“So you knowingly risked your life to align with the revolutionaries’ cause?”

“Yes,“ she answered lightly, calm affirmation cutting through him like a blade.

Ruben’s face contorted with emotion. “Why go to such lengths…“

“Because it was the right thing to do.”

“What…“ Ruben faltered, his voice cracking.

Helia shrugged nonchalantly and turned toward the distant landscape beyond the window.

“I know Xeroth well. Under his rule, this country was doomed to decay.”

“…”

“So it was only natural to side with those who sought to rebuild the world with good intentions.”

The story spilling from Helia’s lips was so righteous and conventional that it felt almost unreal. Noble values like justice, conviction, and goodwill were qualities that, at least as far as he knew, did not suit Helia Bailey. Such words seemed impossible to emerge from those exquisite lips, perfectly arched in elegance.

Even if it had all been pretense, had she not wounded and cast aside countless people? Had she not denied Lette and doubted him? Whatever her reasons, she had made wrong choices and walked a misguided path. These were facts that could not be denied.

But then, why did his heart feel as though it was crumbling? Why did it feel as though the ground beneath him had collapsed and his knees had buckled, leaving him unable to take even a single step? What was the source of this crushing despair that left him incapable of reaching out to her? The despair was like being rejected by the entire universe, relentlessly tormenting him.

Caught in the center of a maelstrom of emotions, Ruben felt dizzy, yet his mind remained painfully clear, making the experience agonizing.

That piercing clarity whispered to him: You are already too late.

“I…”

Amidst his trembling green eyes, only Helia stood unshaken, smiling serenely as though she understood his confusion. It was that very smile that drove him mad.

“Cough!”

It happened then. Helia coughed violently, her breaths ragged. Startled, Ruben moved to approach her, but she raised a hand—still covering her mouth from coughing—as if to warn him not to come closer. That hand was stained red with blood.

“Princess!“

Ruben’s horrified cry echoed as Helia turned her palm to look at it. Her vision was painted crimson.

It seemed the time had come. That was all she thought. No more torments could trouble her now. A strange sense of relief washed over her, as though this was how it should have been all along.

Helia allowed a faint, weary smile to surface. Even then, she smiled, and it was unbearable for Ruben. Yes, her suffering was painful for him.

“Isn’t this a fitting end for a foolish princess?”

Her pale lips, now stained red with blood, murmured these words before her eyes slowly closed. Her limp hand fell lifelessly downward, and her head tilted back. It all happened simultaneously, in a fleeting moment. Yet to Ruben, it stretched into an eternity.

“No!”

Ruben rushed toward Helia like a frenzied beast, catching her already unconscious body. Her lifeless form, devoid of any will, collapsed effortlessly into his arms.

She was hauntingly still, and in her stead, Ruben let out a guttural roar, a cry of anguish. But his voice, now bereft of an audience, shattered in the empty air and dissolved into silence.

“Please, open your eyes… please…”

He held her tightly, her lifeless hand swaying with his movement.

All he could do was hope this was a dream—a terrible nightmare. But even as he clung to this thought, his grip on her grew more pungent, like a desperate man clutching a lifeline. The warmth of her skin, soft and lingering under his fingertips, was all too vivid. It was a reality too cruel to escape.

This couldn’t be, not like this. She had only left a few words behind. He still had so many questions to ask. She needed to hear the anger and pleas he had buried within him. She had to listen. She had to…

“Please…”

Unspoken words trembled on his lips as his back quivered faintly. A solitary shadow lingered behind him in the pale dawn.

***

The girl remembered that day vividly. To her, it wasn’t the day after her mother’s passing or the day Marquis Dekar Klein was executed under false charges. For her, that day was the first time she faced her father’s true nature in a private audience. She had no choice but to nod when he asked if she wanted to live. That wretchedly clear memory haunted her.

Her father had said, “You’d best try to survive.“ Those words clung to her like a shadow, following her everywhere. Whenever she imagined him hearing news of her, she could picture his expression vividly as though she were standing before him: a look of surprise that she had managed to survive another day.

That was who she was—a being who survived by sheer luck. This sense of living as if borrowing someone else’s existence filled her with shame. Even the mere act of being alive revolted her. No matter how she lived, each day was inevitably wretched.

But I must live.

No matter how contemptible life was, she had to endure it. She had to hold on until she won her wager against her father. Only then could she protect those she held dear. She had no power now, but that would change when the day came. That future was her only hope, her one pillar of strength.

Of course, she could confide this to no one. However miserable her life might be, her pride as a royal would not allow it. She held her head high, maintained a poised and confident demeanor, and ensured her back was always straight. She carried herself gracefully, projecting the image of someone who stood above others. This was a matter of etiquette toward those beneath her.

There was also her position as the crown princess to consider. If anyone discovered that her father treated her life as a mere plaything, her value would plummet irreparably. Those who deferred to her father would never take her side, so she had to act nonchalantly and confidently before them. While she couldn’t gain allies, she couldn’t afford to make enemies. Already constrained by her circumstances, she couldn’t risk being labeled as the “crown princess at odds with the current king.“ Such a title would ensure her isolation.

I can do this.

Yes, she could. But just because she could endure didn’t mean it was without cost.

The maids who had always cared for her grew increasingly worried as the girl became thinner and frailer with each passing day. Yet her increasing wariness made it difficult for them to approach. Like a wounded beast, she was overly sensitive, and the maids, while concerned, were cautious around her. In a way, this distance worked in her favor. Her strategy of keeping everyone at arm’s length was successful, maintaining constant tension.

However, the girl had yet to grasp the true meaning of her father’s words, “I’ll see how long you can survive.“ She would only understand much later. The bitter realization that her vigilance had been woefully inadequate was terrifying.

It began with persistent coughing. At first, it was only an annoyance, but soon blood appeared. The girl dismissed it as a consequence of her constant stress and exhaustion. But the first time she saw blood mixed with her cough, a chilling premonition flickered through her mind—this was no mere fatigue.

The first thing the girl did was visit the library, searching for books on herbs. She went back and forth to the royal library daily. Then, one day, she came across a book titled All About Poisonous Herbs. She discreetly hid the book in her arms so no one could see and returned to her room. She spent the entire night reading about the effects of various poisonous plants. The book contained information about Snowris, which her mother had consumed, as well as Euresica, considered the deadliest poison in the world. She also discovered details about a poisonous herb called Renite, which matched her current symptoms perfectly.

According to the book, Renite was an herb commonly used by civilians as a wound ointment. However, when ingested, it gradually dehydrates the body, and prolonged use could lead to death. Before this fact became widely known, its refreshing taste and unique grassy aroma had made it a popular choice for brewing tea.

The description matched a taste the girl was already familiar with. Without fail, every day after lunch, her nanny would bring her tea, claiming it would restore her energy and watch over her until she finished it. Always with warm and kind eyes, as if nothing was amiss.

“Ellie would never do such a thing.”

The girl dismissed the thought. In this vast palace, Ellie was the one person who truly belonged to her. From the day she was born until now, Ellie has watched over her closely, taking care of her every step of the way. Hadn’t she nurtured her like her own child? Wasn’t she more of a mother than her actual mother?

But the seed of doubt continued to grow. The girl decided to test Ellie—not to confirm her suspicions but to reassure herself that it couldn’t be true. However, the truth did not unfold as she hoped.

“This tea is delicious as always.”

It was a sunny day. She had a meal in the garden for the first time since moving from the Lily Palace to her mother’s Rose Palace under Rigel’s orders. Although the Rose Palace was dark and somber like her mother, the vibrant garden was to her liking. After finishing her meal amidst the beautiful scenery, she sipped Ellie’s tea as usual and spoke. Ellie promptly affirmed her words.

“It’s a very famous herb known for its refreshing taste.“

“Really? What’s it called?“

“Oh, um…”

Ellie visibly flinched. With no one else around since the girl had sent others away, Ellie glanced around nervously before giving a nonsensical answer.

“It’s called ‘Reit.‘ It’s very beneficial for the body. His Majesty instructed me to brew it carefully for Your Highness, saying you’ve seemed fatigued lately.”