The scene changed.

He was still dreaming. He allowed his consciousness to drift, observing the events as though they were a street performance that he could see through a window.

This time, he appeared to be sixteen or seventeen. One thing was certain: it was before the wedding.

“We should arrange the marriage at an auspicious time, Count.”

It was a conversation between the Emperor and Count Erdei.

Benate kept stealing glances at Ailie, who was sitting at a nearby table. He wanted to speak to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Even after their first meeting, Ailie remained a woman of few words.

She was not entirely unresponsive — she did speak now and again. However, her remarks were often abrupt and oddly placed, trailing off like broken fragments of a monologue.

“That.”

“Ah, this handkerchief? My nanny gave it to me last time. She embroidered it with a leaf pattern…”

“It was by the fountain.”

“Huh? Th-that can’t be… no, you must have seen a similar one. It’s a very common design…”

“……”

“……Ailie?”

It was usually like that.

Her vacant eyes never seemed to focus on anything in particular, and she spoke in a disjointed manner as though she were sleepwalking.

Despite being in the same room, she seemed impossibly distant and lonely, as though she were somewhere far away.

“She’s not mentally stable.”

When Benate mentioned Ailie to a childhood friend, this was the response he received.

For some reason, the moment he heard those words, he found himself unable to remain calm. He flew into a rage, stormed out, and told the boy never to show his face to him again.

Even after that, his anger did not subside. He tore up and burned every apology letter that arrived without reading a single word.

He hated it — he despised it utterly.

He despised the way someone who knew nothing could speak so decisively, as though passing judgement.

And yet, at the same time, a question quietly took root within him.

‘And what do I know, anyway…?’

Not even Benate himself knew.

What kind of person was Ailie?

He wasn’t sure if she was of sound mind.

“Benate.”

That was when it happened.

Startled, Benate knocked the glass of juice off the table. Ailie had suddenly called his name as she approached.

While he floundered in panic, a servant hurried over at the sound and quickly wiped down the table. In their haste, they failed to notice that a small amount of juice had splashed onto the sleeve of the Crown Prince’s jacket.

Just then, a white handkerchief entered his pale blue field of vision.

“It would be better to wipe it with this.”

Ailie turned away, leaving only those words behind her.

Benate stood there awkwardly, clutching the faintly perfumed handkerchief, and stared after her retreating figure in a daze.

If she truly had been nothing more than a perfectly crafted doll and nothing had ever reached her, he would never have allowed himself to hope.

But, strangely enough, there was the slightest crack.

Sometimes she stood with an expressionless face as though she could not hear him. At others, she responded in a way that made perfect sense. One moment she would look past him endlessly, as if he did not exist; the next, she would meet his gaze with startling clarity. And if fortune favored him, a brief exchange would follow.

That fleeting moment.

Perhaps that was what had ignited his stubborn resolve.

“Ailie—wait.”

Benate chased after her retreating figure.

Despite running as fast as he could, the distance between them never closed. Then, his vision was swallowed by a blinding white light —

— and the scene shifted once more.

It was a banquet.

Ailie was seated beside him on the throne. This alone made it clear that this was after their wedding.

In truth, he could tell that simply by looking at her expression. After the wedding, Ailie usually wore a gentle smile at official events. This was a welcome change from the blank expression he had seen for so many years, even if that smile was never intended for him.

She seemed to take walks in the garden with her maid, Breni, from time to time. She also visited the library and occasionally met with the Empress Dowager.

But she never came to see him.

Even when Benate happened upon her by chance, she barely reacted. As though he weren’t there at all, she would sit quietly at her desk, absorbed in her reading.

“I ran into Her Majesty briefly in the corridor, and she didn’t seem to be in a good mood. Did something happen?”

“Pardon? Something? No—Her Majesty seemed as relaxed as usual. Quiet, yes, but no different from before.”

Ultimately, Benate had no choice but to ask the maid, Breni, about Ailie’s condition.

At first, he thought she was talking nonsense.

However, as time passed, he realized that this was not the case.

Ailie was perfectly sane.

She was simply ignoring him.

It was as though an enormous wall stood between them.

“Veselli.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Instead of the Ailie seated beside him, Benate called Breni.

Even when her own maid was addressed, Ailie showed no reaction. She merely maintained her picture-perfect smile.

“It’s hot today. I had a necklace prepared by a mage for the Empress, but I forgot to bring it.”
“Ah! The one enchanted with cooling magic?”
“Yes. It’s been a while since we’ve had an outdoor banquet, and…”
“As expected—the pride of the Empire.”

Breni clasped her hands together, smiling brightly.

“Your Majesty’s love for Her Majesty the Empress.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Ailie’s rose-tinted eyes finally turned toward him.

The emptiness within them wavered.

It was a reaction unlike her usual one.

‘Is she unwell?’

Just as Benate rose from his seat to check her complexion—

“I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Ailie said those words and stood first.

His eyes caught the way her hand, gripping the hem of her dress, trembled in tiny, uncontrollable shakes.

“Wait—Empress!”

Calling out to her, Benate hurried after her.

The throne had never seemed particularly high, yet the staircase leading down stretched on endlessly.

“Please wait! I need to talk to you!”

Ailie did not turn around.

She descended the long stairs swiftly, never once pausing for Benate.

“Ailie, just listen to me—please, I—”

That was when a massive door appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Ailie opened it and vanished into the light.

‘I have to follow her.’

Benate quickened his pace, rushing down the stairs—

“…Ail… ie…”

There was no door.

Instead, the banquet hall, which was packed with nobles staring up at him in confusion, was directly beneath the throne.

Benate slowly withdrew his outstretched hand.

He felt as though he would never see Ailie again.

Forever.

The moment the thought surfaced, Benate clutched at his chest.

A sharp pain flared up in his heart and spread throughout his body, leaving him gasping for breath. An indescribable sensation overwhelmed him.

It felt as though the whole world were collapsing—

as if the fragile ground beneath his feet might give way at any moment and send him plunging into a bottomless abyss.

Benate turned back and walked towards the throne.

The Empress’s seat was empty, but he forced himself not to look at it.

All he could do was wait for Ailie.

He had no idea when she might arrive—

—or if she ever would.

Or if she might one day turn back to look at him after waiting long enough.

He knew nothing.

All he held on to was his foolish, unrequited love.

‘I’ll try to kill these feelings.’

A thought he had once had surfaced dimly in his mind.

He couldn’t.

No matter what, he could not bring this love to an end.

***

Before she knew it, morning had arrived.

Ailie stared blankly at the pale light filtering in through the window. She hadn’t slept at all in the end.

Thanks to the antidote that Teda had prepared, Benate’s breathing was now much steadier. The purple bruising that had spread across his left arm had faded.

It was a relief.

The unanswered question would never become a burden she carried.

The sense of ease sinking deep into her chest was more complicated than that, but Ailie chose to think of it simply as relief.

‘It’s fine. He’s all right now.’

Ailie covered her mouth with one hand and yawned quietly.

‘I should be able to rest now.’

She thought as she rose from her seat, intending to close her eyes for a moment in the rocking chair.

Due to the unexpected patient, Teda had also gone to sleep in the attic. Fortunately, there was a spare bed there — old, but usable. This made Ailie feel a little less guilty about imposing.

She had just begun to walk towards the rocking chair a few steps ahead when—

“…Ailie…”

A sleepy, low voice came from behind her.

It seemed that Benate had woken up.

The instant she heard it, Ailie turned around.

Still lying in bed, Benate rolled his eyes to look at her and cautiously reached out a hand. His pale blue gaze wavered from side to side.

Why was that? His body should have recovered by now, yet his eyes looked deeply unsettled, like those of a child who had just woken up from a nightmare.

“Ailie.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“……”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“……Ailie.”

“Yes.”

Was he still half-asleep?

Even after she had answered, he called her name again, as though he hadn’t heard her. It was puzzling, but the strange urgency in his voice caused Ailie to respond calmly.

“Ailie.”

“Yes.”

And then, in the next moment—

“Can you… hear my voice?”

He asked something completely out of place.

‘Can you hear my voice?’

Of course she could. That was why she had been answering him all this time. Ailie nodded.

Perhaps he still thought he was dreaming.

“Yes, I can hear you. I’m listening.”

At that response, the lake-like pale blue of his eyes rippled gently.

They did not fill with tears, yet for some reason, Ailie thought they looked as though they might begin to cry at any moment.

Even though that couldn’t possibly be true.

“I wanted you to hear me.”

The end of his voice trembled, like tiny waves lapping at the shore.

“I waited.”

Ailie stood there, frozen, as though rooted to the spot.

“All this time. Always…”

She knew Benate was speaking without any clear context.

And yet, for some reason, she could not turn away.

‘You must be tired. You should sleep.’

The words refused to come. They weren’t difficult words, yet she couldn’t say them.

“I just wanted you to answer me.”

‘What do you mean? When have I ever refused to answer you?’

She wanted to ask.

But—

“I love you beyond measure, Ailie.”

Every word she had meant to say vanished before that confession.