Back on that rain-soaked day in the park, when she cried while speaking to him, Ariana still had the excuse of hiding behind her daughter. She could say it was only because Bibi liked him—that she had no choice but to see him.

“I hate you, Duke.”
At the time, his apology had felt incomplete, only half-hearted. And Ariana had believed, with full sincerity, that she hated him.

Even though they stood in the same downpour, he still looked untouchably composed, and she hated that too.
She’d wanted to scream: Why do you still make me feel so small? Why do I have to suffer—both when we were together, and even now, long after you left?

But when she saw the devastation in those weathered sea-green eyes… it became harder to say she hated him.

Especially now—both of them collapsed on the floor, her body folded into his embrace.

Ariana had intended to keep hitting his chest and shoulders, but cradled like this, she quickly lost the strength to continue. The hands supporting her back and waist were too hot and immovable.

“After throwing me away back then, why are you doing this now? Do I look that easy to you?”

Kenneth tightened his arms around the woman who was suffering because of him. Impossibly, he wanted to start again in a world where she would never have to cry like this.

“I’m not saying any of this because you’re easy. I was wrong — back then and even now. I keep hurting you.”

“Liar! Liar!”

Ariana didn’t want to imagine how wretched she looked, crying like a child. Yet the resentment she hadn’t realised she was harbouring spilled out in a torrent.

“After I died, you buried me without a second thought, didn’t you? Because I was too hideous to look at.”

“That’s not true. I stayed there—until the very end—”

“And my belongings? You burned them the moment you saw them, right? Too filthy to keep.”

“I kept everything—every last piece—”

“And our baby’s grave—don’t tell me you tore that away, too!”

“I didn’t.”
Kenneth sucked in a sharp breath, as if each inhale seared his lungs with hot steel.

“…I planted violets there.”
“…”

“White ones, and purple.”

Ariana stared at him, utterly disoriented. Strange. Only days ago they’d grown awkward over that very flower; he couldn’t have forgotten. So why invoke violets now—unless he was telling the truth?

More than anything, those sea-green eyes—ruined, desolate—left her reeling.

‘No… I mustn’t be fooled.’
The saint had said Kenneth lived out his life peacefully. A holy being wouldn’t lie—would he?

But what if everything he’d just said was a lie?

“Should I come with you? In case your trip to the capital ends up taking longer than you thought…”

—A far-off memory of a seaside hotel.
She still remembered the moment she’d asked the question, purely out of politeness, and how he had lifted a hand to cover the faint smile at his lips. Back then, she’d known he was overjoyed, yet she couldn’t bring herself to insist on accompanying him.

‘What if a man who loved me that much really did exist?’

***

Kenneth carried Ariana—limp from crying—and laid her on the bed. Her face, reddened like a child with measles, tilted up; she sniffled, unable to stop. In the last life or this one, he always ended up making her weep like this.

“H-How… do you remember?”

She stammered, not even bothering to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“They said only Bibi could receive a miracle… that I was beyond help…”

“…”

“Then how is it you remember?”
“…That—”

Kenneth paused, dabbing the wet tracks from her pale cheeks.

‘How much of my pact with the Saint should I reveal?’
‘How many of those days, drowning in despair, clinging to a single illusion just to survive, can I bear to confess?’
‘Should I tell her how I bled out alone in that empty cathedral after the assassination—that it was truly the end for me?’

‘She could have lived a peaceful life, never abused, if I hadn’t fallen for her and hovered at her side.’

If he had spoken while still half-mad, he might have blurted everything out.

But now he was thinking clearly again, he could not bear to burden this woman any further.

He had hurt this fragile woman time and again, never realising that her delicate body could hold so many tears. She had already experienced enough pain in her life, so there was no reason to burden her with the story of a man consumed by regret for repenting too late. All he wanted now was for Ariana’s life to be filled with bright, sunny days. He would not brandish a confession from a past life as if it were a pardon for this one.

Drawing her into his arms again, Kenneth murmured in a rough, quiet voice:

“I met that being—just before I died in the last life.”

“…How did you die?”

“Back then, I—”

Kenneth drew a ragged breath.

Only now did he understand why his former self had chosen words sharp enough to push her away. With every new truth, he saw fresh evidence of the wounds he’d inflicted—and realized, to his horror, that she might actually forgive him. Once, he’d begged for that mercy; now the thought of receiving it filled him with dread.

Ariana was gentle, blameless—a woman he had never deserved.

His throat burned as he forced the words out. He could have lied, could have claimed he’d lived and died an ordinary life. But he couldn’t bring himself to confess that in that life there had been another woman… other children besides their daughter…

So he offered half the truth.

“I carried out my duty—and then I died.”

“Duty…?”

“Yes. That’s probably why my memories were returned to me.”

“What kind of duty could possibly warrant that?”

She blinked, lips trembling, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. Kenneth laid a gentle palm over her eyes.

“Later. I still need to put my memories in order. When you wake, I’ll explain.”

“But—”

“Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“…”

Ariana, face flushed with fever, panted softly while staring up at him—then shut her eyes with effort.
Only when her breathing evened into sleep did Kenneth cup her face in both hands and sit in heavy silence.

Memory crashed over him like an unrelenting tide.

‘The Saint made me endure those agonizing years so I could protect her in this life.’

Very well—he would make the suffering worth its price.

‘First, contact Damian Baptiste, hand over every scrap of intelligence on the Arlo conclave, and wipe out anyone who needs removing. Then move Ariana and Bibi somewhere no one can touch them…’

“What Bibi wants most is for Mommy not to hurt.”
‘I’ll grant that wish, my daughter—even if it means carving myself out of Ariana’s life.’

***

Ariana awoke with the sudden conviction that she might be the stupidest person alive.
Rubbing her puffy eyes, she let out a groan.

Kenneth had told her it was OK to rest, but falling asleep in the middle of a sob? Honestly?

At least the fever had gone, making her feel lighter. However, remembering what she had said made her wish the fever would return and knock her out again.

It was shocking enough that Kenneth also had memories of their past life, yet she had blurted out everything from corpses to keepsakes, not to mention every petty grievance that had crossed her mind.

‘Why did I blurt out something like that? We’re incompatible anyway.’

The chasm between us is far too deep and our temperaments are clearly mismatched.

Truth be told, Ariana had half-expected Kenneth to drag her away the moment their time together was up. She’d even feared this while he was nursing her. No matter how politely he masked it, the quiet pressure had always been palpable.

Yet this time, the suffocating weight was gone.

When he covered her eyes and whispered goodnight, the tenderness — something she had never felt from him before — left her feeling both mortified and bewildered.

It wasn’t the clumsy gentleness of a novice; he spoke as though kindness were second nature.

Worse—far worse—was the fact that…

—she found her heart responding to it.

The lie that Joseph Renard was “this life’s” father of Bibi had been completely exposed.

“…What do I even do now.”

Ariana groaned, covering her face with both hands. In her flustered state, she had accidentally admitted—through context alone—that Kenneth was Bibi’s biological father.

Fine. That much was probably unavoidable.

But that also meant he must have realized Joseph… didn’t exist at all.

‘Oh no…’

She had stood in that jewelry store, holding up that garnet ring with her nose in the air, claiming, “It’s from my third husband. That’s why I treasure it.”

Replaying the memory in her head, Ariana was struck with a wave of mortification so strong she couldn’t bear it.
She shoved her face into the pillow and shook her head violently.

“Oh, what do I even do now!”