The new room had excellent lighting. When she opened her eyes in the morning, bright sunlight poured through the large bay windows, and the long rectangular terrace was decorated with carefully tended medicinal herb gardens.

Hari glanced back while pulling a pharmacology book from the bookshelf.

“Aren’t you busy?”

“I am busy.”

A clumsy lyre melody interrupted his deep voice. Achilleon was plucking a lyre ridiculously small compared to his body.

“I meant, don’t you have other things to do?”

How many hours had it been already? No, he had been by her side since early evening yesterday, so a full day had passed.

Achilleon, who had come over using dinner as an excuse, had tormented Hari all night and now wanted her to teach him the lyre. And he showed no intention of leaving the room all morning.

‘They say princes learn all the basic arts from childhood.’

Perhaps that’s why, despite her lazily teaching him the basics, his playing was quite impressive.

‘It’s not fair…’

His skill already surpassed hers despite her daily practice. She had wanted to show off a bit to Achilleon, but that was pointless now.

“I don’t understand this part.”

He pointed to a technique written on the yellowed parchment.

“You were playing it well earlier.”

“I forgot. How do you do this again?”

When she tried to focus on her own tasks, he would subtly interrupt like this… Hari closed her book and took his fingers, moving them to the correct position. But his fingers evaded hers and pressed the wrong string.

She corrected him again, but as soon as she touched his fingers, Achilleon hesitated and pressed the wrong spot again. An unpleasant sound rang out.

“Why are you suddenly struggling when you were doing well before?”

“This isn’t working. I really can’t concentrate.”

Brown dog hair clung to Achilleon’s clothes as he sighed. He had finally succeeded in training the dog Hari had brought home. By giving it treats whenever they met, the dog now greeted him with the same enthusiasm as it did Hari, rubbing against him and wagging its tail.

Seeing it leave Hari’s comfortable embrace to eat treats from him gave Achilleon a twisted satisfaction. Of course, that was just his personal feeling; unaware of these thoughts, Hari was actually grateful that Achilleon cared for the dog.

“Take a break.”

“Yes, I’ve studied hard, so I should rest now.”

“Yes, then I’ll also…”

But instead of leaving, Achilleon put down the lyre and embraced Hari. He smelled warm and pleasant as always. Achilleon buried his nose in the nape of her neck, inhaling her fragrant scent.

He had always wondered why this woman’s body always emitted such a warm fragrance. It felt like embracing soft bedding soaked in sunshine.

“I’ll need to call another teacher.”

Hari sighed softly, having expected this. He hadn’t been interested in the lyre from the beginning. Achilleon found even her quiet grumbling adorable, and only after spending several more hours holding her did he finally think about returning to his office.

By the end, Hari looked somewhat exhausted in his embrace, but even that was lovely to him. Her trembling limbs were cute too. How could this be possible without something happening to his head? Hari seemed much more relaxed now.

She definitely smiled more often than before. Was it because the things that troubled her were gone? If so, perhaps his presence was no longer painful for her?

‘Look, Your Highness. This happened in the capital today.’

Hari would bring surprising news and smile. Because she enjoyed tending to the plants on the terrace. Because she could eat abundantly. Because she could read as many books as she wanted.

‘Your Highness will end up breaking the needle.’

Because Achilleon’s attempt to try embroidery following Hari’s example was ridiculous.

When they spent nights together, she would sometimes embrace him with a bright red face. Everything seemed genuine. Achilleon, skilled at distinguishing truth from lies, could be certain of this.

Nevertheless, Margharita’s eyes still looked sad. This disconnect was known only to Achilleon, as others would call it his imagination, Hari seemed fine and more cheerful than before.

“What is it? Do you have something to say?”

Hari tilted her head when he stared at her before leaving the room.

“No.”

Achilleon, who was about to kiss her lightly as usual and leave, hesitated. When he turned around, Hari was still standing in the same spot with a puzzled expression.

“Do you remember what I said about wanting you to feel comfortable by my side?”

“…Yes.”

“How is it?”

He wanted to know Hari’s heart, her current thoughts. He wanted to confirm her feelings toward him.

‘You seem much happier than before, but is that my imagination? Could you become attached to your current life? Will you not leave me?’

Despite knowing it was premature, he wanted to hear it directly from Hari’s lips.

“Are you satisfied?”

The moment he uttered that question, Achilleon confronted the anxiety he had buried deep in his heart and ignored. Hari was healthier than before, smiled more, and sometimes looked at him with a gaze more burning than his own toward her.

If they continued their relationship like this, they might become ordinary lovers. So why was he so anxious?

“Yes, I’m living in complete satisfaction.”

Hari smiled, approached him, and embraced him. That’s a lie. If it were sincere, she wouldn’t smile like that. Still, Achilleon pretended not to notice and smiled back.

“I’m glad.”

Things would change with a little more time.

* * *

After Achilleon left, Hari returned to her book. But she couldn’t focus for long and put it down, fidgeting with the fan on the table. The fan Achilleon had given her during the hunting festival sparkled in rainbow colors under the sunlight.

As she stroked the soft feathers that seemed about to melt, a deep sigh escaped her.

‘What is this?’

Then she noticed a small medicine bottle beside it. She knew Achilleon always took this medicine before they slept together, but she wasn’t sure if it was for “that purpose” as she thought.

She only knew that the number of pills remained the same as last night. It had been that way for some time. Recalling the previous night, Hari slightly lifted her clothes to look. From under her armpit to the round curve of her br*ast was covered in bright red bite marks.

The tips of her br*asts were swollen and hurt when even slightly brushed by clothing. Still, Achilleon seemed to know his fault, always applying ointment at the end…

But when she saw these explicit traces of their intimacy the next morning, she felt strange. Her stomach churned and her feet grew hot. If she refused, Achilleon would stop.

But in the end, she was the one who had accepted him until her body was in this state. Because Achilleon was warm. Because he was affectionate. For such simple reasons.

“Pia.”

The birdcage rattled slightly when she called with a sigh. Standing in front of the cage with the fan in her hand, Hari hesitated briefly. Her throat felt tight and her heart beat heavily.

“It’s too late.”

Hari murmured to herself while staring blankly at the bird.

“Even if you’re kind to me now, it’s too late.”

The bird flew to Hari’s finger, sprinkling blue powder, its eyes bright from being well-fed. Looking at those clear, innocent black eyes of the bird somehow made her feel melancholic.

No matter how he expressed his feelings, no matter how belatedly she recognized her own heart, her choice would not be reversed. Hari approached the windowsill and sent the bird flying away.

It was already the fifth day of the Unity Festival. The grand final banquet would be held at the main palace. The bird soared through the milky morning air, grew blurry in her sight, and completely disappeared.

The breeze blew again.

* * *

On the final night of the Unity Festival, representatives from each country presented precious wines to King Mempion as tokens of friendship.

It was nearly midnight, when all the dazzling lights and noise had disappeared.

The king smiled with satisfaction as he looked at the gifts piled high on the red carpet. Though presented with words of goodwill, they were essentially tributes to Hitais, the leading nation.

An arrogant smile appeared on the king’s lips. He finally felt like he owned the world. His body had rapidly deteriorated due to the combined effects of war trauma and chronic illness, making him think he might die soon, but fortunately, there were signs of improvement.

The advice was to avoid mental and physical strain, maintain peace of mind, and seek stability. The king was greatly relieved to hear he still had time to live.

It would be unfair to die now.

There was still so much to possess and enjoy. He needed to savor everything until the very end.

The greed that had temporarily weakened began to stir powerfully from the depths of his being. The king undressed and entered the bedroom.

Seeing a woman’s silhouette flickering on the red canopy surrounding the bed, he felt a throbbing below, proving he wasn’t dead yet. The king embraced the beautiful dancer girl he had brought for tonight and thought.

Dancer. Come to think of it, the woman the Third Prince had captured from Galate was also blonde. He had forgotten about her for a long time, but suddenly remembered, like a light illuminating his mind, the stunning appearance of that Galate woman, whose beauty couldn’t be hidden even by tattered clothes and dirty hair.

He had heard from the queen that Achilleon was living in infatuation with that woman.

If she could captivate even his son who had shown no interest in women, it meant her appearance and talents were extraordinary. Greed suddenly surged within him.

Just as he was thinking about bringing the Galate slave to him tomorrow, there was a knock at the door. The king immediately frowned severely.

“I said no one was to be admitted.”

“I… I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’ve brought the final tribute.”

The king stepped out of the bedroom with curiosity. When he opened the door, a servant was standing there with wine in a golden cup and a bottle.