The Count, her maternal uncle, was even more bewildered than Mail. It seemed the news hadn’t reached him in time. His face turned pale, and soon flames could be seen rising in the distance. The army was approaching.

At that moment, the door burst open, nearly coming off its hinges, and someone rushed in.

“C-Count, my apologies for the delayed warning. The emperor—the emperor of Helvern is leading the imperial forces…”

“I just heard. D*mn it all! How could this happen? There’s no justification for this!”

“It’s because of… the princess.”

“What?”

“They say the princess poisoned the emperor’s consort in the empire…”

Mail almost collapsed on the spot. The shock was too much to bear. Her nanny, who looked just as pale, quickly supported her trembling frame. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

Could misfortune this severe truly descend so suddenly? Over a single person, no less?

“W-what… What are you saying?”

“There’s no time to argue! You must flee now! If you delay any longer, it’ll be too late!”

“R-right. This is no time for questions. Prepare the horses at once. Mail, you must come too.”

Though they had just arrived, Mail was once again forced to flee. Upon learning the capital’s fate was no different, the Count decided they should head west.

This wasn’t a war of conquest. It was sheer retaliation, an act of demolishing the kingdom out of vengeance. Surrendering would be meaningless.

Without hesitation, they abandoned the castle and sought refuge wherever they could. The West, with its mountainous terrain, seemed the safest bet to escape this disaster.

But predictably, the journey was anything but smooth.

“Count! Please, run awa— Gahhh!”

“My lord!”

“K*ll them all—man or woman, child or elder, even the infirm. His Majesty’s orders are absolute!”

“Uncle!”

“Go… Run…”

“Young lady!”

Her escort knight was the first to die. The horses collapsed. Mail couldn’t even recall how she managed to survive. One thing was certain: not a single person who had started this journey with her remained by her side.

She moved forward mechanically, stumbling through acrid smoke. Her bare feet felt no pain as they scraped against the rough earth.

The knight fell first. Next, her uncle.

And finally, her nanny.

The nanny had been cut down trying to save Mail.

It felt like a lie. Even as she saw it with her own eyes, it didn’t feel real. A sense of detachment and unreality overtook her.

Mail wandered aimlessly before her knees gave out. She collapsed to the ground, something unfamiliar welling up inside her. She soon realized it was a scream—a desperate cry.

Please. Let this be a dream. If only it were a dream, she would do anything to wake up.

The sky was merciless. No matter how many times she blinked, the world remained unchanged. Mail was still alive. She didn’t particularly want to live, yet she survived. Every step she took resonated with screams like tinnitus, and each time, she thought she’d rather die.

If not for the image of her nanny that lingered before her eyes every time such thoughts crossed her mind, she might have thrown herself in front of the Imperial Army long ago.

Mail walked aimlessly. Along the way, she encountered other refugees who offered their help. She rode horses, carriages, and even a freight wagon, where she collapsed into sleep as if fainting.

But soon, she realized—there was nowhere left to go.

The emperor was mad. Mail was certain of it. He was out of his mind. She didn’t know the exact number of troops he led, but it was clear that it wasn’t a normal amount.

The empire’s soldiers blanketed the entire kingdom. Even though the kingdom was smaller than the empire, such a feat shouldn’t have been possible. Unless the emperor had emptied the empire and mobilized every available force, this couldn’t have happened.

“He’s insane.”

Mail muttered upon reaching the capital.

“He’s completely insane…”

Because his lover was dead. Because she had been poisoned. Was that why? Had he lost the woman he loved, and now, in his grief, sought to burn the entire kingdom to ashes and sl*ughter every last one of its people?

“He’s lost his mind…”

She couldn’t understand. It didn’t make sense. There had to be limits to seeking accountability. There had to be a line in the sand when exacting punishment. No rational person would go this far. No sane individual would ignore surrender or pleas and attempt to erase an entire kingdom from the map.

To Mail, the emperor no longer seemed human.

The remaining embers crackled as they consumed the ruins. The capital was a wasteland. The once-beautiful square, the refreshing fountains, and the tall spires of the city were reduced to scattered debris.

She heard the faint sound of approaching hoofbeats carried by the wind. In the distance, vague outlines of a group began to emerge. Mail stood still. She had no will to move, no strength left to do so.

It was said that Duke Vizeat, who had faced the empire head-on, had already been executed.

“… Ha… nity. The remnants…”

“… Western… cavalry…”

Fragmented voices reached her ears. Mail lifted her head with blurry vision. The neighing of a horse as the reins were pulled made it harder to hear the voices. Instead, she focused on his face.

It was the emperor.

She recognized him instantly. He looked just as the rumors described. His radiant platinum hair reflected the light, and his flawless features bore no blemishes. He stood in stark contrast to the devastated battlefield of ash and ruins.

The knight beside the emperor drew his sword as he spotted Mail. She paid no attention to the man advancing to strike her down, keeping her gaze fixed solely on the emperor. She took him in completely, never breaking eye contact. Until the very last moment, she stared only at him and thought:

‘If I could meet you again in another life…’

If she were given the chance—

‘I will ensure, with my own hands…’

With a vow that might never reach anyone, Mail closed her eyes.

***

The early morning air was cold. Even though the window was shut, keeping out the breeze, she still felt it. Mail blinked. She didn’t need to touch her cheeks to know they were damp with tears.

The nightmare was over.

But it wasn’t a dream.

No one would believe her. Not even she could believe it herself. Of course, no one else would. Mail raised a hand to her face. Her fingertips brushed against the tears. When she opened her mouth, a hollow breath escaped.

It wasn’t a dream.

It was simply that she had returned.

“This… can’t be…”

She had never heard of such a thing. Reversing time? There was no mention of it in any ancient text. But asking how it was possible no longer mattered. It had already happened, and no amount of unanswerable questions would change that.

Her head, which always felt as if it would split after a nightmare, was oddly clear. Was the persistent pain before caused by the process of remembering what she had forgotten?

Mail brought both hands to her face, covering it entirely.

It would’ve been better not to know.

It would’ve been better not to remember.

Or, if she was destined to learn the truth, it would’ve been better to know sooner.

“What is this…?”

The final moment was vivid. It felt like a frozen scene. When Mail had dramatically faced her enemy, she poured all her resentment into him before closing her eyes. The words she couldn’t utter became a vow to repay everything she had endured if given the chance.

Yes, the emperor was her enemy. Not a savior, but someone to avenge. She had remembered far too late.

‘If only this had never come to mind…’

She had realized it far too late. Mail could no longer treat the emperor as her enemy. While she had been ignorant of her past, she had uncovered the truth—he hadn’t meant for things to happen this way. He had no choice.

And at the same time, she loved him. She couldn’t hate him. She simply couldn’t. It was inevitable.

If there was anyone to blame at this moment, it was the gods themselves. Mail despised them. She resented them. Why had they returned her memories now? When she already understood him, loved him, and could no longer hate him, why reveal what she hadn’t wanted to know?

Even though she clenched her mouth shut, sobs leaked through her hands. What tormented her wasn’t anything else.

It was guilt.

That was what weighed down her heart.

Mail forgave the emperor. After all, it wasn’t the current him who trampled the kingdom, so there was nothing for him to seek forgiveness for in the first place.

Still, she forgave him, dismissed the tragedy that had passed, and found within herself the ability to love the person he had become.

But what about the nanny?

What about her father?

Her father had been beheaded for resisting the imperial army. The nanny died trying to save her. Could they forgive him too? Could they embrace and understand and permit her to love the emperor?

It was a question without an answ