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The Escalante household simmered under a constant tension with the duke and duchess embroiled in daily arguments. The duke's frayed nerves and the duchess's growing distress under the pressure from the empress made their clashes inevitable. It was almost ironic-they fought for the same end, yet their wills clashed each day, crossing each other like dueling swords.

Miguel was still the same. He spent most of his time staring into space until suddenly thrash about violently, demanding to be let out of his room. Five knights had been stationed in and outside of his room, but their vigilance could not prevent him from flinging himself out of the fourth-floor window. The fall could have been fatal, yet he survived with a mere broken leg. The family physician called it a miracle, saying that Miguel's sturdy constitution was truly a blessing. Such words offered no comfort to the duke and duchess. Especially for Isabella, who had witnessed her son jumping out the window firsthand, it was too much to bear. She collapsed and had to be carried to her bed.

With Isabella bedridden, Inés found herself thrust into the role long reserved for the duchess. As the next lady of the house, the governance of Escalante Manor in Mendoza and its affairs now rested upon her shoulders. The Escalantes had placed great importance on the role of the lady of the house for generations. While Isabella had left their main estate in Esposa under Cárcel's care, she still had a mountain of duties in Mendoza. This sudden burden of responsibility weighed heavily on Inés.

The days passed by in a flash and without respite. Cárcel couldn't return to Calztela with both his brother and his mother in such dire conditions. It was his duty as the eldest son to anchor his father, who continued to slip further into an isolated silence. Meanwhile, the emperor often summoned him to the palace, leaving him little time to help Inés by the time he returned to the manor. He could no longer remember the last time he had kissed her in the morning light.

Everyone at the Escalante Manor was treading on a thin ice. And the emperor's sudden attention was like an unwelcome thaw-it did not help Cárcel at all. If not for Luciano's skillful mediation, Cárcel would have found his tongue sealed shut for good.

The emperor was a trial. He shared a striking likeness with his son, Oscar, that filled Cárcel with disgust. Though he had always spoken to Cárcel kindly, his face remained inscrutable, his true intentions masked at all times. Their conversations were polite yet empty. The emperor also held trivial hunting and archery competitions to parade Cárcel around like some prized heir of his own. But beneath this facade, his gaze held a cold, calculating gleam, as though he were testing Cárcel moment by moment.

The crown prince's taunting voice haunted Cárcel's thoughts. "Do you still eye my wife as though she belonged to you? You do not even remember a thing... Your instinct is quite troublesome."

The emperor and his son were alike even in the way they tested him at every turn. Cárcel thought how incredulous it was that two of these loathsome beings could exist in this world at the same time. He reflected on yet another day he had been forced to waste at the palace as he made his way to the study where he knew Inés had to be.

It was her whom he wanted to return to Calztela rather than himself. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't see why Inés had to shoulder the burdens of his family. Her frailty plagued his thoughts. He worried endlessly over her health, fearing she might faint from exhaustion at any moment. He wished, more than anything, to shield her from it all, but he knew she would refuse to listen to him.

Whenever he tried to send her back, Inés would furrow her eyebrows at him and tell him, "Do not treat me like an outsider to your family. It vexes me."

The words stirred him, binding his heart to hers ever more tightly. At the same time, they made him feel guilty, as though her life had taken a wrong turn because of him. And yet, he couldn't imagine a life without her.

Inés Escalante was a pillar sustaining House Escalante-a presence that held their fractured family together when all else threatened to fall apart. She bought time for her husband and Miguel, showing her face in public in their stead. She was also the only member of the family standing tall amidst the chaos.

The duke had been pleasantly surprised to find such aptitude in his daughter-in-law, who had so seamlessly taken over the role from the duchess mere ten days ago. Cárcel's heart swelled with pride over his wife, but a stab of guilt pricked him. He couldn't help feeling that she was swept up in his family's tiresome hardships that should never have concerned her.

How long would they be able to endure this? How much longer could they hold together the crumbling foundation of this vast household before duty called them away to Calztela?

"Cárcel." Duke Escalante's frayed voice called out to him. The duke, his face shadowed with lines of fatigue, motioned for Cárcel to follow him down the hallway.

They walked side by side, passing silently through the manor's long hallway. Though they shared meals in the dining hall every day, just as they had before Cárcel had left for El Ledequilla, it was rare for his father to initiate conversation.

"Have you eaten yet?" Cárcel asked.

The duke seemed engrossed in thought, so Cárcel followed him in silence. Neither of them spoke as they walked, which wasn't unusual for them, but this tense atmosphere certainly was. Even as the attendants greeted them as they passed, the duke maintained his stiff expression.

Only when they entered the duke's study and the door closed behind them, the duke let a deep sigh.

"Cárcel," he began, his voice rough with unease.

"Yes?"

For a long moment, the duke struggled with words, rubbing his hands over his face. Cárcel patiently waited, and the duke finally said, "I met with His Majesty this morning."

"Yes, I have heard."

"Did he not said anything to you?"

"I accompanied him at the hunting grounds, but we spoke only briefly."

"I see."

"His Majesty only spoke of trifling matters," Cárcel added. It was impertinent to make such a comment about the emperor, but his tone was so polite that it was hardly noticeable.

The duke, who would have chided his son on any other day, simply eyed him for a while and leaned against his desk. "You must have heard about the conquest of Las Sandiago."

"The admiral mentioned it in the past."

"What will you do?"

Cárcel fell silent for a moment.

The duke pressed on, as if afraid of the answer his son might give. "His Majesty has always feared his brother, who was a soldier. He has spent his reign taming the navy, keeping the old commanders in place. The reason those old men who can barely move on their own and cannot tell right from wrong anymore are still heading the navy is because the emperor still sees the military power as a threat despite having ascended to the throne. Captain Noriega, who should have succeeded your grandfather, suffers from the weight of age, and yet His Majesty still considers him too young to be made admiral. And Marquess Barca has remained a commander despite his status and old age."

"Yes."

"What do you think it means, then, that the emperor would suddenly seek to promote you?"

The rumor that had only ever left the empress's lips seemed to have finally been relayed to Duke Escalante through the emperor himself, making it official. This was most likely why he looked so pale. This was more than a promotion; it was a call to war.

"Is it tied to the conquest of Las Sandiago?" Cárcel asked. "I have considered joining ever since the admiral mentioned it to me."

The duke let out a hollow laugh. "Of course you have."

"However..."

The future duty he had accepted without much thought at the time had now become an issue. That had been before the apostle had planted those damned memories into his mind like a cursed revelation, and House Escalante had been faring well without any problems.

He had imagined, for example, that Inés would be fine on her own, even if he went off to war for a season or two, and that his family would also spend their time in peace, with nothing on the line but his own safety.

He cursed the past lives he still could not remember dozens of times a day. Only bits and pieces of memories would flash through his mind like broken shards embedding themselves painfully into his heart on repeat.

It was no longer a price that came with any gain. Even as he tried to imagine what things had been like before they were broken and shattered, he didn't know enough to help him.

Perhaps my answer would have been clearer if I could remember anything about this time in my past lives.

But this was still kept from him.

Emiliano had called it a blessing, as though he craved this useless array of broken memories. That Cárcel Escalante was not a sinner, and that he therefore did not deserve punishment.

Sinners. And fools like Emiliano who had died despite what fate had in store for them and had freely chosen to be punished in return. He had told Cárcel to be grateful he wasn't one of them, that he didn't know their pain, and that he should simply thank God for this new opportunity.

But he was always filled with frustration rather then thankfulness. Then again, when he tried to imagine how much pain Inés had to be going through, he could not envy her either.

"Everything has changed now," Cárcel said, voice low. "I am concerned about leaving behind-"

"Miguel? Is he your only concern?"

"I cannot postpone my return to Calztela any longer, so I have little time left to watch over him... If I were to return to Calztela and march off to war while Miguel remains unhinged, I fear you and mother wouldn't be able to endure that for long."

The duke gave him a faint smile. "You fear for Inés, left alone to deal with our family's troubles."

Cárcel's silence was answer enough.

"You have every right to fear. Do not go to war, my son."