It had been ten days since Helia collapsed.

The time was excruciating. Ruben could only describe the past ten days as such.

Right after Helia collapsed, Ruben held her in his arms for what felt like an eternity before realizing her breathing, though faint, had not stopped. Only then did his own heart, which had seemed frozen in despair, begin to beat again.

Ruben gently laid Helia on her bed and summoned the attendants waiting outside. He ordered them to fetch both the cleric and the court physician without delay, emphasizing that they must bring them regardless of the cost. The servants, seeing their master’s distorted expression, instinctively knew something was gravely wrong with Helia and moved swiftly.

Thanks to their efforts, the cleric and physician arrived the same day. Unfortunately, even they were helpless. The poison derived from Euresica was not used lightly—it was a venom reserved for ensuring the demise of nobles. Its lethal potency was a testament to its intent: “The target must not survive.” At this point, it was a miracle that Helia hadn’t succumbed immediately. With a heavy heart, the cleric infused Helia with divine energy, just enough to sustain her without nutrition. That was all they could do.

After much deliberation, Ruben decided to call Lette. Though Helia had once refused Lette’s aid during the Harvest Festival, Ruben hesitated no longer. He would do anything to save Helia. It didn’t matter if she awoke to curse him for it or if she poured all her resentment onto him—it didn’t matter. All he wanted was for her to open her eyes again.

Lette arrived at the duchy immediately. Regrettably, she could not even offer a solution. Gazing at Helia with sorrowful eyes, she said softly:

“All we can do is hope she overcomes this alone.”

Overcome it on her own… But Helia had no will to fight. Hadn’t she already declared to Ruben that her life ended here? In the face of that proclamation, he had been powerless, unable to stop or refute her. All he could do was watch, paralyzed, as her resolve unfolded.

Ruben immersed himself in action. It was the only way he could endure this unbearable time. He ordered Ikael to track down Miel and Devon and suppress any leaks of the situation within the rebel forces. Meanwhile, he delved into Helia’s past actions. All of this took place while he remained by her side.

He never left Helia’s side. He moved all his affairs to the Star Residence, conducting meals, work, and meetings in the room adjacent to her bedroom. He constantly checked on her. The household staff also relocated to the Star Residence. Soon, the entire duchy grew eerily silent, except for the bustling activity around the Star Residence.

“Ruben.”

Ikael eventually came to the Star Residence to see him. Ruben, his eyes hollow from sleepless nights, rubbed at his shadowed eyelids as he greeted him. Ikael’s complexion was equally grim. Once inside, Ikael dismissed the servants and spoke in a low tone.

“I’ve contacted Devon’s deputy guildmaster.”

“And?“

“It’s confirmed. That woman is the guild master.”

It was as they had suspected. Yet, having the fact confirmed left a bitter taste. Ikael placed a stack of documents on Ruben’s already chaotic desk. The surface was buried under reports detailing Helia’s activities for the revolutionaries. Her involvement had been extensive—not just through anonymous letters but also occasional financial support. All of it had been mediated through Miel, the Devon guild master, or her subordinates. Ruben’s expression hardened with each uncovered piece of Helia’s actions, and Enoch’s face grew pale.

“How is the princess?”

“The same.“

“Ten days now…”

Ikael sighed in despair. Ruben remained silent.

As Helia’s past unfolded, what initially stirred resentment became a gnawing emptiness. Why hadn’t she told anyone? Why had she borne everything alone? Why had she endured so much in silence? These unanswered questions weighed heavily on him. He was furious, not just at her but at himself, for failing to see through her. He wanted to confront her, demand answers, and shake her from the cage of solitude she had built.

But as the days stretched and Helia remained unconscious, his anger became futile.

His world had crumbled, leaving him alone in the wreckage. Everything lay in ruins, scattered like dust. Yet amidst the devastation, a singular truth shone with unbearable clarity. And there he was, paralyzed before it, unable to extend a hand to grasp it.

All he could do was wait. To wait, as one waits for spring after a harsh winter. For the miraculous moment when her eyes would open. He clung to the ability to wait, finding solace in it. He would have already lost his sanity without the chance to stay.

“We’ll have to negotiate with Devon’s guildmaster.“

“Negotiate? What kind of deal?“

“What else does Devon trade in but information?“

“You’re not thinking of…”

Ruben gave no answer to Ikael’s questioning gaze. His emerald eyes, dim and sunken, and his subdued tone hinted at a resolution that only deepened Ikael’s unease. Yet Ikael could not stop him—he had no right.

That day, Ikael, who had ridden hard to reach the Star Residence, stood speechless at the tragedy before him. The princess had already drunk the poison, and Ruben had been powerless to prevent it. That was the immutable reality they faced. Time could not be rewound, and no words Ikael spoke could ease the burden Ruben now bore.

Rumors spread quietly, suggesting Helia Bailey had collapsed at the duke’s estate for reasons unknown. People speculated, some even gleefully attributing her plight to divine retribution for her ways. Every time Ikael heard such talk, a suffocating darkness consumed him. He wanted to grab those people and scream the truth, but he knew he couldn’t. To do so would betray everything Helia had fought to build.

“Why did she…?”

What had driven her to such lengths? As much as he agonized, he could only imagine that, given her circumstances, this had been her best course of action. The thought left him despairing. How far ahead had she calculated when she cast herself into the abyss? Her deep, suffocating resolve was beyond his comprehension.

“…I will contact the Guild Master of Devon myself.“

“As quickly as possible.“

“I’ll do my best.”

At that moment, a cautious knock sounded on the door. Both Ruben and Ikael instinctively turned toward the source. The butler, Wil, entered with a somber expression and addressed Ruben.

“The Saintess has arrived.“

“The Saintess…?“

“Indeed. Escort her in.”

Ruben rose from his seat as if he had been expecting her. Ikael, puzzled, followed suit and asked, “Why is the Saintess here?“

“She is the leader of the revolutionaries. If anyone has the right and duty to know the full truth, it’s her.”

Until now, Ruben and Ikael had refrained from telling Lette that Helia had been aiding the revolutionaries. They had been uncertain how to approach the subject. Although Lette had sensed something during her previous visit to the duke’s estate to treat Helia, she had left without asking questions, seemingly waiting for Ruben to bring it up formally. Now, it seemed, Ruben had made his decision.

Yet his expression was bitter as if resigned to his fate. He looked like a condemned man walking to his execution, his face hollow with despair. Ikael felt pity for him but knew there was nothing he could do. Only the princess could evoke such emotions in Ruben. Once, that dynamic had seemed frustrating and regrettable. Now, he could only watch as that same devotion brought about their ruin, weighed down by guilt he could not lift.

After Ikael left the room, Ruben moved to the window, gazing outside as he awaited Lette. A servant quietly cleared Ikael’s teacup and replaced it with a fresh one. Before long, Lette arrived.

“You summoned me?“

“Please, have a seat.”

Ruben greeted her formally, his tone and manner reflecting her status as the leader of the revolutionaries. He dismissed everyone else in the room, ensuring privacy. Once the door was closed, it was some time before Lette broke the silence.

“Why did you call for me?“

“There is something I need to tell you.”

With a subdued voice, Ruben began to explain. He recounted how Helia anonymously supported the revolutionaries, providing intelligence and funding their cause. He told her of Helia’s deliberate decision to use the deadly Euresica flower as part of her plan, fully aware of the consequences.

Lette listened without interrupting, though her brow furrowed when Ruben described the self-destructive intent behind Helia’s actions. Still, she didn’t appear overly shocked, and her calm demeanor puzzled Ruben.

“You don’t seem surprised.“

“I am surprised, but…“

“But?“

“How long has the princess been preparing for this outcome?”

Ruben had no answer. Lette, too, seemed not to expect one. She murmured to herself, “Perhaps everything started going awry far earlier than we realize.“

“Do you have any specific insights?“

“The last time I spoke to her, the princess mentioned that my father asked her to tell me he loved me before he passed away.“

Ruben’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“If the princess truly framed my father, as the accusations claim, why would he leave such a message to her?”

“……”

“Could it be that what the princess hasn’t told us goes beyond her support for the revolutionaries?”

After Lette left, Ruben remained motionless for a long time, rooted to the spot. The air around him seemed heavy with despair, oppressive enough to suffocate. No one dared approach him—not even Will, who had known him since birth. Ruben was utterly, devastatingly alone.

When he finally moved, the hour was late. Everyone had long since retired to their rooms. Ruben went directly to the adjoining chamber, Helia’s bedroom. A maid who had been dozing off while watching over Helia startled awake. Ruben silently motioned for her to leave. She quickly vacated the room.

Once alone, Ruben approached Helia’s bedside. As she lay there, her face was serene, as though she were merely asleep. She looked entirely at peace, as if detached from all worldly burdens. Watching her, Ruben felt as though the ground beneath him was crumbling away. It was like a stone shattering a thin sheet of ice, the fractures radiating endlessly. He stood at the center of it all, unable to do anything but witness the aftermath.

He didn’t want to believe it. He tried to turn away, to deny what was before him. It was easier to reject her than to question his world’s fabric.

But that had been the wrong choice. No matter how improbable it seemed, he should have believed in her at least once. He should have doubted his own judgments and considered her words more deeply. If only he had, perhaps he wouldn’t be drowning in this unbearable regret.

“I…,“ Ruben whispered, bowing his head. If he could, he would undo everything. But time only moved forward, and all that awaited him was the future. A future where she might never wake up. A future without her.