“Then you must know why I behave this way.”

Instead of answering, Lette responded with a serene smile. Helia knew full well what that silence meant. Scoffing, she let out a dry laugh.

“Pretending to be a Saintess, yet you manage to keep up the charade.”

“I regret to inform Your Highness, but I *am* the Saintess.”

“Don’t make me laugh. You should know I’m aware of everything.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow, Your Highness.”

Lette’s innocent smile only made Helia seethe. The once-timid girl who used to tremble before her now met her head-on, calm and unflinching.

Lette’s smile faded. Her once-gentle expression turned solemn, her gaze firm yet indifferent.

“Even if I were not the Saintess, what difference would it make?”

“What?”

Helia blinked, momentarily doubting her own ears. It sounded like Lette had confirmed her suspicions, and she knew that feeling wasn’t misplaced.

“I faithfully perform the duties of a Saintess, regardless of what anyone says. Everyone agrees that is enough. Don’t you think so, Your Highness?”

Her presence exuded a quiet authority. So unwavering was her demeanor that Helia found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Even a dry laugh failed to escape her lips. The sheer audacity of Lette’s composure was staggering.

“A life built on lies, yet you speak so freely.”

“Are you any different, Your Highness?”

Helia flinched, her gaze locking onto Lette’s. Those clear, azure eyes seemed to pierce through her as if reflecting everything she wished to keep hidden. It was as if her most tightly sealed darkness was unraveling in front of this false SaintessSaintess.

No. That couldn’t be. It *mustn’t* be. No one, especially not this fraud, could know the truth.

Helia quickly regained her composure, her lips curling into a mocking smile. She maintained her poise, as she always did.

“How shameless.”

“It’s in my nature.”

“A family trait, I presume.”

Lette’s expression froze as she stared at Helia, understanding the veiled insult. She knew precisely what Helia was referring to. Her family had always been just her and her father.

For Helia to bring up her father—the man responsible for his death—while wearing a triumphant smirk was unbearable. Lette’s face flushed with anger.

“Your Highness.”

Lette opened her mouth to stop her, her composure gone.

“Did you know he asked me to tell you he loves you?”

“……”

“That was his dying wish, wasn’t it? Shamelessly so.”

Lette stared at Helia, her mind blank. Helia, however, didn’t even look at her, keeping her gaze fixed on the window.

Lette replayed the words in her head, doubting her ears and questioning whether they were real. But the sensation of the sofa beneath her and the fabric of her dress brushing her legs felt disturbingly accurate.

Helia had been the only witness to her father’s final moments, aside from King Rigel. It would be her if anyone were to deliver her father’s last words.

“I see.”

“……”

“That’s what he said…”

Lette couldn’t finish her sentence, burying her face in her hands. Helia watched her with an impassive expression before returning to the window. The late afternoon sunlight poured in, bathing the room in a golden glow.

***

It had already been two weeks since Lette and Caros visited. Ruben sat in his study, resting his chin on his hand, deep in thought. Occasionally, he would glance at the invitation lying in front of him. It was for a masquerade ball hosted by Marchioness Weina. The event was so renowned across the continent, not just the kingdom, that acquiring an invitation was no easy feat. Yet, Ruben felt no joy. He could easily guess who was responsible for this invitation reaching his desk. Staring at it, his thoughts naturally drifted to Helia.

It had also been two weeks since he last saw her, when they had bid farewell to Lette and Caros in front of the estate.

“Well, we’ll be on our way now.”

“Safe travels.”

Their parting words were simple and polite. After exchanging a farewell hug with Ruben, Caros respectfully extended his hand to Helia. She offered one of hers, and he lightly kissed it.

“It was an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you as well.”

Helia had been quiet, dispelling Ruben’s earlier concerns. Lette also seemed unharmed. Ruben hadn’t realized how relieved he was until Lette and Helia safely returned to the Sky Estate.

But his relief was premature. When Ruben approached Lette privately for a farewell, he suddenly noticed her red, tear-streaked eyes beneath her calm blue gaze.

“You…”

Before he could press further, Lette quickly cut him off.

“It’s nothing.”

“Lette.”

“Truly, brother. Please don’t think of reproaching the princess. She has nothing to do with this.”

Despite her words, Ruben was far from convinced. It was clear to him that Lette lied to avoid escalating the situation. His expression hardened, as was typical in such moments.

After the carriage departed, Ruben turned to Helia. Sensing his gaze, she shifted her focus from the carriage and met his eyes. Her calm, golden irises ignited his anger.

“What did you do to Lette?”

Helia shrugged nonchalantly.

“Nothing.”

Nonsense. Ruben scoffed. There was no way Lette, strong as she was, would cry over nothing. Yet Helia seemed to possess an uncanny ability to bring her to tears time and time again.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“If you’re so doubtful, stop the carriage now and ask your precious saintess directly.”

Helia’s confidence was maddening. She likely knew Lette wouldn’t reveal anything. Lette couldn’t share her troubles; no amount of prodding would change that. Ruben’s sharp green eyes narrowed.

“She won’t say anything.”

“Then that must mean nothing happened.”

“Just because she remains silent doesn’t mean nothing happened.”

Helia stared at Ruben momentarily, then let out a small, exasperated laugh, shaking her head.

“You’re so determined to protect that girl.”

“It would be the same for anyone else.”

“No, you’re particularly sensitive when it comes to her. Don’t think I haven’t noticed what that means.”

Ruben was taken aback. If anyone had been unusually hostile toward Lette, it was Helia, not him. His reactions were merely responses to hers. He vividly remembered her aggressive behavior toward Lette, starting from their first meeting when she denied Lette’s identity as the SaintessSaintess.

It was absurd. Ruben recalled the day Lette first displayed her healing powers. An elderly man, driven from his home by a lord for failing to pay taxes, had injured his leg badly while wandering. The sight of his mangled, bleeding leg was unbearable. Before Ruben could offer assistance, Lette had extended her hand toward the man. A radiant, white light enveloped them, and when it faded, the man’s leg was completely healed. It was a miraculous sight.

From then on, Lette openly used her healing abilities wherever she went, breathing new life into everything she touched. Her miracles inspired awe and reverence.

And who was Lette, if not the sole blood relative of their revered master? To Ruben, she was like a younger sister. The thought of almost losing her due to Helia’s words still sent shivers down his spine. Now, Helia was trying to blame her cold behavior toward Lette on him. It was utterly preposterous.

“Think what you want.”

Ruben’s voice was laced with irritation and fatigue. But Helia was equally sharp in her retort.

“You’re not denying it.”

“If I said otherwise, would you believe me?”

Helia momentarily fell silent. His words struck a chord. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him; she couldn’t.

As Helia held her tongue, Ruben found himself unexpectedly unsettled. Over time, he had grown used to her sharp words and heated arguments. Now, her rare silence left him feeling strangely off-balance. It was deeply unsettling.

Ruben shook his head slightly, pushing aside his wandering thoughts. With a soft thud, he tossed the invitation in his hand onto the desk. Just thinking about tomorrow already made him feel drained.

The silver lining was that it was a masquerade ball, which meant he wouldn’t have to accompany *her* from the start. With some luck, he might not even run into her. It was uncertain whether he would recognize her anyway, and even if he did, he could pretend not to and walk past. Ruben tried to keep his thoughts light, but a nagging sense of foreboding refused to leave him. It was precisely this feeling that kept him from ignoring her request in the end.

✥✥✥