Two weeks had already passed since the worst Harvest Festival ended. The weather was now unmistakably autumnal, and the wind that occasionally blew carried no warmth.

It had been the same amount of time since Ruben last saw Helia. There had been no news from the Star Residence, and since that was the case, Ruben had no reason to visit. However, this time, the circumstances were different.

After returning to the ducal residence, Ruben summoned Della to ask about Helia’s condition. But Della could only report that her wounds were slowly healing. Helia had ordered her doors locked tight, allowing only Lina to come and go. Lina brought Meals in, and even on rare occasions, she moved about the manor, and Lina accompanied her closely. The princess had chosen to isolate herself.

“She commanded that no one be allowed in,” Della explained.

No one. Ruben realized he was included in that “no one.” Perhaps, he thought bitterly, the command was aimed at him more than anyone else.

Thus, Ruben was left unable to check on Helia’s condition and was instead haunted by the memory of her that night. Her retreating figure dripped blood as she walked away after rejecting him—it was not even the last he would see of her, yet it lingered before his eyes as though it were a final farewell. Ruben shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering image.

In truth, the current situation should have been a relief. Hadn’t her presence in the manor kept him constantly on edge? He ought to be thankful if she remained quiet and stayed out of sight.

And yet, for some reason, her rejection and isolation weighed heavily on his mind. She had driven him to want to leave whenever she had been near. She pushed others away the more they tried to hold on. Someone who seemed determined to make others run from her. But now, the thought of not checking on her well-being felt unbearable.

In short, Ruben Effenberg was not in his right mind.

“Still no news today?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Grace,” Della replied, bowing deeply as though Helia’s isolation were her fault. She pitied the duke, who called for her daily, desperate to know Helia’s condition despite knowing there would be no updates. It seemed as though he couldn’t bear it otherwise.

When Della left, Ruben was alone in his study. Though one wall was entirely made of glass, the room felt as cold and stifling as a prison. He was no longer angry—just resigned. All that remained was a sense of…

“Ruben!”

The sudden shout came as Ikael burst into the room, throwing open the door. His one and only friend had been uncharacteristically distracted since that day. Usually, Ikael would have tried to gauge Ruben’s mood, but today, he had something more urgent to address.

“Rejoice, my friend!”

“What’s the matter?”

Ruben cast a glance at Ikael, unimpressed by his boisterous entrance. Ikael, however, was grinning ear to ear.

“I’ve found them! The anonymous informant!”

Ruben finally looked at him with interest.

“How?”

“I tracked the errand-runner. They were quick on their feet, probably trained by a guild, and it wasn’t easy to follow them, but I finally discovered their meeting place.”

Ikael animatedly explained the informant’s elaborate precautions, detailing the extensive network of intermediaries and decoys. Unlike their initial assumptions, the informant’s web of connections was exhaustive. Men, women, the elderly, and even children had played their parts, leading Ikael and his team on a relentless chase. Despite the difficulty, they had finally managed to corner the informant.

Meanwhile, Ruben’s response was characteristically brief.

“Well done.”

Ignoring Ikael’s grumbles, Ruben asked, “What’s the earliest we can arrange a meeting?”

“A week from now. That’s when we’re scheduled to receive a list of imperial nobles who’ve turned against the royal family.”

In a week, they would finally meet the elusive informant. Whether this person was a high-ranking guild member or someone working within the palace with access to sensitive information, they would establish contact and secure their cooperation. Progress would accelerate, and with it, the collapse of the royal family would draw closer.

And that included Helia Bailey.

Ruben turned to gaze out the window. In the far-right corner of his view stood the Star Residence. He stared at it for a long time, lost in thought, while Ikael watched him with a peculiar expression.

✥✥✥

“Do you really have to go?”

When Lette first heard the report about the planned meeting with the informant, she voiced her concern. Her almost pleading tone made Ruben look at her, puzzled.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, it’s not that, but…”

For once, Lette trailed off without finishing her sentence.

“If you’re worried about the bloodletter, you don’t need to be. The culprit has already been caught.”

As usual, the perpetrator of the blood letter incident had been quickly apprehended—a half-mad cultist. Ruben had interrogated the man, asking if he had accomplices, but the cultist claimed even his fellow believers had abandoned him. He had written the letter in his own blood to prove his devotion. It was utterly pathetic. Perhaps that was why Ruben had been more furious than usual.

However, Lette shook her head as though dismissing his assumption.

“I’m just worried that you’ll get hurt, Brother.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring a secret guard detail, and Ikael will be with me.”

At that, Lette smiled faintly, though her expression carried a trace of bitterness. She quickly composed herself and, with her usual gentle demeanor, replied,

“Very well. If even this is part of the goddess’s plan…”

Lette seemed unusually downcast that day. Almost as if blaming her own helplessness, she spoke again.

“There’s no other way but to follow, is there?”

The statement carried a subtle nuance, hinting that she wished she didn’t have to follow. Such words carried an air of impropriety for a saint blessed by the goddess.

Yet, Ruben didn’t reprimand her for her lack of faith. Lette occasionally slipped remarks with similar undertones, and Ruben regarded them as the occasional doubts that clergy were bound to have.

“Go safely. I’ll be praying for your well-being.”

Lette clasped her hands together in a gesture of prayer. A moment later, Ruben’s body shimmered faintly with white light before it subsided. It was the blessing of a saint. Her blessing endowed the recipient with resilience against most physical harm. While it couldn’t prevent severe injuries, this wasn’t the situation where such dangers were expected. With her blessing, Ruben was all the more protected from harm.

“It seems this is the best I can do,” she said with a faint air of despondence.

“It’s enough,” Ruben replied.

Hearing her feeble words, he gently kissed her hand in reverence, unaware of what weighed on her mind.

***

One week later, in front of the Star Residence.

Before departing with Ikael, Ruben decided to visit Helia. Once the revolutionary efforts gained momentum, peaceful opportunities to see her face would likely vanish. More than that, the chance to meet her at all would disappear. They would be enemies, after all.

Before that time, he wanted one last regular interaction with her. It could be a way to honor the oath he once swore to her.

No—those were all excuses. The truth was he just wanted to ease his guilt, to check on her injuries and feel reassured that she was recovering. Despite not regretting his choices, Ruben was tormented by guilt, which coiled around him like a serpent, suffocating him, though he couldn’t even pinpoint its source.

Had Lette been the one injured, it would have been a disaster. The truth about her inability to heal herself would’ve been exposed, and that revelation would have made her an easier target. From a rational standpoint, saving Lette first and having her heal the others was the correct decision. He had not anticipated anyone refusing her aid, but in every way, his choice was the logical one.

And yet, what was the source of this guilt? Why did he feel an overwhelming urge to kneel before her and beg for forgiveness?

“…”

In the end, Ruben did not knock on the mansion door. His reason held him back. He had done nothing wrong and thus had no reason to ask for her forgiveness.

Even he could tell he was being overly emotional. For now, it would be better not to meet her and let his head cool. This wasn’t a far-off journey; it would all be over quickly. The distance was short and wouldn’t take more than a day. After that, he could visit her.

Ruben stood there, staring at the faint light flickering in Helia’s room for what felt like an eternity before he turned to leave. Though he never turned back once he’d made a decision, today, he found his steps faltering as if tethered. The urge to look back clawed at him and Ruben barely resisted it.

It was a deepening autumn day. The sun had just begun to set, and a sliver of white crescent moon glimmered faintly in the still-blue sky as if lighting his path forward.