“Is she already recovered?”

The thought offered him a fleeting sense of relief. Though it rendered his visit unnecessary, confirming her recovery was enough. Since she was still asleep, she did not need to know he had been here. Should she find out, she might only use it as leverage to assert her dominance later.

Ruben was about to leave, intent on ordering the servants to remain discreet, when something halted him.

He realized his earlier assumption was wrong when he unconsciously took Helia’s hand. She had shifted in her sleep, her expression tense, reaching out as if seeking something. Without thinking, Ruben grasped her hand.

The warmth that met his palm was searing. An abnormal heat that no healthy individual could possess radiated from her.

“What is this fever?”

His voice was calm, yet the suppressed anger was unmistakable to Lina. She understood that he wasn’t genuinely inquiring about Helia’s condition; this was an accusation.

Lina replied in her usual detached tone.

“She’s greatly improved.”

“This is an improvement?”

Ruben’s disbelief exploded in a furious retort. If this was “greatly improved,” what had her state been like over the past few days? How could anyone, even her maid, stand idly by while she suffered this fever, citing her command as justification?

Though his anger flared, Lina remained unshaken. She had done all she could within the bounds of Helia’s orders. The fever, though alarming to others, was a natural symptom of recovery, something both she and Helia understood well.

There was nothing for Lina to feel ashamed of.

However, her calm demeanor only served to further stoke Ruben’s fury. His green eyes flared once again with intensity.

“Running such a high fever…”

At that moment, Helia was trapped in a nightmare. In the pitch-black void where direction was indistinguishable, she was utterly alone. Faint, fleeting lights flickered mockingly before vanishing entirely. She knew those lights would evade her grasp, yet she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out. She alone knew whose lights they were. Those familiar glimmers flickered briefly before disappearing forever, as ephemeral as the moments she had shared with the bearers of those lights.

Then, a radiant cluster of lights emerged from afar within the darkness. She recognized it immediately; it was impossible not to. It was a pure, brilliant light that was endlessly enduring, beautiful to the point of tears. It was so exquisite and enduring that its very existence felt bittersweet. Yet, this one was the farthest away from all the lights she had known. Helia stretched her hand toward it despite being out of reach.

Then, something caught her outstretched hand. Gentle yet firm, it grasped hers. Startled, Helia tried to pull away, but the large hand softly enclosed hers as if to reassure her. A calm and calming warmth radiated from it, a tangible sensation. For the first time, she realized this touch was real.

The darkness dissipated instantly. Her body, which had felt as if it were floating aimlessly, sank heavily. Pain pressed down on her like a weight. She tried to open her eyes, but her vision was blurred.

Even in her dazed, half-conscious state, the sensation of someone holding her hand was vivid. But whose hand it was—she couldn’t even begin to guess.

Who would hold her hand with such tenderness? Her grandfather? Her mother? Her old nanny? None of them were here; even if they were, they were not hers.

Could it be Lina? Helia dismissed the idea immediately. Lina might change her compresses when Helia was feverish, but she would never respond to a fever dream with such care. Nor did Helia expect that of her.

Then who?

“Could it be you?”

For a fleeting moment, she thought of Ruben. She laughed at herself for such a ridiculous notion. Of all the people, he was the first who should be ruled out. Yet here she was, entertaining the thought of him.

How laughable.

So laughable, in fact, that she wanted to laugh freely. Yet, a dull ache gnawed at a corner of her heart. It was astonishing that her already ruined heart could still find places to crumble further. How many more times would she have to resign in the time left? She was growing weary of herself.

No matter how hard she thought, no one else came to mind. In the end, she didn’t call out anyone’s name. Instead, in a faint and sunken voice, she simply asked:

“Who is it?”

Ruben, who was about to press Lina further, turned his gaze to Helia. His eyes shifted nervously, seeking hers. Unconsciously, his grip on her hand tightened, an inadvertent declaration of his presence.

“Are you awake?”

His voice was low, unnervingly so, like the growl of a beast trying to suppress its agitation. The tension in his voice was palpable. Lina instinctively swallowed hard.

“…Ruben?”

Helia furrowed her brow as she repeated his name. Even as she spoke, she seemed dazed, as if grappling with the realization that she was uttering an unfamiliar word in an unknown language. Her half-lidded eyes clearly struggled to make out his figure, and her voice quivered with disbelief.

Ruben, however, responded with unnerving clarity.

“Yes.”

Helia blinked repeatedly, trying to focus her vision. Slowly, Ruben’s silhouette came into view. But even before she could fully see him, she recognized the brilliant light she had seen earlier. It was unmistakably Ruben Effenberg.

“Why are you here?”

Her voice, laced with genuine confusion, conveyed her disbelief. Her expression reflected the sheer incredulity of witnessing the impossible. At this moment, Helia lacked the strength to mask her emotions.

That tone and expression struck Ruben as if she said he had no right to be there. It almost felt like a rejection.

Rejection. The simmering anger in his green eyes extinguished in an instant. Instead, a deep, sinking sensation overtook him. It felt like he was plunging into the depths of the ocean’s darkest trench, utterly abandoned in a desolate abyss. He didn’t recognize the name of the wretched emotion consuming him.

“They say you refuse to see the doctor despite being ill.”

Cold and devoid of emotion, his voice sent a chill through Helia. She finally grasped the situation. Of course, that made sense. Alarmed servants must have reported her condition, forcing Ruben to come and convince her to seek treatment.

It was likely an inconvenience for him—something to handle before it became even more significant.

This thought brought her an odd sense of relief. After all, Helia was accustomed to Ruben Effenberg’s coldness. Familiarity brought comfort.

When had she become someone who found solace in his indifference? When had their relationship deteriorated so utterly? She had once questioned it. But by now, it seemed pointless.

What’s broken stays broken, no matter how much effort one pours into mending it. All that remained between them was her obsessive and pitiful attachment.

She knew it was wrong. She knew she should let go, set him free forever. But if her wretched feelings were all she had left, how could she not cherish even that? Even knowing it would lead to her destruction, she couldn’t help but cling.

And so, Helia Bailey could remain unshaken in the face of his disdain. This degree of pain and injury was nothing to her.

“It’s nothing,” she said lightly as if discussing someone else’s business.

Nothing? Ruben felt his blood boil once more at her nonchalance. Struggling to maintain his composure, he countered evenly,

“They told me you collapsed three days ago.”

“Someone must have exaggerated. I merely stumbled.”

How absurd.

“You’re still running a high fever.”

“I naturally have a high body temperature.”

Ruben stared at Helia, utterly dumbfounded by her brazen lie. He no longer cared to understand why she would say such absurd things, knowing he wouldn’t fully believe her.

As if to prove her health, Helia tried to sit up. Lina stepped forward to assist, but Ruben moved faster, his hand steadying Helia. Lina froze mid-step.

“I didn’t come here to bicker with you over trivial things, Your Highness.”

His cold words cut through the air like a blade as he helped her sit up and propped a pillow behind her back for support. His touch and expression were as impassive as ever.

Helia, resting against the pillow, simply watched him in a daze, her gaze lingering on his hands. Her face betrayed no emotion as if this were the most natural thing in the world—or perhaps she simply didn’t know what to feel.

Once she was settled, Ruben spoke in his usual measured tone.

“I’ll call the court physician.”

“No, don’t.”

“Your Highness—”

“This is an order, Ruben Effenberg.”