“Burkhardt…”
“Don’t say my name. I’m not going to stop.”
“I love you. No matter how much you deny me or push me away.”

Burkhardt gave no reply. Instead, he loosened her clothing and let his gaze travel over her, a heat seeming to follow wherever his eyes touched.
When his deliberate scrutiny ended, he slowly took hold of her ankle.

“Ah…”

A sound escaped her, tinged with pain. She hadn’t meant to provoke him, but at the sound, a flush rose to the corners of his eyes.
After a brief hesitation, his large hands began to apply gentle pressure from her ankle up along her calf.

The rare sensation of being tended to in this way stirred old memories.
As her body grew languid and her eyes began to close, his sharp voice cut through the haze.

“Feeling sleepy? Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m planning. Did you play the same innocent act with the Count, pretending you knew nothing of men?”

The sudden accusation made her shiver.
She couldn’t tell if her reaction came from his rough manner or the sting of his words.

Despite the harshness in his voice, his hand moved with care as it brushed over her abdomen.
How should she respond?
For now, she wanted to set aside her turmoil and, just for a moment, feel cherished again in Burkhardt’s arms.

Elizabeth despised herself for wanting to hide her guilt just to feel a fleeting moment of happiness.
It felt as though she were turning away from the hurt in his heart for her own comfort.
And yet, if he was fighting so desperately to protect their love, she believed he might eventually forgive her.
The thought made her both glad and deeply pained.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Do you think it’s funny that I’m so desperate for you?”
“No… I just never imagined I’d be in your arms again. I’m so relieved you came back—I thought you were dead.”
“Relieved? You’re always scheming to get away. I suppose the Count must have been quite skilled, if you can lie here under me and still be thinking of someone else.”
“What are you talking about…!”

Elizabeth was about to protest when Burkhardt caught her face in his hands and silenced her with a fierce, unyielding kiss—wordlessly telling her she had no right to speak.
He pursued her with relentless determination, until the cold air in the room seemed to burn with the heat between them.

Only when her strength gave out and no sign of resistance remained did he release her.
Breathing hard, he looked down at her with dry, unreadable eyes, then lowered his face toward her in a slow, deliberate motion.

Sensations she had long forgotten began to return, memories stirring as his presence lingered close.
His breath brushed her neck, and with deliberate persistence, he left marks that would not fade quickly.

“Ha… why are you so beautiful, hm?”

Burkhardt looked at the marks he had left and smiled in satisfaction.
After years of being untouched, her body seemed to recognise its counterpart, responding with ease.

When his familiar, gentle touch suddenly withdrew, an overwhelming sense of strangeness washed over Elizabeth.

She gasped, forgetting how to breathe, her body tense and unmoving under the pressure of the moment. Burkhardt closed the distance between them completely, pressing her further.

“Beth. You need to breathe.”

It was the tender voice she had longed to hear for so long, yet all her attention was fixed elsewhere.

“Beth…”

At last, she managed to draw in a breath. Instinctively, she leaned back, twisting slightly away.

“Don’t struggle.”
“Burkhardt…”
“Damn it… you’re driving me mad.”

His voice was low and rough, his skin damp with sweat as he loomed over her.

Being held in Burkhardt’s arms felt so safe that Elizabeth clung to him as if she would never let go.
She buried her face against his broad chest, her arms unable to fully encircle him, listening to the steady thud of a heartbeat she couldn’t tell was his or hers.

Sensing her body gradually relax, Burkhardt’s movements became more insistent, drawing her closer.
The intensity made her fingers and toes curl involuntarily, and a breathy sound escaped her lips.

“Haah—”

Her quiet exhalation seemed to please him; he smiled with the lazy satisfaction of a lion at rest.

That smile sent a jolt through her, as if her whole body had been struck by lightning, overwhelming her completely.
Feeling as though she might collapse, Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut.

Then, just as she thought his movements would continue, they stopped.
Something heavy rested lightly against her collarbone.
A soft sensation brushed past, and she knew instantly what it was—he had a habit of burying himself in her arms whenever he was troubled or in pain.

In moments like this, he would silently release his suffering into her embrace.
But this time, more than sorrow, Burkhardt seemed filled with anger.

He muttered aloud, as if he wanted her to hear:

“Damn it… without you, I can’t breathe. And yet, after leaving me so faithlessly… what could I possibly find beautiful about you?”

It hurt to see him in such anguish, to hear such a raw confession, but there was nothing Elizabeth could do for him.
He still had his face pressed into her, his shoulders trembling.

Though her body was tense from enduring his love, she managed to lift one hand and gently pat the shoulder leaning against her—hoping, at least, to bring him a little comfort.

It seemed to work; the trembling in his shoulders gradually subsided.
Having spent the last of her strength trying to soothe him, Elizabeth wished she could simply drift into a deep sleep.

Yet he still did not allow her to sleep.

After tormenting Elizabeth for a long while, Burkhardt pressed a series of small kisses to her ear. Then, in a low, rough voice that seemed to scrape along her neck, he whispered:

“…”

Exhausted, Elizabeth gave no reply and drifted into a faint sleep—unaware of the lingering madness in his gaze as he looked down at her.

She awoke to a pleasant weight pressing against her and, glancing down at herself, felt her cheeks grow warm.

Scattered irregularly across her skin were reddish marks from his relentless attentions through the night—like Luella flowers blooming in profusion after surviving the winter cold.

“At this rate, no matter what I wear, it’ll show…”

Turning her eyes toward the sleeping Burkhardt, she smiled softly.
Nothing had been resolved; as long as their misunderstandings remained, they could still wound each other.
And yet, she was glad simply to be with him.

“Your face may have changed a lot when you’re awake, but when you sleep, you’re just the same.”

Because of his long hair, Burkhardt twitched in his sleep, just as he often had in the past.
Elizabeth slipped from his arms and gently smoothed back the strands of gold.

Back when things were good between them, she would often braid Burkhardt’s hair while he slept, letting it fall loosely down his back.
More than once, she had been caught stealing a kiss, thinking he was fast asleep.

“Now… it’s something I couldn’t even dream of doing.”

With a bitter smile, Elizabeth rose from the bed.
As she moved, the blanket they had shared slipped halfway down.

“What… is this?”

She had only meant to straighten the covers.
But by chance, she caught sight of Burkhardt’s body—and it was in ruins.

Countless scars from blades marred his skin, and among them were deep wounds that looked as though they had once brought him to the brink of death.
Perhaps the Count’s claim that he could kill unseen in war had not been an empty boast after all.

Unable to even imagine the dangers and pain he must have endured, she felt a crushing sorrow.
Tears welled and rolled silently down her cheeks, tracing a path along her jaw before sliding down the line of her neck.

Once they began, they would not stop.

She had thought all her tears had dried up after losing her child and spending countless nights weeping.
Elizabeth stifled her sobs, trying to cry quietly so Burkhardt wouldn’t hear.

If only he hadn’t noticed.
At the sound of rustling, she hastily wiped her face, but Burkhardt brushed her hand aside and studied her features.

Even in such a desperate situation, the way his fingers traced the tracks of her tears brought back memories—of that warm touch that had always wiped them away.

But what did it matter now?
The Burkhardt of the past was gone.
The man who would take in her tears no longer existed; only the one who looked at her with cold, reproachful eyes remained.

“Tear stains…”
“It’s because of you. You tormented me all night—of course I’d have tears.”
“You wouldn’t have swollen eyes just from crying under me all night. I heard your voice, but you weren’t crying. Tell me the truth.”

That she had seen his scars… that it had hurt her so much she couldn’t help but cry—
She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Because Burkhardt never revealed her past himself, she couldn’t bring herself to press him with questions.

“Just…”
“It’s because of Count Orte, isn’t it?”
“Why bring up Count Orte all of a sudden?”

She disliked the constant misunderstandings from the man she loved.
Elizabeth let slip a piece of the story she had intended to keep buried.

“And Count Orte didn’t die of illness. I… killed him.”
“You killed him with your own hands?”

Burkhardt repeated the words—whether to himself or as a question, she couldn’t tell—his tone laced with disbelief.

Would he believe her?
Elizabeth, hoping he would, managed to answer in a voice barely above a whisper:

“Because he took everything precious from me.”

“You’re only saying that now because the situation’s changed trying to get back in my good graces.”
“Not everything you see, hear, or even imagine is the truth.”
“Ha… so now you plan to cover my eyes and ears?”
“I’m not trying to deceive you. It’s just…”

Burkhardt, as if he had no need to hear the rest of her words, leaned in and murmured:

“We’re returning to the Clemens Empire today. Leave everything here behind. Once we’re there, I’ll give you anything you want.”

She needed nothing else—but she couldn’t bring herself to abandon the Luella syrup she had always made in memory of their time together.
There were no Luella trees in the Clemens Empire.

“…I want to take the Luella syrup with me.”
“If you want it, take it. Though I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea…”

Watching the subtle changes in Elizabeth’s expression, Burkhardt smiled leisurely and continued:

“Ah, I’ve found the perfect place for you. When I return home, I plan to reinstate the position of Empress—just for you. I’ll make you the most precious and beautiful doll in history.”