Obey Me Now

As they returned to the banquet hall, the gazes from the crowd carried a subtly different tone than before.

“What’s this about? Is it because of Edrzov?”

Iclite also sensed the shift in the atmosphere and tightened his grip on Amelia’s hand. The reassuring warmth of his hold calmed her, making it easier to ignore the prying eyes.

“That’s right, I’m not alone. He promised to stay by my side.”

Just then, Messarina approached, her eyes brimming with tears.

“S-Sister! Even if you hate me, how could you… Sniff!”

Her perfectly timed tears fell like delicate beads, but Amelia’s expression turned icy. This atmosphere—clearly, it was Messarina’s doing.

“Of course. You wouldn’t just stay quiet, would you?”

Feigning vulnerability, Messarina sobbed pitifully at Amelia. Yet, despite the quaver in her voice, every word was sharp and deliberate.

“Even though I’m not your biological sister, I’ve always admired and loved you as if you were. When you wrote me that letter of recommendation, I thought you were finally accepting me as family. It made me so happy, so I worked hard to live up to it… but am I still not good enough? Is that why you’re treating me this way?”

A master of social manipulation, Messarina subtly tarnished Amelia’s reputation, offering morsels of scandal for the gossip-hungry nobles nearby.

“Oh my, she seemed so sweet and innocent.”

“Poor Lady Messarina. She must have endured a lot.”

“Well, you know what they say—like attracts like.”

“True. Just look at her marrying that monstrous duke…”

“So, this is what Mother meant by being chewed up by words.”

Amelia found it all laughable—how easily people indulged in slander rather than praise.

“No matter how much you despise me, this is too much. You could have directed your anger at me, but deceiving so many people? That’s crossing the line.”

Messarina’s tone shifted slightly, altering the room’s mood. She gestured to the other candidates for the family headship with teary eyes that now gleamed dry with calculation.

“These people are here because they deeply respect Fiore’s legacy and aspire to lead it. Your actions insult every one of them.”

Beneath her polished facade, Messarina’s true intent began to surface.

“If you have a problem with me, then say it to my face, Sister. But even you know you can’t become the head of Fiore. Admit it already!”

Amelia’s restrained smile twisted into something cold and sharp.

“Is that a threat?”

Messarina’s words stirred murmurs among the nobles.

“What does she mean by that?”

“Does she lack the skills?”

“Well, we know little about the eldest. Maybe she really isn’t worth much.”

“Perhaps she’s just a nobody clinging to the family name.”

Feigning sorrow, Messarina shot Amelia a tearful glance. This is mercy, her gaze seemed to say. Back down now and save face, or I’ll expose everything—your failing heart, your lack of skills, your inevitable doom.

Suddenly, the grand doors of the banquet hall opened. In strode Steward Kate and Duke Belvan. Belvan’s commanding presence silenced the room as he spoke in an unruffled tone.

“Apologies for my delay.”

The nobles immediately bowed to Belvan, but he ignored them, heading straight for Iclite. Bowing low, he addressed him with respect.

“Your Grace, the Grand Duke. It is an honor to meet you.”

Belvan’s reverence for Iclite left the room visibly stunned. None of them had regarded him as a Grand Duke, let alone the prince he truly was. Yet, as royalty, Iclite had every right to accuse them of treason for such negligence.

Iclite responded curtly, “Thank you for making time.”

“It is my honor, Your Grace.”

Belvan turned to Amelia with a warm yet pointed gaze.

“I tried to give you more time, but perhaps I was overly indulgent.”

“No, Your Grace. Thank you,” Amelia replied sincerely, grateful for his support. She hadn’t expected him to protect Iclite’s authority as well as her own.

“He’s doing for me what I can’t yet do for myself.”

Belvan raised his hand, and Kate handed a ceremonial family rifle to Amelia.

“I formally introduce to you Amelia Cezaret, the fourth candidate for the Fiore family head.”

Amelia accepted the rifle with poise, her steady demeanor catching the attention of the nobles. Belvan’s endorsement shifted the whispers to cautious optimism.

“The duke himself is backing her. She must have talent.”

“Perhaps there was some misunderstanding earlier.”

Messarina couldn’t contain herself any longer.

“How can she even take the trial when she doesn’t know how to wield a rifle?”

Her challenge froze the crowd.

“My sister doesn’t have innate magic. And even if she did, her weak heart makes it impossible for her to use mana. If she tries, she could die!”

Belvan stayed silent this time, his authority unable to shield Amelia from the truth. Messarina pressed on.

“I’m saying this for your own good, Sister. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Please, stop this madness.”

As Messarina moved to grab her, Iclite stepped between them. His cold, unyielding glare forced her to recoil, but Amelia refused to hide behind him. Stepping forward, she spoke firmly.

“That won’t be an issue. I am just a candidate, not yet the family head. I will take the trial on equal footing, judged solely on my skills.”

Amelia swiftly loaded the rifle, her precise and fluid motions leaving Messarina briefly startled. For someone supposedly unfamiliar with firearms, her form was impeccable.

“When did she… No, she must’ve learned something rudimentary just to get through this moment. It won’t matter—she can’t survive. Unless a miracle happens, magic will kill her.”

Unlike Messarina’s emotional outbursts, Amelia spoke with calm determination.

“No one will question my right to the Fiore name. I will earn it with my own strength.”

Messarina, realizing she could say no more without losing face, relented.

“If that’s how you feel, I hope you prove me wrong.”

Belvan cut through the tension with a final proclamation.

“The trial will take place in four days. As always, it will test your mastery of marksmanship. A single mistake will not be forgiven. Only perfection will satisfy the family’s elders.”

His words, though calm, carried a razor-sharp authority that filled the air with tension.

“There is no room for effort. Only a complete version of yourself will suffice.”

Amelia gripped the rifle tighter, feeling the weight of his expectations.

“A week from now, the royal palace will host a grand assembly of the five ducal houses. The new head of Fiore will represent our family there. May the sun witness a new bloom in the garden of Fiore.”

As Messarina brushed past Amelia, she whispered with a sly smile, “You’re only here to be my shadow, making me shine.”

Satisfied with Amelia’s lack of response, Messarina exited the banquet hall.

“This might actually work out for the best. Father will hear about this soon enough.”

The idea of Amelia marrying the Grand Duke of Clio instead of the Duke of Bastion was bound to enrage their father, a man who held bloodlines above all else. If things went according to plan…

“The Cesaret title, the Fiore estate… everything will be mine. I’ll take it all from Amelia, piece by piece.”

Meanwhile, Belvan approached Amelia, his weariness evident in his slow steps. Iclite noticed and gave them space, stepping aside. As Belvan looked at Amelia standing with the ceremonial rifle in hand, his gaze wavered, as if seeing someone else.

It was as though Ailey, Amelia’s late mother, were alive and standing before him.

“Amelia, because you’re Ailey’s daughter, this is as far as I can help you. From here on, you need to prove yourself to everyone here.”

“I understand. Thank you for granting my request—it means more than I can express.”

“And the marriage…”

Belvan’s thoughts turned to Iclite, who had stood unwaveringly by Amelia’s side throughout the evening’s trials. For her to endure such a difficult and hostile situation, Belvan believed, was due in no small part to the Grand Duke. Though the idea of their marriage was unorthodox, to say the least, he refrained from further questioning.

“It’s been decided.”

Amelia’s concise response made Belvan pause. He chose not to probe further. It was, after all, her decision. Something had changed in this young woman.

“I must protect what’s mine. I’ll take responsibility for it all.”

Those words seemed to echo in his mind. Whether the Cesaret family and the Imperial Court would accept the situation remained to be seen.

“That too will be for her and the Grand Duke to resolve.”

Quietly observing the storm of events unfolding at the banquet were the Fiore Musketeers. As the family’s elite guardians, they would one day answer to the new family head. Naturally, Amelia’s sudden emergence as a candidate drew wary glances from them. Among them, however, one man was grinning far too cheerfully.

With soft, wavy pink hair and eyes exuding calm warmth, he looked approachable at first glance. Yet, his imposing frame and sharp uniform betrayed a hardened, disciplined nature. This was Isana, the captain of Fiore’s musketeers. Leaning casually against a railing, he watched Amelia and Iclite as they left the hall.

“The family head trial just got interesting. The daughter of that genius musketeer…”

The genius musketeer in question was Ailey. Had she not married into the Cesaret family, she might well have been the next head of Fiore. Her brilliance, however, had been overshadowed by a tragic end.

“What good was her genius?” grumbled Kallen, the vice-captain. “It didn’t carry on to her daughter. Weak heart, no real talent…”

Isana’s grin didn’t falter. “Her stance with that rifle was perfect.”

“She probably learned it ages ago,” Kallen scoffed. “What’s the point if she can’t use it?”

Still lounging against the railing, Isana’s gaze lingered on the spot where Amelia had been moments before. His playful tone turned cold.

“Whether she’s imitating well or the real deal will be clear in four days. But if Lady Messarina’s claims are true, and this is all a ploy to disgrace Fiore…”

His smile faded, replaced by a steely expression. His voice was low and cutting.

“Then they’ll pay for their insult. Every last bit of it.”

Amelia and Iclite left the banquet hall together. Having accomplished what needed to be done, there was no reason to stay until the end. Yet, instead of heading back to her quarters, Amelia stopped in the manor’s garden.

“Phew! Well, one hurdle down. Or maybe… it’s just the beginning?”

Iclite glanced around. Fiore’s gardens were lush and vibrant, filled with greenery and blossoms. But this particular area was barren, devoid of even a single blade of grass. Amelia noticed his curious expression and gave an awkward smile.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Is this not part of the garden?”

“It is… or, it used to be. But now, this spot is completely withered.”

Her eyes flickered with a deep, wistful longing.

“This used to be a field of violets. My mother’s favorite place.”

Iclite’s eyes widened slightly.

“I only came here once as a child, but I still remember how happy she looked. It’s a vivid memory. Of course, now it’s nothing like it was then. My grandfather tried to revive it, but it seems even he couldn’t bring it back.”

As her voice faltered with lingering regret, Iclite’s expression darkened in quiet sympathy.

“Still, the fact that this place remains… to me, it’s a way to remember her.”

Her words lingered in the silence, carried gently by the wind.

No matter how much she tried to act fine or appear strong, Amelia couldn’t deny the fear and exhaustion creeping in. The road ahead promised even more challenges. That’s why she stood here, seeking the strength of her mother, who had always been unshakable. The cold night breeze carried the sharp scent of barren earth, making the emptiness of the garden even more palpable.

Iclite, displeased by the wind’s insistence on disturbing her, gave it a subtle wave with his hand. As if obeying his will, the breeze shifted, bypassing Amelia entirely. He stepped closer, removing his coat and draping it gently over her shoulders.

Amelia froze momentarily at the gesture, then gave him an awkward smile.
“Th-thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“By the way, I have to say, you looked incredible tonight,” she added, her gaze lingering on the surprisingly transformed Iclite.

“I was honestly shocked. Mommy must’ve given you a hard time. You’ve always hated these kinds of events.”

Iclite thought back to the small, trembling maid who had fussed over him with determination.
“It wasn’t so bad. In fact, I’m grateful.”

“Grateful? For what?”

“For helping me fit in, even just a little.”

“A little? You fit in perfectly!”

Amelia found herself captivated by his sapphire eyes, which seemed to reflect the midnight sky.
“And your eyes… they’re so beautiful.”

They were cold at times, yet now and then, they softened in an almost unbearably tender way.

“I’m glad you think so.”

The gentle smile that accompanied his words unsettled Amelia. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though his softened gaze held only her within it.

“No, it’s just because we’re standing so close.”

And yet, no matter how much she tried to dismiss it, her eyes kept meeting his. From the very first moment they met until now, his gaze had been unwaveringly fixed on her. Feeling a sudden warmth creep up her cheeks, Amelia quickly turned away, attempting to change the subject.

“Why haven’t you asked why I want revenge against Duke Bastion?”

After all, he had seen her confrontation with Edrzov. It seemed only natural that he’d want an explanation. But Iclite’s response was firm.

“I don’t need to know.”

“What?”

“Isn’t it enough to focus on our respective goals? I want the throne, and you want revenge.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“If you don’t wish to talk about it, you don’t have to. I don’t want you to recall things that cause you pain. Not in your mind, nor in your heart, nor in your body.”

Amelia felt her breath slow as his words resonated deeply. He stood beside her, as though he understood everything without her needing to explain. They claimed to be using each other, and yet…

“Why is he so kind to me?”

Why did it always feel like she was the only one benefiting from their arrangement? Swallowing the warmth threatening to overwhelm her, Amelia asked quietly, “If you want to become emperor, why choose someone like me?”

If his ambition for the throne was genuine, wasn’t choosing her a reckless gamble?

“Because you chose me.”

“…”

“To me, there was only ever you. You’re the only duchess who believed in me.”

“I’m not a duchess yet.”

“You will be. I know you’ll succeed as Fiore’s heir.”

His voice shifted, suddenly imbued with unshakable certainty. The conviction in his tone sent a shiver through her.

“H-how can you be so sure?”

“Because I believe in you. That’s all there is to it. So stay with me, and don’t leave.”

His fiery blue gaze locked onto hers, drawing her in.

“Earlier, I told my brother that if he wanted you, he’d have to obey me.”

“That’s because he kept ordering me around, and I got angry…”

“But I hated it.”

“What?”

“Because I want to be the only one you choose and desire.”

Iclite swallowed the rest of his confession, stepping closer to her. The faint scent of him swept over her, causing her to stiffen.

“When knights pledge themselves to their lords, they undergo a ritual—a true oath.”

“A-a ritual?”

Iclite gently took her pale wrist in his hand. Though he’d touched her before, this felt different—his grip was warm, almost searing, and it sent her heart racing. Under the soft glow of the moonlight spilling over his dark hair, he looked like a dangerous yet elegant predator.

Before she could react, he knelt before her, brushing his lips against her delicate skin with a reverence that made her breath hitch.

“Because I desire the one who will make me emperor, I vow my loyalty to you.”