“Veron Caros?”

“Yes.”

The name sounded familiar. Helia pondered momentarily and recalled a name buried in her childhood memories.

“Your godfather, right?”

Ruben nodded.

“Yes. He became my and the Saintess’s godfather right after my master died.”

Silence wrapped around them as if every sound in the world had vanished. Ruben’s calm, unwavering green eyes felt almost reproachful to her. She knew who his master was—Dekar Klein, the father of the Saintess, Lette.

Helia suddenly felt like her hearing had gone dull. Yes, she knew him. It was impossible not to. Even if everyone else forgot him, she alone had to remember him.

After what felt like a thousand years of silence, Helia finally broke it.

“I didn’t think you’d summon me to a place with the Saintess.”

Turning her head slightly, Helia gazed out the window. The left wall of the drawing room, which offered a view of the mansion’s main gate, was made of glass. Helia looked as if she were waiting for the two expected guests, which Ruben found unsettling.

“It was the Saintess’s decision.”

Helia slowly turned her gaze back to Ruben, letting out a small, exasperated laugh.

“Yes, of course.”

“…”

“You would never willingly let me stand before her.”

“Since you already know, I’ll say this. If you act disrespectfully toward the Saintess like before, I won’t stand idly by.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning.”

“Do you mean to draw your sword on me?”

Helia’s rebuttals were always like that—overflowing with sarcasm and exaggerated phrases. But Ruben found her arrogant confidence amusing, as she assumed he would never draw a sword on her. That royal arrogance always irritated him.

“If necessary.”

That response slipped out for several reasons. The thought of Lette meeting Helia already had him on edge, and Helia’s incessant provocation irritated him. Her princess-like naivety in believing he wouldn’t harm her amused him. But it certainly wasn’t because he wanted to see her reaction.

Helia wore a hurt expression. Ruben was taken aback. She was the type of woman who would always retaliate with harsher words, a woman armored with a lofty, ice-like confidence that allowed her to deliver insults without hesitation. A woman who looked down on others from her pedestal of nobility. Yet here she was, looking at him with a wounded, vulnerable expression. For the first time, Ruben felt as if he’d only just realized she could be hurt.

“Your Grace.”

It was at that moment that Will knocked on the door. The butler, entering with his usual innocent expression, performed his duties unfazed by the frozen atmosphere.

“The Saintess and Marquis have arrived.”

Upon hearing this, Helia stood first and led the way. Ruben, who had been momentarily dazed, quickly followed her.

He suddenly felt the urge to reach out and grab her frail-looking shoulders, to see her expression once more. He felt he wouldn’t be at ease until he saw her usual scornful face.

Instinctively, Ruben reached out. His fingers trembled. Just as his hand was about to rest on Helia’s shoulder, he snapped out of it and withdrew his hand, berating himself. He didn’t know what he was trying to confirm. It was only natural to feel uneasy around her. Of course, it was natural to feel this tightness in his chest. After all, she was Helia Bailey—the one he had to constantly be on guard around. Shaking his head, he dispelled his foolish thoughts. But her hurt expression remained imprinted in his mind like a lingering afterimage.

✥✥✥

A pure white carriage bearing the royal emblem stood at the mansion’s entrance. It was the Saintess’s personal carriage. Lette was disembarking from it just in time, and the Marquis escorted her. Upon seeing them, Ruben hurried over to greet them.

“It’s been a long time, godfather.”

“It has indeed, Your Grace.”

The middle-aged man with light chestnut hair greeted Ruben warmly, smiling in a friendly manner. Despite his status as a Marquis, he had a gentle look that seemed like he couldn’t pass by a beggar without help.

“Oh my, am I invisible to you all?”

“How could that be?”

Ruben gently took Lette’s hand and kissed it lightly. Small laughter blossomed among the three while Helia watched from a step behind, not joining in.

It was a scene like a close-knit family, something she had never had. Helia felt like an invisible wall stood between them, preventing her from moving any closer.

A smile appeared on Ruben’s face that she’d never seen before. Ah, so he does express that with those dear to him. There was no denying it—it was a warmth she had never known.

Or maybe she once had it long ago. So distant that she could no longer remember how he used to smile. She thought that once, perhaps, he had given her that same smile. That thought brought a sudden wave of sorrow.

If she’d known she’d lost it, she would have etched it into her memory more clearly—his smile, touch, and kindness. How could she have been so arrogant back then, so sure she would never lose it, convinced he was hers?

It became painfully clear to her—she was nothing more than a stranger here. Standing at a distance, unable to approach. The light was too bright, so much so that it hurt to even look directly at him.

“Why, it’s the Princess.”

At that moment, Caros, looking at the two with a warm gaze, noticed Helia and called out in surprise. The other two turned to look at her as well.

Helia took a step forward, feeling like each step left a scratch on something precious, even though she knew she was the one who would end up most wounded.

“Greetings to the Rose of Bailey. I am Veron Caros.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Marquis.”

Caros lightly kissed the back of her hand. His manner was as neat and dignified as his appearance.

Helia turned her head. There stood Lette, smiling radiantly like an angel. Soon, Lette held her dress and gave Helia a small bow.

“Greetings to the Rose of Bailey. I am Lette.”

Helia looked down at Lette, who was paying her respects, then glanced at Ruben. His tightly pressed lips showed he was clearly tense. Helia returned her gaze to Lette and responded smoothly.

“I see. This is our second meeting, then.”

“Yes, it is an honor to see you again.”

Both maintained a calm demeanor as though it were their first encounter. Observing Helia’s composure as she greeted Lette without hostility, Ruben let out a sigh of relief. But he couldn’t fully relax—he knew Helia’s sensitivity regarding Lette could shift at any moment.

“Your Grace, the meal is ready.”

The dutiful butler, noting they were still at the mansion’s entrance, urged the Duke to proceed.

“Very well. Let’s go inside.”

The housemaster led the way, and the three followed in silence. An uneasy quiet settled over them.

The dining hall was already set for a feast. A sumptuous spread awaited, including the main course of venison steak, herb-seasoned beef stew, fish gratin with olives and vegetables, savory pastries, and aperitif wine made with honey and anise berries—a lavish array not often seen.

As splendid as the meal was, the dining atmosphere was equally pleasant. Ruben asked his godfather about his well-being after the long separation.

“Is the North still the same?”

“Still cold and barren, as ever.”

Caros laughed heartily, taking a sip of wine.

“What brings you to the capital?”

“It’s been a while since we met, and I heard some good news, so I came down to see you.”

It was clear to everyone what the “good news” was. Ruben’s gaze naturally shifted to Helia. Unlike Lette, who occasionally contributed to the conversation, Helia remained silent as though she had lost her voice. Growing increasingly aware of her silence, Ruben couldn’t help but glance at her occasionally.

“Your Highness.”

“Yes?”

“Though it’s a bit late, congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you.”

Despite her somewhat stiff response, Caros responded with a soft smile. He indeed seemed to belong more in the warmer southern regions than in the cold North. Helia felt a slight warmth melt a corner of her heart, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

“I regret not being able to attend the engagement ceremony, Your Grace.”

“It’s nothing, really. We arranged it in haste and didn’t send out any notices.”

“Still, it feels remiss to have missed it as your godfather.”

Caros genuinely seemed disappointed. Helia, responsible for his absence at the ceremony, quietly observed their conversation. Just from this brief exchange, she could tell how dearly Caros loved Ruben.

So much love surrounds him. She felt glad about it for a moment, then found herself ridiculous for even feeling that way. Who was she to concern herself with who was loved by whom? It was a presumptuous thought. At the same time, she felt disgusted by her own foolishness for even thinking of him.

“Don’t worry, godfather. His Grace was so ruthless that he didn’t even invite me.”

“Well…”

Ruben trailed off, and everyone knew what he left unsaid. Silence fell over the dining hall.

Ruben glanced at Helia, the source of the tension. She cut her steak as though the conversation had nothing to do with her and calmly took a bite.

Upon reflection, unlike what he had feared, Helia did not provoke Ruben today. No, she remained utterly silent. However, her silence continued to draw Ruben’s attention, as though her quietness was something to worry about.

Worry? Ruben sneered. The only thing he worried about concerning Helia was whether she would insult others severely or scheme something malicious. That was the only worry he allowed himself.

“I’ve heard it was a splendid engagement ceremony,” Caros remarked.

“You’re too kind,” Ruben replied.

Caros observed Ruben’s stiff expression, contradicting his words, and gave a slight, bitter smile. A “splendid engagement ceremony” is typically a large, extravagant affair. To Ruben, it felt like a lavish, unnecessary event. He knew well that Ruben hadn’t wanted the engagement in the first place. Caros felt a pang of sympathy for Ruben. But he could do little—he could only offer a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Next, dessert was served—tarts filled with almonds, raisins, and two pieces of chocolate. A light lemon tea accompanied the treat. After the meal, they would move on to tea time in another parlor.

At that moment, Helia, who had not touched her dessert, stood up. All eyes turned toward her.

“I’ll take my leave now.”