Chapter 03
“Wha—…”
A cracked voice slipped out clumsily. Soon, words caught in her throat, and Lyrette could only open and close her mouth like a fish.
She struggled to move her leg toward the absurd object, but it remained real—unmistakably real—clamping onto her ankle like a predator’s jaw.
Clank.
While she was still fumbling in disbelief, the door suddenly opened.
Lyrette’s head snapped toward it.
The man who entered was unfamiliar—strikingly handsome, to the point it could almost be called divine. Yet Lyrette could infer his identity from fragments of information she already had.
Her brows furrowed sharply.
“What is this?”
Despite her sharp tone, Valderion remained calm.
He pulled a chair over and sat down in front of the bed, his movements precise and efficient.
“It’s winter,” he said.
“…?”
“A winter where running outside barefoot and without proper clothing would be nothing short of madness.”
Lyrette quickly understood his implication.
“I didn’t expect you to run off so recklessly.”
The man crossed his long legs and looked at her with a cold gaze.
“At the very least, I needed an excuse to leave here without worry.”
In other words, the shackle was to prevent her escape.
“Take it off,” she said.
“You must not be in good condition, yet you still managed to get that far. I suppose I should call it unnecessary persistence.”
He ignored her entirely.
Lyrette bit down on her lip in frustration.
Valderion leaned forward slowly, studying her face as though peeling it apart with his gaze.
“Tell me—what do you know about Names?”
Lyrette flinched.
She instinctively pulled her body back, trying to hide the name etched on her back.
Valderion gave a faint, mocking smile.
“You think you can hide it like that?”
She knew it was futile. And yet she still tried.
Because it was his name.
She remembered the moment she was told about the Name by the physician—like the sky collapsing on her. It was a despair she could not properly define.
“Let me make one thing clear. This is not mutual—it’s one-sided.”
“….”
“Your name appeared on my body, but mine did not appear on yours.”
That much was obvious even from appearance.
Unlike her, weakened and barely functional since the manifestation, the man before her was perfectly healthy. Infuriatingly so.
She alone had been bound and dragged down by a name that appeared out of nowhere.
Valderion reviewed the information Moses had urgently gathered over the past days.
There were two types of Names: mutual and one-sided.
Mutual Names appeared on both individuals, while one-sided Names appeared on only one.
“The probability of mutual manifestation is about 15% worldwide. One-sided cases are under 3%. If one person manifests a Name, the other is likely to manifest as well.”
“Is there a way to distinguish them?”
“Usually it becomes clear over time. If the other person does not manifest within a year, it is classified as one-sided.”
One year.
In other words, whether he liked it or not, he would be bound to this woman for at least a year.
Valderion repeated the conclusion briefly.
“I will have to keep you with me for a year. That is not up for debate.”
To Lyrette, it sounded like a death sentence.
An invisible blade seemed to slide across her neck.
Behind the man’s cold expression, the crest of the House of Eustutia faintly showed itself.
A memory surfaced—of that night when the Eustutia banner had surrounded her home.
“…This constitutes clear treason against the Imperial Family. The Bléwit Marquisate and five other noble houses are hereby stripped of their titles, and all members are to be executed.”
The memory pierced her mind like shards of glass.
Even after years, it was still painfully vivid.
She clenched her fist in nausea.
“Are you a virgin?”
The next words shattered what little composure she had left.
Lyrette looked up in shock.
For a moment, she wondered if she had misheard.
But the man simply waited for an answer, as if he had asked something entirely normal.
“Why… are you asking that?”
“I’m beginning to wonder whether you’ve understood anything I’ve said.”
“….”
“Do you not understand your situation?”
He tilted his head slightly, rubbing his temple as though bored, yet his gaze remained sharp.
“You are in a position where you absolutely need my help.”
“….”
“If you want to survive, you should be begging me—without caring about dignity.”
Valderion gave a faint laugh.
Her expression immediately twisted in disgust, as if she wanted to strike him.
“Don’t take it too personally. I’ve never seen a virgin among Dailen’s toys, so I was simply curious.”
Lyrette steadied her breathing, trying not to explode.
“Of course it is obvious,” she said at last.
“Why is it obvious? Are you not a woman?”
“At least not under him.”
Her coral-colored eyes—like spring blossoms—lifted for the first time with firm resolve.
“I don’t share my body with livestock.”
“….”
“To him, that’s all I am.”
Valderion observed her quietly.
A “livestock,” she called herself.
There was no trace of self-pity in her voice—only a hollow acceptance, as though even despair had been worn away long ago.
He assumed her spirit had been slowly crushed under Dailen’s influence.
Not that it was his concern.
“I won’t run. Please remove this,” she said.
Valderion smirked.
“That face?”
“….”
“If you could see your own expression, you wouldn’t say that.”
Their gazes clashed, tension sparking between them.
Then Lyrette looked away first, lowering her head as though exhausted.
Valderion stood.
“Focus on recovering.”
“….”
“Even if you tried to run in that condition, you wouldn’t get far.”
After he left, Lyrette stared at the empty doorway.
Old memories resurfaced.
Not of him—but of his lineage.
The House of Eustutia alone was enough to suffocate her.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
Why hadn’t she died?
Why had that frozen snowfield not granted her peace?
Tears gathered quietly within her.
Lyrette Bléwit.
That was the name she had been born with—before losing all honor and glory.
The Bléwit Marquisate had once been one of the founding noble houses of the Alreint Empire, serving the first Emperor.
But everything began to collapse when her father began plotting rebellion in secret.
Lyrette had been too young to understand what was happening.
It had all been hidden carefully. From the outside, the Marquisate remained peaceful—no one would have suspected that such treason was being born within it.
“My dear Lyrette,” her father had said gently.
Even when the truth was revealed, even when the Eustutia banners surrounded their home, he had not wavered.
“I still believe I made the right choice.”
He spoke calmly amid chaos.
“The Imperial Family is corrupt. There is no one left worthy of the founding Emperor’s legacy. Only beasts who abuse inherited power remain. I saw no reason to serve them. A new ruler must rise.”
Lyrette had stared at him in fear, unable to speak.
She wanted to ask:
Why are they here, Father? Why House Eustutia?
But the questions never left her mouth.
Everything collapsed like a storm.
Her home was destroyed. Everything was broken, crushed, erased.
The Eustutia House led the purge and brought the frozen, trembling survivors—including Lyrette—to the palace.
Executions were carried out before the Emperor’s eyes.
“I am not guilty. I only did what was necessary. It is regrettable that my intentions are misunderstood.”
Her father’s voice remained unwavering even at death’s door.
Lyrette watched helplessly as the blade came down.
It was a brutal ending.
Her mother begged for mercy until the very end—but she, too, was reduced to silence.
And then Lyrette was left alone, staring at the blood-soaked world.
A blade was raised toward her.
But—
“Wait.”
The execution was halted.
All eyes turned toward the source.
The Crown Prince, Dailen, sat arrogantly upon his seat beside the throne.
