“This is an order, Ruben Effenberg.”

Her voice was firm and unyielding, cold as ice. Ruben wanted to protest that he couldn’t obey such an order, but she seemed ready to expel him from the room if he pushed further. Forced to choose his words carefully, he softened his tone slightly.

“At the very least, you should understand your condition.”

“I know my body best.”

Helia’s confidence was almost laughable, considering she wasn’t a physician. Her arrogance was infuriating, and Ruben couldn’t fathom why she insisted on such reckless bravado.

“And if it’s something serious?”

“Are you afraid I’ll die?”

His movements froze entirely. His eyes remained still as though time had stopped for him alone. His gaze turned dark, his green eyes now glinting with a cold, almost black contempt. It was unmistakably a look of disdain.

Even under such a piercing stare, Helia seemed to have recovered her composure. She met his predatory gaze with her usual sharpness, her golden eyes blazing defiantly. Her pale face contrasted starkly with her crimson lips, curved into a mocking smile.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not easy to kill.”

Her words sounded more like a declaration of war than reassurance, though her tone was oddly light. She was a woman adept at provoking her opponent, always knowing how to inflict the most discomfort. Ruben, despite knowing better, couldn’t help but take the bait. He didn’t care to examine why he felt this way—he told himself it wasn’t necessary.

“You’re speaking as though I wish it were so.”

“Don’t you?”

Her retort was sharp, her sly grin intact. She looked up at him with an air of defiance, daring him to deny her words. A steel fortress surrounded her, signaling she would withstand anything he said with unshakable composure.

And yet, her resolve only drained his. Not because he couldn’t win the argument but because he lacked the will to fight. His voice, when it came, was unexpectedly gentle.

“Not even for a moment.”

It was the truth. He swore to himself that he had never wished for her death. He merely anticipated the time when her death might become necessary.

When that time came, Ruben would have to give the order to end her life—or perhaps wield the blade himself. That was his duty as the leader of the revolutionary forces. The revolution’s figurehead and symbol of hope for the future was not him but Lette. Ruben’s role was to do the shadows’ work—executions, purges, and all the bloody necessities of change.

To wish for Helia’s death would mean hating her with all his heart. But Ruben had no such luxury. He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything for her—not hatred, love, or pity. He was Ruben Effenberg, and his mission left no room for personal emotions.

He felt nothing for Helia Bailey. The anger that occasionally surged through him, freezing his body in place, was righteous fury at a crumbling monarchy. Nothing more.

“Please let the physician examine you.”

His voice was calm, devoid of any discernible emotion. It was polished and empty.

Helia looked away, breaking the gaze that had been locked on him.

“There’s no need.”

‘I feel fine now.’ The words she withheld echoed only in her mind. 

‘If I’m honest, you’ll just get upset again. You’ll be angry.’

‘But why are you being so kind today? It’s so unnecessarily kind. Your kindness is like sweet poison—blinding me, though I know its dangers. If this moment existed only because of my illness, I almost wouldn’t mind dying like this. You’d probably look at me with disdain. But Ruben, I think I’d be okay with sinking into this quiet despair.’

“Your Highness.”

“The Duke of Effenberg worries too much.”

“…”

“This sort of thing happens to me all the time. Lina always takes care of me. She’s an excellent maid with medical knowledge.”

Ruben glanced back at Lina, who stood silently with her head bowed.

Turning back to Helia, he found her smiling faintly, though he knew it wasn’t a gesture of warmth. It was a subtle but unmistakable signal: he was being dismissed.

“But—”

“The maid knows my illness better than the court physician ever could.”

Helia spoke sharply. Once her mind was set, no amount of persuasion would work. Ruben quickly gave up his goal of having her meet with the physician. That left only one option. Ruben, speaking in a formal and rigid tone as if reporting to a superior, said:

“Then I will return tomorrow.”

Helia’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at him. Her reaction suggested she hadn’t expected that.

But Ruben’s return was inevitable as long as she refused to see the physician. The physician had to check her condition daily, and it was clear she wouldn’t let anyone else in. In the end, he was the only one who could come.

Yes, there was no other way. As the master of the estate, it was his duty to know the condition of the guest residing here. Convincing himself of this responsibility, his voice remained formal and resolute.

“There’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”

“Then will you see the physician?”

“……”

“If not, I will come by every day. I need to check if you’re improving.”

Helia gave no answer. Without waiting for her response, Ruben rose from his seat.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“…Fine.”

After bowing politely, Ruben walked toward the door. His steps were unwavering. Helia couldn’t take her eyes off his back as he steadily moved away, one step at a time. Her golden eyes trembled faintly, fixed on him as if nailed in place. For once, she was relieved by his indifference and refusal to turn back.

‘Do you know? That as you turned your back on me, we—whose future had disappeared—spoke of tomorrow for the first time. Once, you would come to me every day, whispering of eternity. How many tomorrows did you sing to me back then? How beautiful that was. How unbearable the nightmare of a tomorrow without you had been after it all shattered instantly. And now, you’ve promised me tomorrow again. I crumble beneath the weight of that fleeting promise.’