With Burkhardt’s sudden appearance, it became awkward to press further about his past.

Of course, she knew well that it was better to ask the person himself about sensitive matters—more accurately, and less likely to cause offense—than to ask Geraldine.

But she doubted Burkhardt would kindly explain anything.

Perhaps it was the distance that had grown between them; ever since their reunion, Burkhardt had always evaded her questions with vague answers or met them with irritation—whether about his illness, her own feelings, or even the memories they had once shared.

That was why she had intended to quietly ask Geraldine instead.

“Geraldine, why are you letting yourself be swayed by Beth for no reason? You’re neglecting your duties.”

“My apologies.”

“You have plenty of work to do—go on ahead.”

Geraldine seemed almost pleased by this turn of events.

“Then, I’ll take my leave. Your Majesty, please enjoy yourself at leisure before you return.”

Seizing the perfect excuse to escape an awkward question, Geraldine offered a swift, polite bow and disappeared.

It was as if the portrait archives itself were welcoming Burkhardt.

The place still held its mysterious, dreamlike atmosphere, yet now it felt somehow warm.

Elizabeth, intrigued by the change, turned her gaze toward Burkhardt.

She thought he suited this place perfectly.

The position of emperor seemed so very far away.

Even if she rose on tiptoe and reached out her hand, she felt she could never touch him—and unlike yesterday, a wave of helplessness washed over her.

She heard him speak.

“Beth. Did you not want to see me today?”

Looking at Burkhardt, who asked so nonchalantly, Elizabeth felt even more distressed.

It seemed he didn’t feel this distance between them at all.

Even now, she was the only one taking things so seriously, while Burkhardt’s eyes sparkled as if he were expecting something.

“Beth?”

“Why didn’t you come out yesterday? Do you know what it was like for me, waiting for you?”

Annoyingly, Burkhardt’s expression brightened.

Was longing for him and waiting for him something she alone was meant to bear?

She had thought they’d grown a little closer—had it all been a misunderstanding?

She felt disappointed in herself for getting carried away with anticipation, and resentful toward Burke for making no effort to bridge the gap between them.

Elizabeth lowered her head, avoiding Burkhardt’s gaze.

“You waited? You said you needed time alone, so I thought I’d give you plenty of it. That way, you’d have more to tell me today.”

His gentle reply sparked hope in her once again.

The urge to leave this place in her gloom subsided.

“Beth, you promised to share your daily life with me, and not to make me anxious.”

Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt toward Burkhardt.

He had been approaching her in his own way, yet she had misunderstood him, not knowing his heart.

“I thought you seemed upset that day, so I planned to make it up to you when we met on our walk. But when you didn’t come out, I worried… I thought perhaps you regretted giving me that freedom.”

“Let’s not talk about things like that anymore. I don’t want to hear words that make us doubt each other.”

Burkhardt’s voice was so gentle that Elizabeth’s tension melted away on its own.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze.

Just like on certain days in the past, his eyes were filled with the sweetness of golden honey.

Yes—Burke had always liked talking about the events of the day.

So, as she had before, Elizabeth began recounting in detail what had happened yesterday when she was alone.

“When it was time for my walk, as you ordered, Marianne only escorted me to the outside and then went off to her own duties. Then it started to rain. I ran to the pergola to take shelter, and since it was just a sudden shower, it stopped quickly—and a rainbow appeared.”

She could not speak of the child.

After all, she had claimed she wanted to be alone; to admit she had met someone else would have been far too awkward.

If her relationship with Burkhardt improved, the day would come when she could tell him about the child.

Until then, she resolved to keep that story to herself.

“You’ve only just gotten out of bed—are you alright? It looked like you got caught in quite a bit of rain.”

“Running actually made me feel better. And besides, I saw a rainbow. It reminded me of the one we saw together when we were young. We were happy then, weren’t we?”

Perhaps the problem was that, caught up in the moment, she had spoken of the past.

The warm, easy atmosphere vanished in an instant, and Burkhardt snapped.

“Did you really have to bring up the past?”

“No, I was just talking about our memories.”

“Memories? They might be memories to you, but to me they’re nothing but a squalid, wretched past.”

“How can you say that?”

Elizabeth was deeply shaken.

The only thread still connecting her to Burkhardt was that very past he now called squalid—if he denied it outright, she felt she would have nothing left to hold on to.

“Let’s pretend the past doesn’t exist. For us, it was nothing but despair.”

“No. I don’t want to.”

“Beth!”

“Have you ever thought that the hairpin I gave you yesterday might also be connected to the past?”

She had worn the hairpin to look pretty for Burkhardt, but in the end, this was how it was seen.

She had hoped he would notice first.

Hoped he would tell her it was beautiful, that it suited her.

Instead, Burkhardt looked at the hairpin with a sneer.

“Beth. I was boasting that, unlike in the past, I now have the means to buy you such a hairpin.”

“Isn’t it the kind of hairpin you might just happen to come across?”

“For someone who lived as a countess, your eye for quality is appalling. Do you think I’d give you some cheap trinket from the street? I gave it to you because the gemstone on that hairpin could buy ten townhouses in the capital.”

She hadn’t even known it was so valuable, and had accepted it eagerly, happy just to receive it.

Elizabeth’s face turned pale.

“If failing to recognize something expensive is a crime, then I suppose you’re guilty.”

“Burke…!”

Burkhardt pulled the hairpin from Elizabeth’s hair and hurled it to the floor.

He threw it so hard that, with an unpleasant, sharp scraping sound, the gemstone came loose and split clean in two.

Even so, the stone seemed determined to prove its worth, glowing faintly red in the darkness.

Elizabeth knelt and gathered the broken pieces of the hairpin he had given her.

Even damaged, it was still a gift she had received from him directly.

Clutching the shattered hairpin to her chest, she swallowed her sobs—

but Burkhardt walked past her without a word.

Her tears, dried up since the loss of her child, now fell in a sudden rush, as if to prove they still existed, and would not stop for some time.

***

At last, she managed to steady herself and went out for her walk.

Even if she was emotionally exhausted, she could not break the promise she had made to the child.

It was fortunate that the promise of her free time had not been revoked—or perhaps he had simply forgotten to revoke it.

Either way, Elizabeth wiped her tears and stepped outside.

The hairpin Burkhardt had broken was carefully wrapped in a handkerchief and tied around her wrist.

“My lady!”

The child waved both arms enthusiastically, holding a flower crown woven from tiny blossoms, her whole body radiating joy.

What had she been doing to get grass stains all over her clothes?

Elizabeth could easily picture her roaming the garden, weaving the crown as she went —

just like Burkhardt used to when he was young.

Elizabeth waved back, responding to the child’s greeting.

“Come here!”

Had she been waiting eagerly to see her?

The moment she heard Elizabeth’s voice, the child beamed and rushed forward without hesitation.

“Oh dear, what if you trip while running?”

Elizabeth whispered gently as she pulled the child into a warm embrace.

The child’s laughter was infectious, and a smile bloomed on Elizabeth’s lips as well.

She was the kind of child who could lift your spirits just by being nearby.

Slipping out of Elizabeth’s arms, the child proudly held out the flower crown

“I made this flower crown for you, my lady.”

“The crown is beautiful. Won’t you put it on me yourself?”

Elizabeth lowered herself so the child could place it on her head with ease.

Giggling, the child set the crown gently in place.

“How is it? Do I look pretty wearing it?”

Elizabeth touched the crown atop her head and beamed at the child.

Perhaps her happiness had reached the little one, for the child’s smile grew even brighter as she nodded vigorously.

Seeing that radiant grin, the heaviness that had weighed on Elizabeth’s heart only moments ago seemed to lift away.

“Thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

“My lady looks prettiest when she smiles like this. To be honest, the last time we met, you looked like you were about to cry.”

Elizabeth felt a twinge of embarrassment, realizing that whenever she saw the child, memories of young Burke must have shown on her face.

At the same time, the child’s kindness — noticing even the subtlest expressions — warmed her heart, easing the hurt she’d carried from the portrait gallery.

“Do I look sad today as well?”

She had no intention of letting it show, but it seemed she couldn’t hide it from the child’s eyes.

With a serious expression, the child slowly nodded.

“But I’m so happy to receive this crown.”

“You still look sad.”

The rough edge of the broken jewel against her wrist felt as though it might shred her happiest memories to pieces.

Elizabeth shook her head, pushing her sorrow aside.

“No. I’m happy right now — because I’m with you.”

“Then I’m glad.”

Whether she knew it was a lie or not, the child’s expression turned slightly prim.

Elizabeth reached out and patted her head, a silent thank-you for pretending not to notice.

A faint blush bloomed across the child’s prim little face.

“Your parents must be so proud, having you grow up so beautifully.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course! By now, they must be blaming themselves terribly for not being there to care for you.”

“In the middle of a war, it’s not easy to look after a child. I don’t ask for much — I’d just be happy if they were alive. Aside from feeling lonely sometimes, it’s not that hard.”

Perhaps because she had endured hardship so young, the child had matured far too early.

Elizabeth could relate — though not to the same extent — for she, too, had lost her parents early.

At least she had still had Burkhardt by her side, which had helped her survive the pain of that loss.

But this child had no one.

It was heartbreaking. And yet, she was grateful the girl had grown up so well despite it all.

Perhaps meeting her now was heaven’s will.

Elizabeth stroked the child’s hair and spoke from the depths of her heart.

“From now on, I’ll always be by your side, so you’ll never feel lonely again.”