For the One Who Hates Me - Chapter 1

Aura was the only princess of the Kingdom of Xenia.

With her silvery-platinum hair, turquoise eyes, brilliance that surpassed the princes, and the dignity befitting her noble bloodline, she was cherished and adored by all.

Her life had been warm and full of love until the proposal for a political marriage arrived from the Kasa Empire.

For a princess, marriage alliances were hardly unusual. Still, the king and queen were reluctant. Aura was their only daughter, precious and only eighteen. Worse, the match was with the empire’s fourth prince, the son of a concubine of common birth.

In the end, it was Aura who persuaded her troubled parents.

“I’ll marry him. If that’s my duty as royalty, then I will.”

And so, Aura left for the Kasa Empire alone. It was at the wedding that she first laid eyes on her future husband, Karl.

He was a slender, strikingly beautiful boy, with pale skin, hair and eyes as black as night, and a gaze that was both direct and detached.

The imperial family of Kasa was known for their golden hair. Karl, with his jet-black presence, was like darkness hidden among the light.

…A beautiful darkness.

Aura fell for him at first sight.

That very night, the two young newlyweds sat side by side on the bed. Aura clutched the blanket tightly, trembling just from his presence.

Then Karl broke the silence.

“I have nothing to give you.”

Aura turned her head. He was staring into the air with weary indifference.

“If you have a lover, keep seeing him. Or find someone new if you want.”

With that, he started to leave.

Aura’s small, pale hand caught his sleeve. Though slender, her grip carried a quiet courage.

Karl glanced at her.

“Foolish girl. You’ve heard the whispers, haven’t you?”

She had. That he looked too much like his low-born mother, who died young. That he was a prince in name only—mediocre in both study and swordsmanship.

“Cling to me and you’ll only end up miserable. Find your own happiness.”

“My name is Aura.”

Her voice shook. For the first time, Karl raised his eyes to truly look at his wife.

“They say we’re husband and wife now.”

“…So what?”

“To be honest, I’m a little scared. This sudden marriage, this heavy atmosphere in the imperial palace… But I’m not unhappy.”

Aura smiled then, shy yet sincere.

“Because we’re together… I think we’ll be all right. Both of us.”

Karl only stared at her with unreadable eyes, his throat bobbing faintly before he turned away and left the room.

Aura’s hand slipped from the blanket.

That night, she cried quietly—not out of resentment. Perhaps he hated the arranged marriage. She only missed her family back in Xenia with all her heart.

The next morning, stepping out with swollen eyes, she stopped short.

A clumsy bouquet of yellow daffodils was thrust before her. Behind the flowers was Karl’s face.

“Call me Karl. You don’t need to be so formal. We’re the same age.”

Her surprise melted into a radiant smile. She reached out, but Karl’s voice stopped her.

“If you take this, it means you’ll be my only destination.”

Aura hesitated. To be someone’s only destination sounded terrifying… yet also like a vow of steadfast love.

The hesitation didn’t last long. She took the daffodils into her arms.

“Thank you, Karl.”

And Karl smiled faintly.

Aura liked him. His quiet, almost stern nature, his hidden diligence that belied the rumors.

They spent most of their days together in the library, sharing stories, confiding in one another, weaving secrets of their own.

Once, as Aura brushed against his hand while he turned a page, she noticed new bandages wrapped around his fingers each day—the mark of harsh sword training.

“Why do people think you’re lazy and useless? You read so much, and you’re good at the sword.”

“Because I hide it.”

“Why?”

Karl didn’t answer. He only gazed at her intently until she laughed awkwardly.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Karl cupped her cheek. Aura flinched at the unfamiliar texture of his bandaged hand—then he kissed her.

It was both their first kiss.

Drawn by instinct, they sought warmth in each other, lingering as though to imprint themselves forever. Aura realized then that the truest sweetness she had ever known was found only in Karl.

He whispered against her lips.

“All I need to protect is you.”

Those days were blissful. Karl was by her side, and she believed he always would be.

It was a naïve belief.

*******

Months later, the emperor fell gravely ill.

The crown prince grew restless. With nothing to his name but birthright, he needed proof of ability to secure power.

He chose conquest. And his first target was none other than the Kingdom of Xenia.

Xenia fell in days. Its royal family executed. The greatest magical nation on the continent destroyed.

And still the crown prince pressed on. Aura was locked away in the northern tower of the palace, condemned as the remnant of a traitor bloodline.

Her sentence: to remain imprisoned until death.

The tower was hell. Cold, filthy, and suffocating.

Clawing at the bolted door, she screamed in terror:

“Karl! Let me see Karl! Please… Karl!”

Her only hope was his promise—that he would protect her.

But Karl never came.

By the time her throat was hoarse and her nails torn away, she overheard guards whispering outside.

“What? Prince Karl went on an expedition to Debla?”

Debla—lawless lands at the empire’s northern edge, swarming with monsters. They called it the “graveyard of knights.”

…Karl went to Debla?

“Expedition, my ass. He ran away to escape the crown prince.”

“Pity about the princess, though.”

“More than pity. Prince Karl sent word before he left. He ordered us to kill her.”

Aura’s heart plummeted.

What… did I just hear?

The guards sounded just as shocked.

“Huh? Kill his own wife?”

“Said he didn’t want to be dragged down because of her. A fresh start, you know.”

Aura shook her head violently.

No… not Karl. He would never…

The guards muttered uneasily.

“I’m not doing it. Who knows what kind of blame we’ll take later.”

“Same here. But what if… she does it herself?”

A moment later, the slot at the bottom of the door screeched open.

Clang!

A dagger slid inside. Aura’s breath hitched.

“Prince Karl commands you to end your own life. Better that than rotting in here.”

In the darkness, her eyes fixed on it. It was unmistakably Karl’s sword.

That night, Aura tried to die. Trembling, she pressed the blade to her wrist and cut. Fire burned through her veins; the searing pain was unlike anything she had ever known.

And in that moment, she asked herself—

Why should I be the one to die?

Clang!

The dagger clattered to the ground. With her skirt, she pressed against the bleeding wound, sobbing until her whole body shook. She cried until she was empty—but she lived.

“…I’ll live. I’ll live, and I’ll see that face again.”

So began her nightmare in the tower. Rotting vegetables for food. Filthy water like ice. Rats and insects gnawing at her sanity night and day.

But the deepest torment was despair—being cast aside. And that despair twisted into hatred. Hatred for Karl.

Aura changed.

Her radiant golden hair dulled to ash. Her eyes lost their light. Pride was consumed by spite, and her heart was swallowed by vengeance.

Three years passed.

On the night of a snowstorm, after a long illness, the emperor died.

That night, chaos shook the imperial palace. Smoke rose in plumes as if war had broken out.

Is this… a rebellion?

Then…

Screech, crash.

The door that had sealed her away for years burst open. Black-clad knights stormed in, dropping to one knee before her.

“Princess Consort Aura, His Majesty commands that you be brought to him.”

Aura’s voice was cold as ice.

“And who is your emperor now?”

The knights shivered at the weight of her anger, heavy as sinking mud.

“His Majesty Karl.”

Silence fell. Slowly, they lifted their heads—just in time to hear Aura laugh.

“Ha… shameless.”

It was absurd. Almost funny.

Soon, supported by the knights, Aura stepped out of the tower.

The sight was staggering. Snow blanketed the ground, blood stained the snow, and corpses piled beneath both.

Aura walked barefoot across it all.

They led her into the palace, her footprints a trail of snow and blood.

The audience chamber doors opened. The stench of blood hit like a wave. The imperial guard had been wiped out.

And there, upon the throne, sat Karl. At his feet lay three bodies—the crown prince and two other princes.

A perfect coup. A new emperor born of blood.

Aura approached him slowly.

The knights at his side recoiled at her appearance. Skin and bones, hollow eyes—she looked like a ghost that had just crawled from its coffin.

Only Karl met her gaze steadily.

He rose from the throne and stepped toward her. She looked up.

He had grown taller, broader, his shoulders strong, his presence sharp with both heat and cold—reeking of blood.

The listless boy was gone. In his place stood a warrior. No, an emperor who had conquered the world. All while Aura had lost everything.

She threw herself into his arms—and whispered softly in his ear:

“Bastard.”

Karl jerked back, stunned.

A dagger was buried deep in his side. Blood poured crimson down his robes.

Aura smiled at him.

She no longer cared if she died. In truth, death was the only thing left to her in this cruel life.

…But Karl had no intention of granting her that.

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