What… what do you mean by that?”

Once again caught off guard, Selaia’s voice trembled. Leave Tropez? Leave Cheringen behind?

“You’d have us go and leave you here alone? We’re the only family you have left. Our parents worry for you too.”

Benian’s reply came as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“…”

When Selaia gave no answer, he seemed to draw courage, speaking with greater insistence.

“Staying here won’t change anything. You’ll never escape this godforsaken place. You’re too young to waste your life away here – life is long.”

“…But I can’t leave Tropez with Rote.”

Although she had not been officially recognised, Rote was still the Emperor of Tropez’s daughter — and his only child at present. This prevented Empress Johanna from harming her all this time.

‘If I were to cross the border with Rote in tow…’

“No one said you had to take her.”

“…!”

Selaia’s eyes wavered. Benian struck his chest in frustration.

“Selaia, get a grip. She’s not even your blood. She has her own kin to look after her.”

With fervent words, he claimed it was out of genuine concern.

“Just leave the child with her father, and we’ll start fresh in Hilbrante. All of us, together. Yes?”

“…Benian.”

“Yes.”

Benian answered readily, brimming with anticipation.

But in the next moment, he found himself staring into the coldest expression he had ever seen on Selaia’s face.

“Watch your words. You may be my family, but so is Rote.”

Selaia’s voice remained gentle, yet firm as she continued.

“No matter what anyone says, Rote is my daughter—and I will be the one to care for her.”

“But…”

“If that’s truly the reason you came here, then take your gifts and go back. I’ll accept only the sentiment.”

“Selaia!”

Benian called out loudly, moving as though to approach her.

“Step back.”

It was Laska who swiftly moved to block his path. Benian scowled, but he couldn’t bring himself to push the man aside.

‘What an infuriating fellow.’

Benian disliked everything about him: his towering height, which made him feel small; the pretence of politeness that only served to prevent him from reaching Selaia; and his irritatingly handsome face.

“I’ll at least see you through breakfast. If you lack travel expenses, I’ll give you some coin as well.”

“…”

“Go back safely. Still… it was good to see you after so long.”

With that, Selaia turned away. Her resolute steps carried her toward Rote, Vera, and Elaine, who were still looking over the carriage. Watching her, Benian finally raised his hands in surrender.

“Fine, I get it! I was wrong!”

Selaia’s steps halted. Benian let out a resigned sigh, his face drawn.

“Just accept the gifts. Share them with the people if you want. Just… let me stay a few days. The journey to Hilbrante is long—let me rest here a little before I leave.”

“…Very well.”

She nodded.

In truth, even Selaia—who had spoken so firmly—did not feel good about turning Benian away. They had shared their childhood, and once, she had regarded him almost as a younger brother.

‘If he goes into exile in Hilbrante, we may never see each other again.’

The memories they had were too precious for her to cast him off completely.

And when she lifted her head, her gaze met Laska’s.

“…”

The moment their eyes met, she found herself wondering how strange it was to look into his sea-blue eyes, which curved faintly as they rested on her.

‘They are eyes that seem neither pitying, nor indifferent.’

There was a gentle light of comfort in his eyes—without the burden of excessive pity—and somehow, gazing into them calmed her heart.

“…Laska, I think it would be good to distribute the food to the townsfolk this evening, in the village square. Will you tell Elaine and Vera to make the preparations?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Laska bowed his head briefly.

Selaia turned once more and walked on. Laska and Benian, left staring at her retreating figure, were quietly observed from afar by Rote, whose expression was unreadable.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

Thanks to the food that Benian had brought, the village was able to hold its first festival in years.

The villagers piled firewood higher than a grown man and set it alight. They gathered around the large bonfire and sang and danced to the sound of traditional instruments.

Having played with children her own age all day, Rote was exhausted and had already gone to bed.

“We used to hold a spring festival of sorts, but as life grew harsher, the tradition died out.”

Vera, who had a paper flower tucked behind her ear, explained this as she handed Laska a plate of food. Laska had just returned to join the celebration.

Taking the plate laden with the savoury ham, roasted duck and fresh vegetables he hadn’t seen in a long time, Laska nodded.

“Are paper flowers another specialty of Cheringen?”

His teasing question made Vera wrinkle her nose as she tapped the flower by her ear.

“Real flowers are too rare and delicate here. Paper ones are the next best thing.”

Vera was a native of Cheringen and had long been accustomed to its barren landscape. But it must have been much harder for Selaia, who had previously lived in fertile lands, Vera explained.

“I heard that the lady once loved flowers very much. But here, they’re such a luxury that she’s never asked for them, not even once.”

“I see.”

As Laska was responding, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. A group of village women dressed in their finest clothes were gathered together, laughing merrily as they surrounded someone.

“I just hope she can enjoy herself, even for a little while.”

Listening to Vera’s voice, Laska found his gaze fixed on the woman stepping out from among them.

“…I hope so too.”

Wearing a delicate crown of paper flowers upon her loosened hair, dressed simply and smiling brightly, Selaia looked less like the lady of a domain and more like a forest fairy.

The firelight danced across her face, casting her features in a dreamlike glow.

“Laska.”

That fairy-like woman called his name as she walked toward him.

Laska blinked. Selaia, having slipped away from the barrage of compliments from the village women, laughed.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

At her kind question, Laska met her gaze and drew up the corners of his lips. The words slipped out before he realized it.

“Yes, I think I’m enjoying it more and more.”

At that, Selaia’s eyes widened, then softened into a radiant smile of relief.

‘Did they add more firewood? The whole place feels brighter somehow.’

As he entertained that fleeting thought, the crowd suddenly swarmed toward them, surrounding the two. This time it wasn’t women, but young men.

“My lady! You must dance with us as well!”

Their eyes shone with eager anticipation, lifted by the excitement of a long-awaited festival.

“Ah, well…”

Though she had practiced waltzes back in the social world, Selaia had never danced freely in a place like this. She was just about to decline politely, saying she was content to simply watch, when Laska rose from his seat.

Her gaze tilted upward as her view filled with the sudden height difference.

“Would you honor me with a dance, my lady? I’m not familiar with these kinds of steps.”

Laska extended his hand as he asked. The calloused palm no longer felt foreign to her.

Selaia looked down at it for a moment before slowly laying her own hand upon his. Laska’s lips curved in a satisfied smile as he looked at the small, elegant hand resting atop his own.

“I should warn you, I don’t have the skill to teach you much.”

“That’s all right. I think it’s better to stumble together than to stumble alone.”

Selaia laughed at his playful words, unable to scold him.

Having achieved their goal of dragging the lady into the dance, the young men cheered and turned back to their revelry, moving to the lively rhythm once more.

“Then, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

Laska bent close and whispered in her ear. Although the noise around them made it necessary, the sound still tickled her. She shrugged her shoulders slightly and nodded.

With her permission, Laska gently placed his hand on her back. A gentle lead followed.

They moved to the buoyant beat of the music, turning hand in hand and clapping together in time. The firelight flickered in each other’s eyes.

Though the movements were not intense, heat rose through her body and her heart beat faster. Between shallow breaths came quiet laughter, as natural as the dance itself.

‘I feel like an ordinary person.’

Not a crown princess, not the lady of a domain—just an ordinary woman.

Selaia blinked as she looked at the man holding her hand. She wasn’t the most perceptive, but even she thought he seemed to be enjoying himself every bit as much as she was.