The King stood silently beneath the moonlight.
Beside him stood Rubela, the Head Maid of the Royal Palace.
Unlike ordinary servants, Rubela possessed special privileges.
She had helped raise the King from childhood into adulthood.
More than his own mother, who had spent most of her life attending noble gatherings and noble affairs.
Because of that, the King trusted her deeply.
Whenever he held important private meetings, Rubela was often allowed to remain nearby.
Tonight was one of those nights.
Across from them sat the Queen Consort.
Maerite Wan le Manderana.
Moonlight illuminated her face as she stared out the palace window.
The King finally broke the silence.
"Do you still resent me?"
Maerite didn't answer.
Not immediately.
Her eyes never left the moon.
The silence stretched long enough for Rubela's patience to break.
"Show respect to His Majesty!"
Even in old age, her voice carried surprising force.
"Do you think you can say whatever you want simply because His Majesty tolerates your behavior?"
Slowly—
Maerite turned her head.
Her gaze landed on Rubela.
Cold.
Sharp.
Dangerously calm.
"Because he is the King," she said quietly.
"My father, Baron Vaneber Wa Rwion, Defender of the Kingdom and Shield of the Crown, did not kill him when he forced himself upon me during my debut ball."
The room fell silent.
Rubela's face darkened instantly.
"You still cling to that incident after all these years?"
"You should be grateful."
"His Majesty accepted you as his wife and Queen Consort despite your status as the daughter of a Baron."
"Your father may be respected, but he is old now. Do you think you can continue speaking this way forever?"
The King's expression tightened.
"Enough."
Rubela immediately fell silent.
The King raised his hand.
"Leave."
Rubela wanted to say more.
But one look from the King ended the matter.
She bowed and departed.
Soon only the King and Maerite remained.
The room became quiet once more.
For several moments neither spoke.
The King finally exhaled.
"Do you think I enjoyed what happened?"
The words sounded awkward.
As though even he wasn't certain how to begin.
Maerite slowly turned toward him.
The hatred in her eyes remained unchanged.
"Then why was he sent there?"
Her voice trembled slightly.
Not from fear.
From rage.
"He was my only son."
"You removed his succession rights."
"You took away every opportunity available to him."
"If he had remained here, he could have joined the Dark Corps."
"But instead you sent him to the graveyard of noble children."
"All because of his affinity."
"Do not try to soothe me with empty words."
The King closed his eyes briefly.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
"I did."
"At that moment, I thought as a King before I thought as a father."
His voice remained steady.
"And even now, I do not regret that decision."
The words struck harder than any weapon.
Maerite's fingers tightened.
The King continued.
"If you wish to hate me for that..."
"I will accept it."
"But do not forget your duties as Queen Consort."
He turned and began walking toward the door.
Then Maerite spoke.
The King's steps stopped.
Her voice was quiet.
Yet every word carried terrifying weight.
"I remain calm because my heart tells me my son is still alive."
The King's shoulders stiffened.
Maerite slowly stood.
Moonlight reflected within her eyes.
"If the day ever comes when my heart tells me he is dead..."
The temperature inside the room seemed to drop.
"I swear upon the name of House Rwion."
"I will sell my soul to a Devil Contractor."
"I will burn your bloodline to ash."
"I will drag the Manderana Royal Family into the mud."
"This is my promise."
Silence followed.
Neither spoke another word.
The King stood there for several moments.
Then quietly left the room.
The door closed behind him.
Maerite returned her gaze to the moon.
Watching.
Waiting.
Just as she had for years.
And deep within her heart—
she prayed that her son was still alive somewhere beneath the same sky.