Death of the Heart

The Count felt a suffocating pain in his chest, and the words that were on the tip of his tongue simply wouldn't come out.

Aunt Martha added with a smile, "Miss has been thinking about this since she got up this morning, and she's drawn several sketches."

Her gaze fell on the table beside her, where several sketches of wedding dresses were scattered about, their lines beautiful and their details exquisite, showing how much effort Charlotte had put into them.

The Count clenched his fists in his sleeves. He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't delay any longer; procrastination would only make the final damage worse.

"Charlotte," he tried to keep his tone steady, "I...have something to discuss with you, Martha. Could you please step out for a moment?"

Charlotte's smile faded slightly. She keenly sensed that her father's mood was off. His deep voice and the undisguised heaviness in his eyes made the joy in her heart flicker like a candle flame in the wind.

She nodded obediently to Aunt Martha, Martha bowed and quietly withdrew, gently closing the door behind her.

Only the father and daughter remained in the room. The fire crackled in the stove, but it couldn't dispel the sudden silence.

Charlotte walked to her father's side, looked up at him, and asked with a hint of unease in her eyes, "Father, what's wrong? You look so pale... Has something happened again in the Northern Territory? Karl, he..."

Her first thought was still Karl's safety.

The Count did not answer, but instead reached out and held his daughter's slightly cool little hands tightly.

His hands were frighteningly cold, causing Charlotte to shiver involuntarily.

"Father, your hands are so cold..." Charlotte worriedly grasped her father's hand, trying to warm him with her own warmth.

Count looked at his daughter's innocent yet worried face, countless thoughts flashed through his mind.

Should we keep it from her for now? Wait until the Princess's entourage arrives at the Northern Territory before saying anything?

No, that would be too cruel. It would only cause her more pain to hear it from someone else.

Should Karl tell her himself? But... what would Karl say?

That hot-blooded young man, fresh from the baptism of blood and fire, suddenly learns that the woman he loves is pregnant with his child, yet he's being forced by the Royal Decree to marry another woman... How will he react?

With his years of political acumen, the Count keenly realized that the Princess's marriage was not merely a simple reward for merit, especially at this critical juncture of the new king's ascension to the throne; it was bound to involve a complex power struggle within the Prye City.

If Karl, in a moment of impulse, were to reveal his relationship with Charlotte, and even the fact that Charlotte was pregnant...

That would undoubtedly put himself and the entire Rochefort Family at odds with the royal family. The new king and the Empress Dowager would never tolerate such a "scandal".

At that time, what awaits Karl and Charlotte will probably not be a simple separation, but a catastrophic disaster.

As a father, he had to protect his daughter, even if it meant using the cruelest methods.

With this in mind, the Count made up his mind.

He took Charlotte's hand and led her to the sofa by the fireplace.

He gazed into his daughter's eyes, his voice low and slow, each word seeming to come from the depths of his being:

"Charlotte, my child, your father has news for you, a... very bad news."

Charlotte's heart sank. She had a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. She held her breath and stared intently at her father's lips.

"Just now... the royal messenger arrived," the Count said with difficulty. "His King Heinrich XI has passed away, and Prince Sigmund has ascended the throne."

Charlotte blinked, somewhat surprised by the news, but the change of royalty seemed a distant prospect for the daughter of a border Count. She waited quietly for her father to continue.

The Count paused, as if gathering his courage, before finally uttering the cruel truth. "His Majesty the new King has issued Imperial Edict, in order to... recognize Carnford's military achievements and consolidate the Northern Territory, deciding to marry his sister, Princess Louise... to... Karl von Schmidt."

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

Charlotte's face drained of color rapidly, visibly turning as pale as the fabric of her dress.

The sparkling happiness in her beautiful blue eyes froze instantly, then shattered like broken glass, leaving only emptiness and death.

She opened her mouth slightly, but no sound came out. She just stared blankly at her father, as if she couldn't understand what he had just said.

There was no crying, no screaming, no hysterical questioning as expected.

This excessive calm only made the Count's heart clench even tighter, filled with an ominous premonition.

After what felt like an eternity, Charlotte asked very slowly, in an almost ethereal voice, "Is it true? Father, you're not lying to me?"

The Count, his heart aching, nodded heavily and handed the Imperial Edict to his daughter. "It's real. The Imperial Edict is right here. The messenger read it aloud himself. The Royal Decree... cannot be disobeyed."

Charlotte's gaze swept over the parchment that represented supreme authority, but she did not take it.

She slowly lowered her head, her gaze falling on her lower abdomen, which was not yet noticeably swollen, but she could already feel the presence of new life.

All her previous expectations and sweet plans were shattered at this moment by these few light words.

"... I understand," she said after a long silence, before finally raising her head with an extremely pale, almost unreal smile. "Then the wedding dress... we don't need to prepare one, right?"

Her tone was eerily calm, devoid of any emotion, as if she were talking about something completely unrelated to herself.

"Charlotte ..." the Count called out worriedly, gripping her cold hand tightly. "If you want to cry, just cry. Don't hold it in. It's your father's fault, it's your father's fault..."

Charlotte gently withdrew her hand, shook her head, and said in a calm voice, but with a chilling detachment, "I'm fine, Father, really... I'm fine."

She stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the gray sky and the howling wind, her back to the Count.

Her back was thin and fragile, yet she stood ramrod straight. She said nothing more, simply standing there quietly, as if she had transformed into a lifeless sculpture.

The Count watched his daughter's retreating figure, his heart breaking, yet he was powerless to do anything about it.

He knew that some pain was far deeper and more despairing than wailing and crying.

A royal Imperial Edict so easily crushed all of a young girl's love and dreams, leaving only cold reality and endless emptiness.

The warmth inside the cabin seemed to vanish completely with this news.