Zephion gazed quietly at the woman lying as though dead upon the bed.

No—perhaps she truly was dead.

Since the day of the execution, she had neither breathed nor had a heartbeat.

‘Will she really wake again?’

He had no choice but to trust that the emperor had not lied. More than once he had pressed his ear to her chest, held his hand beneath her nose, searching for any sign of life—yet nothing.

“Haa…”

Clasping his hands tightly, he lowered his forehead onto them.

Aaron had not been killed — only because he was deemed ‘too young’. Zephion had taken him away without difficulty, claiming the child would be discarded with Reina’s body. Had the boy been old enough to walk — or even to crawl properly — someone might have stood guard. As it was, he would only have died if he had been left behind.

Thus, with the two of them hidden away, Zephion fled under the pretence of ‘inspecting the territory’, heading for the Baltgar estate.

He had expected it to be in ruins after more than ten years of neglect. But the manor stood intact. A layer of dust had gathered, which was easily brushed aside — proof that someone had tended to it regularly.

The sight stirred memories he hadn’t realised he still carried.

The portraits of the late Marquis and Marchioness of Baltgar hanging in the lobby were the first things his eyes fell upon.

In truth, he did not remember his parents. How could he? They had died when Zephion was only three. But other fragments came back faintly.

The ornate chandelier that had once vanished. The stairs he had climbed over and over. The Marquis’s chambers where he had stayed as a very young child. Even the Marchioness’s room, where he had sneaked in whenever he longed for the mother he could no longer recall.

It was as if the late marquis couple might return at any moment, asking, “Have you come back?”

There, in that place, Zephion stood in a haze of shock for a long time.

The reason behind it all came to him days later, through a servant who arrived.

The man, who said he came every two weeks to dust and air the rooms, revealed that his employer was a trading company. When Zephion pressed further, piece by piece, the truth led back to Reina.

He hadn’t spoken her name outright—but said it was a young woman who walked with a cane. It could be no one else.

It had all been prepared for him.

What had she been thinking, restoring all of this?

‘I won’t even be able to ask now.’

Even if she woke, she would have no memory.

Perhaps Reina had foreseen, long ago, that Zephion would one day reclaim Baltgar.

If so, then why had she taken him in? Why had she raised him? Why had she taught him? Why had she been willing to throw away her own life? Why…

Had she loved him, even the smallest amount?

Zephion pressed his lips firmly together and closed his eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter if I can never ask.’

He would never know if she had really loved him. But that no longer mattered.

All he wanted was for her to breathe again and open her eyes. He feared every day that she was rotting away like this. When he touched her cheek, all he felt was the cold chill of death. Her tightly shut eyelids refused to open.

If she died, he would have nowhere to direct his fury.

Reina Berend was already considered dead. How could he possibly be angry now over her ‘real’ death?

‘I can’t even say I kept my promise to her.’

As she had asked, he had dug up Eldan’s corpse and cast it away. The man had been Zephion’s enemy as well—something that had needed to be done.

By the desecrated grave, he had barely recalled Yeria. A withered woman, once the Countess of Helfried. Reina’s mother.

He had known little of her. Only that she resembled her daughter… and that she had been Countess Helfried. There was nothing more to ask of the dead, so he had reburied her as well.

Leaving her in the Berend family’s cemetery would only bring more misfortune. So he laid her to rest beside the last count of the ruined Helfried family, in a grave without a trace.

‘No one will ever come to find that place.’

The sole surviving member of the Helfried line would have no memory of it. Even when she had still remembered, she had never sought it out. It was plain at a glance the site had been abandoned long ago. Perhaps it was better that way—to be completely forgotten.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been lost in thought when a knock sounded at the door.

“Master, the young lord has awakened.”

“Bring him.”

The door opened, and a maid entered, cradling the child in her arms. Zephion gazed quietly at the small face, eyes rolling gently as they wandered about, before taking him into his own arms.

“Alteon.”

He whispered the new name he had given him.

The name Aaron had been given by Kaelid.
To accept the child into the house of Marquis Baltgar, Zephion thought it best to change it, and so he chose a new one himself.

If it had been possible, he would have asked Reina’s opinion. But she had been asleep for so long now that he had no choice.

“Kyaa.”

Alteon smiled brightly, reaching his small hands toward him.

After deciding to accept the boy as his son, the hatred he felt eased—if only slightly. Truly, it could never disappear entirely. At times, looking at Alteon, he would still be reminded of Kaelid. But with Reina’s memories gone, the only ones who knew the truth were Zephion and the emperor. So long as they kept silent, Kaelid would have no shadow left in this world.

‘He’s my son.’

Even though he repeated the thought over and over, love for Alteon did not suddenly spring forth. Still, he believed it would grow with time. The boy so closely resembled Reina.

With a large hand, Zephion gently patted the child’s chest, then laid him down beside Reina. Perhaps because he had begun to hold himself up little by little, Alteon squirmed restlessly, nuzzling against the woman’s body.

Whether or not he knew she was his mother, the boy pressed his cheek to her and laughed softly.

Zephion watched Alteon roll about for a long time. With the child she had so desperately wanted to protect lying beside her, it felt as though Reina would open her eyes at any moment. But her eyelids, lightly closed, remained unbearably heavy, refusing to open.

Outside, the sun was slowly setting. Zephion turned his gaze to the window, painted red by the dying light.

Today again, Reina did not wake.

***

The days at the Baltgar estate passed slowly.

He had expected to throw himself into restoring the manor, but to his surprise, it had been left tidy, as though waiting for him. There was little to demand his attention. He hired servants, inspected the land.

It was his first time truly governing a territory. Everything felt awkward, burdensome—but he adapted quickly.

‘So this is what Reina meant when she said, “Blood cannot be denied.”’

A bitter smile touched his lips.

The bitterly cold winter had finally passed.

Through it all, Zephion continued to open and close the window of the room where Reina slept.

If the room grew too hot, he feared… feared her body might decay, that she would never wake again. So he flung the windows wide. But if the cold became harsh enough to freeze everything, he grew terrified that she might awaken only to freeze to death. Then he would rush to shut the windows, lighting the fire in haste.

Reina looked like a doll made of wax.

He found relief in the fact that there was no change… then anger… then begged her to wake. He raged like a madman, asking if she even knew he had staked his very life for her. And then, quietly, he confessed the questions he wanted so desperately to ask.

What had she been thinking? Why had she restored this estate? Had she loved him?

Of course, no answer ever came.

Meanwhile, the child had grown quickly. From wriggling on the floor to crawling in the blink of an eye. Soon, he would be walking.

At first, he hadn’t even seemed to know that the name Alteon belonged to him. But now, when called, he turned his head.

Watching the boy, Zephion thought quietly to himself.

Just as he had expected, seeing that face every day dulled his hatred bit by bit. At first, every bright smile had brought Kaelid to mind. But now, such thoughts came rarely.

Perhaps by the time Alteon became a grown man, Kaelid would be erased from his memory altogether.

‘As long as Alteon doesn’t grow to resemble Kaelid…’

A faint laugh slipped from him. It was almost absurd.