On the way home from the event, my husband summoned the physician.

Dr. Eleanor arrived in haste, administered a sedative, and prescribed a handful of supplements. She explained that the frequent nosebleeds were due to physical weakness and that these would help restore my condition. She also warned that if I were exposed to stress like today again, it could lead to panic attacks, and insisted I remain at absolute rest for the time being.

In truth, there was little more a doctor could do.

My symptoms were not medical in nature, but abnormalities caused by the depletion of my divine power. Naturally, nothing would show up in any examination.

After the doctor left, the room fell into silence.

Thanks to the sedative, my mind felt at ease, and drowsiness slowly crept in.

My husband sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at me with that same unreadable, expressionless face.

I didn’t like that look.

“If you’re going to stare like that, leave my room. It’s not very helpful for my recovery.”

“…How am I looking at you?”

He asked, sounding faintly aggrieved.

“You just… look like you’re thinking nothing at all. It’s unsettling. You were like that earlier, too.”

Back then, when I was put on the spot for the speech, he had looked exactly the same—like he was watching a stranger, completely detached. It had left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“If that’s how it seemed, then I suppose it worked.”

He raised a large hand and gently closed my eyes before continuing,

“I enjoy watching you struggle.”

“…That’s a strange preference.”

‘Is he insane…?’

Click.

The lights went out, and the curtains were drawn.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, the bed dipped slightly.

He had lain down beside me and wrapped both arms tightly around me.

A warm breath brushed against the back of my neck.

I had never refused him before, but I hadn’t expected him to want me even tonight. Startled, I shifted and lightly pushed against him.

“I’m really sleepy today, so…”

“What do you take me for? Some kind of deviant? I don’t have a habit of forcing myself on a sick woman.”

…Really?

‘Isn’t that exactly what you are?’

I kept that thought to myself as he seemed genuinely offended, but I couldn’t help tilting my head slightly, recalling the past three months.

“I’ll just hold you.”

…Why?

It didn’t make sense.

From his perspective, simply holding me like this served no purpose at all.

Normally, once he was done in bed, my husband would leave without a word—cold and indifferent.

He disliked me. At most, what we shared was nothing more than a mechanical act, a means to produce an heir.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

From behind me, I could hear the steady yet rapid beat of his heart.

It seemed… he truly intended to just hold me.

Didn’t his arms get tired?

I waited for quite some time, but he didn’t move at all.

Because of this strange behavior, the sedative’s effect seemed to fade, and I opened my eyes, turning over to face him.

His even breathing filled my ears.

As if it were the most natural thing, he had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep—still holding me.

I tried to lift his heavy arm away, but the more I did, the tighter it seemed to hold me.

‘Is he really asleep?’

His embrace was broad, warm, and comforting…and yet, it felt suffocating, as though even in his dreams he refused to let me go.

In the end, I gave up trying to escape and, with half-lidded eyes, studied his face.

It had been a long time since I had looked at him this closely.

For someone who had survived countless wars, he was strikingly handsome—refined, almost too neat for a soldier.

Carefully, I lifted my hand and lightly ruffled his soft, dark hair.

And then—

‘Bastard.’

The insult slipped through my mind without warning.

What did he even want from me?

He claimed this was revenge, tormenting me as though he wished me dead—yet at times, he acted in ways I could not understand.

If only he would carry out some truly terrible revenge on me instead…

At least then, things would make sense.

But one thing was certain.

This man—so accomplished, so admirable—could never belong with someone like me, who was slowly dying.

Unless I said it myself, he would never know.

Not that I was dying.

Not how I had been used, forced, and drained by my father.

As foolish as it might be, I did not want him to know.

This… was my last shred of pride.

The medicine must have finally taken hold again.

Curling in on myself like a cat, I soon drifted into sleep.

When I woke after a deep rest, my husband was already gone—likely off to work. The blanket had been pulled up snugly beneath my chin, as though someone had worried I might catch a chill.

***

I wasn’t even allowed to read the newspaper, as it might disturb my rest. It was only a week after the Founding Day event that I finally got the chance to see one.

I had expected to find myself ridiculed mercilessly in the public eye—but not a single article mentioned me.

It seemed my husband had intervened.

Instead, the front page carried a different headline.

The Holy Knights of the Reyal Theocracy would be visiting our capital, Pyrran, to strengthen peaceful relations.

The Holy Knights rarely left the Theocracy, so for any nation to receive such a visit—even as part of a pilgrimage—was considered a great honor.

All the more so for a newly established country like the Estantian Republic.

As my eyes fell on the large photograph of the Order’s commander, Jeremiah Linzer, printed across the page.

I found myself slipping into old memories.

The Reyal Theocracy was a divine nation ruled by the Pope, the pinnacle of religion and the center of all sacred power.

Those born with divine power, known as saints or saintesses, all possessed golden eyes. By their own will, they could choose to become citizens of the Reyal Theocracy, and depending on their abilities, they might become Holy Knights, scholars of divine studies, priests, or nuns.

I, too, had once studied there.

Officially, it was to train and freely use the sacred power I had been born with—but in truth, it was because my father found it more convenient to exploit that power if I was properly educated. So I had spent some time at the Theocracy’s seminary.

There had even been a time when I dreamed of becoming a scholar who studied divine power.

That dream, too, had been crushed by my father.

“Wow… Even the Commander of the Holy Knights is incredibly beautiful. How can someone be blessed with everything like that?”

The subject of Laura’s excited admiration—the man featured prominently on the front page—was none other than Jeremiah Linzer, Commander of the Holy Knights.

And he was someone I knew well.

Jeremy was a prince of the Adelaid Empire, while I was a princess of the Estante Kingdom. Despite our high birth, we had grown close naturally, bound by the same gift of divine power.

In one of the darkest periods of my life, he had been one of the few lights that reached out to me—helping me hold myself together.

He had wanted to become a Holy Knight, while I had dreamed of becoming a scholar of divine studies. We had been rivals, constantly competing for first and second place in our studies.

But it had been a friendly rivalry.

More than anything, we had simply been good friends.

In the Reyal Theocracy, one’s country of origin or position in the line of succession meant nothing.

There was no class system there.

Having experienced a world without hierarchy, I had long understood the injustice of such systems—and perhaps that was why I could understand the revolutionary forces that had overthrown the monarchy.

After I was forced to leave my studies unfinished and return home, Jeremy and I continued to exchange letters, occasionally visiting each other’s countries to maintain our friendship.

But after the revolution…

I could no longer bring myself to contact him so freely.

I was now nothing more than a fallen princess stripped of her title, and the wife of Reinhardt Helares.

Meanwhile, Jeremy, having fully devoted himself to his path, had risen to become the leader of the Holy Knights.

Time had widened the distance between us.

We now belonged to entirely different worlds.

I had thought that would be the end of it.

And yet—

Jeremy was coming to our country.

‘Could I… possibly see him, even by chance?’

At the naïve thought, I shook my head.

My husband would never allow it.

Jeremy’s noble bloodline and divine power would surely provoke his inferiority.

And besides—

Jeremy had probably forgotten me by now.

After all, I was the friend who had stopped replying to his letters.

That assumption, however—was a complete mistake.

***

It was a quiet afternoon in the estate, my husband away at work.

“My lady!!!”

Startled by Laura’s sudden shout, I turned around in surprise as she came running toward me.

“My lady! My lady! My lady! Something incredible has happened!”

“Why are you making such a fuss? What is it?”

“The Commander of the Holy Knights has come to our estate!!”

In this continent, where divine grace and sacred power held absolute significance, a visit from a Holy Knight was considered an immense honor.

Joy rose first—at the thought that my dear friend had not forgotten me and had come to find me.

But even so…

I couldn’t help the unease that crept into my heart.

If my husband found out that a male acquaintance had come to visit me, he would undoubtedly fly into a rage.

But setting that aside—even if Jeremy were not my close friend, it would be an unforgivable discourtesy to leave a crown prince and the Commander of the Holy Knights waiting outside when the lady of the house was present.

So, with no real choice, I made my way down to the first floor to receive him.

Memories of the happiest days I had spent with Jeremy surfaced, leaving my heart unsettled.

“Jeremiah.”

With a mix of complicated emotions and quiet resolve, I called his name.

At my voice, he slowly turned.

“Sienna.”

He looked as though he had been sculpted with divine care—every feature refined, his entire presence imbued with a sacred grace. A gentle, silver-haired beauty.

And his smile—bright and warm, like sunlight—had not changed at all.

“At last… I’ve finally found you.”

His voice softened slightly as he stepped closer, his gaze lingering on me.

“Why didn’t you contact me… even after everything came to this?”