Count Clavier, a diplomat from Sarnica, is leaving Olstein today. Josef received the news during lunch from his chamberlain.

“He plans to depart for the harbor this afternoon.”

Josef nodded while sipping water. He generally found the Emperor’s fondness for alcohol pitiful.

The Emperor, viewing meals as an extension of state affairs, lavishly entertained high-ranking officials at every meal. This, however, meant that few ministers sought Josef’s company at lunch to discuss domestic matters.

Even now, only Henrik and the chamberlain were seated at the vast 20-person dining table. Josef, however, wasn’t concerned. Duke Mieschko would soon work tirelessly to bring the officials to him, like a donkey hauling a cart.

“With this, all foreign envoys have returned. It’s fortunate that Count Clavier didn’t escalate the situation.”

The chamberlain, who believed the culprit had fled, looked visibly relieved.

“Yes, everything worked out,” Josef remarked. Henrik silently continued eating, his fork the only thing moving.

Indeed, things had gone smoothly. Josef glanced at his left hand, which had recovered enough to grip a lance. The release incident, now buried quietly, no longer occupied his mind. Instead, he was greatly satisfied knowing Amelia had no way to leave Olstein.

It seemed he had let his guard down. Given his demand for Brienne to build a ship, Josef was confident Amelia had no means of escape. Yet, it appeared she had been preparing to flee from him in her own way—a thought that amused him.

Why had Amelia devised such a plan? The moment she left, her beloved father would undoubtedly meet his end.

For the first time, Josef experienced overwhelming rage that completely shut down his ability to think. It offered many revelations. He resolved never to let such a thing happen again. He made up his mind: he would fully make Amelia his own.

—

The guards controlling the route to the embassy had disappeared, and the town had returned to its usual state. Amelia had been lingering near the embassy since morning. She hoped to see Philip board his carriage and bid him a final farewell.

“Lady Amelia?”

A gentle voice came from behind her.

“…Hello.”

Amelia, recognizing the voice from somewhere, offered a greeting and looked up. The face wasn’t unfamiliar either.

“Countess Clavier?”

“It’s been a while, Lady Amelia.”

It was the first time Amelia had seen the countess since she bid farewell to Philip at Brienne’s port years ago. The countess praised how much Amelia had grown into a fine young lady.

“Thank you.”

“Are you here to see Philip?”

The countess, whom Amelia remembered as always vibrant, now showed signs of fatigue, like someone recovering from an illness. Feeling a pang of guilt, Amelia nodded.

“In that case, I’m sorry, but you must leave.”

“….”

“It’s best if you don’t meet Philip right now.”

The countess’s voice was firm.

“I only wanted to say goodbye…”

“Lady Amelia.”

The countess cut her off before she could offer an excuse.

“Do you realize how gravely Philip was injured because of you? Do you understand how close our family came to ruin?”

“…Yes, I do.”

Only too well. Amelia nodded.

“If it had been a case of youthful folly, driven by love, I could have at least considered it a misguided romantic escapade.”

“…”

“But in the end, didn’t you just use my son? How can you have the audacity to come here so brazenly?”

The countess, who had maintained composure, eventually broke into tears. Though her words were painful, Amelia remained frozen, unsure of what to do. The accusations weren’t wrong, and she felt like a shameless criminal oblivious to her own guilt.

“Please, don’t cry. I deeply apologize for my wrongdoings.”

“You truly are composed, Lady Amelia,” the countess said, dabbing her face with a handkerchief.

“Philip came to Olstein because of you. He endured hardships he never should have faced. Yet you seem entirely devoid of guilt.”

“That’s not true, Countess.”

Amelia protested.

“Philip is a dear friend to me. Not once have I failed to respect him. I know how grave my mistakes are…”

“If that’s the case.”

The countess coldly interrupted her.

“Then, never show yourself before Philip again.”

Lady Amelia. Though her tone was stern, her gaze pleaded. Amelia understood she was sincere.

“He still loves you. Even if you don’t want it, he would do anything for your sake. I trust you won’t act as though you’re innocent when that time comes.”

“……”

“If you think of Philip as even a friend, please don’t meet him again.”

Faced with her tearful plea, Amelia had no choice but to agree.

“It’s the only way to save him. Even if he tries to see you, stop him. You’re the only one who can do it. Please, don’t make me hate you more than I already do.”

“I understand, Madam.”

“…You truly will do as I ask, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

Amelia spoke softly but firmly. Hearing her response, Lady Clavier dabbed at the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Take care, Lady Amelia.”

With a slight nod, the woman turned her back and walked away.

—

Amelia made her way slowly back to the castle. As she neared the main gate, a guard glanced up at the sky. At the same time, Amelia felt a sudden chill on her cheek.

“Looks like it’s going to rain.”

The guard remarked as Amelia looked skyward. She awkwardly returned his greeting and resumed her walk.

It felt as though there was a gaping hole in the middle of her chest. Perhaps it was because she had given up so much. There wasn’t much left to fill the emptiness. A lonely wind seemed to pass through her, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

The damp wind carried rain with it. What started as a few scattered drops quickly turned into a heavy downpour.

Walking steadily through the rain, Amelia pushed her wet hair behind her ears and stared at the statue in the courtyard. Unlike the restless trees and shrubs, unsettled by the unexpected rain, the statue of a nymph balancing a flower pot stood still, silently enduring the raindrops running down its face.

The scent of wet earth from the spring rain felt unbearably cold to her. Even in spring, Amelia remained here. She thought of the daffodils that were said to bloom in abundance around the lake and garden behind the castle. Had the ones in the courtyard outside her chamber window bloomed?

‘I never told him.’

In the end, Amelia had failed to tell Philip what had become of the daffodils. Suddenly, that omission struck her as terribly regretful. She hurried toward the courtyard. Her dress, soaked and heavy, and her wet hair hindered her progress.

Amelia finally reached the courtyard, pushing through the rain. She approached the spot where the daffodils had been planted and slowly knelt down.

Raindrops continued to fall. They landed on the trees, the earth, Amelia, and the daffodils. The flower stems and leaves were too delicate to bear the heavy drops. On the tips of the burdened stems, half-bloomed flowers had withered.

“…Why?”

Why? Amelia’s whispered question dissolved into the rain. Why? Just yesterday, the flowers had seemed ready to bloom. They were green and full of life. She had intended to tell Philip about them.

Gently, Amelia touched the buds that had failed to bloom. A few yellowed petals, already dead, fell to the ground. They could hardly be called flowers anymore.

Watching the daffodils thrive had given Amelia strength. Unlike the wild ones growing everywhere, these were special. Philip had given her these flowers, and if they could take root and flourish even in unfamiliar soil, she believed she could, too.

But her hope had withered, leaving her without an explanation. Soaking wet, Amelia stared blankly at the flowerless stems.

“Was I just using your son all along?”

Why couldn’t she love Philip?

If she had, everything might have been simpler. If she had loved him passionately, Amelia might have recklessly run to the Crown Prince or the Emperor, knelt, and begged them to let her leave the castle. She might even have dared to elope with Philip, as Lady Clavier suggested.

In the end, Amelia did not love Philip. She did nothing. She had used him, and she couldn’t even muster a lie to deny it.

“…I’m sorry.”

Softly, she murmured her apology, touching the daffodil stems. The flowers had departed without hearing her farewell.

‘Goodbye, Philip. Goodbye, my only friend. My memory. I couldn’t even truly tell you how sorry I am. You were so heartbroken. You would’ve preferred love to an apology. How much pain did I cause, clinging to pride that wasn’t worth a penny?’

As Amelia listened to the wind and rain, the water falling on her head suddenly stopped.

She looked up. Josef was standing over her, holding his robe partly open to shield her from the rain. Amelia stopped looking at him and silently wiped her rain-soaked face with her hand. She gathered the ends of her hair and wrung out the water.

Josef draped his robe over Amelia’s drenched frame. She let herself be lifted by his supporting arm. Too exhausted even to recall that she should have formally greeted the Crown Prince, Amelia leaned into him.

Josef wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the Crown Princess’s residence. Amelia, dragging her numb feet, braced herself for his scolding. But no words came. The only movement on Josef’s face was the raindrops tracing his strong features.

At the entrance, Amelia grasped the door handle and turned back to Josef one last time. He stood a few steps away, watching her. Then, with a sweep of his hand, he pushed back his rain-soaked hair and walked away. His expression, as always, was unreadable. She thought she might understand if she tried to guess, but she was too weary. She pushed open the door, stepped inside, and collapsed.