“Could it be…?”

Even though he had confirmed nothing, his chest felt like it had been struck by a heavy blow. His hand, brushing over his face, trembled faintly. His once flawless complexion had grown dry and rough from sleepless nights, and his parched eyes stung sharply. Lugging his exhausted body, he stumbled out the door and called one of the maids waiting outside. He ordered her to take him to the secret room. He didn’t even know its exact location.

The maid, startled once by the pallor and darkness of the duke’s face and a second time by his unexpected command, hesitated only briefly before obeying respectfully. Ruben followed her with a sinking heart. Each step echoed loudly in the quiet corridor, sounding like his heartbeat.

How far did they walk? It was merely a secluded room at the far end of the corridor, slightly removed from Helia’s bed-chamber, yet to Ruben, it felt as distant and arduous as climbing the stairs to heaven. When the maid finally stopped, Ruben’s heart began pounding uncontrollably.

“…Is this the place?”

“Yes, my lord,“ she replied calmly, oblivious to her master’s turmoil. Ruben dismissed her, instructing that no one should approach. Even after the maid left, he stood frozen before the door, staring at it. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t raise his hand. The oppressive weight of his dread pinned him down.

He had heard the servants’ whispers about this room. The secret dressing room of Princess Helia is devoid even of a proper wardrobe for her daily dresses. A space rumored to hold all manner of extravagant luxuries and treasures so precious that even the duchy’s maids weren’t allowed to touch them. A place thought to house riches akin to the secret vaults of a legendary magician—a room too valuable to let any eyes but hers see.

It was that very room he had to check. Ruben took a step toward the door. His hand trembled faintly as it reached for the doorknob as if sensing the dread awaiting him.

The cold metal of the knob chilled his hand. With great care, Ruben gripped it and pushed. The room, expected to hold all the world’s treasures, revealed itself more quickly than he had anticipated. And there, Ruben froze, unable to take even a single step inside.

The room, thought to be dazzling with jewels, was lit only by the faint light filtering through the window. There was no parade of opulent dresses, sparkling treasures, or splendid luxuries.

It was an empty room, save for a single desk in the corner. The coat racks on either side bore not a single dress. The emptiness before him rendered Ruben speechless.

There was indeed nothing. No rare jewels, splendid gowns, or even the everyday clothes she might wear outside.

“….”

Then, something on the desk caught his eye—a piece of clothing sprawled atop it. Ruben slowly approached the desk, each step deliberate. He picked up the garment, its soft cream-colored fabric slipping into his hands. As he lifted it, the dried, dark crimson of bloodstains on its hem came into view.

Ruben’s hand trembled as he held the garment. He knew this piece too well.

Yet, it could no longer be called clothing. The fabric was riddled with gaping holes, shredded to the point of losing its form as if attacked with scissors. As Ruben stared blankly at it, he finally understood what had left it in such a pitiful state.

Jewels. The gems that once adorned the dress like a line of stars embroidered on the Milky Way had been stripped away entirely. What remained was nothing more than worthless scraps of cloth.

Where had it all gone? The question was foolish. Helia had poured everything into it—for her death and the future of this place.

She had understood her position all too keenly. As a royal princess, she knew her best contribution to the revolutionaries was to lend them motivation and justification as a royal family member. And so, the princess was extravagant, arrogant, and unafraid to earn the hatred of others. She scorned everyone and claimed everything.

But what had she indeed possessed? She had nothing. Nothing at all. No glittering jewels, no beautiful dresses, no piles of gold, no authority to command others, not even the future she once dreamed of.

Ruben collapsed to his knees, crumbling to the floor. He buried his face into the cloth in his hands. A faint scent of blood rose from it, making him feel like he couldn’t endure any longer. Soon, his shoulders began to shake. The hand clutching the garment trembled as well.

“How…?”

How could this be? How could someone be so cruel to themselves? Even a mortal enemy wouldn’t drive someone to this extent. How could anyone do this?

It felt like he was wandering a barren wasteland with no stitch of clothing on. Overwhelmingly empty and devastatingly lonely. He wished he could close his eyes and let it all end. The solitude was unbearable. For over ten years, Helia had carried that weight. If one could even call that living—she had clung to life, breathing shallowly, only to now declare her role fulfilled and prepare to die, disappearing as though she had never existed.

How unbearable her life must have been. How excruciating she is every day.

And to such a person, what had I done?

His heart sank. He could barely breathe. The hatred and anger he had directed at her over the years now came back at him like arrows. He felt shackled by the very words he had once hurled at her.

“Ugh…”

Only then did he fully comprehend how his actions had reached her. The steps of his younger self, walking away without hesitation, the ten years he lived without so much as looking back, the cold reunion that felt more bitter than the days they had never met, and the assumption that she deserved death as a revolutionary—all of it.

The pain that wasn’t his to bear now pierced through his bones like frostbite. It was as if he had been abandoned in the heart of a snowy mountain in winter. His entire body trembled. Only now did he realize the enormity of what he had done. The anguish in his heart spilled over, manifesting as physical pain. His muscles ached, his bones felt frozen, and every nerve screamed in torment.

Even so, the thought that all of it would never compare to the pain she had felt left him feeling distant and overwhelmed.

“No… this can’t happen.”

Not like this. This can’t be how it ends.

Too many questions were left unanswered. Too many stories remained untold. He hadn’t heard anything yet. For far too long, they had turned their backs on each other, shut their ears, misunderstood, clawed at one another, and let time slip away. And then, suddenly, it ended.

But it couldn’t end like that.

Now that he knew they had been misunderstanding each other, it was time to listen, clear up those misunderstandings, apologize, and reach out to one another. That’s the natural order of things, isn’t it? For humans, such a sequence of events is necessary. Relationships between people continue in that way. You don’t get to decide unilaterally that it’s over. 

I won’t let it happen like this.

You’re wrong. Our bond doesn’t end like that.

We haven’t done any of those things yet. You have to give me time to resent you. Then, in time, I’ll need the chance to ask for your forgiveness, and you’ll need time to decide whether you can forgive me. We’ll need a very long time. We didn’t have enough of it before. But that’s okay. I’ll devote all the time I have left to you.

So please, get up. Don’t say this is the end. How… how could you leave things like this? How could you? How could you leave me behind? How could you possibly leave me?

Ruben knelt on the ground, groaning in anguish. He remained frozen in place for a very long time, unable to move, in the now empty room of the princess. It was no longer a hidden space as if the magic that had once been concealed had dissolved. A space that should never have been secret in the first place. Ruben remained motionless for as long as she had spent her lonely time there. And in that protracted silence, every moment was carved into his soul.

And then—

“……”

The princess opened her eyes.