“Come here.”

“…”

“Hurry, Breti.”

Karsten’s sweet voice followed, but Breti hesitated, afraid to move as he wished.

‘What if it’s Adrian again…’

The words he had left behind—a life of confusion—clung to her mind and refused to let go.

“Breti.”

The tenderness in his voice confirmed to her that it was Karsten. She slowly lay down beside him. He slipped his arm behind her head and pulled her close. Although she was concerned about embracing someone who was still in pain, she was overwhelmed by the warmth of his scent. She was consumed by it, fighting the urge to draw even closer.

Karsten seemed to be suppressing the same longing.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

The restrained hint of desire in his voice brushed against her ear. Breti laughed faintly against his chest.

Hearing her laugh, Karsten’s body responded honestly and openly.

“No strenuous activity for now.”

“For how long?”

“Until your wound is completely healed.”

Her answer was met with a long, heavy sigh.

“That is troublesome indeed.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself, Your Highness, for getting injured.”

Although she buried her face deeper into his chest, Breti spoke in a prim manner. The steady thrum of his heartbeat and quiet chuckle stirred her ears.

“Very well, I was wrong.”

Karsten tightened his embrace around her shoulders, stroking the back of her head gently. His tender touch caused Breti’s eyelids to grow heavier and heavier.

“I had hoped we might visit the Cathedral together soon.”

On the verge of sleep, Breti’s eyes fluttered open at his words, and she answered immediately.

“No.”

She lifted her gaze to his.

“But why the cathedral all of a sudden?”

“In the capital, around this time every year, many go to the Cathedral to light candles for the coming year.”

“Candles?”

“Families go to pray for each other’s safety in the year ahead, merchants pray for the prosperity of their ventures, and lovers…”

“…”

“…they pray that their love will never change.”

When he started talking about love and looked at her, Breti felt her heart give a nervous flutter. She averted her gaze.

“That is why I want to go with you.”

He took her hand and pressed a brief kiss to the back of it.

Her heart beat faster than ever before, but the memory of his injuries made her shake her head.

“No. Not when your body is still unwell.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He smiled faintly, kissing her hand repeatedly until his lips finally found hers, brushing them with delicate kisses.

“I want to go with you.”

“But…”

“I want us to light a candle there together.”

She knew she should refuse for the sake of his health.

“Please. Come with me.”

But his pleading voice weakened her resolve.

“All right. We’ll go together.”

Satisfied, Karsten pressed his lips to her forehead. Their eyes met, filled with deep affection.

“Good.”

“But not tomorrow. We’ll wait until your wound has healed a little more.”

Breti’s voice was firm as she nestled deeper into his arms.

Breti closed her eyes and inhaled the warmth of his scent as she rested in his arms.

The next morning, when she woke up, Karsten was sitting by the bed in his uniform, watching her quietly. She was surprised to see him, but her expression changed as soon as she realized what his attire meant: he was preparing to leave. He was preparing to leave.

“Your Highness, your wound hasn’t healed yet…!”

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, pressing a brief kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be fine.”

“But…”

This time, his lips brushed the bridge of her nose. Her face flushed faintly as she received his gentle kiss. Then, as he pressed his lips against her cheek, he spoke softly.

“I must go to the palace for a while.”

“The palace? Why…?”

His lips lingered in her hair as he continued.

“I need to deliver my report on the border region.”

“Ah…”

“And also…”

He trailed off, falling into a pause. Breti’s eyes filled with unease as she looked at him.

“What is it?”

Rather than answer, Karsten kissed her hair once more.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

He smiled as though to brush it aside, but that only deepened Breti’s worry.

“Your Highness…”

She grasped his collar lightly, stopping him in his tracks. Leaning down, he smiled faintly and kissed her.

The warmth of his breath sweeping through her mouth eased her anxiety, if only temporarily.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Don’t worry.”

“I… I can’t help it.”

“There’s no need to.”

At his gentle insistence, Breti nodded, forcing herself to believe him.

He kissed her cheek once more before rising to his feet.

“I’ll return.”

Breti gazed at him without a word, watching until the very moment he left the room.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

Karsten and his knights arrived at the Imperial Palace. The court erupted into a buzz of whispers. People bent their heads together and hurriedly exchanged glances.

“Is it truly the Duke of White?”

“But weren’t there countless rumors he had fallen in battle?”

“I heard the same! Everyone said so—”

“Yes, yes! That’s what I heard too! Then what is going on here?”

Those who had believed the rumors stared in shock. For weeks, there had been no word from the White Ducal Estate, which had fuelled the near-certainty of his death. And yet here he was, striding forward with no sign of weakness.

“As expected of the Duke of White.”

“Of course. There’s no way His Grace would fall so easily!”

Spectators murmured in awe as Karsten strode forward with bold, commanding steps.

Amid their reverent stares, his knight, Benon, leaned close and whispered into his ear.

“Your Highness, he is here.”

Karsten gave only a brief nod, offering no words in reply as he continued forward with steady steps.

As expected, not far away, someone watched the procession from the shadows.

‘Duke of White… so you return after all…!’

With fury burning in her eyes, Eglet clenched her fists so tightly that her palms ached as she stared at Karsten’s knights marching in formation. Once again, her carefully laid plans had unravelled before her eyes and she could not suppress her rage.

She had even gone so far as to hand over maps of the borderlands, hoping to tip the balance in her favor, but it had all been for nothing. The thought of admitting such futility made her blood boil.

‘Even after all I did…’

How had Karsten managed to return alive?

Unbidden, she recalled the words she had recently heard from Jerron. Could it be true that Karsten had discovered something he should never have known?

Her anger slowly turned to unease, making her even more irritable.

“Your Majesty.”

The quiet voice of Lady Cage, standing beside her, broke through her turbulent thoughts.

Eglet turned toward her sharply, irritation flashing across her face.

“There are too many eyes upon us. Please compose yourself.”

Lady Cage advised softly. At her words, Eglet forced herself to look around, noting the gazes on her. She struggled to contain her fury, but eventually managed to calm down, although her features remained tense.

Then, with a faint smile returning to her lips, she spoke.

“Lady Cage, once the Duke of White finishes his audience with His Majesty, extend an invitation for him to come to Pophia Palace.”

Lady Cage regarded her with a hint of unease, but Eglet’s command left little room for protest.

“The duke has labored so tirelessly for our Pensia Empire. I ought to at least offer him a cup of tea.”

Though still troubled, Lady Cage dared not oppose her sovereign.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She withdrew with a deep bow and began moving in the direction Karsten had gone.

Eglet watched her departing figure, and only then did a calmer, more composed smile return to her lips.

“I should go to the gardens.”