Chapter 12: The First Fiancée’s Shadow

Erich’s demeanor was far from peculiar. To a Witheon noble, a wife was never an object of affection. Love and pleasure were pursuits reserved for a mistress, whereas a wife was a partner, entrusted with managing the domain and securing the lineage. A profound chasm thus lay between Evening, who had yet to grasp this societal norm, and Erich, who naturally viewed his fiancée as anything but a lover.

“First, after I’ve settled my belongings… to whom should I report for the handover?” Seeing Erich fall silent for a moment, Evening deftly redirected the conversation.

She had no leisure to meticulously dissect the chasm of perception that lay between them. Matters of lesser importance could well be pondered at a later time.

“A handover, you say.” Erich’s expression immediately soured at the mention of such a purely bureaucratic matter, a topic more befitting a vassal than a fiancée.

“So, you find no discomfort in sleeping here, I presume. Quite audacious, for an exceptional mage.” It was he who had offered the room, yet now that Evening readily accepted, a clear hint of displeasure marred his features. His expression remained utterly gruff, as if the sight of Evening so compliantly taking up residence in his first fiancée’s chambers grated on his nerves.

Such petty obstinacy no longer surprised her. How many were there, after all, who would declare, ‘I’m going home,’ only to erupt in a furious pique if no one attempted to stop them? Thankfully, Evening possessed a pliable spirit, much like a reed bending with the wind, ever attuned to the nuanced sensitivities that often lacked clear definition.

“It’s not that I feel nothing at all, my lord. It is, admittedly, rather unsettling, knowing that this room was once occupied by someone who sought to end your life—your former fiancée, no less. Yet, to ascend to the position of Empress, such trials must be endured.” Evening clenched her fist and raised it, a silent vow of determination.

“Is occupying a room once inhabited by a deceased person truly a trial one must endure?” “Your Majesty… everyone dies eventually.” Evening, quite unconsciously, uttered the famous adage with profound seriousness. The words had flowed so naturally that ‘Your Majesty’ had slipped from her lips instead of ‘Lord Erich.’ Everyone dies. There was no logical reason to find a room unsettling simply because a deceased individual had once resided there.

“Yet, I shall not die.” It was a seemingly innocuous statement, but Erich’s retort was sharp, as if he had been personally struck. The magic of immortality, which granted him eternal life, was both his supreme power and his inherent flaw. This unending existence conjured an unquenchable thirst that ceaselessly tormented him. Indeed, it was this very affliction that transformed him, in the original narrative, into the villain who relentlessly coveted the heroine’s unique magic.

‘He could die, though.’ Her pragmatic mind entertained the thought, but there was no need to press that point at present. Evening, like a cunning serpent, deftly navigated around Erich’s words.

“That’s not quite what I meant, my lord. What I meant was, there is no patch of land in this world where no one has ever died. There are countless tales of schools erected atop ancient cemeteries, and even in my own hometown, I am certain many vestiges of war still remain.”

There was no need to even delve into wartime history. Before her transmigration, a university hospital stood near her home, constantly receiving victims of horrific accidents. A large supermarket nearby was built upon the very site where a major catastrophe had unfolded decades prior. Initially, such places might feel uncomfortable, but within merely five years, they become as unremarkable as any other part of daily life. This was hardly a murder scene; it was merely a room once occupied by someone deceased. If anything, the fact that his *former fiancée* had used it was far more disquieting.

“It wasn’t even a death by gruesome means, was it? There’s no issue.” While these words were heavily imbued with her pre-transmigration memories, they were also precisely the sort of practical remark one might expect from the daughter of a Margrave’s family, whose lands bordered an enemy nation.

“She didn’t, by any chance, meet a terrible end, did she?” “Their heads were struck from their bodies upon the dais. Every single ringleader involved.” It was a beheading. “Then it’s quite alright.” Provided one didn’t dwell too seriously on the image of a head being severed, it wasn’t particularly gruesome.

“You are aware, aren’t you, that beheading entails a head being abruptly severed?” “Of course I am! But it’s considered a humane method, isn’t it?” Evening pouted with a feigned sense of injustice, much like a junior teasing a senior, implying, ‘who wouldn’t know that?’ Her subsequent thoughts were not entirely disingenuous. While beheading could certainly be brutal depending on its execution, she couldn’t help but view it as remarkably humane when compared to ancient tortures such as *lingchi*, dismemberment by carts, or even boiling.

“It was, after all, her own wrongdoing from the very start.” “Hmm. While her initial demise was certainly distressing, I am nonetheless grateful, for it provided a catalyst.” After Evening had gone to such lengths to defend him, Erich directly countered her words.

Evening gazed at Erich, who was now defending his deceased fiancée, a slight pout on her lips. “…Is that truly how you feel?”

“Had it not been for that, I cannot say when I would have awakened my magic. To sacrifice her own life to secure her fiancée’s future—she was an exceptional individual, both as a noble and as a betrothed. Indeed, one might even consider her my benefactor.”

Though the means were undeniably violent, the instant his magic was unveiled, Erich’s standing rocketed from the lowest depths to the absolute pinnacle. The nobles, assembled for the Crown Prince’s coming-of-age ceremony, had witnessed with their own eyes Erich’s mangled corpse—crushed beyond recognition beneath an immense boulder—revitalize as if rewound from death. Just as they prepared to clear the colossal rock and retrieve his remains, his shattered body began to slowly regenerate, meticulously restoring itself to pristine condition. Even his heart, which had ceased beating, resumed its rhythm—an unprecedented and magnificent miracle, the very magic of an absolute ruler, perfectly befitting his noble lineage. All the nobles who had once vociferously proclaimed that any person devoid of magic, regardless of their prowess, was unfit for the imperial throne, now fell into stunned silence. They acknowledged Erich as emperor, and some even began to revere him as the perfect sovereign. Even the ailing former emperor, burdened by illness and constant disputes with the nobility, wept tears of profound relief.

“It’s not as though just anyone could have taken my life.” As the undisputed Crown Prince, there were precious few circumstances that could have truly ended his existence. Had it not been for the desperate machinations of his first fiancée and her family, he might well have only awakened his immortal magic past his sixtieth year. To have spent an entire lifetime embroiled in battles of legitimacy with the nobility, only to meet such an anticlimactic end, would have been an utterly hollow conclusion indeed. At the very least, the fierce disputes over legitimate succession had now dissipated, banishing any fears of a civil war erupting over the imperial heir.

“It was a difficult decision, made for the sake of the nation. Though left unspoken, many nobles, including yourself and your father, must have harbored similar sentiments.” In its outcome, it could undeniably be hailed as a sagacious decision for the realm. After all, the assassination they had orchestrated had profoundly reshaped the destinies of both Erich and Witheon.

However, Evening was not so guileless as to simply accept his words without question. “No? Not in the slightest, my lord.”

“You must have understood the first one’s motivations. Even my own mother grasped their desperation.” “No, that’s utterly insane. If one dislikes their fiancée, they should either break the engagement or flee—who resorts to assassination?”

“It was an act for the nation.” “That’s the classic lie of politicians, isn’t it? What do *they* truly know of the nation’s welfare?”

Evening, her eyes wide and earnest, systematically refuted Erich’s assertions, unequivocally siding with him. It mattered little that the very victim was now defending his own first fiancée. As the progeny of a born sycophant, Evening instinctively understood whose favor to curry in such delicate moments.

“To me, she was nothing short of a benefactor, yet the nation’s laws were sacrosanct, and I was regrettably compelled to order her execution.” Not every word spoken aloud is the truth. However, a man so utterly devoid of acting prowess could hardly be expected to lie with any skill. Erich continued to refer to his first fiancée with the stark, impersonal title of ‘the first one.’ She had been his betrothed for nearly three years, even if their relationship hadn’t been close. His stubborn insistence on ‘the first one,’ despite her name surely being more familiar, strongly suggested a lingering bitterness. After all, she was the one who had once orchestrated his death. There was no advantage to be gained by feigning understanding for such a person, especially when Erich Winb was the undisputed power and authority in this very room. Nevertheless, outward appearances and public justification also held significant weight. Evening swiftly formulated words that would simultaneously honor his emotions and bolster his public image.

“I confess, I would have been entirely swayed by immediate emotions, yet Lord Erich, despite having endured such profound hardship, still possesses such a grand, far-sighted perspective. It is truly admirable.” At this sudden, unexpected flattery, Erich let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. The expressions of the guards and maids, who had been discreetly observing the pair from the periphery of the spacious room, also shifted, betraying a flicker of unease.

“You cannot possibly desire to occupy such a room, yet you utter such servile nonsense.” “It is a perfectly fine room, my lord, one you yourself guided me to.” “This room is steeped in blood. Every last instigator was either beheaded or sent to the gallows, and their remaining families were stripped of their noble standing and condemned to exile.”

Erich, who had seemed to be cultivating a poignant atmosphere by defending his first fiancée, abruptly pivoted to the opposing stance once more. Evening was slowly beginning to discern his true intent. He was clearly attempting to wear her down, to disorient her into making a misstep. This tactic of tormenting someone with contradictory statements was utterly typical. And being typical, she knew, also meant it was easily thwarted. Instead of offering an answer, she countered with a question.

“You punished their families?!” “Families alone? Close relatives and even household servants were also punished, with their involvement carefully weighed.” Erich demonstratively made a chopping motion at his neck with the edge of his hand, as if to illustrate his point.

All ringleaders were hanged, the remaining families stripped of their titles, and close relatives and household retainers were punished according to the severity of their involvement. While this was clearly intended as a stark warning that he would not hesitate to employ collective punishment, to Evening, with her knowledge of Chinese history, it registered quite differently.

“You are remarkably lenient, my lord.” She found no need to flatter him to earn his favor. Without conscious effort, words of genuine admiration flowed from her lips.

“Leniency?” “To spare the families, even after an attempt on the Crown Prince’s life—that is a truly magnanimous measure, befitting a wise and benevolent ruler.”

This time, it was as if she heard a silent voice asking, ‘A wise ruler?’ Erich did not get angry, thinking she dared to insult him with her tongue, but waited for Evening’s next words. Whether he was a benevolent wise ruler or she was an exceptional sycophant, one of those two things was certainly true.