‘Did you love her?’

The question struck a vital nerve.

Her carotid—right where his lips touched the slope of her neck and jaw—pounded with force.

“Well? Was I right?”

Kailhart asked again, his mouth pressed against the pale skin that peeked between loose strands of her hair.

When Isabel slowly nodded, a faint breath slipped from between his clenched teeth.

He kissed her again—once, twice, as if branding her—and then, suddenly, his body trembled.

‘This… maybe I should be the one to…’

Whatever he muttered next was too quiet to catch.

His lips hovered near hers, parting slightly, like he wanted to spit out something that had long been buried inside him.

“I asked you once before, Isabel.”

The moment he raised his head, the light vanished from his face—replaced by shadow.

“Did you really love your sister?”

Isabel froze on the spot. For a second, she thought she must’ve misheard.

But his unwavering gaze demanded a clear answer. There was no escaping it.

“Why are you suddenly—”

She was stunned.

‘Kailhart—You’re the one who killed her. And you think you have the right to ask me that?’

“What are you trying to say?”

“It’s not a difficult question. I’m just asking if you truly loved your sister.”

“How can you—”

“Well? Did you?”

‘How can you ask me that?’

“Of course… Of course I did.”

A spark flared blue in Isabel’s eyes, trembling with disbelief. But Kailhart only held the back of her neck, steadying her in place.

“Why?”

‘Why did you love her?’

“Just because you shared the same blood—is that it?”

‘You’re asking me why I loved Isaya…?’

Isabel’s body began to tremble. Kailhart’s hands supported her steadily, not forcefully, not painfully—
and yet, her chest ached.

Her heart pounded wildly, like it might tear itself free.

“You already know the answer, don’t you? Because we were blood… of course I—”

She tried to finish the sentence, but bit her tongue.

Her tongue felt stiff, frozen. Even her legs, planted firmly on the stone floor at the center of the greenhouse, suddenly felt like they belonged to someone else.

Her whole body shook, but Isabel gritted her teeth and forced herself to speak.

“I loved her because she was worth loving. That’s all. Because blood is thicker than water.”

“So the reason is that you shared blood.”

As Isabel tried to pull away, Kailhart closed the distance between them, leaning in until their breaths almost touched. He looked just as pained.

“Then that makes no sense.”

“What are you—”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to see her as a rival for the throne?”

Isabel’s entire body trembled beneath the weight of his deep violet gaze.

“You don’t have to look far. There’s a perfect example standing right in front of you—look.”

By now, it was impossible to tell whose hands were shaking more—everything between them had fallen apart.

Still, he pressed on.

“When I rose to power, I cut down every last person who shared my blood. You remember that.”

Kailhart had survived a war where killing or being killed were the only options. He was living proof of it. The final survivor. A witness to the brutal, blood-soaked tragedy of kin slaying kin.

So yes—he had every right to ask this question.

“I hated it. Being placed next to another blood relative—anyone who shared my lineage. It was unbearable.”

‘Stop… don’t…’

“You didn’t like it much either, did you? Standing side by side with a sibling in the royal palace.”

“Why are you doing this?”

‘Stop.’

Isabel tried to push him away, but it was no use.

“Whether you wanted it or not, you were probably compared to her all the time.”

Did he know? Or was this just cruel coincidence?

Unlike Isaya—who led the ceremonial rites at Saint-au’s annual festivals—Isabel hadn’t even been formally invited.

Her stomach twisted. A dull, stinging ache bloomed in her chest.

“Let go of me!”

But no matter how she tried to pull back, to retreat, Kailhart, as always, blocked every escape perfectly. Just like those times during official ceremonies, when she had been forced to watch from afar like an unwanted guest.

That memory alone was painful enough—yet still, she couldn’t walk away.

“You went through hell back in your own country, too, didn’t you? Because of your bloodline.”

Used and discarded by those obsessed with legitimacy. His next words cut like a blade.

“Didn’t you?”

It was a question that clawed into her. A question she had never wanted to face.

Because the truth was—
The truth was…

Isabel’s eyes turned red.

Still, she refused to cry in front of Kailhart again. She clenched her teeth and curled both fists tightly.

When she finally raised her head, she saw their reflections overhead, a black mass, blurred against the glass ceiling of the greenhouse like a smeared mirror. The shape of two people—entangled, locked in place.

“Ah—”

The tears welling at the corners of her burning eyes warped the image above. Her face twisted with it.

“I don’t want to answer!”

She gasped—like the breath had been trapped in her chest for years. It came out hot and raw.

She struggled to regain control, but the heat rushed up to the crown of her head.

“I—this has nothing to do with love—”

“You loved her in spite of it?”

When he asked again, her head spun. She couldn’t see clearly—tears clouded everything.

‘Don’t do this… please… stop…’

Her breathing broke, trembling. Because even the scent of the greenhouse—the raw green of the leaves and the earth—was bringing it all back.

“Ah… you smell different today, Unni.”
“Different? How?”

She remembered now.

Isaya, nodding with a little smile, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. It was a conversation they had shared shortly after Isabel had first moved to the Saint-au royal palace, at the end of another day she had barely survived, when she finally got to see Isaya again after several days apart.

“Maybe that’s it. One of the teachers said they needed an assistant for small errands and hired someone this morning.”

“What kind of person?”

Isaya had answered softly that he was as tall as most grown men, stood with perfect posture and rarely spoke or showed much expression. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking.

But when their eyes met, he didn’t look away.

This alone set him apart from the rest of the court at Saint-Au, where most people avoided even brushing gazes with her.

Trying to recall his face, Isabel could only picture his violet eyes gazing straight at her, impossibly vivid.

“Yeah… I suppose you didn’t only love her.”

“Ugh… ugh…”

“You didn’t just love your sister, did you?”

Kailhart’s gaze pierced through her. The arms that held her close now felt like a snare, trapping her in place.

A throbbing headache swept through her whole body, and even the sight of his dark hair glinting green under the ceiling light—like an aurora—irritated her. Everything grated.

“Still, if the scent’s too much—”

“No, it’s fine. You’re my sister. It’s okay. Go ahead—keep coloring me however you like.”

The memory of Isaya’s bright smile—framed by a flutter of butterflies—overlapped with the present.

Isaya had said that releasing butterflies in the greenhouse, where the temperature and humidity stayed constant year-round, was one of her few hobbies.
At night, when the world was quiet and it was just the two of them sitting together, Isabel felt as though they were sharing a secret — something sacred.

“I loved Isaya.”

Her voice quivered. Isabel trembled violently, and Kailhart pulled her in closer, as if trying to calm her. His fingers brushed the corners of her eyes, where tears clung to her reddened lashes.

He watched silently as his fingertips grew damp and the tears ran down his hand. Then, slowly, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her tear-stained eyelids.

“Here. I made this for you again today.”
“Wow… thank you, as always.”
“Don’t thank me.”

Fragments of the past rose unbidden—scratching at her insides like claws.

‘I don’t want to remember this.’

But even as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block it all out, Kailhart kissed her again, slowly and tenderly.

His lips brushed the wet skin around her closed eyes and damp lashes until she felt as though she might break.

The blank sketchbooks and paint sets that Isaya had prepared for her—

The sound of the brush gliding across paper—

Those had been their shared secret, too.

After leaving home, Isabel had never seen her mother again—didn’t even know if she was alive. Her birth father had always been a distant shadow.

Isaya had been the only blood relative she could hold. The only one she had.

To someone like you, I—

“I…”

“Mm. You…”

It hadn’t been only love.

There had been shameful feelings, too—so dark and raw they had made her realize just how human, how fallible she really was.

“I didn’t love her… only.”

Isaya—her only blood kin. Her half-sister. The feelings she had carried for her weren’t just affection or familial love.

When no one else had stayed by her side, when the world had turned its back—Isaya had reached out to her.
And the emotions that had bloomed in response were far too murky, far too dark. So much so that even Isabel couldn’t bear to look at them directly.

They were bitter. Ugly. Unclean.

‘I hate this—’

Shaking her head, Isabel was held tightly in Kailhart’s arms. No matter how hard she tried, she could still clearly see Isaya’s smiling face.

It wouldn’t disappear. No matter what she did.

She wanted to run away. But she couldn’t.

Kailhart held her close, steadying her trembling body. His mouth twisted in pain.

Isabel had no choice but to look into his sharp eyes, which cut through her.

They weren’t asking. They were demanding.

‘Was it a lie, then? Was it all just a pretty excuse?’

She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t deny it.

There was nothing left to hide from.

She had no choice but to face the truth.