“That is why I must be the saintess, brother.”

Her words were filled with profound emotion. Every syllable carried the weight of what she had endured, the things she had protected, and the things she had lost. Ruben closed his eyes slowly, his handsome face etched with pain.

“…I heard the princess has returned to the palace.”

“Yes.“

Lette’s sudden mention of Helia didn’t strike Ruben as odd. In fact, it felt natural. Both knew where this question originated—from a long time ago.

The anger of a young girl who had once denied her existence seemed to resurface. The golden eyes that resembled the sun always made him feel like a sinner. The dazzling radiance of that golden gaze made him want to turn away. He remembered that golden light, constantly questioning him with unrelenting truth.

Lette’s pale lashes trembled faintly. Finally, she spoke as heavy as the burden she bore.

“…Do not doubt her.”

It was the best she could do, the only way she could push Ruben forward. Even if it left her mouth wounded and her heart scarred, she had to hold the truth within her, unable to either swallow it or let it go.

A long silence followed, heavy enough to drown out even the sound of a butterfly’s wings. Lette endured it quietly as though it were a punishment she had to bear.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ruben seemed to come to a decision. At last, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Lette, I…”

Lette quietly listened to him. It was late in the afternoon.

✥✥✥

Several days later, Ruben entered the palace at Xeroth’s command. Upon seeing how much thinner Ruben had become since their last meeting, Xeroth was startled and asked with concern,

“Are you all right, Duke?”

“I am grateful for your concern, Your Majesty. I am fine,“ Ruben replied, his voice low and hoarse.

Xeroth sighed heavily, clearly distressed. It seemed Helia had been tormenting Ruben relentlessly. Xeroth reflected on his earlier decision to arrange their engagement, now chastising himself. It may have been a mistake from the start. Breaking off the engagement now seemed not only wise but necessary—if Helia pushed Ruben further, it could lead to catastrophic consequences for both her and the royal family.

Eager to resolve the matter, Xeroth said, “I’ll get straight to the point. My sister came to see me. She wishes to annul her engagement to you.”

“…”

“Don’t take it too hard, Duke. This won’t sever the bond between you and the royal family,“ Xeroth added, offering a well-meaning but empty consolation.

Ruben barely heard him.

He had anticipated that she would sever every tie between them. But facing reality was an entirely different ordeal. It felt as though his heart was plummeting into an endless abyss. He wanted to rush to her, to kneel before her, and beg her not to strip away every connection they shared.

There was still so much he wanted to do for her—or rather, he had done nothing. Despite being her fiancé, he hadn’t even sent her a flower. He had never inquired about her well-being with genuine kindness nor extended a gentle hand to her. Every interaction had been out of obligation, driven solely by her commands. Even when she was bedridden and near death because of him, all he had done was idly grasp her outstretched hand, offering no warmth or solace.

Would it have made any difference if he had held her hand with more care back then? This question haunted him.

“The princess…“ Ruben began.

“She’s the same as ever. That temper of hers hasn’t changed,“ Xeroth replied with a small sigh, sinking deeper into his throne.

Ruben’s gaze lingered on Xeroth. His thoughts drifted to Helia’s bitter words, words that echoed in his mind.

— That throne was supposed to be mine.

So many things had once belonged to her but were taken away. Loving parents, a gentle childhood, loyal vassals, a proper education, a radiant throne, and even a knight who would swear fealty with all his heart. How many of those had been stripped away by him?

“I made a mistake,“ Xeroth admitted. “I thought you’d be able to handle my sister.“

“What do you mean by that, Your Majesty?“

“Wait—you didn’t know?“ Xeroth said, surprised.

Helia hadn’t mentioned that her engagement had been arranged by Xeroth himself. Realizing his blunder, Xeroth hesitated, then finally confessed, “I was the one who persuaded her to agree to the engagement.”

“…”

“But don’t worry. I’ll find you a new fiancée. That engagement, too, will be sanctioned in the king’s name.”

Ruben was at a loss for words. His mind went blank.

He had believed it was entirely her decision—that even after ten years, she couldn’t let go of her lingering obsession with him. So, he had gone to her, demanded the engagement be annulled, and accused her of acting impulsively. He had warned her she would regret it.

But it hadn’t been her choice at all?

His heart burned as if consumed by fire. The world around him grew dark and hollow. It felt like he was falling into a void, cut off from everything.

He could only ask himself again: What have I done?

He had thought his heart was already in ruins, yet it crumbled further.

How could he ever fathom her feelings as she silently endured his scorn? She had taken in all his harsh words, quietly withering away beside him. Remaining by his side must have been an excruciating torment for her, like a slow death. And yet, she had chosen to stay, clinging to the hope of a future that he wouldn’t even be part of.

But what future could possibly justify all that pain?

If only she had blamed him. If only she had cursed and rebuked him to her heart’s content. He would have borne it all, drowning in regret and self-recrimination, but at least he wouldn’t wander in this endless desolation. What could he do for someone who wouldn’t even hate him?

“…”

Ruben found himself aimlessly wandering the palace corridors when he came to his senses. He couldn’t remember how he had left the king; his mind was consumed entirely by thoughts of Helia.

Perhaps his feet brought him to this place—a location he could never forget. He vividly recalled storming out in anger not long ago, refusing to look at her properly. He had only spoken his piece and left coldly, convinced he was in the right. He had been so confident back then, so utterly blind to everything else. What had she been thinking as she endured his tirade?

“Duke Effenberg!”

A maid bustling through the Rose Palace stopped when she saw Ruben. Startled, she instinctively covered her mouth before approaching him cautiously.

“I’m sorry, but you cannot be here. Her Highness has issued a ban on your entry.“

“A ban on my entry?“ Ruben asked, bewildered.

The maid, looking troubled, explained, “Her Highness has ordered that you are not to enter the Rose Palace again under any circumstances.”

Ruben did not ask why. He already understood—it was a declaration of her unyielding resolve never to see him again. What caught his attention was the word “again“ in the context of the ban.

“Again, you said?“

“Yes, Your Grace. She issued a similar decree once before…“

“When was that?“

“I’m not sure of the exact time, but I believe it was about ten years ago.”

Ruben quickly grasped the reason. That order had likely been for his sake. The late king had once used her life to threaten his. Fearing that being close to him might put him in danger, she must have pushed him away. She had wanted him to shine, even from a distance. That was how much she had cared for him. Cherished him.

And what had he done in return? Ruben had only just learned of her prior banishment of him from this place. He had been so oblivious that he never even noticed it. He had never once turned his gaze back toward her. He had severed their connection entirely. Meanwhile, she had been left alone, withering away in this palace.

He had not known. He had not known what she did, what she said, what she saw, heard, felt, or thought. What she yearned for, what she lost, what she loved, or what she suffered.

He truly knew nothing. And sometimes, ignorance can itself be a sin.

“Your Grace…”

The maid shifted uncomfortably, her feet fidgeting as she glanced at Ruben. Her unease stemmed from his continued presence in front of the Rose Palace, where he had been banned. But Ruben stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the palace as if rooted to the ground.

Now is not the time. Ruben tried to convince himself. If he approached her now, she would only reject him again. To see her again, he needed resolve and preparation. He knew this all too well.

Yet, his feet refused to move. He wanted nothing more than to walk through that door, kneel before her, and beg for her forgiveness.

“Leave now.”

At last, after what felt like an eternity, Ruben turned away from the Rose Palace. Every step felt like a weight, a penance for his sins.