The death of his father had turned Akan’s childhood world upside down. Those he had trusted and regarded with kindness became objects of even greater hatred, while he felt less resentment towards those he had treated with indifference or hostility. 

“Take him to prison before you kill him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

There would be no mercy. Duke Mos had no doubt. The hatred embedded in Akan Roxas’s heart ran too deep, too deep-rooted, for even a momentary taste of comfort on the throne could not begin to extract it. Whatever Count Meserve might plead, it would never redeem Akan. 

The great imperial palace, once a symbol of majesty, was now slowly crumbling at the edges. 

Akan didn’t bother to read Robellia’s second letter; he burned it to ashes. He made sure the maid who had delivered it was a witness, and instructed her to tell Robellia exactly what had happened. Akan smugly assumed that this would put an end to Robellia’s nonsense once and for all. 

But the next day – 

“Princess Robellia has come to see you…” 

The chamberlain glanced nervously at the emperor’s angry face and silently cursed the princess waiting outside. 

If they had revealed everything to Princess Robellia, repressed her as they had before and made her understand her place, things might have been much easier. But with the Emperor’s order to let her continue in her delusions, the palace staff were at a loss as to how to treat a princess who was no longer a princess.

“Let her in.”

The chamberlain bowed respectfully and left the room, considering his next move. Should he send a message to Duke Mos, who was away at the moment, or should he call the doctor first? Either way, today was likely to end with Princess Robellia either dead or seriously injured.

“Akan…!”

Robellia entered the office, leaning on a stick. It seemed that the only reason she hadn’t come earlier was because of her broken legs. Should they be broken again? Unlike Robellia, who was beaming, Akan’s face was cold and expressionless, as if carved from ice.

“What brings you here?”

“I’m sorry, Akan.”

Robellia stood before the desk and began with an abrupt apology. It wasn’t her casual tone that deepened Akan’s displeasure – he’d never demanded that she grovel before him, even after he’d taken over the palace. 

What irritated him more was her reaction to his hardened expression. Misinterpreting his silence, Robellia struggled to explain herself. 

“I must have been inconsiderate… asking you to visit me when you’re so busy must have been annoying, right?” 

“That’s why you’re here?” 

“I just… wanted to see you. I was also worried about how you were doing.” 

Even though Robellia’s memories had jumped ten years, the Emperor’s office hadn’t changed. It looked the same, no matter who was at the helm. Just as she had once done with her father, Robellia instinctively monitored the mood of an old friend, trying not to upset him. 

“Did it not occur to you that visiting me like this might be even more annoying?”

” Uh… didn’t it?”

At Akan’s cold words, the faint smile on Robellia’s face vanished completely. Was she expecting a warmer welcome? Akan twisted his lips into a sneer, mocking her reaction. 

“If you want to preserve the life you barely managed to save, why don’t you try using your brain a little?” 

Robellia, seemingly reverting to her childhood, was even more foolish than she had been before she lost her memories. As Akan remembered how her thoughtless words and actions had once caused the deaths of countless people, he felt the urge to break her fragile body again, one that could barely walk as it was. Akan ran a hand through his pale, almost colourless hair.

“Keeping you alive is starting to feel like an exhausting chore.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

Akan looked away from her retreating figure, indifferent. What had she expected? That when she came here he would play the role of her old childhood companion, indulging her whims and treating her like a princess? The thought was ridiculous. 

Robellia, who was about to leave the room, suddenly stopped and turned around. 

“Um… do you happen to know why I’m hurt? No one will tell me.”

“An accident.”

No matter how oblivious Robellia might seem, she couldn’t possibly look at her broken limbs and the hideous scars still etched across her body without sensing that something was amiss. 

Eventually, the truth would come out – whether Robellia remembered it herself, or someone loose-lipped let it slip. But for some reason, Akan couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud: that he had pushed Robellia to the brink, to the point where she chose death herself. 

Fully aware that he was telling a lie that didn’t suit him, Akan repeated it, as if to make it more convincing. 

“It was an accident.” 

“Okay… I understand. Take care then. Sorry…”

Robellia left the office with a faint smile, her reply barely sounding like one. The sound of her cane dragging across the stone floor of the corridor echoed faintly through the still ajar door. 

As Akan recalled Robellia’s face, now more colourful than before, he was struck by the thought that the revenge he had so desperately sought – and carried out – was ultimately meaningless. It was a thought as uncomfortable for him as his attempts to hide it. 

Beneath the tidal wave of anger that had receded like the ebbing tide, something stirred in the depths. Unwilling to face it, Akan once again chose to turn away. 

Perhaps Robellia wasn’t the only one who had tried desperately to erase painful memories. 

—

“Akan, you must treat the princess with respect.”

It was a dream. A nightmare he had had for ten years without fail. The content of the dream was always the same. His father, leaving him behind, walking towards the Emperor. It would be useless to tell him not to go, he knew that much. 

“Goodbye!” 

Robellia. 

What followed unfolded as usual. The girl in the dream couldn’t hide her affection and wore it openly on her face. He wanted to tear his younger self’s lips apart and smile with her. 

What made this dream a real nightmare for Akan was how vividly it forced him to remember the emotions he had felt at the time, even the names of the feelings he didn’t understand at the time. The dream repeated itself so often that the line between memory and dream became blurred, but the emotions remained piercingly clear. In fact, they seemed to become sharper with each repetition. 

Swept up in the sweetness of a kindness he’d never known before, the young Akan uttered words that did not suit him at all. 

“Father, I’ll finish this round with the princess before I leave.” 

The very words that had led to his father’s death and made his life a living hell. Even though he knew it was a dream, Akan didn’t want to upset the game with Robellia. Instead, he was desperate to stop the conversation between Lady Suthel and his father. He wanted to shout at the old woman and tell her to keep such treacherous talk to herself. *Crazy hag. If you’re going to die, do it alone. 

But as always, Akan was powerless to escape the grip of the dream. His eyes weren’t on his father, but on Robellia. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t close his eyes. Her unchanging, radiant smile was still there, piercingly alive. 

“You must write to me, promise.”

Robellia let go of Akan’s sleeve. 

Akan already knew what came next in the dream. The Duke of Roxas and Akan would get into the carriage to return to their estate. 

That was what was supposed to happen. 

“Akan.” 

Behind tightly closed eyelids, Akan’s muscles tensed as his trembling eyelids betrayed his restless sleep. 

Robellia had never called to him as he left the drawing room. But in this dream, she did. Akan turned around. For some reason, his perspective felt elevated. The drawing room had shifted and become a bedroom. Robellia was standing at the window, smiling. 

“I forgive you.” 

Her once lustrous golden hair, now dry and brittle, fluttered as she threw herself out of the window. Like the last petal clinging to a withered branch, her white nightgown fluttered down. The sky outside turned crimson, as if stained by the colours of a setting sun. 

Akan moved to the window. A red rain fell from the sky, as vivid as blood. Robellia’s body, thrown into the air, floated on a river of blood below. The surreal scene, though impossible, seemed so natural in the shifting flow of the dream that Akan did not recognise it as a dream. 

“Robellia.” 

Akan reached for the window. The crimson rain ran down his hand, dripping from his fingertips into the river below, as if it were his own blood joining the current. 

Robellia’s body, floating on the river, slowly began to sink beneath the surface. Akan felt his breath catch in his throat, as if something was choking him. 

“I… you…”

A flash. Akan’s eyes snapped open.