Eden rubbed his wrists, bound for so long, and asked.

“Is this so I can write a will?”

“……”

Looking at the knight’s rigid face, Eden gave a faint smile. He had never been able to take a joke, even in the old days.

“The look on your face tells me my sentence has finally been decided.”

“……”

“Are you going to keep standing there saying nothing?”

“…… Why did you do it, Your Highness.”

Something broke through in Sir Roben’s voice. His rough tone trembled faintly, and before long he was kneeling on the floor before Eden.

“I know this isn’t who Your Highness truly is.”

Sir Roben’s eyes were red. Even looking at the knight with his fists clenched tight, staring at the floor, Eden remained composed.

“Is that so.”

“…… There were other ways.”

“Perhaps there were.”

He rubbed the bruised skin of his wrists. The flesh had turned a deep blue and throbbed at the touch. Barely a day in bonds, and already in this state — it wasn’t even funny.

He rolled his stiff shoulders and asked.

“Has the date of execution been set?”

“…… Three days from now.”

“Just right. Hanging?”

“…… Yes.”

“Good. I’d rather not see blood when the first blow falls.”

His tone was as detached as if he were speaking of someone else entirely.

Eden set the pillow Sir Roben had brought onto the bed without any particular expression. At least he wouldn’t die of a stiff neck from sleeping curled up on the floor.

Sir Roben’s lips moved.

“Are you not afraid of death, Your Highness?”

“…… Presumptuous.”

Even if it was the truth, it was not a question a mere knight should ask. Sir Roben pressed his lips shut. Eden gave his shoulder one last pat.

“I want to rest. Leave.”

“…… If you need anything, please call for me at any time.”

Sir Roben lingered until the very last moment before leaving the room. Eden waited until he was completely out of sight before leaning back against the bed.

The attic left to itself was quiet. For the first time since taking the throne, Eden found himself in a night this still.

It was then that the box in the corner of the attic caught his eye. On a small shelf in the middle of a cabinet holding things that hadn’t been disposed of, there was a wooden box.

Eden knew what was inside it.

The night he had left Alisa behind. He had found the box of letters in his hands too late. He had resolved never to go back to see her, but those letters were something he simply could not bring himself to throw away.

So he had left them here. In a place where no one would look, and where he would never come.

‘If I had known I’d end up back here, I wouldn’t have done that.’

Eden pushed himself up from the bed. He drew in a slow breath and moved toward it. They were just letters. Written by a child who didn’t know any better.

So reading them wouldn’t change anything.

He opened the box, pushing down the feeling rising in his chest. Several letters tumbled out at once. One postcard fell face-up at his feet and caught his eye for a moment.

[Eden, I miss you.]

[Today there are flowers in the garden……]

[I started doing theatre! I want to show you first.]

[I like you, Eden. You appeared briefly in my dream last night, and when I reached out, you disappeared.]

He froze where he stood. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move a single step.

How did I forget this. What was I thinking, believing I could die without seeing you again and feel nothing. What kind of confidence made me think reading your letters wouldn’t affect me at all.

He felt like someone who had only just realized their head had been underwater. But it was already too late to change anything.

Eden gathered the letters with trembling hands. Then he picked up the quill pen and paper Sir Roben had left behind.

He couldn’t write at length. It had to be small enough to hide beneath the wallpaper without showing, so the space allowed was no wider than two finger-joints.

Then the words he had to leave were already decided.

Eden lifted the quill.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Alisa spent two days and nights searching through libraries. She couldn’t shake the fear that Leonard II might be Eden.

‘What if Eden is a childhood name that never made it into the history books.’

The Westroben library wasn’t enough — she went in person to families known for their extensive collections. But there was nothing. Not a single mention of Leonard II’s childhood name, anywhere.

Every time she confirmed that Eden was not among Leonard II’s names, she felt relief, and at the same time a creeping unease that she had missed something.

“…… Miss. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but you need to sleep early tonight. Tomorrow is the rehearsal you’ve been looking forward to all week.”

“Yes, just a moment. This one, just this last one.”

She heard the maid’s worried words, but couldn’t pull her eyes from the page. Her heart felt strangely urgent. Exhaustion pressed in and her eyes fell shut for a moment, then snapped open again.

If there was even the slightest chance, even one in a thousand, that he really was Eden.

Then time was running out. It would soon be too late to change anything.

So in a way, Alisa was searching for definitive proof that he was not Eden.

Alisa turned the last page and slumped forward onto the desk.

“…… Please……”

She wanted to meet Eden in person and hear it from him. Even if it meant never seeing him again after that, she wanted to see with her own eyes that he was someone different from Leonard II.

The attic.

The thought came to her out of nowhere, while she lay sprawled and exhausted from reading borrowed books.

The attic had been kept in order all along, so it wouldn’t be buried in dust if Eden ever returned. But since the maids had taken over the cleaning a few years ago, she hadn’t gone up there often.

‘He said he would hide letters beneath the wallpaper.’

Alisa lifted her head slowly. Come to think of it, it had been quite a while since she had checked.

He had never sent word that way before, but……

‘Just in case……’

Alisa draped a shawl over her shoulders and made her way to the attic. She climbed the ladder and the familiar space came into view.

She placed her hand on the wall and began to make her way around the room. It was a habit she had formed ever since Eden said he would hide letters beneath the wallpaper. Going around without any real expectation, Alisa stopped.

“…… Oh?”

The wall felt thick. She could clearly feel something catching under her fingertips.

She sat down on the spot immediately and held the lamp up close. Running her hands over the area confirmed it. There was definitely something here.

Alisa practically threw herself back down the attic ladder to find a knife. She couldn’t even remember how she managed to climb back up.

Breathing hard in time with her pounding heart, she peeled back the wallpaper. Inside was a single sheet of paper, yellowed with age.

She brought the lamp close and looked at the writing. It was Eden’s hand.

[Alisa,

I’m sorry for not sending word for so long.

Last year I married, and today my first child was born.

I don’t know if this note will reach you, but I hope you are at peace, wherever you are.

Eden]

Alisa lowered the hand holding the paper. Then she stared blankly ahead.

She read it again. Marriage. Wife. Child. The paper trembled faintly. With shaking hands, she read the note one last time.

Married, and a first child born.

“…… That’s a lie.”

The quiet murmur echoed through the empty attic.

There must be something hidden in these words. He would never send a note like this. Even if he had married, even if he had a child — to deliver only bare facts, this coldly.

Eden couldn’t do that to her.

Alisa remembered the last face she had seen the day he left.

‘Alisa, I like you.’

A confession that had sounded like a final farewell. A face as pale as someone walking away from life, already sensing the end.

The Eden of that moment could never have said something like this. There was no way he could have.

Alisa clutched the letter tight.

And yet.

And yet people change. The way a dripping drop of water carves a hole in stone, the way waves grind a cliff face into sand. Taking the full weight of time against their whole body, worn away without even knowing it themselves.

Alisa knew the Eden of four years ago. But she had no way of knowing how harshly those four years had carved him.

She smoothed out the crumpled letter. She read it again, slowly. She traced each word, checking whether she had missed anything.

There was no trace of longing anywhere in those spare sentences.

Alisa pressed the letter to her chest. And she sat there for a long while.