LADBITW Chapter 1

Prologue: The Cruel Season

Lietta Tristy was a beautiful woman.

Her thick, wavy golden hair shone luxuriantly whether worn loose or bound. Her feminine, pretty curves of nose and mouth, her deep and elegant eyes, always captured people's attention.

Her pale skin, which didn't tan easily even under sunlight, was rare among commoners.

Most special of all were her eyes. Glimmering sky-blue when light struck them, sometimes shining with an elegant clear glass quality, those eyes made her ethereal beauty all the more mysterious.

When Lietta smiled with those pretty eyes—a smile like fresh spring—even flowers and stars lost their luster.

Those who first learned she was already married with a three-year-old daughter all lamented and envied her husband, declaring he must have saved a nation in his past life. Their family had been happy.

Until four months ago, before her husband's death.

After Lietta's husband died suddenly from a mysterious illness, she lost her smile.

For a powerless common woman, beauty was more curse than blessing.

Before the flowers scattered at her husband's funeral had even withered, Casarius—lord of the land where they lived—began forcing Lietta to become his concubine.

Lietta refused at first. Setting aside that Casarius was old enough to be her father, it had been less than a month since her husband's death.

The impatient Casarius, finding Lietta wouldn't even pretend to listen to his proposal, took her daughter away. Barely three years old. A young child who didn't even understand what death was, who kept asking Lietta where daddy had gone.

Rumors began circulating that Casarius had sold Lietta's daughter to a wandering slave trader.

Poor Lietta, driven nearly mad, accepted—if he would safely return her daughter, she would become his concubine.

But whether misfortune or fortune, Casarius caught the plague sweeping the empire and died without obtaining Lietta or finding her daughter.

Leaving behind a wretched will demanding Lietta be buried with him.

It was a cruel season.

In an empire where plague and demons had returned, there was nothing but groaning and grief.

Everywhere, wailing voices and fires burning corpses never ceased.

The land withered and twisted, and people fought among themselves for food.

In some lands, living sacrifices were even being offered to appease the plague god.

So for one insignificant common woman to be buried alive at a noble's funeral—

It was something that could happen.

The day of her death was set.

The day of Casarius Sevitas's funeral.

That day, Grand Duke Axias appeared at the Sevitas estate.

To collect the enormous debt Casarius Sevitas owed him.

"At such a young age... How pitiful."

"Tsk, tsk... When a commoner is beautiful, it only twists her fate."

"Exactly. So unfortunate. Heaven is heartless."

Though she wore expensive clothes she'd never worn once in her life, not a trace of smile graced Lietta's face.

Dressed beautifully in a ceremonial dress made of soft black silk with a black veil draped to cover her sky-blue eyes, her braided hair pinned up and decorated with white flowers—Lietta's appearance was beautiful enough to draw sighs.

In front of the Sevitas mansion where Count Casarius's funeral was being held.

On a temporarily prepared altar, she knelt on a carpet more expensive than her own worth, waiting for her turn.

To be buried painlessly and beautifully, Lietta had drunk a sedative brewed from aluchino fruit with anesthetic effects since dawn. Though she could barely move her own body, maids flanked her on both sides, with guards surrounding them to ensure she didn't flee.

Everyone gathered pitied the beautiful woman meeting such a tragic fate.

A middle-aged woman clicked her tongue and muttered.

"Heaven isn't entirely heartless though. Look how Casarius caught the plague after slathering himself with all those blessings. He received divine punishment!"

The man beside her snickered, picking up her words.

"That sounds less like heaven's blessing and more like the plague god's, doesn't it?"

Everyone united in cursing Casarius and pitying Lietta.

But no one would step forward for her.

She'd never had parents to begin with, and her husband—the only person who would have protected her—was already dead.

"Throwing himself at a woman younger than his own child. Even in death, dragging Lietta down with him to the very end. What a vile man."

"Shh. Lower your voice. They'll hear."

The priest's eulogy ended, and the Count's maids helped Lietta to her feet from both sides.

Drugged by aluchino, Lietta rose unsteadily in a somewhat hazy state, led by the maids' hands.

It was time to go to the other side of the world. To her family's side.

Dry snowflakes began fluttering down from the ashen sky.

Late snow in April.

Watching the snowflakes fall thinly as if they would soon stop, she was thinking of her young daughter's last tantrum.

Waiting all winter for daddy who had left as soon as winter came, for daddy who would never return again.

The little girl had kept begging for a snowman.

Adele.

Calling her child's name silently for the last time, a single tear rolled down Lietta's cheek.

If this snow accumulates... they would finally be able to make a snowman together.

Now... the three of them together...

The dead had no words, and the dying had no words either.

Those who would remain on the earth also kept silent, holding their various thoughts inside.

The quiet funeral procession began moving slowly, as if staggering.

Following the beautiful sacrificial offering who stumbled forward supported by maids after the coffin, Casarius's surviving family also began to move their feet.

When they had barely reached just before the cemetery.

A small commotion pierced through the slow procession.

A servant was running urgently toward their procession.

Frederick, Casarius's eldest son, who wanted to handle this ceremony as quietly as possible, maintained a calm expression outwardly but felt irritated.

He hoped that tactless fellow wouldn't come all the way to him, but the servant pushed through the crowd right up to Frederick and bowed his head, breathing hard.

"My lord...! An important guest has arrived!"

Frederick frowned and snapped at the servant.

"This is a funeral. You should not act rashly. Do you not even know how to guide mourners?"

The servant stammered in confusion.

"N-not a mourner, sir. G-Grand Duke Axias has arrived!"

At the servant's announcement of Grand Duke Axias's visit, the faces of the bereaved family changed. A quiet disturbance spread.

Frederick, momentarily at a loss for words, bit his lip.

"Killian Axias has come?"

The deceased Casarius owed Grand Duke Axias a great debt.

It was a debt whose promised repayment date had long passed.

The Sevitas family had to pay enormous sums to the temple for hiring priests to manage the plague, and with Casarius's sudden death and funeral, the estate's finances were nearly ruined.

They currently had no way to repay their debt to Grand Duke Axias.

They'd even hushed up Casarius's death to outsiders to avoid giving him reason to visit.

Frederick bit his lip.

"How did he know Father passed away?"

"I was passing through and thought I'd drop in on a friend who hadn't been in touch to press him about his debt."

A cold voice cut in along with heavy hoofbeats.

Everyone present turned their gaze toward the voice's owner.

An imposing man atop a massive black horse approached slowly, his red eyes gleaming.

As he moved, his jet-black hair swayed softly along with the horse's mane.

Killian Axias tilted his head at an angle and lifted one corner of his mouth. The watching crowd drew sharp breaths with small gasps. It was a chillingly beautiful and ominous smile.

"Who knew my friend's funeral was in progress."

Cold mockery.

No one could blame Killian Axias for the rudeness of barging into the funeral procession on horseback.

Though his attitude seemed languid, almost lazy, the escort knights instinctively swallowed and tensed their shoulders, seeing his flawless stance that wouldn't waver even if swordplay broke out immediately.

Killian Axias.

The most influential, savage man in the empire.

Born as the Emperor's legitimate eldest son, but cast out from the imperial family over a decade ago for beheading his own brothers and throwing their heads at the feet of the Emperor and Empress.

According to imperial law, he naturally couldn't escape execution for the crimes of killing imperial family members and defiling the imperial family.

However, the Emperor, reluctant to waste his talents, couldn't bring himself to execute him and instead decreed the punishment of banishing him to the distant northern wasteland of Axias, reeking of blood.

With all his titles and rights as a prince stripped away, sent with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Yet the young deposed prince, who seemed to have lost everything, reclaimed the ancient Castle Axias—denied to humans for hundreds of years—from the demons and began transforming that wasteland into livable territory.

Within a few years, Killian had seized control of that vast territory and reigned as hegemon of the north.

Fortune continued when adamantite, the continent's most precious mineral, was discovered in the massive snow mountains of the region he controlled.

Axias accumulated enormous wealth as laborers and mercenaries, craftsmen and artisans flocked to it, drawn by demon spoils and adamantite.

Axias grew at an explosive pace.

Cities were built at an almost miraculous speed on land that had been wasteland.

The Council of Nobles changed their tune, stamping their feet insisting they must formally grant him a title and make him fulfill tax obligations.

Eventually the imperial family formally bestowed upon him the title of Grand Duke of Axias, recognizing his dominion over that land. Though not a prince, the imperial family acknowledged his title and rights as Grand Duke, a quasi-imperial family member.

Killian accepted without much interest.

Up to here, this was a story every citizen of the Lilvaem Dympel Empire knew.

Thirteen years since he lost his imperial name and was driven to the far north.

Though Killian Axias had never once appeared in high society, his name never ceased to be on nobles' lips.

Among commoners, all sorts of inflated wild tales were added and exaggerated until he was regarded as a cruel and savage monster, barely human.

Stories of madness were basic; tales of being possessed by demons or cursed were quite ordinary in comparison.

If you look at him he kills you, if you brush against him he kills you, if he's in a bad mood he kills you, if he's in a good mood he kills you, if he doesn't like you he kills you, if he likes you he kills you, if a woman he beds isn't satisfactory he kills her, if he likes a body part he kills to cut it off and keep it.

From tales of eating human flesh or drinking blood to collecting people's fingers, ears, or eyeballs—there wasn't a person who didn't know the various chilling and bloodstained rumors that followed him, impossible to tell where truth ended and lies began.

People in his path turned pale and stumbled backward, a path opening naturally.

Everyone bowed their heads, too afraid to meet his eyes.

By the time Grand Duke Axias stopped before Frederick, the entire funeral procession had already naturally halted.

"...It's been a long time. Grand Duke Axias, Your Grace."

"Indeed. Frederick. Are you Count Sevitas now? You could have at least sent word. Then I wouldn't have committed this rudeness of coming to a funeral to press for a debt."

Killian smiled coldly and elegantly. Still without dismounting from his horse.

Frederick returned the smile.

"Rudeness? Hardly, Your Grace. Since he passed from plague, we wished to send him off quietly without receiving mourners. Rather, this was my oversight."

"Is that so?"

Killian smiled bitterly.

"I thought you were hiding it because you didn't want me to come."

The nobles standing as bereaved family froze at the blunt words of a man who never minded others and had no connection to high society.

Frederick couldn't immediately respond to words that struck at the heart of the matter.

He'd considered denying it, but judged it better to acknowledge it and bowed his head.

"...My apologies."

His judgment proved sound. Killian chuckled briefly and casually turned his head to look at Lord Casarius's coffin, muttering.

"They say you give sitting down and receive standing up. Isn't that exactly right? Always a different excuse. Now he's in a coffin where I can't even drag him out."

Killian commented scathingly and leaped down from his horse.

"Still, since I've come to the funeral, I should pay my respects. My condolences regarding your father."

Grand Duke Axias removed his hat, placed it on the head of the black horse he'd been riding, and handed the reins to a knight who'd belatedly followed him. He naturally joined the funeral procession.

People's eyes widened and stared at Grand Duke Axias, his language rather more normal than the rumors of madness suggested. Several exchanged glances or whispers among themselves.

"Really? That's Grand Duke Axias?"

"He doesn't look like he'd eat human flesh...?"

Beyond that, the people gathered stared entranced at Grand Duke Axias due to his chilling beauty.

Though he'd called Casarius Sevitas a friend, Killian Axias was actually closer in age to the eldest son Frederick. He was a cold beauty with a cool, relaxed atmosphere.

Though his blood-red eyes with their cold gaze created a sharp atmosphere, those eyes didn't seem gripped by madness.

At least judging by his current behavior, he seemed neither a murderer nor insane.

Even for nobles who knew to filter out the wild tales circulating among commoners and knew only the moderate truth, Grand Duke Axias's appearance was unexpected.

Though he wore a dusty gray robe as if he'd traveled long on horseback, looking incongruous among people in black mourning clothes, no one thought his appearance improper given his handsome features.

The flowing black hair atop that noble, dignified face—a face that made it hard to believe he'd beheaded his own brothers or ruthlessly slaughtered raiders and fearsome demons from the far north to pioneer vast territory—had a proud, cold elegance beyond any ceremonial dress.

The jet-black hair and black horse suited him perfectly.

He blended in naturally as if he'd been walking there from the beginning to mourn the deceased, bowing silently to Frederick's wife and siblings.

The nobles of the Sevitas family cautiously exchanged wordless greetings with him and resumed the funeral.

Lietta, who'd been standing still for the unexpectedly delayed funeral, staggered and collapsed.

The maids in mourning clothes helped her up in confusion.

Killian frowned slightly, looking at the glassy-eyed woman following ahead of even the chief mourner behind the coffin.

"Who is that woman?"