“She’s not here?”

Ruben asked, puzzled. Della kindly explained again.

“Yes, she left early this morning.”

“Where did she go?”

“She didn’t say.”

Ruben’s brow furrowed slightly. An outing without revealing the destination was suspicious.

“Did no one accompany her?”

“Just Lina and the coachman.”

“Lina?”

“She’s a maid the princess brought from the royal palace.”

Ah, Ruben let out a slight sound of realization.

For the first time today, Ruben had voluntarily come to the Star Mansion. He had something to tell Helia. He planned to be away for a few days and wanted to notify her in advance lest she find out during his absence and cause a commotion. However, now it seemed she had left without notice, accompanied by only a single maid. His earlier nervousness about her questioning his plans seemed pointless.

“Inform the princess that I’ll be away for ten days. If she needs anything, she can reach out afterward.”

“Understood.”

Della bowed courteously. Ruben acknowledged the bow and turned to leave without hesitation.

—

At that moment, a carriage quietly stopped at the rear gate of a deserted temple. The modest carriage’s door opened, and Helia carefully stepped out with Lina’s help, holding a bouquet of calendula flowers often used for commemorations.

Without looking back at Lina, Helia gave a quiet order.

“Let no one enter.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Leaving Lina behind, Helia strolled. She opened a familiar door and was met with equally familiar darkness. Without hesitation, she walked through the pitch-black space, the damp and cool underground air wrapping around her.

As she traversed the long corridor, faint light flickered in the distance, thanks to the sun not having fully set yet. She opened another door and stepped back outside. Yet, there was no path ahead, only a tiny, ornately arranged graveyard not far away. Helia approached it, stopping before a neat and straightforward grave.

Thanks to a clergyman’s daily maintenance, the ‘Kate Bailey’ tombstone was spotless. Helia removed a single flower from the bouquet she brought and placed the rest in front of the stone.

For a while, she stood in silence, her expression unchanging. She seemed detached from the world or perhaps resigned to everything. Her calm, impassive face did not resemble someone in mourning. No emotion lingered in her eyes; nothing could be read from their hollow depths. She had lived her entire life this way.

After a moment, Helia suddenly knelt, gently placing the single flower beside the grave on the ground. The white calendula, misplaced and without a proper resting spot, appeared lonely.

“It’s been a while,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the lone flower between the graves. Her voice, directed at no one, dissolved into the air. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the flower. She knew full well the ground beside the grave was just bare earth. She laid a flower there simply because the person it was meant for had no grave.

With dry eyes, Helia whispered to the owner of the unseen grave.

“I met your daughter again.”

By then, the sun had set, and the darkened sky was lit only by a pale blue moon. Its light shone on Helia’s fragile silhouette, making her appear solitary. As always, she was alone.

***

The beginning of memory stretches far back to a prosperous and joyous time that could only be attributed to ignorance. Or ignorance allowed for such prosperity and happiness.

The girl had neither a father nor a mother who truly loved her. Her father was indifferent, and her mother turned away. Yet, it didn’t matter because she wasn’t entirely unloved. The girl had confidence in being loved and, equally, in her ability to love.

One boy was the most special to her. No matter how often she saw him, she wanted to see him again, and she never grew tired of his presence. His forest-like green eyes were always kind, and the light reflecting in them was warm. The girl was endlessly drawn to the soft glow in those green eyes.

She knew that those eyes were looking at her and believed without a doubt that they always would. Whether it was destiny or a premonition, it didn’t matter. Whatever words were used, her belief was unshakable. She knew the boy was meant for her when she first saw those green eyes. That’s why she approached him first when he entered the palace as a young orphan to greet the court as the heir to a duchy.

“Your name.”

“Pardon?”

The tense boy, rigid with nerves, looked down at the girl smaller than him. At the time, his distant relative, Marquis Eike, loudly proclaimed his right to inherit the duchy. Everyone assumed the young boy, like his parents, would meet an untimely end and fail to claim his title. The girl was the first to speak to him in an environment that disregarded his existence. Even if her attitude was somewhat commanding, it felt like salvation to him.

“What’s your name?”

“Ruben Effenberg.”

“Ruben.”

The girl repeated his name, savoring the way it resonated in her mouth.

The boy was joy, delight, happiness, and love to her. She felt she could say anything to him, confident he would accept it. She believed no matter how unreasonable her requests or nonsensical her words were, *he* would listen.

And so, she often threw tantrums or placed him in difficult situations, knowing he would tolerate it. It was her way of testing the love she had never received before.

“Ruben, did you know? There’s a flower that only blooms on the cliffs of Synod Valley.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I want to see it.”

“But, Princess, you can’t leave the palace.”

“That’s why I’m telling you, Ruben.”

Helia’s eyes sparkled mischievously. She knew he couldn’t refuse her when she looked at him like that. Ruben sighed; rejecting her was never an option.

“I’ll bring it for you, so promise me you won’t leave the palace.”

The girl smiled brightly and nodded. That smile was irresistible. Ruben couldn’t help but smile back.

The boy went to Synod Valley to fetch the flower but slipped off the cliff that evening. Though he survived, his leg was injured, leaving him unable to move for some time. Despite his condition, all he could think about was the girl. Was she blaming herself? Was she crying?

He was desperate to reassure her, but his uncooperative body frustrated him.

Defying the doctor’s orders, he limped into the palace, dragging his injured leg. Upon hearing he had arrived, the girl rushed to meet him before he set foot in her quarters.

“Ruben!”

She called his name enthusiastically, but upon noticing his bandaged leg, she froze. Ruben, feigning indifference, approached her.

With an uncertain voice, she asked hesitantly, “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not at all.”

A lie. His heavily bandaged leg likely throbbed at the slightest touch. But the girl, consumed by guilt, felt the pain as if it were her own. Even though everyone assured her it wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t shake the weight of responsibility.

In truth, she hadn’t desperately wanted that flower. The palace was already filled with beautiful gardens, and she didn’t particularly enjoy flowers. She simply wanted to see *him* bring the flower to her. Would he be angry if he realized that? Tears welled up in her golden eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

She asked timidly, her voice so soft it was barely audible. Yet, it struck Ruben like a clear chime.

With a firm expression, he shook his head. “Not at all.”

His decisive tone quickly brightened her face.

“Then you won’t leave me?”

“Of course not.”

Finally reassured, she threw herself into his arms, seemingly forgetting his injury. His left leg throbbed, but he embraced her without complaint. If his slight frame could provide comfort, he would gladly endure the pain.

Her feelings for him had a blind intensity, and Ruben didn’t mind.

Looking back, it had always been that way. She often tested him, putting him in difficult situations, yet he always accepted it. As if anything she said was worth enduring.

“I wish I had a knight.”

“A knight? Not a prince?”

“Yeah. Princes don’t do much besides riding in at the end.”

The girl pouted in dissatisfaction. Ruben chuckled, covering his mouth. She must have read a fairy tale about a princess and her knight. She huffed and turned away dramatically, only to light up again moments later.

“I like knights. They always protect the princess.”

“That’s true.”

“Right?”

Pressing him for a response, she sighed dramatically, her expression turning wistful.

“When will my knight appear?”

Despite her current knight standing beside her, she dreamt of the heroic figures from her stories. Her innocent longing made everyone watching smile.

The once downcast girl suddenly had a spark of an idea and hurriedly called out to the boy. He responded with a calm expression.

“Yes, princess?”

“Ruben, would you be my knight?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Because you’re amazing.”

“Well, but…”

The boy hesitated, glancing at the girl’s uniform bodyguard, who exuded an air of maturity. The girl looked up at him, blinking her eyes in disappointment.

“Wouldn’t you come to save me if I were in danger, Ruben?”

“Of course, I would.”

“See? You are my knight, after all.”