“I am indeed guilty of Her Majesty the Queen’s death.”

When he repeated his earlier claim, the princess furrowed her brows in displeasure.

“Stop lying. You can’t fool me.”

“No, it must be the truth. It has to be.”

His tone grew desperate, and the princess regarded him with puzzled eyes. He struggled to decide where to begin, knowing time was not on his side.

“Your Highness, I am going to die. That is inevitable. But you still have a choice. To survive, you must testify that I killed Her Majesty.“

“What…?”

“His Majesty is testing you. You must pass this test to survive and consider the future.”

“…“

“I know how hard this is to accept. Perhaps you don’t even understand what I’m saying. You may think I’m trying to drive a wedge between you and His Majesty. But all of that can wait. Right now, I beg you to do as I say.”

Hard to accept? The princess nearly let out a bitter laugh but held it in. If anyone understood her father’s nature, it was her. If she displeased him, he would not hesitate to eliminate her. The thought of her father taking action against her was no surprise.

Though she could not grasp the full extent of the situation, one thing was crystal clear: Father summoned me here to have me killed.

This revelation stirred a strange sense of resignation within her. Just as her mother had never loved her, her father’s betrayal also seemed inevitable. Yet, one thing weighed heavily on her heart…

“But…”

She glanced at the man before her. What sin could he possibly bear?

Swapping her life for this innocent man’s—what meaning could that possibly hold? Did survival at the cost of another’s life make her any different from her father?

“But you’re not someone who would do such a thing,“ she said, her voice trembling with conviction.

The unwavering trust in her words brought tears to Dekar’s eyes.

‘Ah, noble late king, what have you done? How could you leave such a cruel future behind and still close your eyes in peace?‘

“Eek!”

A scream shattered the tense atmosphere. A maid, alarmed by the open door to the reception room and the horrific scene inside, shrieked and ran off to call the guards.

Dekar knew his time was up. Desperately, he grasped the princess’s arms, his grip firm but trembling.

“Your Highness, promise me.“

“Promise… what?“

“Promise me you will survive. If you care for me at all, you must live.”

He choked back sobs as he spoke, overcome by the guilt of entrusting such a heavy burden to a young girl. But she was his hope. Despite his shame, he placed all his faith in her.

“If you survive, something good will surely come of it one day. You must endure until then.”

His tears fell uncontrollably, making it hard to continue. Yet he had to speak the words. He had to entrust her with everything he had left, even if it meant burdening her with the weight of his life.

“Perhaps a world will come where you can fully realize your abilities.”

He noticed her reddened eyes. Yet, she did not shed a single tear. She was strong—too strong. But strength came with loneliness. He had seen it in King Arphon’s solitary gaze as he followed him faithfully over the years.

“If that time comes, please create a better world for my daughter and son, who are like your kin.”

Let them be your strength, he prayed. He did not know whether his wish would come true. The future was no longer his to see. But he could not help but hope. He hoped that this strong, lonely girl would never break, that someone would stand beside her to keep her from falling.

“…If you’re falsely accused of regicide, you won’t bear the burden alone. Your entire family will be wiped out.”

Her voice trembled slightly. Even at this moment, she showed concern for his family. Her kindness nearly made him smile. Gently, he spoke to her as if trying to ease her burden.

“It’s all right. I have only one daughter, and His Majesty won’t harm her. She’s a saintess.”

If anything, His Majesty was likely waiting for her to be left alone—plotting this horrific scheme to fully harness the saintess’s divine powers as part of the royal authority. How satisfying it would be to mock Rigel’s transparent ambition. But the reality was his impending death, leaving behind only this tiny girl to bear its weight.

“If you should ever meet my daughter…”

The thought of his daughter waiting for him with no idea of what was happening brought fresh tears to his eyes. He had not imagined that this would be their last moment. If he had known, he would have told her he loved her and embraced her one more time. Now, this regret was all that remained.

“Please, tell her that I love her.”

Those words were his final request.

The royal guards burst into the reception room, swiftly separating him from the princess and taking him into custody. Even as he was dragged away, her golden eyes never left him. Until the very end, he didn’t hear her answer to his plea.

Yet, somehow, he felt at peace. A deep sense of relief washed over him as he closed his eyes.

Everything was swallowed by darkness. There was no light to be seen.

****

The queen’s death threw the royal palace into chaos, the night forgotten amidst shock and turmoil. Amid it all, the girl found herself confined to her room under the pretext of protection. There was nothing she could do but stare blankly out the window at the flurry of activity below.

Outside, a snowstorm raged. Yet somehow, the space she occupied felt colder than the storm itself. Sleep might have offered the illusion that this nightmare was just a dream, but sleep eluded her entirely.

The night stretched on, endlessly oppressive. In the seemingly eternal flow of time, one scene replayed in her mind: You must live. Survive. Stay alive. Faced with her mother’s death and soon the probable death of another, someone had spoken only of life. What does it mean to be alive, Marquis? The unanswerable question lingered on her lips.

If only tears would come, it might have made the weight easier to bear. But her eyes felt as dry as if every trace of moisture had evaporated. Even her own body betrayed her. Everything seemed to conspire against her, leaving her to endure the long, harrowing night alone, unable to weep, silently reproaching herself.

As the sky began to lighten, she found herself wishing for blindness. She sat motionless, rigid as stone, until the maids knocked at her door to deliver the mourning attire. Her once-brilliant golden eyes had dulled, losing their vitality as if they had never sparkled.

It was then that the boy came to her. The maids prepared her meticulously, applying heavy makeup and dressing her in full mourning regalia. She donned a black dress, a veil that partially obscured her face, and gloves. Being wrapped entirely in black felt unnervingly suffocating, almost grotesque. She picked up a black fan, clutching it as if it were her final shield, her movements tinged with a strange sense of urgency.

“Your Highness.”

The boy’s refined features appeared worn, as if sleep had also evaded him. His expression was anguish, the same emptiness seen in those who had lost something precious overnight. The moment their eyes met, the girl instinctively understood.

This is it, she thought. This is what I must bear.

Only then did the gravity of the situation truly settle upon her. The tips of her fingers, clad in black lace gloves, felt icy cold. She became acutely aware of all she must shoulder, release, accept, forget, and ignore—things she wished she had never known but could never escape. All of it crashed down on her, suffocating her under its weight.

Struggling to keep her composure, she steadied herself. She couldn’t falter, not now, not before him. At this moment, she had to be the cruelest person in the world, for cruelty required an unyielding demeanor. Straightening her back, she spoke.

“What?”

The boy froze at her demeanor, clearly at a loss for words. He stood there, unable to offer even a word of comfort. The sight strangely reassured her. Ah, I must be doing well. How absurd it was to think such a thing in the presence of someone so despondent.

“The Marquis of Klein… He…”

“Ah, that matter,“ she interrupted.

At last, the inevitable topic arose. With trembling lips, she opened her fan with an elegant flick, concealing her face. That fan, her last line of defense, shielded her deceit.

“It’s true.”