Even the Devil Regrets it - Chapter 19

Braeden Ortis was very popular.

As the only Grand Duke in the empire and still unmarried, he attracted attention wherever he went. His sharp, commanding presence and handsome appearance only added to his charm.

“I wish I could be loved like that by His Grace,” someone whispered.

“Who here doesn’t feel the same way?” another replied.

Young noble ladies with innocent faces shifted nervously, clearly flustered and unsure how to handle their feelings.

Lochlan hadn’t expected his offhand comment to stir up such a strong reaction, and now he simply watched the scene with a cool, composed expression.

He was just thankful that Braeden, too focused on Juliana, wasn’t really listening to the chatter around them. If he had heard it, he definitely would have frowned and ruined the warm atmosphere of the engagement ceremony.

Inside the Temple of Agnes, the guests continued murmuring, each person interpreting the moment in their own way.

At that moment, someone noticed something strange.

What was that just now?

She was certain she had seen the scripture give off a faint glow.

Marchioness Cheryl Clemence, who, like Braeden, was a great demon playing at being human, had a glint in her eyes as she observed the scene. Mammon, the great demon within her, stirred with interest.

Did they really turn a Thought Crystal into an engagement gift?

And it was Belial who did it?

Cheryl couldn’t help but scoff quietly in disbelief.

She had once traveled all the way to the frozen mountains of Kankanti in the north to find a Thought Crystal, only to have her bedroom destroyed by the snowstorm Braeden sent after her.

Just thinking about it made her feel tense, as if the memory alone could jolt her awake in the middle of the night.

Now, seeing a Thought Crystal disguised as a gemstone and used as a gift made her feel unsettled.

That woman definitely has something going on.

Cheryl narrowed her eyes and studied Juliana carefully.

At that moment, Braeden and Juliana were finishing the ceremony and offering their greetings to the Emperor and Empress.

“A well-matched pair,” Emperor David remarked.

“You flatter us, Your Majesty,” Juliana replied politely.

Standing beside him and quietly observing, Empress Pamela spoke next.

“I’ll invite you to my palace sometime. We should have tea together.”

An invitation to tea directly from the Empress was a great honor.

However, Juliana sensed a subtle sharpness hidden in Pamela’s voice and couldn’t allow herself to feel entirely pleased.

“It would be an honor, Your Majesty,” she answered with grace.

Even if she sensed something beneath the surface, this wasn’t the time or place to show it.

As Juliana responded with perfect politeness, Braeden, who had been watching her, spoke up.

“Thanks to Your Majesties’ attention, we were able to hold this ceremony with great success. We’re grateful. If it’s all right, may we take our leave now? As you can see, there are many others waiting to greet you.”

“Oh dear, we must have kept you too long,” the Emperor said with a wave of his hand, gesturing them on.

Braeden and Juliana bowed respectfully, then stepped away from the royal couple.

Pamela watched as Braeden gently escorted Juliana away, their figures growing smaller in the distance.

Without meaning to, she clenched her fist. Her well-kept nails dug into the flesh of her palm.

“I’ll be going now,” David said, walking out of the temple with his attendants before Pamela could say anything in response.

She let out a faint, empty sigh.

She was the most honored woman in the empire, holding the highest level of power, yet her heart felt as if it were trapped in a never-ending winter.

What was she supposed to do if the Empress meant nothing to him?

On the nights when he was supposed to visit her chambers, David came and left without saying much, doing nothing at all.

To him, she wasn’t a woman. She was just someone who shared power with him for political reasons—nothing more, nothing less.

When the loneliness became unbearable, she sometimes found herself imagining things that made no sense.

Not David Ortis as Emperor, but Braeden Ortis sitting on the throne instead.

Braeden was far more fitting for the throne than the petty and weak David. That was why Pamela couldn’t stop imagining it.

What if he were Emperor and she were Empress?
What if he were her husband?
What if he loved her, if they fell asleep in the same bed and woke up together in the morning?
What would that life have been like?

Of course, Pamela knew those thoughts were foolish and meaningless.

But the desires she had quietly built up over time had begun to twist and grow, like thorns, wrapping tightly around her.

The fantasy had gone on for so long, it sometimes felt real.

Then Braeden met a woman.

The moment Pamela laid eyes on Juliana Barnett, her illusions shattered.

And the frustration of a desire she could never fulfill turned into burning resentment—resentment directed at Juliana.

Pamela, her eyes dark and heavy like the depths of the sea, stared out at the crowd in silence. Then, without a word, she gestured to the head lady-in-waiting beside her.

“Bring me Marchioness Clemence.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the lady-in-waiting replied softly.

Without making a sound, she walked across the floor and approached Cheryl to deliver the Empress’s summons.

A short while later, Cheryl was escorted to the drawing room of the Empress’s palace by the head lady-in-waiting.

Knowing that Pamela was in a low mood, the maids surrounding her were fanning her and massaging her shoulders, doing everything they could to lift her spirits.

As Cheryl entered the room, the maids immediately stopped what they were doing and quietly stepped back.

“I greet Her Majesty the Empress, glory of the Empire,” Cheryl said respectfully, offering a graceful bow.

Her eyes, made even more striking by the small beauty mark beneath one, curved into crescent moons as she smiled. Her deep red lips formed a smooth, elegant curve.

She was the owner of the most influential salon in the capital, Edicia. A woman whose beauty seemed untouched by time.

Pamela looked her over carefully, almost as if studying her, before asking a question.

“How old are you?”

“I didn’t expect such a playful side from Your Majesty,” Cheryl replied with a teasing smile. “You know very well how uncomfortable that question can be for a woman, and yet you ask it on purpose, don’t you?”

Had Pamela been a man, she might have found herself charmed on the spot.

She smiled.

Since the question had been asked on impulse, Pamela didn’t bother pressing further. It wasn’t what truly mattered right now.

“How is your salon doing?”

Pamela took a sip of the fragrant tea the maids had prepared, her eyes fixed firmly on Cheryl.

Unlike before, her gaze carried a pressure that made it impossible to answer with a lighthearted joke.

“Very well, thanks to Your Majesty’s generous support,” Cheryl replied, her voice smooth and confident. “There’s always a crowd. People go to great lengths just to get an invitation.”

She smiled proudly.

Pamela then gently pushed a small box across the table toward her.

“What is this?” Cheryl asked.

“Open it,” Pamela said.

Watching the Empress closely, Cheryl slowly opened the box.

Inside was a large, teardrop-shaped brooch. A royal blue diamond sat at the center, surrounded by turquoise stones in deep, vivid green. It shimmered beautifully under the light.

“Isn’t this ‘Siren’s Tear,’ the royal treasure everyone speaks of?”

Mammon had a weakness for wealth and glittering riches. As Cheryl gazed into the shimmering royal blue diamond, she couldn’t help but swallow her excitement.

“If you do what I ask, it’s yours,” Empress Pamela said calmly.

She knew Marchioness Cheryl Clemence very well, especially her inability to resist rare and exquisite jewels.

“Please tell me what you would have me do,” Cheryl replied, her tone now noticeably more respectful.

“Juliana Barnett. Invite her to your salon,” the Empress said. “And ruin her reputation. I don’t care how you do it. Just make sure she’s never able to recover socially.”

The Empress’s words were cruel and direct.

Cheryl agreed for the time being and left the palace. But something about it unsettled her.

Why her, of all people?

Had it been anyone else, she would have taken the task without hesitation. But Juliana Barnett was no ordinary woman.

She’s Belial’s woman, of all people!

Harming her would be no different from making an enemy of Belial himself.

“Ugh, I really want that Siren’s Tear, though!” Cheryl snapped in frustration.

The rare and beautiful brooch floated through her mind, alternating with the image of Belial’s terrifying face.

It felt like she had just run into the hardest dilemma of her entire long demonic life.

After the engagement ceremony at the temple, a banquet was held at the Barnett estate.

The largest hall was opened, and fine food and drinks were served without pause.

Count Barnett, in high spirits, drank too much and began to indulge himself loudly and carelessly.

His guests, eager to stay on his good side, laughed heartily even at his most meaningless jokes.

The Countess was also busy, trying to manage a group of people desperate to impress her.

Reflecting the nature of the Barnett couple themselves, the banquet was loud and flashy but beneath the surface, it lacked real substance.

Tristan showed his face only briefly, glared at Juliana, and then left. The only ones who remained were the sycophants who still had business with the Barnett family, people too afraid to even approach Grand Duke Ortis.

“Aren’t we supposed to be the main characters today?” Braeden said with a short, incredulous laugh.

“Would you like to go outside?” Juliana offered. “If this place feels too stifling, I can show you the greenhouse.”

To the Barnett couple, Juliana was never truly a cherished daughter. Because of that, they often neglected her—without even realizing they were doing it.

Juliana felt sorry for Braeden. It seemed like he was being treated poorly just for being connected to her.

So, she gently led him to the greenhouse.

It was a space usually only granted to Juliana when the Countess was feeling unusually generous, but on a day like this, no one would question it.

Inside, the greenhouse was filled with tropical palm trees and rare plants the Countess had imported from foreign countries.

Without a word, the two of them walked deeper inside, quietly admiring the scenery around them.

The sounds of music and laughter from the banquet hall reached them faintly.

“Now that I think about it, the main couple hasn’t even had a proper dance,” Braeden said with a playful smile, lifting the corner of his lips as he held out his hand.

“Here?” Juliana asked, her eyes widening.

“Why not?” he replied, tilting his head slightly.

Whenever Juliana did something worth praising, the Countess would let her visit the greenhouse—as if it were some grand rewards.

Dancing here of all places? If the Countess ever found out, she’d probably faint.

Juliana let out a quiet laugh.

“There’s no reason we can’t.”

It was the first time she had smiled so freely.

For a moment, Braeden felt as though he were being drawn into her deep green eyes, beautifully curved and filled with light.

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