On the day of the trial, Oswald and Daphne took their seats in the public gallery at the front of the courtroom.

The room was far more crowded than she had imagined, undoubtedly due to the considerable public interest that the case had already generated. Some people had even been forced to stand along the walls due to a lack of space.

From where she was sitting, she could see Curtis standing in the center of the room. The warm expression he had worn at the party had disappeared, replaced by a cold, composed severity.

The defendant stood before the court with his shoulders hunched, looking small and cornered. His lawyer stood beside him, but he did not appear confident or capable of mounting much of a defense.

The proceedings advanced with swift, efficient precision, leaving little room for anyone to breathe.

“…For the crime of impersonating a noble, Mr. Melvin Zeras is hereby sentenced to imprisonment.”

After Curtis had spoken his final words, the sharp sound of the gavel being struck three times could be heard. In the solemn chamber, quiet murmurs soon began to rise. The trial was over. People started filing out one by one.

Daphne remained seated, dazed.

She had found the trial more interesting than she had expected, except for the fact that one day the story could be about her.

“Let’s go.”

Oswald, who had been silent the entire time, stood first. Daphne followed him out of the courtroom.

She didn’t notice Curtis watching her from the back.

“Major Oswald Lawrence, isn’t it?”

As they were leaving, a large-built man blocked their path. The man in uniform was Douglas, Commander-in-Chief of the Phozmeri Army.

“You look well after getting married.”

Daphne had seen Douglas’s photograph before, but he was even more striking in person. A handsome man in his middle years, he was said to be almost as influential as Prime Minister Howard and to enjoy a close relationship with him. Born into a distinguished military family, Douglas climbed the ranks with remarkable speed, becoming Commander-in-Chief at an unusually young age.

In Phozmeri, he was often referred to as the ‘perfect man’.

Despite his wealth, influence, and impressive record, he had reached middle age without ever marrying — a fact that made him the constant subject of curiosity and admiration among countless women.

But it was the subtle shift in Oswald’s demeanor beside her that drew her attention now. Something about his reaction felt… off.

“…Commander.”

His voice was lower and rougher than usual. Daphne felt a flicker of confusion at her husband’s tone.

Douglas seemed not to notice anything amiss. After exchanging a brief greeting with Oswald, he stepped toward Daphne and asked for a light embrace and a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Princess Allen. Ah—no, I should call you Mrs. Lawrence now.”

“It’s an honor to meet you as well, Commander Douglas.”

“Sorry I couldn’t attend the wedding. I was abroad on business.”

“Diplomacy comes first. Thank you for your consideration.”

With a bright, hearty manner, Douglas winked and continued.

“You may not know this, but I’m practically a father to Oswald. Isn’t that right, Major?”

“…Of course.”

Daphne glanced at Oswald. His expression was unlike any she had seen on him before, subtly different from the mask he usually wore.

“I actually had something to discuss with you, and to think we’d run into each other here. Perfect timing.”

Douglas’s eyes shifted to Daphne, as though asking her permission to speak privately.

“Your Highness, if you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

“Of course. Please speak freely.”

Douglas courteously bowed and guided Oswald towards a quieter corner, leaving Daphne standing alone. Oswald offered no objection.

The weather was pleasant. Winter was approaching, but it was not yet very cold and people were still dressed lightly. Left to herself, Daphne watched Oswald from a distance.

Whatever Douglas was saying, Oswald seemed more relaxed than usual. He nodded from time to time, and his respect for the Commander was clear to see.

After observing her husband for a while, Daphne let her gaze drift elsewhere.

The fountain rose with a soft, steady rush, scattering white foam into the air. Once winter arrived, the water would stop flowing. Daphne wandered closer and sat on the edge of the fountain.

The grounds of Phozmeri Castle were undeniably beautiful, so beautiful that she was irritated to admit it.

People moved in and out of the courthouse in steady streams. Daphne watched them pass by. Occasionally, she sensed glances being thrown her way, but she pretended not to notice.

All anyone knew about her was her name. She still had no memories of her own. Sometimes she wondered whether she could still call herself Daphne Winfred. Without anything to connect her to her past life, she felt more like Allen Howard than the person the world thought she was.

‘What a ridiculous thought.’

She muttered with a faint, self-mocking laugh.

And at that moment—

“Did you enjoy today’s trial?”

Curtis’s voice reached her.

Daphne lifted her head and looked at the man blocking her path. Wearing the same black judicial robe he had worn in the courtroom, he offered her a faint smile.

‘Of course he approaches me now—right when Oswald is gone…’

The certainty solidified inside her. This man knew she was pretending to be Allen Howard. She forced her expression to remain composed, refusing to let her face harden. For now, she would have to act as if she knew nothing.

Daphne returned his smile.

“Thanks to you. Father was right—I’m glad I observed it. It was a valuable experience.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. It feels rewarding to know I could offer the Princess something worth learning.”

Daphne gave a short smile indicating she had no interest in continuing the conversation and glanced away. She looked deliberately toward where Oswald had been, but he had disappeared.

“Are you looking for your husband?”

His voice followed immediately.

Concern creeping into her thoughts, Daphne turned back toward Curtis.

“It seems the Major will be a little late.”

‘Did he send the Commander away on purpose?’

The sudden suspicion made her expression nearly twist, but she held it together. Anxiety pounded in her chest.

“Why is that?”

“There seemed to be a bit of military business. Ah—just something I overheard while passing by. I’m not completely sure.”

With effortless casualness, he sat beside her. The unpleasant feeling inside her grew.

“Do you have business with me?”

She asked, her voice low and stripped of the earlier smile.

“I have a great deal of business with you, Princess.”

The title Princess began to grate on her nerves. Daphne rose to her feet. She couldn’t bear to spend another moment beside him.

“If you have business, please send a letter to my husband.”

She turned, ready to leave, when his voice stopped her.

“Are you truly going to walk away like that?”

“……”

Curtis’s voice had changed entirely.

“Do you have something to say to me?”

She turned back and looked at him.

His golden eyes shone even more brightly in the sunlight. It was the same face she had seen in the courtroom, the face he wore when delivering a verdict.

The feeling of being treated like a defendant was anything but pleasant.

“You already know, don’t you, Princess?”

“……”

“No—Miss Winfred?”

“……”

A heavy thud echoed inside her chest. Her fear had taken form. The judge had spoken her real name. Now there was nothing left for her but death.

Her entire body froze from the shock. She had to say something—anything—but her lips felt sealed by ice.

“Wh-who… who are you talking about, I don’t…”

Daphne finally muttered something, but it was far too late. Her stiff expression, her trembling hands and her pitiful voice must have already exposed the truth.

Still, Curtis did not lose his smile. She tried to meet his gaze, but her eyes kept dropping towards the ground.

“You don’t know who I mean?”

He stood up. His height and build towered over her.

Fear made her legs tingle and go numb from the tips of her toes upwards. When she clasped her trembling hands together, she could feel dampness gathering across her palms. Lowering her hands, she gripped the hem of her skirt tightly.

What should she say?

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I… I should return to the estate.”

Her eyes met his.

“I forgot something… important.”

She was rambling, barely aware of her own words. Curtis replied gently.

“No. I need to prepare for the next trial, so I’ll be leaving first.”

As if granting her time to compose herself—or perhaps telling her to wait for Oswald—Curtis left those words behind and walked away.

Bottom of Form