News of Helia’s return stirred the Rose Palace, which had been as silent as death. Since she had departed for the Duke’s estate, the palace had been left nearly abandoned, showing clear signs of neglect. Sun-faded books in the sunlit corners, withering trees in the garden, fountains where water no longer flowed, and statues in the unkempt gardens covered in a thin layer of dust betrayed its desolation.

Helia gazed out the window at the scene with disdain before turning away.

Not long after, the carriage came to a halt. Without acknowledging the bowing servants, she headed straight to her room. Anna, the head maid of the Rose Palace, greeted her as though she had been waiting.

“Your Highness, you’ve returned.”

“So, you’re the only one still holding your ground here,” Helia remarked with a wry smile, mocking the disrepair of the palace. Anna’s face darkened slightly.

“I apologize. This is all my fault.”

“Hardly. An unoccupied place will always show signs of neglect.”

An unoccupied place. No part of the royal palace was unoccupied, as every inch belonged to Xeroth von Bailey, King of Bailey. Even if this place had been gifted to Helia, its valid owner was still Xeroth. Helia’s claim to ownership was not a declaration of sovereignty but a veiled critique—suggesting that the state of the Rose Palace reflected the diminished dignity of its true master. To call it unoccupied was to imply that the king’s honor had fallen into disrepair.

“Please, punish me,” Anna pleaded, bowing deeply. Helia looked down at her with cold, detached eyes. Instead of forgiving her, Helia dismissed her entirely, stepping past without a second glance.

“I’m going to my room.”

Anna remained bowed until the sound of Helia’s footsteps had faded entirely. Only then did she dare to lift her head, staring forlornly in the direction Helia had disappeared.

The true tyrant of the Rose Palace had returned.

***

Helia went straight to her bedroom and dismissed everyone. Thankfully, the room had just been cleaned and was spotless. Without bothering to change her clothes, she lay down on the bed. Only then did the tension in her body release, and the pain in her strained shoulders and neck began to set in.

The ceiling, adorned not with vibrant flowers but with frolicking cherubs, seemed oddly out of place. Staring at it, she finally felt the weight of being back in the palace.

“So, I’ve come back after all.”

She had thought she could choose her place to die. She had believed that was the one decision she could control. Was even that a delusion of arrogance?

To the world, it appeared that Helia had stubbornly insisted on betrothing herself to the Duke. In truth, however, Xeroth had first proposed the engagement between her and Ruben. When Helia initially heard of it, she opposed the idea. Being tied to her would bring trouble for Ruben, tarnishing his reputation and the reverence he commanded.

Yet, even as she objected, she knew Xeroth would not yield. After days of contemplation, she made a counterproposal: allow her to reside at the Duke’s estate during the engagement. Xeroth readily agreed, likely eager to have her out of sight. His mind was a nauseatingly pleasant field of flowers.

If she had no say in her fate, at least she wanted to choose the circumstances of her death. Being brutally executed by the revolutionary forces tearing through the palace seemed far worse than quietly succumbing to poison at her betrothed’s estate. She had never been able to live as she wished. If she couldn’t control anything in life, she thought she might at least dictate the terms of her death.

And if the person by her side in those final moments was Ruben Effenberg… No matter how much resentment filled his gaze, if she could look into his steadfast green eyes just once more and find a glimmer of light there, then perhaps her death wouldn’t be so bad. It might even be the best she could hope for.

But as soon as she faced him again, she realized how naive and indulgent that thought had been.

Though she knew better, she wanted to keep his gaze fixed on her. She couldn’t bear his kindness toward others. Despite knowing how foolish it was, she couldn’t stop yearning. And she despised herself for it. How could she have thought she deserved to be near him at the end? How could she imagine any version of him that wasn’t utterly precious to her?

Yet, she endured because her end was near. That was her only solace. Cradling her frayed heart, she waited for death, the one thing she could still do. But even the long-anticipated end refused to unfold as she planned.

God had betrayed her expectations again and again. The final move on the carefully constructed board was left incomplete. Even her death was not hers to command.

“How naive I was.”

Helia rolled onto her side. The path ahead was clear. She needed to annul the engagement with Ruben and sever all ties with him. Now that he knew too much about her, remaining near him was dangerous.

The worst-case scenario would be Ruben spiriting her away or saving her. The idea of Ruben Effenberg sparing a member of the Bailey bloodline was unthinkable. Helia herself was the last person who should remain in the revolutionary picture she had envisioned. She would only weigh Ruben down. She had to cut herself off from him before it was too late.

And yet—

“Ruben…”

When she closed her eyes, the image of Ruben, head bowed, haunted her vividly. Her chest ached as if it were being squeezed, leaving her breathless and teary-eyed. An overwhelming sadness coursed through her, filling every corner of her being.

Her heart kept breaking, and the resolve she thought was firm crumbled to dust.

She was afraid, too. Who could face a guillotine without fear? Yet if that was her role, she had no intention of refusing it. Ruben’s offer moved her to tears, but nothing could be undone. They had come too far. She was already a tyrant, infamous and reviled—a symbol of the monarchy that must fall.

Turning away from Ruben’s crumbling form was agonizing, but no matter how much her heart ached or how many regrets and longings tugged at her, the outcome was set in stone.

“What else could I have done?”

Perhaps they should never have met again. But that was never her choice. She should have hidden herself better. But with Miel’s network, it would have been futile.

Had she been wrong to choose poison? She had never imagined the most potent poison would fail her.

No matter how she thought about it, every action she had taken was the best choice. She could only conclude it that way.

Even so, she kept revisiting those decisions, perhaps because the one involved was him, Ruben. 

I wished you would never know me, that you would turn away. Because if you found out, you would hesitate. You would falter with me before you.

Look. In the end, this is what happened.

Someday, will you cry before my lifeless body? 

Just imagining him grieving made her heart ache with a sharp chill. 

Don’t let your heart be wounded over a worthless death. You are someone precious. 

But already dead, she would not be able to comfort his trembling shoulders. That thought left her feeling unbearably regretful and sorrowful.

Accept that this death was my choice. Think of it as something unavoidable. Don’t carry guilt over it. And so, please, don’t let me remain a burden on your heart. 

Helia sincerely hoped so.