A sharp churning started in her stomach, and a wave of nausea nearly rose to her throat.
She tightly clenched her fingers hidden in her sleeves. Her nails dug deep into her palm, the sharp pain barely maintaining her crumbling composure.
“His Highness is most kind. Freya is… deeply honored.”
Her voice was dry, forced through gritted teeth.
“However, right now I only wish to focus on finishing my studies and researching Magic. Life’s milestones… I have no heart to consider them for the time being.”
A refusal.
Subtle, but firm.
Ross’s smile finally vanished completely.
He furrowed his brows, a flash of astonishment in his eyes, followed by incomprehensible confusion and a hint of offended displeasure.
“Studies? Magic? Freya, those are certainly important, but our future is more important! Besides, becoming my Crown Princess will not hinder your pursuits. On the contrary, the Empire will pour its resources into supporting you! Isn’t that better than your solitary research at the Central Academy?”
“Your Highness — “
Freya looked up, meeting his gaze. Her light purple eyes were filled with a bottomless, icy chill.
“Everyone has the right to choose their own path. I do not believe it is time to discuss such things.”
Her refusal was so clear, even carrying a sense of detachment that bordered on coldness. This was entirely beyond Ross’s expectations. In his view, this marriage was a blessing for Freya, House Elwin, and even House Dale, with a hundred benefits and not a single harm.
‘How dare she refuse?’ he wondered. ‘And why?’
A strange sense of irritation and frustration welled up in his heart. He remembered her distance over the last few months, her assistant of unknown origin, her “unusual” reaction before the Holy Light Shard tonight…
All signs indicated things were veering off the track he had envisioned.
He took a sudden step forward and grabbed Freya’s wrist!
The touch was warm and powerful, possessing a strength that allowed no escape. Yet, like a red-hot iron, it instantly burned Freya’s skin and scorched her soul!
“Freya!”
Ross’s tone grew urgent and impatient. His deep blue eyes locked onto her, trying to find a crack beneath her calm mask.
“What exactly happened to you? Why has everything changed since you took that leave of absence? Why have we become so distant? Did I do something wrong? Or… did someone say something to you? That Lyra? Or your grandfather?”
The sensation of restraint on her wrist, the man’s hot breath and interrogation so close at hand, and those deep blue eyes that had once looked down coldly at her while she was dying… All her senses overlapped and exploded in an instant!
The chilly air of the past life’s dungeon seemed to envelop her once more!
The heavy feel of shackles!
The bone-deep pain of the Holy Sword piercing her chest!
And Ross’s eyes, which had been as cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice beneath the holy light, looking at her as if she were merely an object to be stripped!
“Ah — !”
A short, terror-filled scream involuntarily escaped Freya’s throat. Her pupils contracted sharply, her face turned as pale as paper, and her body began to tremble violently as if struck by an electric shock!
Fear!
It was a fear that seeped into her bones and was etched into her soul! It was an original, instinctive terror of death, betrayal, and the person standing before her!
“Don’t touch me!”
Using almost all her strength, she violently threw off Ross’s hand!
The force was so great that the unprepared Ross stumbled, letting go in shock.
Like a frightened little beast, Freya took several steps back until her spine hit the cold wall. She wrapped her arms around herself, breathing heavily. Her light purple eyes were filled with terror, panic, and a fragility on the verge of collapse. She stared fixedly at Ross as if he were a man-eating monster.
“Freya? You…”
Ross was completely stunned by her reaction. He only wanted to hold her, to ask clearly why she had become like this. Why was she so resistant, so… afraid of him?
Urgent knocking and Lyra’s anxious shouts came from outside the door.
“Boss?! Boss, what’s wrong?!”
Freya heard nothing. Her vision was blurred. Only Ross’s stunned face before her kept overlapping, separating, and overlapping again with that cold, heartless face from her memory.
The churning in her stomach turned into a sharp cramp, and cold sweat soaked her back.
She couldn’t stay here! Not for a single second!
“I… I’m sorry… Your Highness… I… I’m not feeling well…”
She stammered out these words, not even bothering with etiquette. She turned abruptly, yanked open the door, brushed past Lyra, and rushed out without looking back, almost stumbling as she fled.
“Boss!”
Lyra exclaimed. She shot a look at Ross, whose expression was complex and unreadable, then turned to chase after her without hesitation.
Freya completely lost her usual calm and grace. Clutching her skirt, she sprinted through the quiet corridors of the Imperial Palace. The ornate wall lamps and carpets distorted into bizarre patches of color in her eyes. The only thing she could hear was the drum-like pounding of her heart and her own heavy breathing.
‘Run! Get out of here! Away from that man!’
She didn’t know where she was running, only that she had to get far away — away from the source of death and betrayal.
Lyra followed closely behind, watching her frantic silhouette. Her red eyes were full of shock and worry. She had never seen Freya like this! The girl who was always calm and seemingly fearless was now as fragile as a piece of glass about to shatter.
The deep corridors of the Imperial Palace felt as if they had no end. Freya’s footsteps echoed in the empty space, carrying a desperate panic.
Inside the side hall, Ross remained where he was, still in the position of being pushed away. He stared blankly at the empty doorway, his face full of unbelievable confusion, a hint of offended annoyance, and… a hidden unease he hadn’t noticed himself.
Where did the blatant, instinctive fear in Freya’s eyes come from?
—
Freya held her cumbersome skirt and ran desperately. The sound of her high heels hitting the floor echoed through the empty space — rapid and chaotic, just like her frantic heartbeat.
Everything before her was shaking and distorting.
The light from the wall lamps elongated into blurred bands, and the shadows of the pillars reached out like claws. She only knew she had to run, to leave, to get as far from that place and that person as possible!
The cold dungeon of her past life, the Holy Sword piercing her chest, Ross’s emotionless eyes… These images were like the most horrifying nightmares, seizing her mind and making it nearly impossible to breathe.
“Boss! Wait! Slow down!”
Lyra’s anxious calls came from behind. She followed closely, her red eyes full of shock and worry. She had never seen Freya this way — the girl who was always calm and self-possessed, as if everything was in her control, was now as fragile and panicked as a young deer being hunted by a predator.
Freya was deaf to Lyra’s calls.
She burst through an archway, and the space ahead opened up into a quiet corridor leading to an exit of a palace wing. The night wind blew in from the open doorway, bringing a hint of chill, but it could not clear the panic in her heart.
Just then, two figures turned the corner ahead.
It was Irina, accompanied by a young man in the robes of a low-ranking Theocrat. They seemed to be speaking in low voices.
Seeing Freya sprinting toward them with Lyra following close behind, both of them froze.
Irina reacted first. Her pink eyes widened, and a flash of surprise and calculation crossed them before being quickly replaced by worry and timidity.
“Fr-Freya? What’s wrong? You look so pale…”
She took a step forward, seemingly wanting to stop Freya. Her voice was soft, carrying just the right amount of concern.
That familiar, hypocritical, and sweet voice was like a needle piercing through Freya’s chaotic nerves.
She slammed to a halt and looked up. Her light purple eyes crashed directly into Irina’s seemingly pure and innocent pink eyes, which were actually hiding secret triumph.
It was these eyes!
In the dungeon of her past life, it was this same weak-looking yet malicious and greedy gaze that had watched her struggle in her final moments as she was stripped of everything!
“Get lost!”
Freya hissed those two words through her teeth. Her voice was hoarse, filled with undisguised disgust and a cold, murderous intent. That gaze was as sharp as a blade, as if it wanted to completely peel away Irina’s mask!
Irina was so startled by the literal hatred and ferocity in those eyes that she took half a step back. Her feigned concern froze on her face, and a flicker of instinctive fear crossed her features.
The young Theocrat beside her also frowned and took a step forward, looking as if he wanted to say something.
“Move!”
Lyra had reached Freya’s side by then. She stepped forward without hesitation, shielding Freya from Irina. Her red eyes swept over them coldly, and she radiated the dangerous aura of a dark predator.
“Can’t you see my lady is unwell? A good dog doesn’t block the path!”
Her words were crude and blunt. Combined with her undisguised hostility, both Irina and the Theocrat’s expressions changed.
The Theocrat seemed ready to scold Lyra for her rudeness, but he was so intimidated by the aura she projected — looking as if she might pounce at any moment — that he was momentarily speechless.
Freya did not stay any longer. She didn’t even give Irina another glance as she rounded them and continued toward the exit. Lyra gave Irina one last harsh glare before turning to follow.
“She… how could she be like that…”
Irina watched their departing figures as her eyes quickly filled with tears. She turned to the Theocrat beside her, her voice trembling with perceived grievance.
“I was only worried about her… How could Miss Lyra be so insulting…”
Looking at Irina’s tearful face, the young Theocrat felt even more displeased. His impression of Freya and her assistant hit rock bottom.
“Arrogant, overbearing, and ungrateful! Miss Irina, you don’t need to be upset by people like that.”
He comforted her in a low voice, but he failed to notice the cold malice and… a hint of excitement flashing within Irina’s pink eyes beneath her lowered lids.
Freya’s panicked and undignified appearance just now was truly… a rare sight to behold.