“I won’t run away.”

She stared piercingly into Astaire’s eyes.

“So don’t worry.”

How could he not worry?

Astaire had so much to say. But it was all tangled like thread, twisted this way and that, impossible to find where it began.

In the end, once again.

He maintained his silence.

When he held Daphne’s hand, Astaire quietly frowned.

Her hand felt different than before.

Previously, it had been smooth as silk without a single blemish. The typical hand of a noblewoman.

But when had it changed?

Her hand now bore small wounds.

Astaire raised his finger and touched the scratches on the back of her hand.

“You…”

He opened his mouth with so much to say, then closed it again.

Somehow he felt he shouldn’t say more.

They’d already crossed a line they couldn’t return from.

And Daphne, seemingly aware of this too, smiled brightly with upturned lips.

A smile that somehow felt sad.

Astaire lost his words.

“…Then that’s a relief.”

Was that all he could say?

He felt pathetic, but couldn’t help it.

“I’ll see you again next time.”

Astaire turned his back and hurried out of the bedroom. He tried to erase thoughts of Daphne still floating in his mind while rapidly calculating in his head how to handle the accumulated work.

Until he completely left the bedroom, he deliberately ignored the gaze boring into his back.

Click.

The bedroom door closed.

Daphne was now alone in the room.

She quietly clenched her trembling hands. Then, feeling a chill, she wrapped her arms around herself.

With a haggard face, she muttered.

“How did he know…?”

* * *

That morning, Daphne had woken much earlier than Astaire.

This too was completely different from usual.

Astaire normally woke before dawn.

But perhaps because he’d broken into cold sweats all night from dreams, he seemed to have finally fallen asleep only in the morning.

Seeing the dark shadows under his eyes, Daphne deliberately let him sleep without waking him.

Knock knock.

“Excuse me, Your Grace? My lady?”

“Shh.”

She even sent away the head butler who’d come up, worried that Astaire hadn’t emerged from the bedroom despite the time.

Daphne almost unconsciously reached out to brush back his sweat-dampened hair.

She realized too late she shouldn’t do this.

In just a few days, the distance between them seemed to have grown by a million years.

This man who seemed unreachable even when beside her.

She’d given up trying to hold onto him now.

Daphne wore a smile fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

Then she carefully rose from the bedroom.

Bright yellow morning sunlight illuminated her chocolate-colored hair.

Her green eyes, shining more vividly in the natural light, held an unusual gleam never seen before.

Daphne had made her decision.

This time she would leave Astaire without mistake.

And she’d accepted it now.

She couldn’t shake him off entirely on her own strength.

Even for Astaire, she needed a power that would make Duke Seyfried hesitate to act rashly.

And someone to help her…

There was exactly one person.

She remembered there was a servant in this estate connected to that person.

So while Astaire slept, Daphne sought out that maid and sent a letter.

Before long, the letter would reach that man. And he would respond somehow.

Daphne was certain of it.

After handling that business and returning, Astaire had been pale-faced, afraid she might run away.

“How did he know…?”

As expected of Astaire Seyfried—that man had good instincts.

A few hours later, at the Second Prince’s villa in the capital city of Elysion.

Tea and refreshments for one person sat on the spacious table.

But the villa’s master sitting before them, Second Prince Phaios, hadn’t touched the food at all, simply sitting still.

His attention focused solely on a single letter on the table.

When he first read the words written in that letter, he doubted his eyes.

Please help me.

A letter with just one sentence.

Though it bore no sender’s name, Phaios recognized the handwriting.

He’d remembered Daphne’s handwriting all this time.

“You’re certain the sparrow from Duke Seyfried’s estate brought this?”

“Yes. I’m certain.”

To investigate Duke Seyfried, a loyal subordinate of the First Prince faction, he’d planted several people in his estate.

Sometimes his subordinates were discovered en masse and lost their heads in succession. But like one can’t perfectly eliminate insects, over time Phaios had succeeded in planting his people in Duke Seyfried’s estate again.

This problematic letter, delivered through a subordinate who’d infiltrated as a maid in the ducal estate, had thus ended up on Phaios’s table.

“Daphne.”

Phaios stroked the already-dried ink marks with his finger, quietly calling that name.

A name he never tired of calling, no matter how often.

His aide frowned disapprovingly and offered counsel.

“You mustn’t. Helping the Duchess of Seyfried escape from the estate is too dangerous.”

“Is there anything we do that isn’t dangerous, Vicente?”

“Still…”

Vicente, struck by Phaios’s point, quietly closed his mouth.

“Moreover, didn’t the First Prince send his subordinate Rowell to attempt contact with the Duchess?”

“You’re saying we can’t dismiss the possibility the Duchess has joined hands with the First Prince?”

“Yes.”

Phaios still remembered what expression Daphne wore in Astaire’s embrace.

An intense gaze. Yet eyes glistening with moisture, like tears would fall any moment.

It was closer to the appearance of an endlessly sorrowful woman than a happy one.

If she’d become Duke Seyfried’s woman, she should be that happy.

She should be living well.

Phaios’s mouth tasted bitter.

“The Duchess seems to be in some difficulty, so it’s proper we protect her on our side.”

“Why do you think so?”

There was actually another reason.

But Phaios put on the cold eyes of the Second Prince again and explained to his aide.

“Because she might share much information she knows as the Duchess.”

Eventually even the aide couldn’t argue and quietly closed his mouth. It was a valid point.

“Could you open the window for a moment?”

At Phaios’s command, the curtains parted to both sides and the transparent window opened wide.

The moment he saw the deep green laurel tree deflecting the sunlight.

Phaios regained all his peace of mind.

The man slowly inhaled.

The slightly spicy fragrance reminded him of Daphne’s strong aspects.

“Stop tormenting him!”

Even when her own situation was difficult, Daphne had stepped forward for him.

When the Academy students who’d been tormenting him finally left with angry “just you wait” threats.

Daphne, like it was nothing, bent down without hesitation and extended her hand to him.

“Are you okay?”

The laurel scent from outside the window also held Daphne’s gentleness from that time.

And when he grasped her hand.

When Daphne pulled him up vigorously, helping him stand properly.

The moment that fragrance resembling fresh summer scent permeated his nose, Phaios literally fell in love with Daphne.

It was truly his childhood first love.

“First love is just first love.”

After graduating from the Academy, he’d still hidden his status and enlisted in the imperial army. The fellow recruits wasted time every night talking about women. He remembered someone coldly saying that about first love.

Until then, Phaios too had thought first love was merely first love.

A childhood first love couldn’t be one’s last love.

But while rolling around on the battlefield, news arrived.

“Did you hear? Duke Seyfried got married.”

“That ice-cold Duke? There’s a woman who suits him? Unless it’s Marquis Melanian’s daughter.”

“Daphne Brandley, you know her?”

“Who’s that? Never heard of her.”

When he overheard his army comrades gossiping about this news in passing, Phaios felt his heart sink.

No, it felt like his whole body was thrown off a cliff. Suddenly his fingertips went cold.

Only then did he realize.

That he’d kept Daphne in his heart all this time.

But if he loved her, he should truly wish for Daphne and Duke Seyfried’s happiness.

However, when they reunited after several years at the ball.

Daphne didn’t recognize him as Jayden at first glance.

Second Prince, and Duchess.

The positions they’d gained in those few years created a vast distance between them.

Now she was somewhere unreachable even if he extended his hand.

Phaios clearly remembered Daphne calling him “Your Highness” repeatedly, treating him with formality.

He’d probably have difficulty forgetting for a long time.

“Your Highness, what shall we do about the private meeting with Marquis Melanian?”

“Cancel it.”

“He’s been requesting to meet for several days now… Wouldn’t it be acceptable to meet once and hear what he has to say?”

“Vicente.”

When he called the name in a low voice, Vicente flinched and quickly bowed.

“My apologies. I overstepped.”

The Second Prince kept receiving letters from Marquis Melanian. He knew well why that man, who’d been a pillar of the First Prince faction, wanted to meet him.

Because of that snake’s daughter, Reina Melanian.

Society said she had the personality and appearance of a pure forget-me-not, but despite observing her for a long time, Phaios found that woman uncomfortable.

Like a poisonous plant hiding dangerous toxins.

Marquis Melanian’s intentions were obvious.

He’d help the Second Prince, and when the Second Prince became Emperor, he wanted him to take his daughter Reina as Empress.

Becoming imperial in-laws that way, his scheme to surpass the Seyfried ducal house’s stronghold was transparent.

“I don’t like it. Not that man, nor his daughter.”

The Second Prince murmured while still looking at the laurel outside the window.

As expected.

Phaios thought he terribly resembled his birth mother. Blood really couldn’t be deceived.

Phaios’s mother had been the Emperor’s concubine.

She’d loved the Emperor with all her heart, but was ultimately assassinated by the Empress and her family.

The Emperor at that time had no power, so even when the woman he loved was assassinated, he couldn’t resist at all.

“Phaios… Run away.”

He couldn’t forget his mother then, blood flowing from her lips, barely speaking to him.

“Never… return to the imperial palace.”

‘I’m sorry, Mother.’

Phaios closed his eyes and muttered internally.

‘To fulfill Father’s wish, I’ve come to the imperial palace like this.’

Having lost his mother, during his powerless boyhood when he couldn’t call the Emperor his father.

That’s when he gained understanding.