“You must have had a long journey. It is our great honor to welcome His Excellency, the plenipotentiary of the Estantian Republic, and the esteemed delegation to the imperial court.”

As the vice president had arrived bearing the presidential seal and full authority, even the emperor extended a formal and respectful welcome.

The Estantian Republic was a rising power—one that advanced rapidly through its flexible thinking and progressive ideals. In today’s diplomacy, national interest came above all else. Pride and appearances mattered far less than tangible gain. Old doctrines and outdated ideologies held little power in the face of change and the rise of capitalism.

For an empire built on absolute monarchy to engage with a classless republic might wound its pride—but for the sake of the nation, it was unavoidable.

“Additionally, I extend my blessings and gratitude to my third son, Prince Jeremiah, who leads the Holy Knights in the Holy Kingdom.”

There was unmistakable pride in Emperor Ulysses’s voice as he introduced Jeremy.

“And I also offer my thanks to Saint Gwen Gracia and Holy Knight Isabel Seraphina, who have accompanied him.”

With the presence of a Saint and Holy Knights, it felt as though the honor of the Adelaide Empire was being elevated to the heavens themselves.

Soon, it was time for the first dance.

The emperor and empress stepped forward, followed by the princes, each escorting carefully chosen noble ladies of marriageable age. Several members of the Republic’s delegation—guests of equal importance—also took partners and moved onto the floor.

But Helares remained still, his expression unreadable as he sat in silence.

Whether he was aware of it or not, every eye in the room lingered on him.

Even the proud aristocrats of the empire cast curious, admiring glances in his direction. Some noblewomen hovered nearby, clearly hoping for a chance to speak with him—or perhaps even share a dance.

‘Please… just choose one of them and remarry. Don’t pay me any more attention.’

“Sienna. Let’s take the first dance together.”

“It would be my honor.”

Jeremy smiled as he extended his hand, and I placed mine lightly in his.

At that moment, I felt a sharp gaze pierce into my back.

Instinctively, I turned.

“What is it, Sienna?”

“…Nothing.”

I shook my head and stepped onto the dance floor.

‘Act natural. Be normal.’

I repeated it to myself over and over.

But throughout the entire dance, my body remained tense—like a thief caught in the act.

It felt as though I had become a shameless wife, boldly committing betrayal right in front of my husband.

“…At this rate, Isabel might end up seeking naturalization here.”

I let out a quiet laugh as I watched Isabel, surrounded by handsome imperial nobles, clearly enjoying herself.

“Jeremy. I need a word.”

Just as the first piece ended and we were about to leave the floor, Prince Caleb stepped in at the perfect moment, stopping Jeremy.

“…It’s important.”

Glancing at me as if he was about to say something I wasn’t meant to hear, Prince Caleb pulled Jeremy toward the back of the banquet hall.

“Jeremy, go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

“I’ll be quick. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry.”

I gave a small shrug, as if to reassure him, glancing briefly at the royal guards stationed around the hall.

While waiting, I drifted toward the table to get a drink.

“Saint, I am Harold Geneman from Lowell. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, yes. Hello. But I’m actually—”

“May I have the next dance?”

“Saint, I was hoping to ask you something about the Holy Kingdom—”

The moment I was alone, they came all at once.

“…I’m not feeling well at the moment. I’m sorry.”

Trying to slip away from the sudden crowd, I found myself gradually pushed toward the corner balcony.

I glanced inside.

Thankfully, it was empty.

Perfect.

I quietly opened the door and stepped outside.

The early spring air was still cold enough to bite. Leaning against the railing, I gazed down at the beautifully arranged garden below. Soft gaslight illuminated the paths, giving it an almost dreamlike, storybook quality.

Click.

The balcony door opened behind me.

Heavy footsteps followed—slow, unhurried, yet carrying a weight that pressed down on the air itself.

A tall figure stepped out of the light and into the shadows, coming to rest against the railing a short distance away.

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Helares.

The way he appeared the moment I was left alone, it was almost like a dog that never took its eyes off its master.

“Good evening, Commander Helares.”

Masking my discomfort, I greeted him calmly and straightened from the railing.

“It’s a bit cold, so I was just about to head back inside. Please, take your time.”

“Did you know?”

Without so much as a proper greeting, he spoke abruptly.

Unease curled in my chest, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to meet his gaze.

“That we look alike.”

‘Not the same golden hair, the same gentle eyes, the same pale, harmless impression…But black hair. Sharper eyes. A colder, more severe presence.’

Only then did I understand why my current appearance felt so terribly out of place against the pure white robes of a Saint.

The appearance I had asked Isabel to create—one completely opposite to my own—was, of all things, strikingly similar to Helares.

For a brief moment, panic tightened in my chest.

‘What if that alone was enough for him to see through me?’

I bit down on my lip.

No… that couldn’t be enough for him to be certain I was Sienna.

Forcing myself to remain composed, I shook my head lightly.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“No… you’ve noticed it too.”

I knew he was probing for a reaction. I tried to stay calm, but it felt like the air around me was slowly closing in.

“You look exactly the opposite of my wife. And yet… in doing so, you resemble me.”

I turned my head, trying to leave as quickly as possible, but our eyes met.

“For a coincidence… it’s rather interesting, isn’t it?”

Tilting his head slightly, Helares smiled.

Against the backdrop of the dimly lit garden, that smile was almost too beautiful—enough to send a chill down my spine.

“Saint… you owe me a debt, don’t you? I have a small favor to ask.”

Even from a distance, his low voice struck my ears as if he were whispering right beside me.

“My wife… is currently in the Holy Kingdom.”

At the mention of his wife again, my thoughts blurred, heat rising to my face.

“She’s run away from me for a while. If you happen to meet her—”

“….”

“Tell her I’ve been waiting faithfully. That she should come back.”

“….”

“I’m more than willing to forgive the deception she’s shown me.”

A suffocating weight settled over me, like sinking into a mire with no escape.

“But if she refuses to return of her own will—”

“….”

“Then tell her this.”

“….”

“No matter the cost… I will come to take her back.”

“…You should tell her that yourself.”

I couldn’t endure him any longer.

Just as I was about to turn and leave the balcony—

“Gwen.”

Jeremy stepped in, just in time.

“Jeremy.”

“I’m here now. It’s alright. Come here.”

Sensing the tension, he reached out to me, ready to pull me behind him.

At the same time—as if drawn by something he couldn’t resist, Helares slowly reached out toward me as well.

Of the two hands reaching out to me, I took Jeremy’s.

I saw Helares’s gaze drop to where our hands met.

Jeremy gently drew me closer, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as he pulled me into his embrace.

The hand Helares had extended toward me froze in midair.

His eyes, fixed on me as I stood sheltered in Jeremy’s arms, trembled.

A crack appeared in his expression.

The arrogance, the quiet confidence from moments ago—gone.

For an instant, he looked like a man who had lost everything all over again.

Loss. Despair. Jealousy.

A fleeting expression only I could recognize.

But just as quickly, Helares smoothed it away, concealing it beneath that familiar, impenetrable composure.

“Commander Helares, if you even thought of threatening Gwen while I was away, I won’t forgive you.”

“That’s quite a misunderstanding. I was simply carrying out the purpose of this ball—fostering diplomatic relations.”

As always, Helares stood there perfectly composed, not a trace of disorder in his appearance.

And yet—for some reason, it felt like a mask.

Because his pupils… were dilated.