unbridled joy that Leon had never seen before—and had never seen since.

A sharp, physical pang of regret sliced through his chest. He wished, with every fiber of his being, that he hadn’t stepped forward to interrupt them that day. He wished he hadn’t ruined their fleeting moment of peace.

​Seeing her now, looking so utterly desolate and hollowed out, ignited a bitter flame of remorse in his heart.

​A soft, warm hand gently pressed against his tense shoulder, breaking him out of his reverie. He turned his head slightly to see Isabella standing beside him, her soft eyes filled with understanding.

​"You cannot change the past, Leon," Isabella said softly, her voice a soothing balm against his silent guilt. "This is our reality now, and we must live through it, with all its sweetness and its bitterness. Besides, her health has improved significantly over the last few days. She is finally eating again—whether she actually wants to or because she is forcing herself to. I think... Mathias would be happy to see her taking care of herself like this. So, wipe that scowl off your face."

​"Your wife is right, man. Stop frowning, you’re ruining my sister’s view."

​The sudden, cocky voice from behind made them both turn. Kyle stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, a familiar, easygoing smirk on his face.

​"Kyle," Leon murmured, his tense posture relaxing just a fraction. "When did you get here?"

​Isabella instinctively began to lower herself into a formal, polite bow for the noble, but Kyle immediately stepped forward, reaching out a hand to stop her before she could even bend her knees.

​"What kind of man would I be to let a pregnant woman bow to me?" Kyle chuckled lightly, waving his hand dismissively. "There is absolutely no need for that, Lady Isabella. Please, keep your comfort."

​"Anyway, I came here to see my sister," Kyle said, his tone shifting back to a warmer note as he glanced toward the courtyard.

​Leon nodded toward the swing. "Your sister is right over there. Go on."

​"Alright. Excuse me, you two."

​Kyle offered a polite nod to Isabella and walked away, his steps quiet against the stone path as he approached Olivia from behind. He stood there for a moment, watching her staring blankly at the frost, before leaning in slightly.

​"Should I give you a push?"

​Olivia snapped out of her thoughts, raising her eyes to look up at him. "Kyle? When did you get here?"

​"Just now," he replied, a boyish grin returning to his face. "So, what do you say? Want to play like old times?"

​"I am pregnant, you idiot," Olivia countered, a faint, rare trace of dry amusement hitting her voice. "Are you trying to kill me?"

​Kyle laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I’ll just rock it very gently, okay? Deal?"

​Olivia didn’t answer him, but her silence was all the permission he needed. He gripped the heavy ropes of the swing and gave it a soft, rhythmic push, breaking her from her rigid stillness. For a long moment, she remained silent, letting the gentle motion lull her heavy thoughts, before she finally spoke without turning around.

​"Kyle..."

​"Hmm?"

​"I should have known. You never show up unless you’re carrying a pocket full of trouble."

​Kyle let out another short laugh, though this one carried a slightly guarded edge. "Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it trouble."

Olivia’s eyes narrowed beneath her veil. "What do you mean?"

​Kyle stopped pushing the swing, letting it slowly come to a halt. The easygoing breeze that had just carried their dry banter suddenly felt freezing and heavy. He stepped around to face her, and in that single movement, his playful demeanor instantly evaporated, replaced by a dark, serious expression she rarely saw on him. The silence of the courtyard suddenly stretched between them, thick with an unsaid warning.

​"First, let me ask you one question, Olivia," he said, his voice dropping into a quiet murmur that barely left his lips. "Do you have any intention of telling my father that you are truly his daughter?

​Olivia looked away, her fingers tightening against Blake’s dark fur. "I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it yet."

​"Well, it looks like you’re going to have to think about it very quickly."