The way Sierra looked at Karsten was filled with unmistakable affection—not just the interest one person has for another, but the yearning gaze of a woman for a man.

Feeling unsettled, Breti quickly averted her eyes and bowed her head.

‘Why am I feeling this way?’

She shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts aside and ignore them.

“Mother, I have some things to attend to. I’ll be going now.”

“All right.”

“The carriage for you and Mother is already waiting. Once you finish shopping, you’ll both be taken safely to the ducal residence.”

“Thank you, Karsten. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Karsten pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Meliover’s hand, then stood and quietly made his way out. As he left, he brushed right past Sierra.

“Ah—then, Your Grace…!”

Sierra quickly gave Meliover a polite farewell, then hurried after Karsten, trailing behind him.

Watching Sierra follow after him sent Breti’s emotions into turmoil.

‘Who is she?’

While Breti struggled to hide her confusion, Meliover’s voice gently answered her question.

“That’s Lady Sierra of the Etro marquisate—the very one they’ve been discussing as a potential match for Karsten.”

When Meliover spoke, Breti’s heart plummeted.

“Match…?”

“They haven’t had an official engagement ceremony yet, but… Your brother is well past the age for marriage. It’s about time he settles down, don’t you think?”

Meliover was right. For the head of a noble house, it was only natural to marry — what was strange was that Karsten hadn’t done so already.

And yet…

‘Why does my heart ache like this…?’

An emptiness took root inside Breti’s chest, the reason for it impossible to name.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

“Your Grace!”

Sierra rushed out of the dress shop, grabbing the edge of Karsten’s sleeve.

Startled by the sudden touch, Karsten came to an abrupt halt. He turned, coldly shaking off the small hand clinging to his coat.

“What is it, my lady?”

Sierra glanced down at her stinging hand, her brow furrowing slightly. But when she lifted her head again, she wore a bright, unaffected smile as if nothing had happened.

“I heard you went through a terrible ordeal. I was very worried about you.”

“There’s no need for you to concern yourself, my lady.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

Sierra’s eyes anxiously roamed over Karsten, as if she were truly worried for his well-being.

Karsten avoided her gaze and climbed into the carriage.

“I’m fine. Excuse me.”

With only the bare minimum of courtesy—a curt nod—Karsten shut the carriage door.

“Let’s go.”

At his command, the carriage pulled away, leaving Sierra standing alone.

She stared after the receding carriage, her face growing steadily colder, the tension in her expression betraying her anger.

“Duke White…”

This wasn’t the first time Karsten had ignored her. From the moment they’d first met, he had always treated Sierra as if she didn’t even exist.

But for Sierra, things had been different. From the moment she first saw him—those mysterious teal eyes landing on her—she’d fallen in love at first sight.

‘I have to become this man’s wife.’

When she found out that their families had been discussing forming an alliance, she felt as though the whole world was hers.

However, this did not change Karsten’s attitude towards her. In fact, he seemed even colder towards her despite her being his supposed future fiancée.

Consequently, Sierra suffered countless humiliations.

“Oh my, Lady Etro—isn’t she supposed to be Duke White’s fiancée? How can she not even greet him?”

Every time Karsten ignored her at official gatherings, especially in front of other young noblewomen her age, Sierra felt deeply humiliated.

Her fists trembled with frustration.

“But none of that changes anything.”

Yes—no matter how many times he pushed her away, nothing would change.

“In the end, I’ll be the one to become His Grace’s wife.”

No one else but her would ever be the wife of such a cold man.

Having settled her thoughts, Sierra straightened her posture and strode away with newfound confidence.

“Let’s go. Back to the marquisate.”

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

“This is your home, my dear.”

Just as Meliover had wished, Breti was taken to the White Ducal Residence. As she stepped out of the carriage, holding Meliover’s hand, she was greeted by the sight of a mansion so grand that the Servien manor in the south seemed insignificant by comparison.

Breti stared in awe at the mansion as the household staff emerged to welcome her, forming a circle around her.

“Heaven truly must be watching over us.”

Everyone from the ducal house welcomed Breti warmly. Among them, a woman about Meliover’s age was moved to tears at the sight of her.

“My lady…”

“Laterna, do you remember Tilda?”

“…N-no, I’m afraid I don’t.”

At Breti’s answer, Meliover gave her a gentle, understanding smile.

“That’s all right, you’ll remember in time. Tilda was your nursemaid.”

“Oh, my dear girl!”

The moment Meliover finished speaking, the woman named Tilda rushed forward and swept Breti up in a tight embrace.

Tilda’s embrace was warm, but it didn’t bring Breti the comfort she expected.

“I heard you didn’t remember everything, but I never thought you’d forget me too…”

Tilda’s tears soaked into Breti’s shoulder.

Breti quietly patted the woman’s back, wanting to comfort her.

“I’m sorry, Tilda.”

But instead of soothing her, Breti’s apology only made Tilda weep harder. Her sobs grew so loud that soon even the eyes of the staff around them grew damp.

“No, no, you don’t need to apologize. I’m just grateful to heaven that you’ve come back to us like this.”

Tilda finally pulled back, cradling Breti’s face in her hands.

“Thank you, truly thank you, for coming back safe and sound…”

“That’s enough, Laterna is home now. Tilda, why don’t you show her to her room?”

“Of course, madam.”

In an instant, Tilda wiped away her tears and stepped forward, her expression brightening as if she had never cried at all. Breti carefully followed her into the grand ducal residence.

With each step through the lavish halls, she felt a growing weight settle in her chest. This feeling became even more uncomfortable when she saw the room that Meliover had prepared just for her.

“Here, Laterna. This is your room.”

Thinking of Meliover, frail and ill, putting in all this effort for her “daughter” only made Breti’s heart ache more.

A single tear fell from Breti’s eye.

“Laterna.”

Meliover murmured, pulling her gently into a warm embrace.

Held close in Meliover’s arms, Breti silently made a promise:

‘I’ll do my best, madam.’
‘I’ll never let you find out the truth about me—no matter what.’

The Imperial Palace of the Pensia Empire. Marquis Jerron of Etro hurried down the grand halls, his steps purposeful and swift. The place where he finally stopped was the Pophia Palace, renowned as the most beautiful among all the imperial palaces.

At the entrance to a large greenhouse inside, a lady-in-waiting spotted him and immediately approached.

“Her Majesty is expecting you.”

She opened the greenhouse doors and led Jerron inside.

As he walked down the narrow path, he found himself surrounded by an abundance of flowers. Even flowers that rarely flourished in the distinct seasons of the Pensia Empire thrived here thanks to careful cultivation in the greenhouse.

Among the vibrant flowers, he saw a woman kneeling and planting seeds with a trowel. The lady-in-waiting guiding Jerron called out to her.

“Your Majesty, the Marquis of Etro has arrived.”

The woman planting flowers—Empress Eglet of the Pensia Empire—stood up.

She handed her trowel and handkerchief to the waiting maid and brushed the dirt from her clothes.

“These flowers aren’t native to our empire. They’re so particular, if I skip even a day of care, they begin to wilt right away.”

Eglet remarked, settling at a table set to the side of the greenhouse. She gestured for Jerron to sit across from her.

“It’s been a while since your last visit, Marquis Etro.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Eglet regarded him with a gentle smile. Soon after, tea was served at the table before them.

“I’ve heard you’ve been suffering from headaches lately, Marquis. I had a tea prepared that should help with that.”

Jerron paused, hand hovering over his cup.

“My, it seems no one can match Your Majesty’s skill in gathering information.”

Eglet gave a faint smile.

“It’s not really about intelligence gathering. Isn’t it natural to keep an eye on the well-being of my people?”

She raised her teacup.

“There’s been quite the rumor going around lately.”

“A rumor, Your Majesty…?”

“They say the young lady of the House of White, thought to be dead, has returned.”