I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 1

On an otherwise quiet night, an unexpected snowstorm struck. The wind howled like a blade slicing through the duchy. Along with it came a chill so sharp it felt like it could tear through skin.

Fearing the storm would last a while, the Duke issued a warning to stay indoors and declared the deepest area of the duchy the Douglas Forest, off-limits.

Yet, footprints appeared on the untouched snowfield, a place so silent not even an ant would pass. Her feet sank deep into the snow, which had piled up overnight, rising past her delicate ankles. Even wild animals had run far from the bitter cold, but the woman walked the snowfield wrapped only in a thin blanket that barely covered her. She was headed into Douglas Forest, against the Duke’s orders.

‘…If it’s here.’

The reason wasn’t grand.

She simply wanted to disobey him—just once.

She felt like she could finally rest here, where no one would find her.

At last, she arrived. The deepest, darkest part of the Douglas Forest. A place where, even years later, no one would ever discover her body.

Kneeling, Natasha pulled a dagger from within her shawl.

It was a reckless, spur-of-the-moment decision.

A result of one heartbreak after another. Lost will. Lost purpose.

She hated a world that didn’t respond, no matter how loudly she cried out. She resented the man who stood at the top—controlling, watching, and destroying everything around him.

That’s why.

It was a desperate act, driven by a world that never gave her room to breathe.

‘If only someone—just one person—had cared about me.’

The Duke, who always claimed to care for his people’s safety, didn’t send anyone to stop his duchess from wandering out on a stormy night. It had been a while since she’d left the estate, yet not a single guard came after her.

If someone had asked her where she was going… told her it was too cold…

If they had said even one simple word of concern…

No.

If Sieghart Aschart had ever apologized to her.
If he hadn’t deceived her with gentle lies…

If only…

She unsheathed the dagger, revealing its perfectly sharpened edge.

‘I hate you so much.’

A familiar vision appeared before her—his image. Unmoved, even though she was aiming a blade at her own heart. The coldest, most heartless man in the world.

‘Just as you hated me… I now resent you just as deeply.’

She tightened her grip on the dagger. As she raised her arm and brought it down, the snow resting on her shoulders scattered in the wind. Among the eerie howling of the storm came the unmistakable ring of metal.

Moments later, blood—deep red, like her eyes—spilled onto the white snow.

It hurts…

It hurt terribly.

Her heart, torn to shreds. Her past, cut open again and again.

Her fading consciousness could sense the end. She forced her eyes open one last time.

There he was—Sieghart, a vision born from her mind—watching her final moments in silence.

The man who killed her family, her child… and now, her.

The man Natasha had once loved with everything she had.

Sieghart Aschart.

She looked at him and gave a faint smile.

As if proud that, at last, she had finally let him go.

It was a peaceful day, like any other.

Natasha Charlier, the beloved youngest princess of the Charlier royal family, was out on a stroll with her maid, Kayeina.

They sat beneath a zelkova tree on a picnic blanket, eating sandwiches, when—

“Oh, Princess! Did you hear? A new jeweler just opened in town!”

Kayeina’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she caught the princess’s attention.

“A jeweler?”

“Yes! I heard their brooches are already quite popular. Especially the ones made for men—they’re so stylish that even women are buying them to gift to their fiancés or husbands.”

She put extra emphasis on that last part. The two of them thought of the same person and burst into laughter.

“Kayeina, you—”

“Oh, come on! I was just helping! You said you were still thinking about what to get the prince for his birthday!”

Of course, they were both thinking of Alex Ludrio.

Alex Ludrio, Natasha’s fiancé and prince of the Ludrio Kingdom.

A year ago, he had visited the Charlier Kingdom. He fell for Natasha at first sight, and since that day, he had pursued her with unwavering affection.

Now that she was of marrying age, her parents had begun suggesting she consider marriage. Naturally, she thought of Alex. She didn’t share his feelings, not completely. But rather than accept a proposal from a total stranger, moving forward with Alex seemed the better choice.

She had planned to deliver his birthday gift and talk with him. Kayeina, ever perceptive, had found the perfect present idea.

“I was going to thank you for that.”

“Hehe, I knew it! Hurry up and go to town with Sir Dante. I’ll pretend not to know anything. You were just out here having a picnic with me, right?”

After a big argument with her sister, both Natasha and Kayeina had been grounded for three days. Now Kayeina was helping her sneak out.

“Kayeina, you really are the best!”

“You know what to bring back, right?”

“Three scones with extra strawberry jam!”

“That should come with a generous reward!”

After that, Natasha left the castle with Sir Dante. They bought a gift for Alex at the jeweler, picked up the scones for Kayeina at the pastry shop, and headed home.

But the palace they returned to, once a beautiful work of art, had become a scene of tragedy. What welcomed her was nothing but ruin.

“…The palace…”

The castle walls, once secure and strong, had crumbled like they were nothing. The buildings were burning, vanishing into ash and smoke.

Blood soaked the grass, once lovingly cared for by the royal gardener. Severed heads of knights rolled across the ground.

It didn’t take long for what had been a peaceful day to turn into the worst moment of her life.

“Princess, wait—!”

Someone grabbed Natasha’s arm in a panic. It was Sir Dante, the royal knight who had gone to the village with her.

Quick to understand the danger, he pulled her up onto his horse. Without a word, he galloped off—his silence heavy with urgency, afraid any sign of life might alert the enemy that someone had survived.

“Hide in here.”

He threw a cloak over her, one that belonged to a knight she didn’t know. The overwhelming smell of blood made Natasha realize just how dire things were.

Her home—
The people she loved—

Gone.
Like a dream that faded the moment she woke up.

They rode hard for a long time before the horse finally stopped.

In a distant village, Natasha changed into simple clothes, following Sir Dante’s instructions. A scarf and glasses helped disguise her face. She looked like an entirely different person.

Then he told her quietly,

“Princess, stay here. If someone knocks on the door, go out the back and hide in the barn.”

He left, and returned the next day with a newspaper.

“The Fall of the Charlier Royal Family—Will the Kingdom Become a Vassal of the Empire?”

It was the Imperial Knights of the Letius Empire who had invaded. Acting on the emperor’s orders, they stormed the palace and wiped out the royal family.

Nearly two hundred years ago, the Letius Empire had failed to turn the Kingdom of Charlier into a vassal state. Since then, the two nations had remained bitter enemies.

Charlier was small but rich in resources—everything the large but resource-poor empire wanted.

But they couldn’t just start another war. The stronger nations would resist the empire’s expansion, and the weaker ones would fear they were next.

So instead of war, the empire chose extermination.

If the ruling family was wiped out, the kingdom would collapse on its own.

To avoid disputes over the land, Grand Duke Kshant—who was given full authority after the fall—formed the Principality of Kshant with ten neighboring territories. The rest of the kingdom’s land was annexed by the empire.

Once that was done, the empire and the principality declared peace and formed an alliance.

Though they had taken the land through violence, they now pretended to be friendly nations.

The empire helped build new settlements for the displaced people of the kingdom. Welfare policies were put in place to help them settle quickly.

On the surface, it looked like peace had returned.
The principality was stable.
The people were adjusting.
Even the empire seemed content.

But there was one exception.

Natasha Charlier, the last surviving member of the royal family.

As long as Natasha lived, the royal bloodline hadn’t ended.

In theory, that meant she could restore the throne.

But that was only in theory.

Letius had worked carefully to avoid attention from the global powers. Their solution was to erase the royal bloodline, then claim the land of a dead kingdom.

Splitting the land—half to the empire, half to the principality—gave them more power while avoiding international outrage.

It was a clever move—one only the cunning Letius Empire could pull off.

But for it to remain perfect, there had to be no survivors.

If news got out that Natasha was alive, her life would be in danger. Even the principality, which had barely survived the collapse, would protect its own peace first. They wouldn’t risk it all for a fallen kingdom.

So returning there wouldn’t guarantee her safety either.

Sir Dante believed she should stay hidden until the time was right. Her safety came before revenge.

And Natasha, still only a girl, was more afraid than angry. She didn’t act recklessly.

But in her heart, she made a promise.

One day, she would take back what was lost.

She would survive.
She would give birth to an heir.
And that heir would continue her bloodline.

She would endure—no matter what—until her family and her home were restored.

With that quiet hope, she hid her identity and lived in a small village.

One year passed.

That day, Natasha was returning from the market with groceries. As she stepped outside, a strange man caught her eye.

His entire body was covered, his face hidden. But his presence felt out of place. He didn’t belong in a village like this.

She glanced at him.

And when their eyes met, her shoulders tensed.

His eyes were red—like hers—but different.

While hers had been compared to the color of red apples, his were darker, more violent. Like blood drawn from a wild beast.

The man seemed to notice her staring. He stopped walking and turned his head toward her.

A gust of wind lifted his cloak, revealing the sword at his waist.

That sword…

It bore the crest of House Aschart.

That’s when Natasha realized who he was.

She had never met him, but she knew his face from the papers.

Sieghart Aschart.
The Duke of Aschart.
A close aide of the Imperial Family.

A man loyal to the empire that had destroyed her world.

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