"Isn't the moon beautiful?" I ask softly, staring up at the silver light.

"It is," he replies.

His deep voice is dangerously close. I turn my head, expecting him to be looking at the sky, but my breath catches. He isn't looking at the moon at all. His piercing, dark eyes are locked entirely on me, reflecting the silver light in a way that makes my chest tighten.

Looking into those intense eyes, the questions I've been burying all day suddenly rush to the surface. I want to know why he proposed to me. Out of all the noble ladies in the empire, why me? Why is he so incredibly nice to me, treating me like a precious treasure instead of a political hostage?

I swallow hard, gathering my courage. "Your Majesty... why—"

Before the question can leave my lips, my instincts scream.

I feel a lethal presence breaking the silence behind me. A dark shadow jumps from the nowhere, diving straight towards me with terrifying speed.

But before I can even make a move to dodge, the Claude reacts.

He catches the assassin in a single glance. In a flash of movement so fast my eyes can barely track it, he steps in front of me, completely shielding my body. Before the intruder can even reach me, the Emperor's hand shoots out like a striking viper.

Crack.

He looks down at the struggling man, his eyes burning with a terrifying, absolute coldness.

"Who sent you?" he demands, his voice dropping into a low, deadly whisper.

I remember now.

He is the same person I fought against on the frontlines during the war in my past life. In that battle, he completely had the upper hand. He was a force of nature; he easily could have killed me right then and there. Yet, he didn't. He spared me, and shortly after that, his forces inexplicably surrendered.

We won the war back then, but it never made sense. He is way stronger than me. So why did he surrender? Why did he choose to let me go? He is a man completely full of mystery. I stare at his profile, desperately wanting to look past his terrifying aura and ask him what he would have done if I hadn't accepted this marriage proposal.

But there is no time to think.

Suddenly, a second presence stirs. Another assassin lunges from the opposite side of the courtyard, aiming straight for my blind spot.

A cold smirk tugs at my lips. How foolish of them to attack me when I am in all my senses. I may not have my armor or my sword, but I am still a commander. As the shadow reaches me, I sidestep his blade with fluid precision, use his own momentum against him, and slam him brutally into the stone floor, knocking him out cold. Beside me, the Emperor drops the first assassin, who hits the ground equally unconscious.

The immediate danger is handled, but my adrenaline is still pumping. The questions burning in my chest refuse to be silenced any longer.

"Your Majesty..." I say, turning back to him. I want to ask him everything about the past life, about his strength, about his true intentions.

Determined to face him properly, I take a hasty step forward. But the heavy, unfamiliar silk of my long nightgown betrays me yet again. My foot catches in the hem, my balance completely vanishes, and I pitch forward into the empty air.

"Ahhhh—!"

Dush!

Expecting the hard, unforgiving sting of the stone floor, I brace myself for impact. But the pain never comes.

Slowly, I open my eyes.

I am resting entirely on top of him, caught securely in his arms before I could hit the ground. We are positioned so close together that the rest of the world completely fades away. In the quiet of the night, I can distinctly hear his heartbeat and it is beating incredibly fast, hammering wildly against his ribs. His intense warmth wraps around me, cutting through the chilly night air.

As my eyes adjust, I glance up at his face, and my breath catches. The top of his ears are flushed a bright, unmistakable red.

Suddenly, I become acutely conscious of just how intimate this position is.

"Ohh! Sorry..." I stammer.

"I tripped... Did you get hurt?"

I can barely manage to maintain eye contact with him. My entire face feels like it's on fire, burning a deep red, and my own heart is suddenly beating so loudly I'm terrified he might hear it.

Before the silence between us can grow any heavier, the sharp sound of rushing footsteps echoes through the garden. The Emperor immediately shifts, his expression instantly hardening back into that of a cold ruler as the imperial guards finally burst into the courtyard.

With a low, commanding tone, he orders the guards to chain the two attackers and take them directly to the underground dungeon for interrogation.

Once the courtyard is clear again, he turns back to me.

"Princess, you should rest now," he says softly.

Without giving me a chance to argue or trip over my gown again, he handles the situation smoothly and escorts me all the way back to my room, leaving me at the threshold with a quiet nod as the heavy doors close between us.

Who could have sent them?

Is the Empress behind this? It feels like her style sending assassins to eliminate a threat before it can solidify. But deep down, I know the Empress doesn't have the tactical brilliance or the spine to pull off something this daring right under the Dawn Emperor's nose. She is a puppet. Someone else is pulling her leash from behind, whispering commands into her ear.

But who could that person be?

Frustration twists in my chest. In my past life, I was always on the battlefield or training in isolation. I barely know the other nobles, their factions, or their secret alliances. I bitterly regret why I never joined any of the court meetings or political galas back in Arcadia. I treated politics like a trivial distraction, and now, I am completely blind to my enemy's identity.

Now, I can only rely on Calix's report. I need to know the truth before it's too late.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the imperial palace.

Down in the underground dungeon, the environment is suffocatingly tense. The air is thick with the metallic stench of old blood and damp stone. Dim, flickering torchlight casts long, monstrous shadows across the walls of the torture room, where the two assassins hang from heavy iron chains.

The Emperor stands before them, Rahert stands just a step behind, holding a tray of cruel, glinting iron tools.

The silence in the room is heavy enough to crush bones. Then, the Emperor steps forward, his blood-red eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Let's ask one more time," he says, his deep voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm whisper that makes the chained men visibly shudder. "Who sent you?"