“And if you don’t like it, feel free to change it later…”

Ruben chuckled softly at her uncharacteristic hesitation. He remembered how, as a child, she had been deeply moved when he presented her with a tiny bluebird he’d caught for her. She’d immediately named it Bluey. Even then, it had been clear her naming skills were… questionable. Apparently, she was aware of that herself. Still, Ruben had no intention of rejecting any name she gave him, even if it was something as simplistic as “Blue” again. Of course, the officials recording the name in historical documents might feel disheartened by her choices, but that wasn’t his concern.

“Anything is fine. As long as it’s a name from Your Highness.”

“Still…”

“I mean it. Even if it’s something like ‘Yellow’ or ‘Green,’ I’ll accept it.”

“What? No, that’s too much.”

Helia grumbled in disbelief. Indeed, even she wasn’t that bad. How could he even come up with such names? It seemed Ruben’s naming sense was worse than hers. “Yellow” or “Green,” seriously. Then, a memory struck her, and she froze.

“Don’t tell me you remember?”

“Bluey is off-limits. You’ve already given that name to someone else.”

Helia’s face flushed as if her deepest secret had been exposed. She remembered bragging to her grandfather about the bluebird Ruben had caught for her, only for him to ask, “Did you hit the bird? Is that why it’s bruised?”

And then there was how Ruben had ended up catching the bluebird. She’d painted a bird in blue because that was the only color she had at the time. Pleased with how it looked, she’d demanded someone find her a real bird that resembled her drawing. Specifically, she’d demanded it of Ruben. At the time, Bailey was in the grip of winter, and bluebirds typically resided in warmer southern regions. Yet the boy had ridden tirelessly through the cold to fulfill her wish.

She recalled the boy proudly presenting her with the cage containing the bluebird. His emerald-green eyes, shining like jewels, never left her face. That unwavering gaze filled with devotion—it was intoxicating. Those eyes promised to accept even her most unreasonable demands.

And now, he looked at her with the same piercing gaze.

“Ruben.”

No, it wasn’t. The emotion in his green eyes differed from back then—a persistent, heated gaze that locked onto hers. Helia knew the name of that emotion. A flood of indescribable feelings surged within her in an instant.

I know. But I cannot say it. Because then it would become real.

We’ve taken such a long, winding path to reach this moment. You must realize it, too—no matter how much we return and stand in a moment resembling the beginning, we are no longer the people we were, having walked a different path. Once, there was a time when we looked at the bluebird with pure, shining eyes. But no one can remain in that fleeting moment forever.

Ruben, I know. I know that your knees will bend before me instead of approaching me. That your lips, in the end, will not meet mine but my hand instead.

So, does this mean we will never truly reach each other? Will you forever hesitate to extend your hand, and will I keep contemplating rejecting a hand that won’t be extended? We fail to beg for forgiveness and fail to forgive. We just yearn for one another, unable to take even a single step closer.

“Your Highness.”

Before she knew it, Helia’s eyes had turned red. Ruben’s figure blurred through her teary vision. I hate this. I want you to always be vivid, always shining.

“It’s all my fault.”

“……”

“Everything is my fault. So please…”

Ruben, his expression as if the world were crumbling around him, extended his hand toward Helia. But that was all—his fingertips lingered in the air, grasping at nothing. The sight of Ruben, unable to bring himself to touch her, was heartbreaking.

Why did you do it? Would I feel better if I poured out my resentment in one outburst? Why did you abandon me? Why did you leave me alone? Why did you—why did you…?

If I had said all this, you would have been sorry. Perhaps for the rest of your life. No, you’re already sad, aren’t you? And yet, I can’t bear that either. How could it all be your fault? I intentionally pushed you away, covered your eyes, and blocked your ears. I made you misunderstand me like that. And even so, I hated you for growing distant. But how could it be only your fault?

Even if we were to hold onto each other and pour out all these emotions, we could never forget those years. The past is simply the past; it doesn’t disappear. Though the scars we’ve inflicted on each other may no longer hurt to the touch, they’ll remain clear marks, endlessly reminding us of our faults. An infinite cycle of apologies and forgiveness that won’t reach. That’s our only future, Ruben, and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart so much.

Helia eventually lowered her head. Until the knight, who could never touch her, left hurriedly at the break of dawn, the two stood rooted in place as if frozen in time.

***

Ruben continued to visit her every night after that. Helia, for her part, greeted him as if nothing had happened. The two discussed, listened, and decided on plans for a new future. Even so, there were moments when Helia felt sorrowful, and every time her golden eyes reflected sadness, Ruben felt disgusted at his own helplessness.

And yet, they didn’t stop being together. More accurately, they couldn’t stop. The matters ahead didn’t allow them the luxury of dwelling solely on their emotions.

Like now, for instance.

“A guest?”

At the maid’s announcement, Helia tilted her head in curiosity. There were hardly any guests who would visit her during the day. No noble would seek favor from someone as good as retired royalty. Helia questioned casually, still puzzled.

“Who is it?”

“They say it’s Lady Cleta Harpers.”

Cleta Harpers? Helia almost repeated the name aloud. The lady of the Harpers Marquisate, the most prominent estate in the South.

Why would she visit me? Helia’s face reflected her confusion. Questions swirled in her mind, but none could be resolved without meeting Cleta herself. Helia nodded and instructed the maid.

“I’ll go to the reception room.”

Helia rose and made her way to the room, where Cleta, having already been shown in, sat with an air of elegance. Upon seeing Helia, she rose with a bright smile and greeted her.

“Helia Bailey, the Rose of Bailey, it is an honor to meet you.”

Helia frowned momentarily. It was not a title she cared to receive. Rose of Bailey? More like the one who painted Bailey red with blood.

But since she didn’t know Cleta’s purpose for visiting, Helia couldn’t openly express such feelings. The Harpers Marquisate had been one of the key forces allied with the revolutionaries, but their true intentions remained unclear.

As preparations in Effenberg, the new capital, neared completion, key figures, including Helia, began to take more direct actions, section, shehe revolutionaries that Lette was a witch. Naturally, it caused an uproar. Everyone was working tiworked calm the chaos and rally the hearts of the shocked followers. It was no easy feat. Those who had sworn loyalty to Helia were shaken, let alone those who had secretly harbored deeper allegiance to Lette. Their betrayal was immeasurable.

Under Ikael’s sharp watch and their history of siding with the revolution, outright defection was difficult, so most chose to remain silent. Among them, the Harpers Marquisate was one such family that maintained their silence.

Helia couldn’t fathom Cleta’s purpose in coming here, especially in broad daylight. Still, she gestured for Cleta to take a seat, and soon, the two were seated across from each other on the sofa. True to her reputation as the queen of the social world, Cleta responded with nothing but a composed smile, leaving Helia to break the silence first.

“What brings you here, my lady?”