During Vanitas’s absence.
Each day, the guilt in Ezra’s heart remained steadfast. A genuine regret lingered in his actions, and if possible, he would’ve done anything to stop the impulses he’d indulged in during the university attack.
Still, he chose to take accountability.
By ensuring the sins he committed would not be meaningless—no matter how hypocritical that might have seemed.
Because that was all he could afford to do.
“What are you planning to do now? Drop out of the candidacy?”
Silas, seated across from him, had been in the room the whole time. They currently occupied Professor Vanitas’s office during his absence. His lectures were canceled for the month. It was unfortunate, but they still had homework anyway.
With permission, they chose to work here.
“No.” Ezra shook his head. “I will see to it my name will start to go up from here.”
Truth be told, Ezra wanted to quit. He no longer felt worthy of a leadership role meant to uphold student welfare and protect their rights. He didn’t deserve it. Not anymore.
But if he was asked to step down now, he wouldn’t.
“….”
That, too, was part of his resolve.
“With Senior Audelle gone, no one else really matches Astrid’s candidacy for the student council,” Silas remarked. “Her seat’s practically secured. But you—you haven’t been showing up to the advocacy meetings, have you?”
“There was… a lot going on,” Ezra replied. “I already told them. I had to bury my grandmother. And…” His voice trailed off.
What he didn’t say was how he had shut himself in for days, unable to muster the strength to face anyone. But Silas didn’t need to hear that.
He didn’t owe that part of himself to anyone.
That Ezra Kaelus was haunted by his own sins. The man who took innocent lives that day out of selfish impulse—was no better than the corrupt nobility he’d always despised.
The irony of it all.
* * *
With Audelle Pittsburg’s death, the candidacy fell into imbalance. Combined with the recent chaos at the university tower, the election had been postponed by two weeks.
As a result, all remaining candidates were given more time to prepare.
For some, that delay was a blessing.
For others, it only deepened the pressure.
Astrid belonged to the latter.
Not because she lacked the will to prepare, but because she simply couldn’t afford to. Preparation meant sleepless nights, and she was already stretched thin. Her academic backlogs piled up by the day, advocacy work demanded constant attention, and campaigning left no room to breathe.
Then there was her hospital internship.
And above all else, her brother’s upcoming wedding.
Franz Barielle Aetherion.
The man who had refused every marriage prospect since the death of his beloved fiancée over a decade ago, was finally engaged several months back.
His bride-to-be was the youngest daughter of the Heinrich Duke Family, Olivia Henrich, and the wedding was fast approaching.
With the declining health of their father, Decadien Aetherion, the burden of succession now fell squarely on Franz’s shoulders.
And Astrid, though not heir to the throne, was still an Aetherion. She, too, had duties to fulfill. Appearances to maintain, and expectations to bear.
“Haa….”
A weary sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her chair. She had just finished the second phase of the homework left by Professor Vanitas during his absence. It had been far more difficult than she anticipated.
And that was only one subject.
Her other courses had their own share of backlogs, so without pause, she dove straight into them.
Her desk was filled with pen textbooks, scattered papers, color-coded notes, and half-finished drafts. A nearly empty coffee mug sat beside a stack of documents she had yet to review.
The clock ticked past midnight, but Astrid barely noticed.
Her body ached, and her eyes stung, but she refused to stop.
There was still a proposal to finalize for the advocacy group. Still a draft speech she had to prepare in case they requested a joint public statement from the candidates.
She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly.
“I need to get through just a little more…” she muttered.
But her vision was starting to blur.
“….”
Just as her head began to dip forward, a sudden knock at the door snapped her out of her daze.
—Princess Astrid. Princess Irene is here.
The voice belonged to one of the housemaids. It was muffled but clear through the door.
‘Sister…?’ Astrid blinked.
At this hour?
She glanced at the clock.
“….”
Exactly midnight.
She stood, steadying herself before crossing the room and opening the door.
Standing just outside was her older sister, Irene Barielle Aetherion, visibly agitated.
“Sister?” Astrid blinked, still groggy. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to return to the Theocracy today?”
“That’s the problem,” Irene muttered, pushing past her into the room. “I can’t….”
“Eh?”
“Our dear brother,” she hissed, spinning around to face Astrid, “has revoked my right to leave Aetherion’s domain. I was… apprehended at the station.”
Astrid’s eyes widened. “You were… stopped?”
“Stopped?!” Irene snapped. “The stagecoaches, the carriages, all the guards treated me like some damned fugitive! All because Franz wants to make sure I attend that ridiculous wedding of his!”
She threw her cloak onto a chair in frustration, pacing the room with restless steps.
“That bastard knew I wouldn’t go willingly, so he made sure I couldn’t escape!”
Astrid quietly closed the door behind her, then returned to her desk and sat down. Irene, still seething, took a seat on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms.
“You know, sister,” Astrid began, “I’ve never really understood this… cat-and-mouse thing between you and our brother.”
Irene didn’t respond.
“I mean, no one’s ever explained it to me,” Astrid continued. “It’s always been that way for as long as I can remember. I just… never thought to question it.”
Irene let out a breath. “Then maybe it’s time you knew the truth.”
Astrid looked up, eyes meeting hers.
“It wasn’t always like this with Franz,” Irene said, her voice quieter now. “As reluctant as I am now to admit it, I used to admire him. Like any younger sister would admire an older brother who always seemed so… capable.”
She paused.
“I wanted to be like him.”
“Then… what changed?” Astrid asked.
“When Alianna died.”
Alianna Borgia—the only daughter of the Borgia Viscount Family.
It had once been a controversial issue within the Empire that the Imperial Prince, Franz Barielle Aetherion, had chosen to become engaged to a mere viscount’s daughter, rather than to his politically arranged fiancée—the eldest daughter of the Clementine Duke Family.
The Clementine Duke Household was considered an Imperial Duke Family, given their long-standing history of intermarriage with the Aetherions. But just like father and son, Franz had followed in Emperor Decadien’s footsteps.
The Emperor himself had once rejected a Clementine bride in favor of Julia Barielle, a daughter of the Barielle Earl Family. Franz had done something similar.
And so, history repeated.
Moreover, Sophia Clementine, the youngest daughter of that very same house, was none other than Astrid’s best friend.
“I’ve… heard stories about her,” Astrid murmured. “She was beautiful and beloved by many. At the same time, she was also scorned by the nobility. But I was too young then to really understand much of what happened.”
Her sister nodded slowly. “Yes, well… perhaps you don’t know. Or maybe you do. But the day Alianna died… she was with me.”
Astrid’s brows furrowed, lips parting slightly.
“I had returned from the Theocracy for vacation,” her sister continued. “Alianna insisted we go out. She wanted to celebrate and… we never made it back.”
There was a pause.
“She was killed during a riot,” she finally said. “Our car crashed trying to avoid the chaos. The driver and I survived, but Alianna….”
Astrid stared at her sister blankly. She was aware of this, but not the full story.
“When they brought her to the hospital…” her sister’s voice grew quieter, laced with guilt, “it was already too late.”
Then came the final blow.
“We found out… she was pregnant. With our brother’s child.”
“….”
Then came a bitter laugh.
“You know what’s funny?” Irene said. “That’s when everything began to fall apart.”
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if hoping the past would change if she didn’t look Astrid in the eye.
“I was just a child. I didn’t even know what death meant… But our brother… he couldn’t separate me from the accident. From what he lost. He looked at me like I was the one behind the wheel.”
Her voice trembled.
“He told me I should’ve died instead. That I should’ve been the one in that coffin, not Alianna. Can you imagine that, Astrid? Your own brother… wishing you dead?
“….”
“He said it so often, I started to believe him,” Irene continued. “Every time he looked at me, he saw her. And every time I smiled, it was a sin. I spent my entire childhood living with guilt. And now that same brother wants me to be at his wedding like nothing happened.”
Astrid’s voice was soft. “So… what happened?”
Irene paused for a long moment before replying, “It’s better if you don’t get involved.”
She looked at her sister with weary eyes.
It was clear there was more to Irene’s story, but Astrid didn’t press further.
A week after Alianna Borgia’s death, several of the commoners involved in the riot were found dead. So was the driver of the car Alianna and Irene had ridden that day, along with his entire family.
….And Irene knew exactly who was responsible for it.
“By the way,” Irene said casually, breaking the tension, “I’ll be staying at your manor for a while.”
“Of course,” Astrid replied. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the—”
“Nope,” Irene cut in. “You’re sleeping with me, Astrid.”
“Eh…?”
“Come on, you used to crawl into my bed every time I came home for vacation,” she teased.
“Ah… well…”
“What? Is my little sister too grown up now to share a bed with me?” Irene said with a grin.
“No, that’s not….”
* * *
Footsteps echoed through the manor library, breaking the silence as Charlotte lifted her gaze from the papers in front of her.
“Yes?” she called out.
A voice replied from beyond the shelves.
——It’s Margaret, Lady Charlotte. I hope I’m not interrupting, but there’s something I must deliver.
Charlotte stood and stretched lightly. “Ah, perfect timing. I was just about to take a break.”
Margaret stepped forward and handed her a sealed envelope. Charlotte glanced at the wax emblem and recognized it instantly. It was a seal of the Marquess of Arendelle.
Charlotte sighed. “….Another one.”
“What is it, if I may ask?”
She gave a tired smile. “Most likely another marriage proposal.”
Margaret’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, my. For you?”
Charlotte chuckled. “No. For my brother. He gets these letters almost every month.”
“Is that so? Well, Lord Vanitas is quite the catch in noble circles.”
Charlotte chuckled again. “It’s alright, you don’t need to be so formal. You can call him Vanitas in front of me. In fact, I’d prefer it if you called me Charlotte, too.”
“I couldn’t possibly, my lady.”
“If you don’t,” Charlotte said with a teasing glint in her eye, “I’ll start calling you Big Sister.”
Margaret paused, flustered. “Ah…”
Charlotte smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. Then, returning to the letter, she gave a shrug.
“Well, my brother will likely go on the date… then politely reject them again, like he always does.”
“Always?” Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Does… the idea of marriage not appeal to Vanitas?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Honestly? I don’t know. He’s getting older, and yet he’s never once considered taking a fiancée. If he keeps this up, he might never have an heir.”
Margaret hesitated for a moment before speaking carefully. “Perhaps… I might know the reason for that.”
“Oh?” Charlotte raised a brow, visibly intrigued. “Do tell.”
Margaret glanced around the room, making sure they were alone. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. “This is just between you and me, my lady—”
“Charlotte,” she corrected with a small smile.
“Keum.” Margaret cleared her throat, slightly flustered. “Charlotte. This is just between you and me, but I believe Vanitas has never truly moved on from his previous love.”
Charlotte blinked. “Previous love? There was such a thing?”
Charlotte found herself startled. Was there even anyone capable of capturing her brother’s heart? It seemed even more ridiculous than all the fantasy novels she had read combined.
Margaret hesitated, then nodded. “I don’t mean to gossip, but… I believe it was Karina Maeril.”
Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You say you don’t like to gossip, but you’re doing it quite well, Big Sister Margaret.”
A faint blush spread across Margaret’s cheeks, but she said nothing as she pressed her lips in a thin line.
Charlotte leaned back, folding her arms with a thoughtful hum. “Karina Maeril, huh… That would explain a lot. My brother hasn’t been quite the same since she… left.”
“So it did start there!” Margaret exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “I knew my hunch wasn’t wrong!”
“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Charlotte said. “And it’s best no word of this gets out. If Vanitas finds out we were gossiping…”
She trailed off.
Truth be told, she couldn’t imagine her brother ever getting truly upset with her. Not the current Vanitas, at least. He had always treated her gently, as though she were as fragile as glass.
“But you know…” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed mischievously, “what about you, Lady Margaret? Grand Knight of the Crusade Order. Leader of the renowned Illenia Knights, and one of the most beautiful women in uniform, are you not the least bit interested in my brother?”
“M-Me?” Margaret stammered, blinking rapidly as she nearly knocked over her teacup.
She coughed to compose herself.
“Pardon me, my Lady—”
“Charlotte.”
“Yes, yes. Charlotte.” Margaret cleared her throat again. “But why would you even ask that?”
Charlotte leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Wasn’t it quite the scandal back in your university days? That you and my brother were secretly dating?”
Margaret’s face flushed. “That rumor wasn’t true at all! That man wouldn’t even spare me a single glance!”
That actually sounded believable. The speculations when it came to women that surrounded her brother was quite a mystery. First, it was Margaret during their university days, but clearly nothing came of that. Then came Arwen Ainsley. And after her… Karina Maeril.
Charlotte’s eyes subtly flicked toward Margaret’s hair, the color catching the light just so.
‘Is that it…?’
How peculiar!
If there was a pattern, it was hard to ignore. Did both the past and present Vanitas share the same taste?
It was almost amusing.
“Is that so?” Charlotte hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Even I couldn’t imagine my brother being smitten by anyone… but if it were him now, there’s no one I’d rather see by his side than you, Lady Margaret.”
“….”
Margaret fell silent, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of red with each passing second. Charlotte, of course, found the reaction absolutely delightful.
“I-In the first place,” Margaret stammered, “it would be completely inappropriate for me to even entertain such thoughts about Vanitas! I’m just a commoner, and he’s… well, there’d be no advantage in him marrying someone like me!”
Charlotte’s grin widened. “That almost sounds like you’ve already considered the possibility, Lady Margaret.”
“….Please don’t tease me, my lady—”
“Charlotte.”