Standing at the hospital room door, Saronne frowned the instant she saw the man who should not have been there. She didn’t even have the energy left to scoff—she simply tried to quietly shut the door again. She would have, if that shameless man hadn’t reached out and blocked it.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“…Saronne.”

“I’m sure I told you—I have nothing more to say to you.”

“…”

“Do you keep coming here, spouting nonsense, because you don’t understand? Every time I see you, I want to kill you.”

Saronne’s mood was already at rock bottom, so she let out the kind of harsh words she might normally have kept in check. Even knowing Diego had brought the guards and that the tragedy at the chapel had come to an end, she found it impossible to be civil with him. If anything, her irritation only grew.

“…You look terrible.”

Her brown hair, usually so neatly arranged, hung limp around her face, her skin was pale, and her eyes were rimmed with red. Diego took in every detail of her face, then glanced past her into the room. He saw the unmoving figure lying on the hospital bed.

Saronne, who had once seemed unshakable—no matter what cruel things Diego had said, no matter what accusations Vivian hurled—now looked as fragile as a tree stripped bare.

“Go home.”

Her tone was cold and final as she tightened her grip on the door handle. She didn’t care if Diego’s hand was still in the way; she was determined to shut him out.

“I didn’t come here to waste your time.”

Diego said quietly, holding the door open with a steady, subdued voice.

Knowing she couldn’t overpower him, Saronne let out a heavy sigh. She looked at him with undisguised resentment, then lifted her chin and asked.

“So what is it?”

“Vivian’s sentence was delivered this morning. Since you’ve been here at the hospital for days, I figured you probably hadn’t heard.”

Diego’s tone was simple and direct. Unlike last time, when he’d come groveling and desperate, today he was composed. Dressed neatly in a black suit, he met Saronne’s gaze before glancing aside.

“When the searches of the Latour Trading House and estate ended, they found plenty of evidence of illegal activity. Vivian was convicted of fraud, theft, and murder. And just recently, attempted murder of royalty was added to the list—she’s now been imprisoned.”

“…”

“Vivian will pay for her crimes. And…the House of Lois will bear the consequences alongside her.”

“…I see.”

Saronne answered quietly. Even as the justice she’d so longed for was finally being served, she couldn’t muster any satisfaction. There was no one to share the relief with—Leobint lay unmoving on his sickbed.

With no energy left for celebration, all she could do was hope for Leobint to open his eyes soon. Saronne lowered her gaze, biting her lip, when—

“…I’m sorry.”

The sudden words made her look up. She braced herself for another round of regret, or pleas to go back to the past, but none came. Diego, neither broken nor drunk as before, simply looked at her with steady, subdued eyes. That was all, but for once, his sincerity was unmistakable. It was as if he had a great deal more to say, but was holding it in out of respect.

“I hope the young lord of Hethrian recovers soon.”

“…Thank you.”

“Take care.”

Turning away, Diego walked slowly down the hall, shoulders slumped, never once looking back. Watching his retreat, Saronne quietly closed the door and returned to Leobint’s side. Sitting down felt impossibly heavy.

For a fleeting moment, she closed her eyes, half-hoping she’d open them to find Leobint awake—but no such miracle came.

‘When will you wake up?’

She reached for Leobint’s hand where it rested beneath the blankets, and the faint warmth there made her chest ache. Only now did she realize just how much he meant to her.

In her previous life, Leobint had made her final moments less tragic. In this one, after she’d only ever dreamed of revenge, he’d given her hope for happiness—and, burdened with his own pains, had helped her accomplish her vengeance to the very end.

‘…Did all this happen because Leobint got involved in my revenge?’

Saronne bowed her head, overcome with guilt and sorrow. Releasing Leobint’s hand, she pressed her face into her palms. Time seemed to crawl by. While the outside world was surely spinning on in its usual rush, inside this hospital room it felt as though everything had come to a halt.

All she wanted was for him to wake up.

Saronne stifled her sobs and cried quietly. Despite having lived through two lifetimes, she couldn’t stop her foolish tears from falling. When would he finally open his eyes? Pulling herself together, she found his hand again and held it tightly.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep.

When she woke up, she found herself sprawled across Leobint’s bed. Her blurred vision registered that it was much darker than before. With a faint sigh, she looked around the shadowed hospital room. Nights like this had become so commonplace that she was almost used to them.

She gently pushed herself upright.

Just then, something slipped from her shoulder and dropped silently onto the chair—so light she hadn’t noticed it was there. Saronne glanced behind her, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

‘…A coat?’

It was one of the coats a Hethrian estate servant had brought when Leobint was admitted.

‘But why is this…’

As Saronne stared blankly at the coat that had fallen from her shoulder, she suddenly heard the voice she had been longing to hear.

“Saronne.”

She froze, startled by the sound she had waited days to hear again. Slowly, she lifted her head, and in the darkness, she met a pair of blue eyes watching her.

“…Leobint?”

Could she be seeing things in the gloom? Was her longing playing tricks on her? But, as always, he seemed to read her thoughts—his hand reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp.

“You…”

Leobint quietly took in Saronne’s haggard face, noticeably thinner from the past few days, before speaking.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“…Yes. I waited. A lot.”

A gentle, reassuring smile tugged at his lips.

“I kept having dreams—three perfect weddings with you. It was hard to wake up from them.”

Hearing his easy, teasing words, Saronne’s eyes shimmered with tears. She abruptly sprang up, kneeling onto the bed and flinging her arms around Leobint.

“Leobint… Thank you for waking up.”

He answered not with words, but by wrapping his arms tightly around her in return.

“Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for not being seriously hurt.”

Overflowing with emotion, she kept going, unable to stop herself.

“I love you, Leobint.”

At Saronne’s heartfelt confession, Leobint paused for a moment, then held her even closer as he replied.

“I love you too, Saronne. So much.”

“Mm…”

Saronne laughed through tears; she was so overwhelmed with happiness that she nearly wept. It felt as if her once-muted heart was finally coming alive again, and even the satisfaction of her revenge was settling gently into its proper place.

As they stood there, Leobint gently stroked her hair and said,

“Saronne, do you remember what I asked for when I first promised to help you? You said you’d grant me a wish.”

“Yes, I remember…”

“I want to use it now. Let’s have our wedding again—this time, for real.”

Saronne finally let him go, drawing back from his warm embrace so she could see his handsome face up close. Her eyes crinkled as she beamed at him.

“Yes, of course.”

This time, she hoped, they would have the perfect wedding—one that nothing and no one could interrupt.

With happiness overflowing, Saronne leaned in and kissed Leobint first.