“Thank you,” Ruben said.

It was impeccable decorum until the very end. Those watching from the sidelines couldn’t tear their eyes away. Rumors of their poor relationship suddenly felt baseless. The aura between them was so intense and magnetic that onlookers hesitated to approach. Young nobles watching afar found themselves blushing, attributing their inexplicable warmth to the unseasonably balmy autumn night.

Unaware of these reactions, Ruben extended his hand to Helia again, who placed her hand delicately in his. He escorted her toward the edges of the hall, navigating carefully to avoid the dancing crowd. They released each other’s hands only after they reached a quiet corner. Ruben could vividly feel the fleeting sensation as her fingers lightly brushed against his while parting.

A sudden sense of absence washed over him. He couldn’t identify what felt missing, no matter how much he pondered it. Looking at Helia’s seemingly content expression, he felt an odd mix of incredulity and annoyance. Was she delighted with a single dance after all the grief she had given him? Her unusual silence was appreciated, yet he couldn’t help but feel aggrieved over the countless times she had tormented him.

Despite Ruben’s thoughts, Helia remained serene, a poised smile still gracing her lips. As always, she held her head high and her posture impeccably straight.

The music played on, and the banquet continued. The sun dipped lower and lower until it vanished entirely, but the dancing never ceased. If anything, the ballroom grew more fervent, for tonight was a night where indulgence was permitted.

Ruben and Helia did not dance again after the first waltz. It was unclear whether it was because Ruben hadn’t asked or because they had silently agreed beforehand. They merely stayed together, moving like an inseparable pair of lovers.

People continued approaching them, especially those who rarely attended balls in the capital. These nobles patiently waited their turn, eager for even a brief greeting.

At one point, a figure approached the pair. As others recognized her, they instinctively stepped aside to clear a path. Ruben and Helia noticed her from a distance as she approached them. Helia observed her approach with an impassive expression.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” the newcomer, Lette, said with a polite bow, lifting the sides of her dress.

Helia turned her head away without responding, showing no intention of acknowledging her. Her brazen dismissal of the saintess’s greeting caused silent shock among onlookers. For some, their simmering resentment toward Helia only deepened.

Unperturbed, Lette smiled as if she had expected this and turned to greet Ruben instead.

“And how have you been, brother?”

“Well. And you?“

“I’ve been doing quite well, thank you.”

Lette remained nearby as though trying to engage Ruben in a pleasant conversation. Helia, scoffing audibly, turned her back to them, making no effort to hide her disdain. She had no desire to involve herself in their cheerful exchange.

But Lette stayed put, continuing to speak with Ruben, seemingly unconcerned about the ire she drew from Helia.

If it had been the usual Ruben, he would have continued the conversation with Lette without hesitation. However, today, his attention was inexplicably drawn entirely to Helia. Even as he exchanged words with Lette, he glanced repeatedly at Helia, who had turned her back on them and was walking away.

Noticing this, Lette eventually burst into laughter, prompting Ruben to shift his gaze entirely to her.

“Why are you laughing?”

“How could anyone not laugh, seeing you right now?”

Lette chuckled softly, trying to suppress her laughter. Ruben, feeling slightly unsettled, gave her an ambiguous look. Even she seemed to find his behavior odd today. It must indeed be serious if it was apparent enough for others to notice. Ruben ruffled his neatly combed black hair, attempting to shake off his preoccupation with Helia. His hair, once impeccably styled, became slightly disheveled under his touch.

“You’re acting strange today.“

“It’s a delightful change, though.“

“A delightful change? What are you talking about?“

“I’m saying that you’re much more pleasant to look at now.”

Lette responded, still smiling. Ruben stared at her with an expression that conveyed his confusion. What could be “pleasant“ about him right now? However, Lette offered no further explanation for her words.

At that moment, Ruben recalled a story he had recently heard from Enoch. Lowering his voice so that only Lette could listen, he shifted the conversation.

“By the way, Lette.“

“Yes, Brother?“

“For the time being, avoid going out; if you must, always bring a guard. Even at home, try not to be alone.“

Lette’s face immediately darkened at Ruben’s warning.

“I’ve heard about it. They never tire, do they?“

“Exactly. Just when you think it’s over, they come again.“

“Such relentless people.”

She shook her head in frustration, her weariness evident. It was an expression unbefitting of the benevolent saint, but the situation warranted it. Time and again, they would emerge from the shadows to incite unrest that achieved little.

Ruben briefly glanced at Helia, who was now exchanging greetings with someone, before refocusing entirely on Lette.

“Last time, it was those heretic worshippers.“

“It’s probably the same group this time.“

“That’s my thought, but there’s no harm in being cautious.”

Lette sighed deeply.

“If they want to conspire, they should keep it to themselves. What do they hope to gain by threatening me?“

“They need to show they have influence. Only then will more followers flock to their cause.“

“Idiots.”

Though her words were harsh, Ruben silently nodded in agreement.

Then Ruben noticed something strange. Lette’s face seemed subtly brighter, her porcelain skin glowing faintly, almost imperceptibly more than before.

What is this?

Sensing something amiss, Ruben instinctively looked upward toward the ceiling. The chandelier, which should have been securely hanging high above, appeared unusually close. Despite the air being utterly still, it was swaying precariously.

Ruben immediately realized what was about to happen. The chandelier was falling, hurtling toward the ground with terrifying speed.

“Danger!”

In an instant, Ruben threw himself toward Lette, shielding her body with his own. They crashed to the floor with a force that sent them sprawling. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Before they could even register the impact with the hard floor, the piercing sound of shattering crystal tore through the air.

“Ahhh!”

Unable to bear its weight, the chandelier had crashed into the hall’s center. Screams erupted from all directions as people reeled in shock. The moans of the injured, struck by razor-sharp crystal shards, punctuated the chaos. The grand ballroom had descended into utter pandemonium.

“Are you all right, Lette?“ Ruben urgently asked.

“Are you unharmed, Saintess?“

“Thanks to you, Brother, I’m fine.”

Ikael, who had rushed over immediately, and Ruben, who still had his arms around Lette, checked her condition anxiously. Though visibly shaken, Lette appeared to have no significant injuries. They both breathed a sigh of relief. But then—

“Your Highness!”

For a moment, Ruben didn’t fully register what he had heard. Your Highness? Who was being addressed?

And then, it hit him. The red-haired figure who had been standing so close just moments ago. The one with eyes like molten gold, who so often carried a smirk of mockery and scorn. The person who he had, for the first time today, requested to dance. His fiancée, Helia Bailey—the fallen symbol of a ruined kingdom. The one destined to become his enemy.

Ruben’s head whipped around, and he froze in place. His usually clear green eyes widened in shock as his pupils dilated.

There she was. Helia, seated on the ground where she had been moments before, surrounded by shattered crystal fragments. Her disheveled dress bore evidence of a narrow escape. Her creamy gown was torn at the hem and drenched in vivid, crimson blood that matched the fiery hue of her hair.

“Princess!“

“What should we do?“

“My God, are you all right?”

The murmurs and cries of those around filled the air as they scrambled to check on Helia. She, however, neither responded nor reacted. Her golden eyes, usually ablaze with fierce intensity, now appeared hollow as they methodically surveyed her own body. Her gaze had no emotion—no fear, pain, or relief. It was as though she were simply an observer of her own injured form, detached and indifferent.

It was a chilling sight.

Helia quietly stared down at her lower body before turning slightly to the left. It was the spot where Ruben Effenberg had been standing. Her golden eyes wavered anxiously as if searching desperately for someone. Her restless gaze roamed the air and swept through the crowd. Then, when her searching eyes finally met the ones she had been so desperately seeking, the trembling golden irises calmed instantly—like a precious treasure had been found, only to lose its luster and dim.

“……”

She found herself laughing at her own foolishness. Of course, nothing about this was surprising anymore. Enduring everything alone had become second nature, almost unbearably familiar. Hadn’t her entire life been like this? Hadn’t she clung to that brief, shining moment of hope precisely because it was so fleeting? Even that desperation had long since been abandoned. So why feel hurt again now? No, this wasn’t anything new. Watching Ruben Effenberg turn away from her was just another ordinary occurrence. Resigning herself to the back of someone who would never face her had always been her reality.

Yes, of course. This was how it always was. The kind Ruben Effenberg, asking after her well-being, extending a warm hand, smiling softly—that man was never hers. Even by his side, she remained utterly alone. Helia swiftly acknowledged this truth.

It wasn’t a big deal. She had simply confirmed it once more. It wasn’t something to grieve over, nor a reason for her world to collapse. She wasn’t naive enough to be hurt again by the reality staring her in the face. She even wondered if she had any feelings left to wound.

But she was sick of it. She was utterly tired of being forced to remember that he was poison to her. Of being unable to indulge in even the sweetest moment of delusion. Of this unyielding world, shoving the truth in her face that he would never be hers. She was so thoroughly exhausted that she wanted to let it all go. To abandon it all. To leave nothing of herself behind.

“……“

Helia’s sunken gaze fell on Ruben, who was standing still. He felt a suffocating sensation. His hands trembled, and he clenched them into fists. He blinked repeatedly, unwilling to believe the scene before him, but the crimson stains and the hollow gaze fixed on him remained vividly clear. Grinding his teeth together, his jaw began to tremble subtly.

“Ruben?”