Before the regression, Ailie had thought that Benate’s infidelity was her own delusion, a misunderstanding or a nightmare she had imagined.

No matter how fiercely she insisted that she had witnessed the affair, no one believed her. Instead, they offered her empty compliments and praised the couple’s love as the pride of the Empire.

Worn down in body and spirit, and having lost her place in the world, Ailie began to doubt her own memories.

What came of that doubt?

She witnessed their betrayal once more, and this time it cut deeper than ever before, flooding her with a crushing sense of betrayal.

It was then that she made her decision.

‘I won’t be deceived by hollow lies anymore.’

‘I’ll believe only what I see with my own eyes.’

“…Your Majesty.”

Ailie called out to Benate, her voice trembling.

His pale blue eyes wavered, unable to properly meet hers. That confused, uncertain look—somehow—

“Is it… not a lie?”

The words overlapped with her own past self.

She had only ever spoken of what she had seen with absolute clarity, yet she had been met with nothing but disbelief. The moment she forced her eyes open wide, swallowed her tears, and tried desperately to convince the other person…

Ailie could not bring herself to look away from those eyes.

Could this, too, be a mask? Another passing whim? Or perhaps—just perhaps—it was a performance so flawlessly cruel that it bordered on perfection.

But—

‘At the very least, I want to hear it.’

‘What that day was like, in Benate’s memory.’

Back then, all Ailie had wanted—even just once—was for someone to listen to her story, and judge it for themselves.

—without being treated like a madwoman the moment she spoke.

“Please tell me, Your Majesty.”

“……”

“Everything that happened back then. Leave nothing out.”

Reaching out to her former self, Ailie spoke to Benate.

She still could not trust him. She still harbored deep resentment towards the Benate who had ruined her life before the regression. Forgiveness was something that would never come.

And yet, just this once, she wanted to follow her heart.

“It was right after we arrived at the Count’s estate. I asked the steward to relay my request: would you accompany me to the festival in the Kingdom of Picus?”

“Yes.”

“When word came back that you agreed without hesitation, I waited outside with a hastily prepared gift.”

A gift?

She had no memory of receiving any gift at all.

“What kind of gift was it?”

“It seems you don’t remember. It was nothing extravagant, after all.”

Benate said this with a bitter smile, as though it were only natural for her to have forgotten such an insignificant gift.

But Ailie thought otherwise.

At that age, the one thing she wanted more than anything was Benate’s affection and attention. If she had received a gift from him, there was no way she could have forgotten it.

When she met his blue gaze, silently urging him to continue, Benate opened his mouth once more.

“A small bouquet.”

The moment the words left him—

Ailie’s vision wavered violently. She blinked rapidly, pale rose–colored eyes filling with shock.

“It was made of small yellow flowers—ones I didn’t know the name of. I remember choosing them because they smelled pleasant.”

A strange scene surfaced in her mind.

On the way to the kingdom in the carriage, she had noticed a faint floral scent that she couldn’t quite identify. There were no flowers in sight, so she wondered why the fragrance lingered.

The thought had passed quickly. Assuming it must have come from perfume sprinkled on a handkerchief or the carriage seats, she didn’t think much of it.

But one day, after returning to the Count’s estate, Ailie looked at the floor of her bedroom and froze in shock.

The room was in complete disarray.

Wilted flowers lay crushed beneath careless footsteps, as though someone had trampled them. Shredded scraps of paper were scattered everywhere.

A heavy, cloying fragrance filled the air, even though the flowers themselves had withered beyond recognition.

“I wanted to give you something, and a flower shop happened to catch my eye. Even if they wilted quickly, I thought they might lift your spirits, if only for a moment— Ailie? Wait—”

Benate, who had been speaking with his gaze lowered, suddenly startled and reached out.

Ailie had begun trembling, both hands clamped over her mouth. Her eyes shook wildly, unable to settle anywhere.

It felt as though that strange floral scent was still drifting through the air, making her stomach churn.

Benate looked at her with a face on the verge of tears, then pulled her lightly into his arms.

Pat, pat—his hand clumsily patted her back, awkward and unpracticed.

“Stop the carriage. Now!”

Upon seeing her expression, Benate shouted urgently.

The coachman peered through the window to check Ailie’s complexion. He turned pale and quickly brought the carriage to a halt. She saw him run outside, presumably to summon a doctor.

Or perhaps it was the sudden stop. Or maybe it was Benate’s continued gentle patting.

The phantom scent of flowers gradually faded. The dizziness in her head slowly cleared. Ailie blinked once, then again.

“…I’m all right now.”

Only after she had said that did Benate finally take his hand away.

His blue eyes, heavy with worry, fixed on her in silence. Reflected in them was a face drawn thin with exhaustion.

The thoughts that had stalled in her mind began to move again, slowly and laboriously.

The bouquet that Benate claimed he had prepared.

The unidentifiable floral scent that lingered in the carriage.

And the sight she had discovered in her bedchamber.

‘No matter how I think about it, it’s strange.’

Despite it being the same day, their memories did not align. This fact alone was deeply unsettling.

Assuming that both recollections were accurate…

—then Benate had indeed given her a bouquet that day, which Ailie had somehow failed to recognize. After returning to the Count’s estate, Ailie went about her days, unaware of the bouquet’s existence, until she stepped on the flowers strewn across the floor. Only then did she notice.

That would be the sequence of events.

‘Is that even possible?’

Although it could be explained, it was difficult to truly understand.

Why hadn’t she recognized the bouquet?

On that day, it was almost as if there had been an invisible, massive wall between Benate and Ailie.

“Your Majesty! Are you all right?”

Looking pale, Sirion rushed into the carriage.

She felt a strange prickle creep up the back of her neck and glanced past him to see a group of anxious faces peering in through the window. She offered them a gentle smile, as if to reassure them that she was all right.

Sirion swiftly took out his medical tools and began examining her. It wasn’t bravado; her condition showed no particular abnormalities.

Throughout the examination, Benate never took his eyes off her. The worried crease between his brows repeatedly drew her gaze.

“For now, there’s nothing serious. Still, it would be best to stop by a nearby village and let you rest.”

“I’m fine. There’s no need—we haven’t even been traveling that long.”

“Even so…”

Sirion trailed off, looking dejected.

Just as Ailie was about to speak again to reassure him—

“Empress, please. Do as the physician says.”

Benate cut in first.

Ailie glanced back toward the carriage behind them, hoping to find someone who might defend her—

“Ah…”

They were all in it together.

There was some worry here and there. The coachman paced restlessly nearby, while the knight commander — who had been riding quietly at the back to do some paperwork — came over to check on her.

Finally, overwhelmed by everyone’s concern, Ailie raised both hands in surrender.

“…All right.”

***

The gleaming, luxurious imperial carriage arrived in an area close to the capital.

Having recognized the imperial crest, the local governor, Baron Karpa, hurried over to welcome the travelers and insisted on hosting their party.

The village was small and quiet, home to only a handful of residents. Mountains rose not far away, and although the Imperial Knights frequently conducted training expeditions in the area, the risk of monster attacks was minimal. It was an ideal place to rest for the night.

The group followed Baron Karpa to his estate.

“It is an honor to host you both. It’s March now, and this year marks the 380^(th) anniversary of the Empire’s founding, so I assume you’re heading to the temple?”

“That’s right.”

“To think you would pass through Karpa on your way to such an auspicious ritual—what an honor this is. Perhaps the long drought will finally come to an end.”

“A drought?”

Benate asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Karpa was only two hours from the capital by carriage. The capital had been drenched by heavy rain the previous week, so how could Karpa alone be suffering from a prolonged drought?

And it wasn’t only the capital. There had been no reports of drought anywhere in the Empire in recent years. So why had rain failed to fall on this one small village?

Ailie considered several possibilities, then slowly shook her head.

Without the intervention of magic or divine power, such a phenomenon was difficult to explain.

“I don’t recall hearing any reports of this.”

“We submitted reports several times, but they said it made no sense and dismissed them as false. It seems they never reached Your Majesty.”

“I suppose it would be difficult to accept at face value.”

“Still, the people of Karpa work in the mines, so their livelihoods haven’t suffered too greatly. As for food, we’ve always purchased supplies from the capital.”

“How long has the drought lasted?”

“Half a year.”

“Half a year? You mean it hasn’t rained in Karpa at all during that time?”

It was fortunate that the damage had been minimal—but the situation itself was troubling.

The Baron laughed it off, saying that since they were on their way to perform an important ritual, they should not burden themselves with such vexing thoughts. However, Benate remained serious and shook his head.

“For reports from Karpa to fail to reach my ears for a full half year—this is not a matter that can be brushed aside.”

“That may be so, but—”

“Regardless of the ritual, once we return to the imperial palace, I’ll see that this is properly addressed. Keep that in mind.”

Clearly taken aback, the Baron bowed repeatedly to express his gratitude.

Although Karpa itself had not yet experienced severe consequences, the situation was far from normal. There was no guarantee that such an anomaly would not spread to other regions. The fact that reports had been dismissed for six months—

As the Baron suggested, this may have been because the claims sounded unbelievable. However, there was also the possibility that someone had been working behind the scenes.

As Benate said, this was not something that could be ignored.

Before going downstairs, the Baron offered the entire third floor of the manor to the party, urging them to rest comfortably.

After agreeing to leave the following morning, the group dispersed to their rooms.

Just as Ailie was about to enter hers—

“Ailie.”

Benate called her name.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He parted his lips as if wanting to say something, then fell silent for a long moment.

‘What should I do—just exchange pleasantries and go inside?’

As Ailie was thinking that—

“I don’t expect anything from the Empress.”

The words came out of nowhere.

“So…”

The lake-colored pale blue eyes wavered slightly, as though he were hesitating.

“…I only hope you get some proper rest.”

A small sigh followed, murmured almost to himself.

It felt as though what he truly wanted to say lay elsewhere—but he had deliberately turned away from it.