I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 2

“He came here… for me?”

There was only one reason a man of his status would show up in a place like this. He had come under orders from the Empire—to eliminate the last surviving member of the royal family hiding like a rat.

“If I’m discovered, I’ll die… Just like my family. Beheaded…”

A cold chill ran down her spine. Her neck ached, as if already touched by a blade.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Natasha began to run—without direction or plan, just fear. She couldn’t go home, worried he might follow her, so she wandered aimlessly. Only when night had fully fallen did she finally rush back to the house.

“It’s fine. He probably didn’t recognize me.”

Her hair was dyed. She had used divine power to change her eye color. Even if he had found her suspicious, she couldn’t possibly have been identified.

Still, just in case, she had sent Sir Dante a distress signal.

Three hours later, someone knocked on the door.

That alone was unusual. Visitors were rare in this quiet village—and no one came this late.

Assuming it was Dante, Natasha opened the door without hesitation.

“…Ah.”

She had made sure she wasn’t followed. The market was far from home. She had been so certain—so sure—that the man wouldn’t find her.

“Siegh…”

The moment she saw the man standing at her door, Natasha’s face went pale.

Crimson eyes that shone even in the dark. Hair that gleamed like starlight. A sharp, intimidating expression, and a powerful build that radiated noble authority.

“…hart.”

Sieghart Aschart.

His red eyes scanned her slowly, thoroughly. That cold stare made his intentions clear.

He knew who she was.

He hadn’t come to ask questions or poke around.

He wasn’t here to see if she might be the missing princess.

He already knew.

He had come to capture her.

“P-Please… spare me…”

The first words that came out of her mouth were a pitiful plea.

The Empire had wiped out her family, and Sieghart had always been close to the imperial throne. Of course he had come to finish what they started—to erase the last of the royal bloodline.

Just like her parents and siblings, she would be beheaded. Her severed head would be hung from the tallest tree in the village. Her last hope—to carry on the royal line—would vanish, just like that.

She couldn’t move. Her body was frozen. Her trembling legs wouldn’t carry her away.

She tried to shut the door, but through the narrowing gap, she saw half of his face—his sharp features like a sculpture, standing out even in her blurred vision.

Suddenly, Sieghart pushed the door open and stepped toward her.

As his large frame came closer, Natasha’s fear grew.

When he finally reached out his hand, she shut her eyes tightly. Not even a cry for help escaped her lips.

“…Huh?”

But the strike never came.

There was no sword at her neck. No hand grabbing her arms.

Sensing something was off, Natasha opened her eyes.

“Princess, I’ve come to ask you to marry me.”

Sieghart was down on one knee, looking up at her.

Not holding a weapon—
But a bouquet of flowers.

The sight was so bizarre, so surreal, she could barely process it.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

But the scene didn’t change.

This was real.

“M-Marriage?”

“Yes. Marriage.”

“Why would… why would we get married?”

“Because I want to. And because it’ll benefit you, too.”

His voice was calm, his expression relaxed. The slight smile on his face softened the harshness of his usual features.

“You’ve been in hiding for a year. That means you already know how dangerous it is for you to be seen.”

“…”

“Come with me to House Aschart. I’ll protect you—from death, and from poverty.”

He wasn’t just confident. He was resolute. Sieghart spoke as if reading from a script—flawlessly, without a hint of doubt.

…Marriage?

Natasha repeated the word in her mind, slowly letting it sink in.

Then, she sighed.

Was she really supposed to believe something so absurd?

He had found her secret hiding place. Tracked her down out of nowhere. And now he was proposing marriage?

And not just anyone—but him? A man tied to the Empire? How could she possibly trust this?

He could be planning to lure her in and hand her over to the imperial court.

“I…”

“…”

“You’re lying!”

Her voice rang out, sharp with desperation, as she glared at him.

“I know why you’re really here. You came to kill me. You serve the Empire. And the Empire’s only goal is to wipe out the royal bloodline. You’re here to take me back and end my life!”

Now that she had called him out, what he did next would be the true answer.

Natasha stared at the door, tense, watching.

If his hand so much as moved toward the sword at his waist—
She would run. With every ounce of strength, she had.

“I have no intention of turning a corpse into the Duchess.”

To Natasha’s confusion, the man’s expression unexpectedly softened. His large hand still held the bouquet tightly.

“…What does that mean?”

“It means I have no choice but to keep you alive, Princess.”

He gently cornered her against the wall, pressing one hand to the door behind her to block any escape. His tall frame cast a long shadow over her face, looming like a silent warning.

“If I intended to kill you, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. I would’ve brought the Imperial Knights or taken care of it the moment we met.”

“…”

“The Empire still doesn’t know you’re alive. This is my decision alone. There’s no hidden agenda behind this proposal.”

His words, steady and logical, combined with his unwavering gaze, slowly calmed her panic. Natasha’s rapid breathing began to settle. Sieghart noticed the shift in her almost immediately.

“I hope you’ll trust me.”

Though the words asked for faith, his tone carried an underlying force. It didn’t sound like a plea—it felt like a command.

Natasha finally lifted her head and looked at him properly. His dark eyebrows arched slightly, silently urging her to answer. His eyes suggested he already knew how much weight her response would carry.

Trust you?

Gripping the frayed edge of her skirt tightly, Natasha raised her voice.

“This trust will determine whether I live or die. I can’t give it so easily. And I…”

“…”

“…I don’t intend to marry you.”

It had all started ten days earlier.

When Sieghart Aschart opened the letter on his desk, his face instantly twisted with irritation. Muttering a low curse, he picked up the envelope again, its elegant red and gold design unmistakably bearing the Imperial crest.

“Tch.”

As he began reading, his expression darkened. Halfway through, he scoffed and crumpled the letter, tossing it straight into the trash.

“Ready the carriage. I’m going to the Imperial Palace.”

He stepped outside and ordered a servant to prepare for departure.

The emperor had already scheduled an audience in Sieghart’s name. That twisted man must have known exactly when he would arrive.

His footsteps echoed powerfully as he entered the palace, halting before the man seated on the throne—Emperor Kail Letius.

The emperor didn’t even look up at first. He kept drinking, pretending not to notice. Only after several long moments did he mutter a lazy greeting.

“You’re here?”

“Your Majesty.”

“Why the sour face? Relax a little.”

“Is this a joke to you?”

Sieghart brushed aside the fake courtesy and got straight to the point. He pulled the letter from his coat, now crumpled, and tossed it past the emperor.

Kail Letius glanced at the paper and responded with a dull voice.

“Ah, so you got my letter.”

“You call that a letter? It’s nonsense. Tell me your real intentions. Are you seriously trying to play games with me?”

“You always have such a sharp tongue. I thought I was being generous. But if you insist on reacting this way, I might start feeling unappreciated.”

“My ties to Letius ended that day.”

“Is that so? Funny—I don’t recall that.”

Kail smirked, poking at Sieghart’s temper like a child prodding a lion.

“I’m giving you a chance. Want me to explain it more clearly? Think of it as a gift from the Emperor to his loyal hound. Bring me what I want, and I’ll give you the freedom you want.”

His voice dripped with mockery. He wiped wine from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then slowly rose from the throne.

Staggering slightly as he descended the steps, he said with a crooked smile:

“Marry her. The last surviving heir of the royal family you destroyed.”

His tone was as twisted and cruel as ever—exactly the voice Sieghart despised most.

“…What did you just say?”

Even when Sieghart demanded clarification, the emperor didn’t elaborate. He simply repeated the same line, his voice firm and final:

“Marry her. That bloodline.”

The Charlier royal family had been annihilated a year ago—under Sieghart’s command.

And now the emperor wanted him to marry one of them?

Did he seriously expect him to turn a corpse into the Duchess?

The truth hit him like a slap.

This wasn’t a proposal—it was a leash. A way to remind Sieghart that he still belonged to the Empire. That there was no escape. That his only job was to keep licking their boots and cleaning up their mess.

Bastard.

Sieghart silently cursed and began weighing his options. Even if he had to go through with this ridiculous marriage, he needed to get out from under the emperor’s control.

Kayeina.

A name suddenly came to mind—a woman he hadn’t thought of in a while.

He had met her during the palace invasion. She was among the captured royals but disguised herself as a princess.

He had realized she was a maid, posing as a decoy to buy time.

He had let her go.

Months later, she appeared at House Aschart, applying to work as a maid. He hired her.

She introduced herself as the handmaiden of the youngest princess—Natasha Charlier. She confessed she had pretended to be the princess to protect her.

Sieghart hadn’t cared at the time. One powerless girl wasn’t worth dragging the empire into chaos.

But now… it was different.

That bloodline might finally be useful.

He made his decision.

He would find Princess Natasha Charlier, wherever she was hiding and turn her into his greatest weapon.

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