A cool breeze drifted through the terrace. Unlike other banquets, the terrace of the masquerade ball was an open space accessible to anyone, though not many ventured there. Young men and women at such gatherings typically sought out more secluded and shadowy places. Even those here could take their partner’s hand and retreat to more hidden corners. For Helia, this was hardly a concern.

The ball was in full swing, brimming with life and fervor. Though separated by a glass window, Helia gazed at the world beyond as if observing another dimension. Thinking she had been part of that scene only moments ago felt surreal.

She slowly approached the railing. The night air was quite chilly, but she welcomed its coolness. She disliked the feverish warmth that stirred emotions of hope or optimism—feelings she deemed unnecessary. To her, such warmth was a deception. This crisp temperature felt just right, though even this chill was a form of warmth to her.

Then she heard the terrace door open. Naturally, she did not turn around. Yet the sound of deliberate footsteps drew closer. Could the crown prince be so obtuse as to follow her here? Annoyed, Helia glanced over to see who it was.

The sight stopped her breath.

A man dressed impeccably in a jet-black tailcoat stood beside her, his face partially concealed by a dark mask. Despite the mask, his beauty shone as brightly as the moon. Even without glimpsing those clear green eyes, she immediately knew who he was.

Helia could not fathom how anyone could fail to recognize their lover, even behind a mere mask, at a masquerade ball. How could one be so blind when that person stood out so vividly, even in the darkest shadows? Even in complete darkness, she felt confident she could find him. That certainty filled her with an unbearable sense of despair.

Ruben stood close, but neither made eye contact nor initiated conversation with her. Helia hesitated for a moment. Should she acknowledge him? Perhaps he preferred to pretend not to know her.

The possibility that he hadn’t recognized her was already dismissed. When he stood on the staircase earlier, he had clearly spotted her. She vividly remembered his intense gaze, which seemed no different from how one might glare at a loathsome enemy. Even so, she found some satisfaction in the fact that he recognized her despite knowing full well that such feelings only served to wear him down.

“Are you alright?”

Surprisingly, Ruben was the first to speak. That alone was unexpected, but the content of his question was even more puzzling. Helia momentarily thought he might be addressing someone else. However, the others around them were far away, lost in their own worlds, and his gaze was unmistakably directed at her.

“From your fall earlier,” he clarified, perhaps thinking she hadn’t understood his initial question. His tone was kind yet cold and formal. Helia was accustomed to his typically detached way of speaking to her and thought little of it. Thus, she couldn’t perceive that his coldness stemmed from something different this time—a fact even Ruben hadn’t realized.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

The brief exchange ended abruptly. Helia waited, thinking he might have more to say, but remained silent. A quick glance revealed that he had no intention of continuing the conversation. Could he come over simply to check on her well-being?

Impossible. Answering her own question, Helia chuckled bitterly. The only time he ever initiated conversation was when her actions or words pushed his patience beyond endurance. In truth, her very existence likely unsettled him. This realization brought a sharp, defensive edge to her thoughts—one that hurt others and herself.

“Is a saintess attending tonight? Are you here to watch me if I’m plotting some scheme against her?”

Ruben blinked, confused by her sudden mention of the saintess. Why was she bringing up that girl out of nowhere?

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Otherwise, there’s no reason you’d seek me out at a masquerade ball,” Helia replied coolly.

“…”

“Or don’t tell me… were you planning to ask me for a dance?”

Helia smirked, her voice dripping with mockery. She made no effort to hide her derision. Ruben, his face hardening, instinctively responded.

“Of course not.”

Helia let out a scoffing laugh as if she had expected that response, turning her head away. Ruben watched her profile and found himself pitying her for the first time. She was a woman who twisted every gesture of goodwill into malice.

She would bristle and drive them away even when someone approached her with kind intentions. And when they inevitably left, she would denounce them, saying she knew it would happen all along. It was no wonder she was always alone. Yet, despite her disdain for others, she never seemed to realize that she was the cause of her isolation.

Still, this pity didn’t translate into sympathy. It was entirely her doing. If she disliked it, she could have changed her ways long ago. Instead, she had doubled down, growing more spiteful and arrogant, ensuring no one dared to harbor goodwill toward her. That, too, was her decision. Feeling sorry for someone like that was absurd.

“I’m almost disappointed. If she had been here, I would’ve slapped her right across the face,”

Helia said with a sweet, taunting smile. Her expression didn’t match the violent words she spoke. It was reminiscent of the former king, who would order the execution of loyal ministers with a serene smile. Her witch-like grin bore an uncanny resemblance to that of the tyrant.

“Once you strip away the saintly facade, she’s nothing more than a common woman.”

He was no different.

At the masquerade ball, everyone sheds their titles and becomes equal—merely human. Yet, Helia carried herself alone as inherently noble from birth. Her arrogance no longer amused Ruben. He made no effort to hide his displeasure as he spoke.

“That’s a blasphemous remark.”

“And you’re disloyal,” she retorted.

“…”

“Be careful. No matter how much I favor you, I might grow tired of you if you keep acting out.”

‘As if I’d ever desire your favor.’ Ruben clenched his teeth.

The brazen way she looked him over made him feel like a mere plaything, and he couldn’t shake the filthiness of it. The princess had an exceptional talent for pushing people’s limits. If such venom were a hereditary trait of the Bailey royal family, then their extinction couldn’t come soon enough. In a twisted sense, Helia almost did him a favor by reaffirming his resolve to rebel.

For Ruben, Helia had become the most compelling reason for the monarchy’s downfall. Wishing for someone’s ruin brought a pang of guilt unbecoming of a decent human being, but even that guilt felt undeserved for a woman like her.

Still, the discomfort lingered. He was weary of their endless verbal sparring and disgusted by her refusal to treat him as an equal. He knew the best course of action in situations like these.

“I’ll take my leave.”

Without waiting for a response, Ruben turned his head away, signaling the end of their interaction. Helia felt a sudden urge to stop those green eyes from leaving her. It wasn’t new. Ruben always looked away first, and she was always left to plead in desperation. There was no room for her pride to sink any lower between the two of them.

And so, she called out to him. Unfortunately, she knew only one way to hold onto Ruben Effenberg, even as he tried to walk away.

“What if I find that girl after you leave?”

Ruben stopped and turned back, his eyes now sharp and fierce. Helia, unfazed, met his gaze with defiance. She had seen that look countless times. With her chin raised, she smiled serenely. In the moonlight, her smile was almost dangerously alluring.

Ruben hesitated. The chance that Lette was attending the masquerade was slim but not impossible. He hadn’t bothered to ask if she would be present, thinking it unimportant. Even if she were, how could Helia possibly recognize her? Yet, the mere possibility unsettled him. To Ruben, Helia was no different from a wild beast—impossible to control.

At last, Ruben sighed and extended a hand toward her. His furrowed brow contrasted with the composed, flawless gesture.

“Shall we return together?”

Helia took her time, looking from his outstretched hand to his face. Her hesitation, as if testing him, seemed almost laughable. Ruben bore the moment in silence.

As he predicted, Helia eventually placed her hand in his. She stepped closer, falling in beside him. If I find this endearing, am I insane? she thought as she matched her steps to his. She didn’t want to let go of his hand, not ever. For a fleeting moment, that singular desire consumed her. She inwardly mocked herself for such foolishness, only to feel empty.

‘Do you know? If the end of this path is the abyss, I want to fall with you.’