ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 193: You killed your own daughter

The Emperor slowly closed the report.

He had ordered an investigation into the Kosler family.

He had frozen their assets.

But this this felt like something else.

Something more personal.

At Morvex Castle, night fell with a heavy silence.

The fireplace burned low. Shadows of flame danced against the cold stone walls. Demian stood near his desk when the door was knocked on in haste.

A guard entered and immediately dropped to one knee.

"Lady Ivanka has been declared dead, Your Majesty. The carriage carrying her fell into a ravine along the northern cliff. There was an explosion upon impact at the bottom. Her body... was burned and is difficult to identify."

For several seconds, there was no sound.

The fire crackled softly.

Then—

"...What?"

It was not a cold tone.Not a command.

It was pure shock.

Demian turned slowly. His gaze sharpened but not with anger.

"Repeat that."

The guard bowed his head lower. "The Marquess intended to send Lady Ivanka out of the Empire. The carriage departed before dawn. At the northern cliff bend, the horses lost control. A wheel broke. The carriage swayed and fell into the ravine. An explosion occurred below."

Demian did not move.

He had not ordered this.

He had given an ultimatum.

But he had not sent anyone to carry it out.

And he knew well the difference between a threat and action.

"An explosion?" he repeated quietly.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Traces of gunpowder were found beneath the carriage frame. We are still investigating whether it was sabotage... or an accident."

Demian stepped away from the desk, his movements slow.

He replayed his last conversation with the Marquess.

Kill your daughter.

He had said it to test him.

To apply pressure.

To see how far a father would go for ambition.

But he had not truly expected that the outcome would be this.

"The Marquess sent her?" he asked again.

"Yes, Your Majesty. He ordered her sudden departure."

Silence filled the room once more.

Demian stared into the fireplace, but he did not see embers.

He saw Ivanka’s face the last time she had stood tall in the hall, challenging him without fear. He remembered the pride in her eyes. Her ambition. Her sharpness.

She had indeed been an obstacle.

But death was not something he had calculated that night.

"Are there witnesses?" His voice was lower now.

"Several guards survived after being thrown clear before the carriage fell. They reported that the horses panicked suddenly. There were no signs of an external attack."

Demian closed his eyes briefly.

If this was sabotage, who was responsible?

A political enemy of the Koslers?Angry citizens?Or... a darker decision from within the family itself?

"Continue the investigation," he said at last. "I want a detailed report. Every detail. Every trace."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The guard withdrew and left the room.

Demian remained standing there.

The night sky beyond the window was thick and starless.

He exhaled slowly.

He had wanted Ivanka removed from his path.

He had wanted the threat to Valerie to vanish.

But not like this.

Not with fire and a ravine.

Not with a body no longer recognizable.

For the first time since all this began, he felt something he had not anticipated not regret.

But unease.

As if the game board had shifted beyond his control.

And far away at Kosler Castle, a father stood in an empty hall, staring at the black cloth hanging at the gates.

While at Morvex, Demian realized one thing:

If this was not an accident then someone had just made a bold move.

And he did not like losing control of a game he had started himself.

The sky was gray that afternoon when the Morvex carriage stopped before the grand gates of the Kosler mansion.

Black cloth hung on either side of the main entrance. The servants wore mourning attire. The air in the courtyard felt heavy, as if every stone still held unfinished grief.

Without fanfare, Demian stepped down from the carriage.

His stride was steady, but unhurried.

He had not come as an executioner.

He had come to confirm the truth.

The main doors opened even before he knocked. Marquess Kosler stood there his face aged several years in a single night. His hair seemed whiter. His eyes hollow.

"Duke Morvex," he said quietly. "I wish to speak."

Demian exhaled faintly.

"Very well."

He followed him through the great hall, now silent. No music. No murmuring servants. Only the echo of their footsteps against marble floors.

They stopped inside the Marquess’s private study.

The door closed.

Silence.

The Marquess stood before the window, gray light illuminating his weary face.

"Ivanka is dead," he said without preamble. "So now... you will honor your word."

Demian looked at him for a long moment.

"I never promised anything without conditions," he replied calmly. "And your daughter died in an accident."

The Marquess gave a thin smile. It did not reach his eyes.

"Are you certain it was an accident?"

The question made the room feel colder.

Demian did not answer immediately.

He studied the man before him.

No tears.No explosive grief.Only something strange a composure too controlled for a father who had just lost his child.

"What are you implying?" Demian asked quietly.

The Marquess stepped closer. His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"The carriage carried gunpowder. The horses did not panic without cause. And explosions do not occur without reason."

Demian went still.

The seconds stretched thin.

"So," he said slowly, "you killed your own daughter?"

The Marquess did not deny it at once.

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

"Was that not what you asked for?"

There was no defense in his tone.

No clear remorse.

Only a half-confession hanging in the air.

Demian felt something he rarely experienced disgust.

"I tested you," he said coldly. "I did not order you to blow her apart in a ravine."

The Marquess let out a hollow laugh.

"Your test had a price. I merely... paid it."

Silence swallowed the room.

Outside, the wind stirred the mourning cloth at the gates.

Demian’s gaze sharpened further.

"You killed your own flesh and blood to survive," he said quietly. "And you believe that makes you worthy of negotiating with me?"