Robellia’s clear voice rang out from beyond the walls. 

It was a tone Akan had never heard since their reunion – loud and resonant, as if filled with fiery anger. Though the words carried an edge of fury, her speech was remarkably sharp and articulate, far too composed for someone supposedly out of her mind. 

Leaving the hesitant doctor behind, Akan stepped boldly into the room. 

“Where on earth is Lady Suther?”

Lady Suther. A name that should never have fallen from Robellia’s lips – a name Akan never wanted to hear again, the name of a decrepit woman lost to the past.

Akan stopped in the doorway and glared at Robellia. Propped up against the headboard, her arms and legs in splints, she met his gaze without flinching. 

“Who gave you permission to come in here?”

Akan turned to the doctor standing behind him. The doctor, who had followed Akan into the room, let out a long, resigned sigh, as if he had given up on the situation altogether. 

“She doesn’t remember anything. Not a thing.”

From his point of view, it was maddening. When Princess Robellia awoke, the first thing she did was ask for her maids, who had been dead for over a decade. 

When the doctor and the temporary maids hesitated to explain the situation, unsure of how to respond, Robellia grew angry and demanded that they inform the Emperor. Of course, the emperor Robellia was referring to was not Akan Roxas. 

“When exactly do her memories seem to begin? 

“She seems to have forgotten everything recent, as well as all the sins she committed ten years ago. She thinks she is twelve years old…” 

It was utter chaos. The doctor bowed his head. At first he had assumed that Robellia, having been unconscious for so long, was merely confused, mixing dreams with reality. 

He had tried repeatedly to explain the passage of time to Robellia, who insisted that she was twelve years old. He had held up mirrors to show her reflection, trying to make her understand how much time had passed. But to no avail. Robellia remembered only the years she had lived as a princess, unable to comprehend the changed circumstances around her. 

“Hah. And you believe this nonsense?”

“I have no choice but to believe it…”

In a hushed voice, the doctor recounted his conversations with Robellia. He had tested her by bringing up details of her birthday banquet eleven years ago, a memory she described with vivid clarity as if it had happened only recently. Whether her memory was genuine or not, the level of detail was too precise to be fabricated. 

Her gaze, tone, voice and every gesture exuded the confidence of the princess she once was. Unaware of her current degraded status in the palace, Robellia arrogantly criticised the maids who looked after her, complaining about their behaviour. In particular, when the Doctor subtly tried to intimidate her with the threat of violence, even going so far as to swing a switch in front of her, Robellia didn’t flinch. It was as if the very idea that such a thing could harm her was beyond comprehension. 

“Ten years ago, you say.”

Akan murmured, exhaling sharply in disbelief. Forgetting all her sins instead of atoning for them – what an absurdly convenient escape. 

Robellia blinked, clearly taken aback by the conversation between the two men. Her clear, violet eyes were devoid of the despair Akan had painstakingly etched into them. Sitting on the bed was not the broken woman of reality, but a girl more like the one who haunted Akan’s nightmares. 

“Who are you? And what gives you the right to enter my chambers uninvited?”

There was no hostility or fear in Robellia’s voice, only curiosity about the man who had entered the princess’s quarters without permission. 

Her innocent, unguarded gaze – so reminiscent of the distant past – contrasted starkly with her frail, grown body and pale complexion. Akan’s face twisted in frustration. Before he could even think of an answer, Robellia hesitated and spoke again, cautiously. 

“Could it be…” 

Her eyes darted to Akan’s face, as if to gauge his reaction. Even with her lost memories, she must have sensed from her reflection that time had passed. Perhaps she was now imagining what this man might have looked like ten years ago. 

“Are you… Akan?” 

The unexpected question brought an oppressive silence to the room. Robellia, who supposedly remembered nothing of her crimes or the years that had passed, still recognised Akan. 

“Akan, it’s you, isn’t it? I just remembered – we were playing cards earlier, weren’t we? Um, when did I fall asleep?” 

She tilted her head in genuine confusion, as if trying to piece together the missing time in her mind. 

The doctor cursed himself for not being able to determine the full extent of the princess’s memory. He stood there, overwhelmed by the realisation that he had underestimated the depth of the situation. 

“Hey… Akan, do you know what’s going on? Why aren’t there any familiar faces in my quarters…?” 

She remembered Akan, but not her own sins. Amazingly, Robellia’s memory had stopped the afternoon Duke Roxas had first brought Akan to the palace. 

“Akan…?” 

When Robellia held out her only functioning hand, Akan instinctively backed away. His face turned deathly pale, as if he’d seen a ghost. 

The innocent look on Robellia’s face, as if she knew nothing, was sickening. It was unbearable. How could she cut away the tormenting memories and leave him to rot alone in this hell? 

“Are you angry with me?” 

Robellia tilted her head in confusion at the unmistakable contempt on Akan’s face. His icy stare and oppressive silence made the room feel suffocating. Her world had been turned upside down overnight. Robellia cast a timid glance at Akan, her expression downcast, unsure why he was angry. 

Breaking the heavy silence, Robellia hesitated before speaking again. 

“But… Akan, why has your hair changed colour? Is it because you have grown up? But Duke Roxas-” 

Crash.

The tray with the patient’s food flew through the air. Akan had hurled it with one hand and it landed with perfect accuracy at the head of Robellia’s bed. The cold food spilled over the pristine bedding and the porcelain shattered against the wall with a deafening clatter. Robellia jumped in shock, instinctively raising her one movable arm to shield her head. 

Beneath Akan’s now pale and brittle hair, his red eyes glared at Robellia with a menacing glint. The name of his father, Duke Roxas, was not one she should ever speak so lightly. Even in death, she owed him penance and apology. Akan’s clenched fist shook violently as his anger threatened to consume him. 

“Akan, what’s wrong? Have I done something wrong? You’re scaring me.” 

Though her trembling voice wavered with uncertainty, there was no real fear in Robellia’s eyes. There was a hint of discomfort, but mostly surprise and confusion. Her shallow understanding betrayed her inability to grasp the depth of what had happened between them – their actions, their consequences and their ultimate choices. 

Realising this, Akan hesitated for a moment before turning abruptly and leaving the room without another word. 

“Akan? Akan, where are you going? I’m sorry! Don’t go!”

Ignoring Robellia’s desperate cries, Akan fled from the princess’s quarters. A restless unease gripped him, as if some unimaginable disaster would unfold if he didn’t flee immediately. His nails dug so deep into his palms that blood seeped through his fingers, yet he felt no pain. 

Robellia’s voice calling his name lingered in the back of his mind like a haunting ghost. 

On his return to the Emperor’s quarters, Akan resolved never to visit Robellia again. He couldn’t trust himself not to succumb to murderous rage at the sight of her smiling cluelessly, as if she were an imbecile who knew nothing. Instead, he sent Duke Mos to explain the situation to Robellia. 

Duke Mos, true to form, didn’t lie to Robellia outright, but he didn’t tell her the whole truth either. For example, he openly admitted that the former Emperor had framed and executed Duke Roxas, causing Akan to rise in rebellion. 

“So Akan spared me alone?” 

Despite her memory loss, Robellia took the news of her family’s demise with surprising composure. It wasn’t unusual for royalty or nobility to feel little attachment to their blood relatives. Robellia was no exception, as she had little affection for her family.