The war overturned everyone’s expectations, and the Arwen Empire emerged victorious.

It was because Bill, the supreme commander of the Kalua Empire, had died, and Emperor Helsion had met his demise, throwing their chain of command into chaos.

The remaining Kalua Imperial forces were unable to withstand the reinforcements sent by the Lazent Empire and their superior magical engineering weapons.

Thus, the war concluded swiftly.

But not everything was over yet. There was still unfinished business.

Tatata-tak!

Olrand and I dashed into the formation previously occupied by the Kalua Imperial Army—to rescue my master, Barunen, and Matela.

The place we found resembled a prison, barred with iron grates. Fortunately, both were imprisoned inside without serious injuries.

Barunen, spotting me, opened his mouth with a joyful expression.

“Tanashia!”

I, too, cried out in a delighted voice upon seeing Barunen.

“Master!”

It had been a long time since Barunen and I last met. After I followed Ascan to the Kalua Empire, there had been no real opportunity to reunite.

Olrand hurriedly instructed the Arwen Empire soldiers who had followed us.

“Break the door down.”

“Yes!”

Following Olrand’s order, the soldiers destroyed the entrance where Barunen and Matela were imprisoned.

Matela stepped outside, tears glistening in her eyes with emotion.

“You came, Miss. I believed you would come to save us.”

I patted Matela’s back soothingly as I spoke.

“You’ve endured so much. Are you hurt anywhere? Medical staff are standing by nearby—you should get checked out first.”

“Yes, thank you so much, Miss.”

Arwen Empire soldiers draped a blanket over Matela’s shoulders and guided her toward the medical personnel.

Barunen, unlike her, looked at me with a face full of self-reproach.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry. I unlocked the magic stone’s locking mechanism…”

During our travels with Ascan, magical engineering weapons suddenly failed, nearly costing us our lives. But in the end, we both survived unharmed.

Moreover, though Barunen offered no excuse, I had already guessed why he built the magic stone control device. They must have threatened Matela’s life.

Barunen, Matela, and I had known each other since childhood. I knew his upright character—he wouldn’t have created such a device for trivial reasons.

Above all, the Kalua Empire targeted Barunen and Matela precisely because they were close to me. I couldn’t simply blame them.

I took a blanket from a nearby soldier and gently draped it over Barunen’s shoulders as he hung his head in shame.

When Barunen looked up at me, startled, I replied with an unaffected expression.

“I was a bit surprised by the unexpected situation, but as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. Is my master’s disciple just that exceptional? So please don’t blame yourself too harshly.”

At my words, Barunen wore an expression that seemed both on the verge of tears and laughter.

Many emotions flickered across his face, but he gazed at me with pride and said,

“Yes. You’re truly my disciple. I really did raise one good student.”

“Yes. Don’t worry about anything else—just go get treated alongside Teacher Matela.”

“…Thank you.”

Only then did Barunen appear visibly relieved, as if he’d finally set down a heavy burden from his heart.

With the magic stone locking mechanism now modified by me, such an incident would never happen again—because no one except me could unlock it.

As I watched Barunen and Matela walk away, Olrand, standing beside me, patted my shoulder as if to say, “Well done.”

“You’ve worked hard. No matter what anyone says, you’re the greatest hero of this war.”

“What did I do? Others worked harder than I did.”

I couldn’t deny my contribution, but victory wasn’t achieved by magical engineering weapons alone.

I immediately thought of Ascan.

I’d heard of Bill’s and Helsion’s deaths through others’ mouths.

Up until now, I’d been commanding magical engineering weapons throughout the war, then rushing straight to rescue Barunen and Matela once the situation settled—I still hadn’t met Ascan.

Knowing what Bill meant to Ascan, I was deeply worried.

They were the only two surviving human weapon test subjects. With Bill’s death, Ascan was now utterly alone in the world.

I couldn’t help but worry about the loneliness and grief he’d have to bear alone.

Just then—

“Over there…!”

“I’m the Captain of the Royal Guard!”

Clomp, clomp—from afar, Ascan walked alone toward us.

His entire body was filthy and bloodstained, but what struck me first was his expression—as if the sky had collapsed above him.

He looked as though he carried the weight of the world’s sorrow on his shoulders—it hurt to see.

“Ascan…”

I didn’t need anyone to tell me. I knew—he had come here looking for me.

It never even occurred to me to ask how he knew I was here.

At Ascan’s arrival, Arwen Empire soldiers instinctively parted without hesitation, seemingly overwhelmed by the aura he emitted.

Arwen soldiers watched him with admiration, while surrendered Kalua soldiers glared at him with hatred.

But Ascan paid no attention to any of them—he walked straight toward me.

Silently, I spread my arms. Ascan, reaching me, buried his head in my embrace, his face crumbling against my shoulder.

Though he was a head taller than me, I wrapped my arms around him and said,

“You’ve worked hard.”

In response, Ascan reached out and pulled me tightly against him—as if refusing to allow even the slightest gap between us. Then, in a choked voice, he spoke.

“…If you hadn’t been here, I would have collapsed.”

Having read the novel , I knew Ascan’s past better than anyone.

He was a character who, subjected to human weapon experiments, turned dark and ultimately became the final hidden antagonist.

As a reader, I’d found him a charming villain—but now, remembering his story filled me with painful regret.

If only I’d entered the novel sooner. Then perhaps I could have spared Ascan these painful memories…

“I’ll stay by your side forever, so you won’t collapse.”

All I could do now was hold and comfort his wounded soul.

At my words, Ascan’s breath against my shoulder grew warmer. Soon, I felt dampness—silent tears, perhaps—but I pretended not to notice.

Instead, I held him as tightly as I could, offering comfort through embrace alone.

Many soldiers surrounded us, yet Ascan and I stood as if time itself had frozen.

The war had ended.

We gained much—and lost much.

Due to the unexpected defeat, Kalua Empire’s privileged class fell into chaos.

Of course, not everyone lost their senses. Luphilmo, who had accompanied Helsion all the way to the border, knew exactly what he needed to do.

“Drive faster! If you’re even a moment late, I’ll cut off your head!”

Responding to Luphilmo’s urging from inside the carriage, the coachman spurred the horses to their utmost speed.

Luphilmo was now heading straight to the Manor of Marquis Manoko.

Regardless of the reason, the Kalua Empire had become a defeated nation. That meant its nobles would lose much of what they once enjoyed.

But Luphilmo had no intention of giving up anything he possessed.

Thus, he planned to flee into exile in another country.

Before Arwen Empire forces reached Kalua’s capital, Luphilmo intended to take the vast wealth owned by the Manoko family and start anew elsewhere.

Time was tight—he needed to gather his valuables and board a ship as quickly as possible, or all escape routes would be sealed.

‘Helsion, you idiot.’

Luphilmo had opposed Helsion’s move to the border from the start. There was no reason for the Emperor to personally go to the battlefield.

Yet Helsion, perhaps driven by the trauma of losing an arm, stubbornly insisted on witnessing Arwen Empire’s downfall with his own eyes.

Likely, lingering resentment toward Ascan and Tanashia—who had betrayed him—made him obsess over the Arwen Empire.

‘Even so, to die so pathetically like this!’

Of course, when Helsion had volunteered to support Bill, Luphilmo had enthusiastically agreed. But now, faced with the worst possible outcome, he felt nothing but resentment.

As always—if results were good, it was thanks to Luphilmo’s excellent counsel; if results were bad, it was Helsion’s failure to understand his position.

‘Eh, forget it. Past is past. Now I must focus on saving myself.’

The Manoko family were masters of hypnosis. Through this skill, they gained Helsion’s favor and seized power as the family of Empress Seruna.

Though restarting from scratch was unpleasant, hypnosis would remain a powerful asset no matter which empire he joined.

Upon arriving at the Manor of Marquis Manoko, Luphilmo frantically gathered his valuables. He couldn’t take everything—he had to select only the most valuable items.

Just as Luphilmo was hastily stuffing gold and jewels into his bag—

The Manoko family steward, who had been watching beside him, spoke cautiously.

“Master… shouldn’t we send word to the imperial palace? Her Majesty the Empress is likely alone there…”

Only then did Luphilmo remember his daughter, Seruna. And he quickly calculated that taking her with him would cost too much precious time.

Seruna had been raised to restore the Manoko family’s glory. Though she was his biological daughter, children were ultimately dispensable.

As Empress of the Kalua Empire, Seruna had been useful—but as Empress of a defeated nation, she was now nothing but a burden to Luphilmo.

“Enough. Everyone must fend for themselves. I have no obligation to take care of my daughter.”

Luphilmo coldly abandoned Seruna. To him, sacrificing family for survival was nothing unusual.

Just then—

Thump. The steward, perfectly fine moments ago, collapsed onto the floor.

Luphilmo stared in confusion. The steward’s sudden collapse—limp as if all strength had drained from his body—felt strangely familiar.

‘What? As if his hypnosis had just worn off…’

The thought had barely crossed Luphilmo’s mind when he realized something was wrong. He stared, frozen-faced, at the collapsed steward—

Click, click. From a hidden compartment within the room, Seruna stepped out.

Her expression was utterly calm. Just by looking at her face, one couldn’t tell whether she’d overheard their earlier conversation.

Luphilmo stammered in alarm.

“Y-you… how did you—”

“Am I not allowed here? I’ve come and gone freely before—why the surprise now?”

Seruna sat calmly in a chair. Watching her now, one might think she was completely unaware that they’d lost the war—or that Luphilmo had just abandoned her.

Luphilmo, feeling like a thief caught with his hand in the cookie jar, cleared his throat lightly. Then, continuing to stuff valuables into his bag, he addressed Seruna.

“Hm-hm. Sending word to the palace would’ve taken too long—good thing you’re here. Since we’ve met, let’s flee into exile together.”

Seruna elegantly poured tea into a cup, took a sip, and replied in a tranquil tone, as if making small talk.

“A moment ago, you said everyone must fend for themselves. Has your mind changed so quickly?”

“…!”

Instantly, Luphilmo’s eyes widened.

Indeed, Seruna had clearly overheard their conversation.

Perhaps she had even hypnotized the steward to ask Luphilmo about her safety.

Luphilmo stared at Seruna, puzzled. He couldn’t understand why she’d orchestrated such a complicated scheme.

“What is it you want to say? We’re short on time—don’t beat around the bush. Just state your demands.”

“I was merely curious. I wanted to see what choice Father would make in his final moments. I expected it, but experiencing it firsthand still hurts quite a bit.”

Luphilmo sensed the resentment in Seruna’s words. She was angry—merely maintaining the poker face taught by their family.

Luphilmo laughed incredulously.

“I don’t know what you expected from me, but did you think I’d apologize for disappointing you? You’re the one in a disadvantageous position now. As Empress of a defeated nation, you should be begging for your life.”

Luphilmo clicked his tongue dismissively as he continued sweeping valuables into his bag. Every second counted—he needed to gather his wealth and board the ship immediately.

Just as he finished hastily packing and rose to leave—

Seruna spoke softly.

“I know. To survive, I should beg you. I married without love, lived like a puppet at your command—surely I shouldn’t expect any reward for that.”

Seruna felt no emotion upon hearing of Helsion’s death. Had their positions been reversed, he wouldn’t have cared about her death either.

They were a couple bound solely by political strategy, devoid of any affection.

Yet, deep in Seruna’s heart, a longing for love remained. Perhaps, she’d thought, Luphilmo might be different…

But, as expected, it was a futile hope.

“What nonsense are you spouting in such a desperate situation? If you won’t follow me, fine.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Luphilmo turned his back on Seruna, leaving her alone in the room. Then, as he yanked open the door—

Clang!

Soldiers waiting outside blocked his path. Surprised, he turned back to Seruna.

“I summoned them. I told them to stop Marquis Manoko from fleeing alone.”

“S-Seruna!”

Luphilmo shouted, face flushed. But seeing his distorted expression, Seruna felt a slight sense of relief.

“I have no intention of begging you to spare my life. But for fairness, Father, you must fall into the abyss with me. Don’t you agree?”

“This—this!”

Luphilmo quickly reached into his pocket—to hypnotize the soldiers blocking his way.

Noticing his movement, Seruna burst into giggles.

“Father, sorry, but hypnosis won’t work. I trained them specifically for moments like this. And you’ll never be able to recreate the Manoko family’s hypnotic incense again.”

“Seruna! What on earth have you done—!”

“This is my revenge against you. So stop plotting escape—and fall into hell with me.”

“That’s absurd!”

Luphilmo struggled desperately, but the soldiers guarding the door dragged him away.

The man who had planned to abandon the Kalua Empire and flee alone would now be branded a traitor, scorned and pointed at by all.

Seruna sipped calmly from her teacup, poured just moments ago.

Though she was now Empress of a defeated nation, strangely, her heart felt more at ease than ever before.