The carriage carrying Mail left the palace and soon crossed the border. When Banther heard the news a step too late, he was gripped by fear, worrying that his superior might fall into despair.

Thankfully, the emperor appeared outwardly composed, no different from usual. Even so, Banther remained cautious, carefully avoiding any words that began with “Ma” in his presence.

Meanwhile, Rose and Maron had their tearful goodbyes the night before. As her fiancé, Maron was heartbroken, and Rose, though not directly involved, also shed tears upon learning that Mail’s destination was the Kingdom of Belthier—her homeland.

Upon hearing this, Riela eagerly volunteered to join the journey. Rose couldn’t stay behind either, given the princess’s decision. The only solace was that this wasn’t a permanent farewell.

Rose made her fiancé promise repeatedly that he wouldn’t stray while she was gone. She even added a playful warning that if he did, she’d string him up on the library chandelier.

Time passed.

The days grew warmer, then gradually shed their heat. Banther, wondering if the emperor was truly fine and not just pretending, eventually stopped filtering his words unnecessarily.

Work remained as busy as ever. Amidst it all, Banther still couldn’t pinpoint the source of the occasional emptiness that crept into his days.

The wind grew colder, and the daylight shortened.

The seasons changed.

***

The emperor stood in the garden, arms crossed, deep in thought. It wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

“They call this legendary?”

Clicking his tongue, he looked down at the yellowed, withered violet sprout, which boldly declared its demise. This marked the fourth failure. Its infamous reputation was clearly well-earned. Rohayden gazed silently at his failed attempt and shook his head.

“Should I just grow it in the office?”

The temptation tickled his thoughts. When faced with the choice between the easy path and the hard one, human instinct leans toward the easier route—especially if the hard path is not just challenging but exceedingly, absurdly, and unforgivingly difficult.

Muttering to himself, the emperor dug another small hole next to the shriveled sprout. He planted another seed and covered it with soil, once again stepping onto the stubbornly difficult path.

As he finished planting, a complicated expression crossed his face. The inevitable fifth failure loomed in his mind.

At first, it had been just a casual experiment. But after losing several battles with seedlings, a peculiar sense of determination took hold. Banther would likely scoff, calling it the most pointless rivalry and stubbornness in the world, but Rohayden was serious in his own way. This insolent little plant.

“Even Mail would struggle to grow this.”

Suddenly, he recalled the image of a figure kneeling and crying out “Master!” The memory brought a faint smile to his lips. Ah, yes, that had happened.

Back then, he had wondered why she acted that way. Now, he could understand. Successfully nurturing something like this could easily inspire admiration. Though, in the end, that incident had been a scam.

A chuckle escaped him, and the emperor raised a hand to his mouth to stifle it. Then, his face turned serious.

“No, I promised not to do this.”

He had made a vow: no reminiscing, ever. Especially not in a place like this, where indulging in memories would make him feel like someone nostalgically mourning a lost lover. That would not do.

“No, absolutely not. Breaking up? Who says? Never letting go.”

“Letting go of whom?”

“Who else but…”

Rohayden froze mid-sentence, realizing he had been answering a phantom voice. When had his imagination become so vivid? He had seen illusions before, half-asleep, but they had never spoken. Suddenly, a hand emerged and grabbed his chin, tilting his face.

“Van.”

His shifted gaze met something he couldn’t believe. And then, he realized.

“I’m back.”

It wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t an illusion.

“When…?”

The golden eyes flickered with astonishment. Rohayden barely managed to stammer out his words, his surprise palpable enough to make Mail tilt her head in curiosity.

“I sent a message. Didn’t it reach you?”

“A message…?”

Rohayden paused mid-question. Ah. Now that he thought about it, Banther had been acting suspiciously lately, hiding something. A trait he exhibited often enough over trivial matters that Rohayden had paid it no mind.

“….”

His brows furrowed. Banther’s attempt to surprise his superior had just cost him the remainder of his annual leave.

Unaware of the brutal fate that had just befallen her subordinate, Mail blinked before breaking into a radiant smile.

“Anyway, Van.”

“….”

“I’m back.”

Her smile was dazzling, so much so that Rohayden was momentarily speechless. He had thought of so many things to say, yet none came to mind. At the same time, he realized it didn’t matter.

She said she was back. She said it, which meant she had returned to where she belonged. That alone was enough.

“Welcome home.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace. The familiar warmth of her body melted the chill in his heart.

For some reason, he had a feeling the fifth violet sprout wouldn’t wither. It was just a hunch, but the thought made him smile.