Chapter 22: The Icy Crossroads

Evening’s body twirled like a fallen leaf. Caught by Greg, a man of strong physique and immense power, Evening would be a mere mouthful.

Erich’s complacent smile, which he’d worn to provoke Greg, vanished from his face.

“Are you planning to exchange greetings all day long?”

Erich’s expression turned blank, and his voice dropped to a dangerous level. “If you’re about to marry, show some decorum, Duke. You shouldn’t do anything disrespectful to me, to Eve, or to the woman who will become your wife.”

“Disrespectful?”

Greg let out a derisive snort and retreated. Having curtly replied to the Emperor without a hint of deference, he offered a slight, perfunctory bow.

“It seems I harbored unspeakable sentiments for a woman who could have been my wife.”

“It would have been wiser to keep those unspeakable sentiments to yourself.”

“Rest assured, I have no ulterior motives. My marriage to Lucia Rondo will proceed without a hitch.”

The nobles, who had been observing the three from a distance, finally gasped.

“Wow.”

“He’s insane!”

The gathering, now consisting only of territorial lords and high-ranking officials, was as candid as a second round of drinks, even without a single drop of alcohol. Eyes demanding to see how far the spectacle would go, and others captivated by the scandal, visibly clung to their faces.

For a man on the verge of marriage to touch another’s fiancée, declaring, ‘the woman who could have been my wife,’ rendered his claim of having no ulterior motives utterly meaningless.

“Amusing, Duke. Eve has already sworn allegiance to serve under me.”

“Are you implying there will be no fourth fiancée? That’s fortunate. I must take my leave; the war situation is urgent.”

Having thoroughly stirred up trouble, Greg turned his back abruptly the moment he felt his business was concluded. As if they had no desire to be caught in the fight, the nobles surrounding the trio hastily made way.

Half the nobles quickly made way, eager to avoid getting entangled in the Emperor’s wrath, while the other half expressed regret at missing out on further spectacle.

‘What a mess.’

A tyrannical Emperor who destabilized the nation, and the Northern Duke, who wielded power equal to the Emperor’s, engaged in a blatant war of nerves. Far from intervening, nobles from various regions watched like a crowd from a safe distance, experiencing vicarious thrills. The political landscape, devoid of loyalty and any concern for the nation’s stability, was perfectly described by the saying, ‘a house divided.’

From a distance, the male lead, who in the original story seemed like a cool-headed and excellent ruler, now appeared more like a dangerous warlord. A sigh escaped her lips at the volatile atmosphere, as if civil war could erupt tomorrow.

“Haa, truly… Ugh!”

No sooner had she sighed than Erich seized her. Greg hadn’t released her hand from their handshake, and now Erich refused to let go of her wrist. She feared a reddish mark would be left on her pale wrist.

‘This is also a mess.’

Which would crumble first: a nation where the future Empress was tasked with six major responsibilities, or the Winb Imperial family?

‘Please, let the nation be first.’

Before a destiny as precarious as a lamp in a gale, Evening sold out the nation without a moment’s hesitation. It was, after all, someone else’s country.

****

Erich pulled Evening by the wrist and left the Palace of the Sun.

“Lord Lich, please slow down.”

He did not shorten his strides, which were too wide for her to keep pace with. He dragged her along as if he hadn’t heard Evening’s plea.

“Lord Lich! You can slow down… Ah! It’s difficult! What are you doing?”

Evening, who had been stumbling, yelled, planting her feet firmly. She could no longer be dragged by him. She swung her arm with all her might to shake off his grip. Her shoulder joint protested with a creak, but Erich’s hand finally pulled away.

Erich turned to look at the rebellious Evening, but his eyes held no anger.

“…Huh?”

It was strange. She was acting like a heroine in a drama, sharply yelling at a jealous male lead, yet in Erich’s eyes, a cold stillness resided instead of the fires of jealousy.

“Lord Lich? Are you angry?”

“Why would I be?”

Erich vigorously shook the hand that had just been holding Evening, as if her wrist were nothing more than a dust-laden object.

“Because I failed to draw a line when another man was making advances?”

“Why would you need to? You must have enjoyed meeting the man of your dreams.”

‘There are far too many details about myself that I’m unaware of,’ Evening muttered, her voice too low for Erich to hear. Having possessed the body of a mere extra, she was discovering an overwhelming number of unknown facts.

“Everyone said the Southern Princess and the Lord of the North would make a good match, didn’t they? If it weren’t for me, you would have married the Duke. I feel a bit sorry about that.”

“Who says such things? Everyone has such vivid delusions. We barely even know each other.”

Judging by Greg’s words just now, they had only the most minimal acquaintance. Their shared belligerent reputations had merely led them to hear stories about each other. To try and pair two people who had never properly met… It was the kind of delusion one might expect from a middle schooler obsessed with romance, or a middle-aged viewer of dating shows, desperate for childish love stories.

“At the very least, the Duke wanted you.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“A man who treats everyone outside the North as inferior beings, yet desired to take you, and only you, to the North.”

“I don’t think so.”

‘Was there such a setting?’ Evening racked her memory once more. But since she couldn’t recall anything, it seemed like either a trivial reason like ‘She seemed a suitable candidate for a bride’ or simply Erich’s misunderstanding.

“He regards you as his first love.”

Erich’s thumb and forefinger clasped Evening’s chin. It was positioned as if he might choke her at any moment.

Evening stammered, shaking her head. “That’s truly, utterly, impossible.”

Greg was the male lead of the original novel. Surely the male lead’s first love was always the female lead? Even if he had been with other women, his first love remained the female lead.

“Your Majesty seems to misunderstand Greg—”

“And you know him well?”

The moment she met his sharp gaze, a bead of cold sweat formed on the back of her neck and trickled down her spine. She felt as though she had uttered something she shouldn’t have.

“You’re saying you know that man better than me?”

‘I was screwed.’

This ranked among the top three most problematic questions to hear from a lover: ‘You know that man better than me? What’s your relationship? Are you closer to him than you are to me?’—a hellish question.

“I, I…”

Cold sweat streamed, and a chill ran down her spine. She felt as though she stood on thin ice. No, in fact, the ground beneath her feet was truly freezing.

Unaware, a tense Evening began to leak magic.

“I-I…”

Evening’s magic was ice magic, capable of freezing her surroundings or conjuring massive blocks of ice. After possessing this body, she had tried hard to learn how to control it, but when her emotions ran high, the magic would leak out.

Ice began to form, spreading from where Evening stood.

Was this jealousy? Or perhaps possessiveness, disliking the idea of her being touched by another, even if he didn’t love her? Or was it a calculated ploy, feigning offense to bury both Greg and Evening at once? Or merely the unpredictable capriciousness of a tyrant? She couldn’t understand Erich, who had orchestrated a grand appointment ceremony to publicly humiliate Evening, yet now acted chillingly like a persistent lover.

Her head spun, and her vision blurred. This was rare for Evening, who was jokingly called a born sycophant and a master of social maneuvering. There was nothing she could do. It was the first time she had encountered someone who held her very life in their hands.

“Greeting him with a wide smile, acting as if you knew him well, and now even defending him. You seem quite interested in Greg. Is it a sense of kinship?”

“That’s—”

Her usually fluent voice hitched and rattled, as if caught on a speed bump. Only recently had she resolved to diligently serve the Emperor, as a good subordinate should, but upon meeting Greg, her innate instinct for strategic alignment—inherited from her past life’s parents—reared its head. The same knack for strategic alignment that had allowed her father, a man of singular eloquence, to not only survive but thrive in a major corporation, even reaching an executive position, was now screaming within her.

‘Is aligning myself with the villain the right move?’

It wouldn’t be difficult to side with Erich here and appease him. She felt that if she just swallowed a bit of her pride, she could win his favor. But would that truly be the right thing to do?

‘What if it’s better *not* to win his favor?’

According to the original story, Erich would soon become obsessed with Lucia, who would marry Greg. He was the very person who had forcibly pushed Lucia, a woman deemed magic-less, towards Greg, yet he would become obsessed with Lucia, who would by then be another man’s wife, despite having just married himself. The fate of such a villain in a romance fantasy novel was always clear.

‘…He’ll die or suffer a tragic downfall.’

She hadn’t seen the scene of Erich’s complete downfall, but it was obvious it would happen. While the future was said to change, his accumulated karma with most influential nobles wouldn’t simply disappear. The male and female leads hadn’t even truly interacted yet, but he and the male lead already seemed like they wanted to kill each other.

‘If I’m to pull back, it has to be now.’

Was it right to distance herself early from Erich, who was destined to walk the villain’s path and, in doing so, destroy Evening herself? It was a crossroads: be in trouble now, or be in trouble later.

Evening’s survival instinct spun wildly like a broken compass. She felt a peculiar sensation, as if her vision was swimming.

“Evening!”

A thunderous command, ringing in her ears, jolted her back to reality. Erich, having released her chin, was glaring at her.

“Don’t run wild in the palace! Can’t you even properly control your magic? The name ‘Southern Princess’ will weep!”

“I apologize.”

A reflexive apology was the first thing out of her mouth. She only realized what she had done after apologizing. The ground beneath her feet was entirely frozen, and massive inverted icicles had erupted, threatening everything around them.

“I’m so sorry.”

She hadn’t felt *that* embarrassed, yet while she’d been lost in thought, her surroundings had frozen solid. The thickly frozen ground resembled an ice rink.

“T-This has never happened before…”

Evening knew she possessed powerful ice magic. After her possession, how diligently had she practiced controlling ice at the mansion, so as not to cause trouble for others? But Evening’s magic was not the kind that flowed out naturally. Unlike Erich’s magic, which could be used spontaneously without conscious intent, hers was the kind that required conscious awareness and effort to wield its power.

Yet the floor was completely frozen, and inverted icicles surrounded them like iron bars. A belated chill ran through her. No, it also felt like a fever was rising. A twisting sensation in her gut and dizziness simultaneously assailed her.