Two years ago, on a summer’s day when the air was heavy with the scent of roses, Sveta approached Ivan to tell him that she was pregnant.

The gentle way she said the word ‘family’ still echoed faintly in his ears.

She had lived alone her entire life.

Of course she must have been happy, finally having something she could call her own.

It was easy to picture her with her hands resting on her barely rounded belly, smiling softly as her beautiful eyes lit up with joy.

And yet—

It had been him who rejected her.

He who rejected the child.

He who rejected the idea of family altogether.

He had been arrogant.

Cold.

Cruelly indifferent.

“What in the world did I do to you…?”

The consequences of his arrogance and indifference hit him like a tidal wave.

It felt as though the bed had suddenly given way beneath him.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

It was as though his heart were slowly and mercilessly being carved away, piece by piece.

Aiden gasped and forced himself upright.

An unfamiliar heat spread through his body.

Every emotion surged at once: Blazing anger at himself.

Boiling sorrow.

A longing so intense that it felt as though a crown of thorns were pressing into his flesh.

And love.

“They say you are dead… and yet I…”

He knew she was dead.

He knew there was not even a body—no fragment of bone left behind.

And still, he could not let go.

“…Sveta.”

As though possessed, Aiden murmured her name and walked toward her bedchamber.

The door before which he had always hesitated—

He flung it open without pause.

“……”

He stood on the doorstep and took a deep breath.

A soft, wistful fragrance lingered evenly in the air.

She was not there, yet her scent remained vivid.

It made no sense.

Was he hallucinating?

The room was immaculate, as though Sveta still lived there. The illusion tightened around him.

Aiden stepped towards the bed, its white sheets smooth and untouched.

“Ha…”

Something caught his eye.

A dry breath escaped his chapped lips.

With trembling fingers, he picked up the bracelet resting on the bedside table.

It was a string of pearls, with a rose-shaped piece of coral at its center that gleamed softly.

“…You took all the other jewels, yet left this one behind.”

The woman he loved had always been resolute and merciless.

Even in death, she denied him.

Aiden clenched the bracelet in his fist. Blood seeped through the bandage, staining the glossy pearls a deep red.

He felt hollow.

All the precious things he had offered her — his sincerity, his heart —

She had accepted none of it.

Had she ever truly accepted anything from him?

No.

Even when they lay together, their legs entwined and sharing the most intimate of moments, she had never truly belonged to him.

This realization became a jagged thorn, relentlessly driving into his palm.

In fact, it was so unbearable that he wished he could simply die.

He had never imagined it would come to this.

Not after he had pointed a gun at her.

Not when he ordered her to behave like a mistress.

Not when he had reduced her to the level of a courtesan.

He broke her.

Piece by piece.

Each time he hurt her, he lost another part of her.

He had been too blind to see it.

Too dull.

Too selfish.

It seemed as if every vile word in existence had been created just for him.

Darkness closed in.

In a sudden fit of desperation, Aiden flung open the wardrobe doors.

He longed to embrace her clothes.

He wanted to trace the buttons at the back of her dress and run his fingers over the ribbons.

Anything.

“…Why did I keep this?”

Why hadn’t he thrown away this old, black-stained garment?

Next to it hung a lemon-colored dress that was still faintly marked with dried tea stains.

He remembered the day she had worn it.

How could he forget?

“Your Grace…”

“Are you truly saying that?”

“Let me go!”

Soaked in tea and pushed against a laundry tub, Sveta looked at him with hurt in her eyes.

It was just a cruel illusion born of longing.

Now, every breath felt like swallowing thorns.

His throat burned. His lungs felt as though they were tearing apart.

Aiden staggered backwards.

The floor beneath his feet seemed to turn to quicksand, sinking beneath him with every step.

He could not stay here.

Like a wounded animal, he stumbled back towards his bedchamber.

The taste of blood filled his mouth — he must have bitten his lip.

His ragged breaths tore through the metallic tang on his tongue.

He could no longer bear the inferno of emotions consuming him.

“The sedative. The sedative…”

With shaking hands, he rummaged through the drawer.

Instead of the tranquilizer, he seized the pale green bottle.

“If it’s this…”

Perhaps it would ease the pain.

In the suffocating darkness, it felt as though a beam of light had pierced through.

Aiden lifted the vial and swallowed.

***

He flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with half-closed eyes.

A searing heat spread through his body, as if molten iron had been poured down his throat.

It travelled slowly through his body, invading his veins and bones.

He blinked languidly.

Hundreds of candles cast fractured light over his exhausted body.

“…Sveta.”

He murmured her name again.

It clung to his lips like glue; it was impossible to dislodge.

Whenever he looked up at the clear sky, she came to mind.

So he drew the curtains tight and buried himself in paperwork, refusing to look up.

But when the light of the setting sun filtered through the fabric and spilled across the white paper, she returned to him.

He withdrew to his bedchamber and hid within the shadows of the canopy.

And when true darkness finally descended, he missed her beyond what he could bear.

Her long lashes, trembling faintly, seemed to brush against the edges of his heart.

On the night their bodies pressed close—

— her ebony hair, bathed in moonlight, shimmered before his eyes.

The memory of her soft skin beneath his palm stirred within him.

It was a sorrowful ecstasy that was too intense to endure.

To escape the darkness, he lit hundreds of candles.

Aiden’s days began to move in reverse.

By day, he fled from the light. By night, he fled from the dark.

He ran and ran again.

If Sveta could see him now, she would surely pity him.

Staring blankly into the void, he muttered under his breath, as though trying to defend himself.

“…I have no choice but to run. You are not here. So I…”

His stiffened tongue would not bend easily.

“…I do not need anything that reminds me of you.”

What he needed was not a world that resembled her.

He needed Sveta.

Only her.

“It’s bright, Your Grace.”

She was there, even though he was hiding behind the bed curtains.

Her voice, like the ripple of water, melted his blanched heart.

Lying facedown, Aiden clutched at his chest. The buttons on his shirt tore free under the force of his grip.

“You are everywhere… and yet why…”

Why couldn’t he grasp her when he reached out?

A foul heaviness seemed to melt his insides. His upper body, which had been heaving violently, now tilted weakly to one side.

Blood vessels burst, staining his eyes red.

They closed.

His contorted face slowly stiffened.

At some point, his ragged breathing stopped.

***

Dalia lowered her hand mirror weakly.

She could no longer count the new wrinkles that had appeared at the corners of her eyes.

Life had lost its flavor.

Baron Luce was dead. Lady Noma was unconscious. And her adopted daughter had died too.

It felt as though misfortune itself was clinging to her.

The only wise thing she had done was to keep Sveta’s true identity a secret from the duke.

‘If word that the Princess of Prisada had died were to reach Queen Lepharda…’

She would certainly be hanged at Fern’s Fountain in the town square.

The thought alone made her shudder.

“How am I supposed to live now!”

Dalia shrieked and flung the mirror across the room.

It shattered loudly against the wall.

A faint irritation flickered across the face of the maid standing nearby.

Dalia glared savagely at her.

“What are you looking at?”

And then, as if nothing had happened, she carefully knelt beside the bed.

Of course, she placed a soft cushion beneath her knees so they would not be harmed.

“Lady Noma…”

Her gaze upon the motionless woman was desperate.

Gently stroking the wrinkled back of Lady Noma’s hand, Dalia prayed fervently.

“Please… please, Lady Noma. Wake up. If only for my sake. You are all I have left.”

She rubbed Lady Noma’s hands and arms insistently, muttering over and over.

“You will wake. You must. You would never abandon me.”

Sweat gathered on her brow.

As Dalia pressed a handkerchief to her face and examined Lady Noma, her thin eyelids trembled.

Then, suddenly, Lady Noma’s eyes opened.

Dalia gasped and frantically signaled to the maid.

“Look—look at this! Lady Noma has opened her eyes. Hurry! Call the physician at once. Hurry!”

“Yes, Lady Luce.”

As the maid rushed out, Dalia clung to Lady Noma.

“Are you conscious? Can you hear me?”

“……”

There was no answer.

After blinking several times, Lady Noma’s eyes slowly closed again.

Dalia was seized by fear.

With trembling hands, she held a fan under Lady Noma’s nose.

The peacock feathers stirred gently with her breath.

“Ah… she has only fallen asleep, surely?”

‘See? No one dies so easily. I am fortunate. Yes, I am!’

Now, it felt as though she was riding on the back of fortune itself.

With her heart racing, Dalia waited for the physician to arrive.

However, after a long time, it was not the stout physician who entered the bedchamber, but a gaunt apprentice.

“The physician?”

“He cannot come. I apologize, madam.”

Dalia stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend.

“What do you mean he can’t come? Lady Noma has opened her eyes, and yet he still refuses? Why?”

“…He is attending to someone of greater importance.”

Dalia’s shrill voice seemed to tear through the ceiling.

“Someone of greater importance? Who? Don’t tell me His Grace is ill?”