“You don’t look well.”

Seeing Valoran’s expressionless face, one that revealed nothing of his thoughts, Merian hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Then, pretending nothing had happened, she spoke curtly, as though she had never known discomfort.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Is someone who’s perfectly fine standing here alone, crying?”

“I wasn’t crying. You’re mistaken.”

Valoran frowned, clearly frustrated, and stepped closer to her.

“You’re quite good at lying… for a concubine.”

“That again—‘concubine.’ Can’t you stop saying that?”

Merian suddenly raised her voice.

At that single careless word, her expression shifted, no longer composed, but wounded, as if she had been struck where it hurt most.

All the effort she had made to appear unaffected crumbled in an instant.

“I don’t belong to anyone anymore. My former husband is dead, killed by His Majesty himself. So why must I still be addressed as though I were his woman?”

Clutching the mask Clodine had made for her tightly in both hands, Merian stepped closer to Valoran.

She lifted her chin high, meeting his gaze head-on.

She had no intention of appearing frightened, not today of all days.

To do so would be no different from foolishly wrapping herself once more in the worn, tattered shell she had struggled so hard to cast off.

Valoran realized, too late, that he had made a grave mistake.

For a moment, he could not speak.

Only when Merian lowered her head, clearly intending to end the conversation without hesitation, did he finally speak, carefully.

“I apologize. I thought that treating you like the other servants would be a greater form of disrespect.”

Merian hadn’t considered his intention that far.

At his words, she flinched slightly, then looked up at him again.

Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, her voice softened.

“No matter how I’m treated, it’s still better than being called the late King Penelope’s concubine. If you don’t know what to call me… just use my name.”

“I will.”

After a brief pause, longer than he had intended, Valoran finally spoke her name, his voice quieter than usual.

“…Miss Bennett.”

In truth, he knew her real name was Gloria.

By coincidence or perhaps not quite coincidence the training grounds where he often sparred with the knights in the Rotermann palace were connected to the garden of the concubines’ quarters where she had lived.

He had seen her there often.

Back then, Merian—

No, Gloria—

would always walk the same path, dressed in fine clothes, like a wind-up doll.

She would start from the same place, follow the same route, and return again, a meaningless routine repeated every day.

Always accompanied, at a distance, by a single silent servant.

Her noon walks had been so strangely persistent that even Valoran, who cared little for most things, had found his attention drawn to them.

“Come to think of it… how did you know that wasn’t my real name?”

As the topic of names arose, Merian suddenly recalled what he had said before that her name was false and asked him.

While it was possible they had seen each other in passing at the Rotermann palace, it would be strange for a knight to know the names of so many concubines.

Valoran looked at her for a moment, his gaze distant like someone remembering something from long ago.

Merian met that gaze head-on, her clear eyes reflecting nothing but sincerity.

“At some gathering… I heard someone call out the name Gloria. I happened to look up and saw you standing on the stairs. That’s all. I simply remembered.”

He did not add that he had already seen her countless times before.

That he had found himself, at some point, quietly curious about her.

That the name had imprinted itself in his mind so deeply that he remembered it even now.

Even someone as inexperienced as he was in matters concerning women knew—

that was not something he should say aloud.

“I see…”

Rather than letting her thoughts wander further, Merian chose to accept his explanation without question.

There was nothing to gain from tracing the threads of their past now.

“My name is Merian Bennett.”

With a faint, bitter smile, she finally gave the introduction she should have made long ago.

“That’s right… I was once Gloria Pendrington.”

She seemed almost embarrassed as she said it and yet, there was also a quiet courage in the way she forced the words out.

Seeing that, Valoran found himself wanting to encourage her, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

As if sensing his thoughts, Merian blinked firmly, steadying herself.

Then, with a resolute voice, she continued.

“But now, I am Merian Bennett. And I’ve decided that this is the name I’ll live by for the rest of my life.”

Valoran turned her words over in his mind for a long moment.

Then, without replying, he lowered his gaze to the white mask she still held.

Gently, he took it from her hands and examined it for a while.

“…Well.”

After a moment, he looked back at her.

For the briefest instant, a smile, no one would have expected from him, touched his lips before disappearing.

“It’s a beautiful name.”

“You look quite unwell.”

Looking at Valoran’s expressionless face, impossible to read or discern any hidden intent from, Merian hurriedly wiped away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes with her palm. Then, pretending nothing was wrong, she answered curtly, like someone who had never known embarrassment.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Would someone who’s perfectly fine be standing alone in a place like this, shedding tears?”

“I wasn’t crying. You must have seen wrong.”

As if finding her stubbornness frustrating, Valoran furrowed his brow and stepped closer.

“You are remarkably good at lying, Your Concubine.”

“There you go again with that ‘concubine’ nonsense… Could you please stop calling me that?”

Merian, who had been pretending to be unaffected the entire time, suddenly raised her voice.

At that single careless remark from Valoran, her face transformed, becoming that of someone carrying countless wounds. In an instant, all the effort she had put into appearing fine collapsed into nothing.

“I don’t belong to anyone anymore. My ex-husband was killed by His Majesty himself. So why do people still insist on calling me as if I’m still his woman?”

Clutching the mask Clodine had made for her tightly in both hands, Merian stepped right up to Valoran.

Tilting her head back as far as she could, she met his gaze head-on despite the considerable difference in their height. She had no intention whatsoever of showing him the frightened look she had worn on the day he discovered her identity.

To do so today would be no different from foolishly putting back on the old, battered shell she had struggled so hard to shed.

Realizing he had made a grave mistake, Valoran remained silent for a long moment.

Only when Merian lowered her head, clearly intending to end the conversation, did he finally speak.

“I’m sorry. I thought treating you the same as the other servants would be even more disrespectful.”

Merian hadn’t considered that possibility at all.

Startled, she looked up at him again.

Seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes, her tone softened considerably.

“I’d rather endure any amount of mistreatment than be treated as the late King Penelope’s concubine. If you don’t know what to call me, then just use my name.”

“I will.”

After answering, Valoran hesitated unexpectedly before finally managing, in a voice so subdued it sounded like a great effort, to say her surname.

“…Miss Bennett.”

In truth, he knew that Merian’s real name was Gloria.

Coincidentally, during his time at the Rotermann Royal Palace, the training grounds where he frequently sparred with the knights happened to border the rear gardens of the concubine palace where she resided.

Since he spent every day crossing swords there, it was difficult to call it mere coincidence, but he often found himself seeing her strolling through the gardens.

Back then, Merian or rather, Gloria always wore beautiful clothes, just as she did now.

Like a wind-up doll, she walked the same route every day: starting from the same place, passing through the same paths, and returning to where she began.

Accompanied only by a single silent servant who followed at a distance, she carried out that meaningless noon walk day after day.

It was so strange and persistent that it managed to draw the attention of even someone as indifferent to the world as Valoran.

“Come to think of it, how did you know that wasn’t my real name?”

The topic of names had suddenly sparked her curiosity.

Remembering how he had previously pointed out that the name she used was false, Merian finally asked about it.

It wouldn’t have been unusual for them to have crossed paths in the Kingdom of Rotermann, but it seemed odd that the queen’s knight commander would know the names of so many concubines.

Valoran stared at her silently for a moment, his gaze distant, as though looking at someone he had observed long ago.

Merian met that inexplicably serious look with clear, innocent eyes.

“At some ball, I heard someone call out the name Gloria. I happened to look up and saw Miss Bennett standing on the staircase. I simply remembered it.”

Naturally, he omitted the fact that he had seen her so often beforehand that she had become impossible to ignore.

That at some point, he had begun wondering about her.

That the name had imprinted itself in his memory the moment he heard it.

And that he had remembered it all the way until they met again.

Even someone as inexperienced with women as Valoran understood instinctively that such things should never be spoken aloud.

“I see…”

Rather than letting her thoughts wander further, Merian chose to accept the explanation without hesitation.

After all, there was nothing to gain now from tracing the invisible threads that had connected them in the past.

“My name is Merian Bennett.”

With a bitter smile, she finally offered the introduction she should have given long ago.

“That’s right. There was a time when I was Gloria Fandington as well.”

She seemed deeply embarrassed as she said it.

Yet at the same time, there was something admirable in the way she forced herself to speak the words despite that shame.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Valoran found himself wanting to encourage her.

As though she had sensed his feelings, Merian blinked firmly and continued in a steady voice.

“But now I’m Merian Bennett. I’ve promised myself that for the rest of my life, that’s the only name I’ll answer to.”

Valoran turned her words over in his mind for a long while.

Then, without responding, he lowered his gaze to the pure white mask she still held in her hands.

Gently taking it from her, he examined it for a moment.

“Well…”

A short while later, he lifted his eyes to meet hers once more.

For the briefest instant, a smile touched his lips—a smile so unexpectedly suited to him that no one would have imagined it.

Then it vanished.

“It’s a beautiful name.”

***

It had been a long time since there had been such silence.

How much had they laughed together? How many words of love had they exchanged for a silence this brief to suddenly feel so foreign and unsettling? The thought left her feeling strangely hollow.

Clodine shook off the whirlwind of emotions that had overtaken her and gradually regained her composure. Yet now, Ahazan, standing so unusually far away from her, frightened her just as much as the unfamiliar silence. She could only look at him with wavering eyes, like a candle flame trembling before the wind.

“…Ahazan, why are you standing all the way over there like that?”

Unable to understand the coldness in Ahazan’s eyes a chill so different from his usual warmth Clodine finally managed to speak, inviting him to come closer.

The spacious, dark room felt packed with heavy air, making it difficult to breathe.

Normally, his hands would have already been all over her, caressing and holding her without pause. But now they remained clasped behind his back with merciless restraint, leaving Clodine no choice but to reach out first.

“Ahazan, stop standing there and… Why are you suddenly acting so frightening?”

Unable to bring herself to ask him to hold her, she instead criticized his unfamiliar behavior with growing impatience.

His changed demeanor frightened her that much.

In the end, desperate for reassurance, Clodine closed the distance between them and immediately buried herself in his cold embrace.

The way Ahazan silently pushed her away felt every bit as quiet as those letters from long ago that had never returned.

It was as though she had come face to face once again with the seed of anxiety that had lingered ominously before finally blossoming into misery. Having already experienced it once in the past, Clodine instinctively recognized this silence as a warning sign of unhappiness to come.

“Clodine.”

At last, the voice she had been waiting for reached her ears.

And yet, her heart refused to settle.

There was something deeply unsettling about the way Ahazan sounded.

Bringing forward the hand that had remained behind his back the entire time, he gently stroked the back of Clodine’s head as she rested in his arms.

Then he asked,

“Who are you holding right now?”

Still pressed tightly against his chest, Clodine tilted her head up to look at him.

The question made so little sense to her that she couldn’t answer immediately.

“Have your lips sealed shut again? Just like they did in front of that pale man earlier.”

A chillingly cold sneer touched his lips as he pressed for an answer.

Ordinarily, no matter how long she took to respond, he would have waited patiently.

Now, however, he gripped her head with a hand carrying enough force that she couldn’t tell whether he was caressing her or holding her down, preventing her from turning her head or looking away.

Only then did Clodine realize that something was undeniably wrong.

“What are you talking about, Ahazan…? I’m holding you right now.”

“Even though just moments ago you were looking at another man and thinking about your dead ex-husband?”

“Wh… what are you saying…?”

Clodine was so stunned by Ahazan’s unexpected reaction that she couldn’t finish her sentence.

Yet he gave her no time to gather her thoughts and continued speaking those unbelievable words as if they were perfectly reasonable.

“So how am I supposed to know?”

His voice remained eerily calm.

“Whether you’re embracing me with nothing but your body… or whether you’re embracing me with all your heart.”

A flood of hot tears filled Clodine’s eyes.

Even as he looked directly at them, Ahazan seemed to have no intention of gathering the reason he had cast aside.

Quietly, dangerously, he sank deeper into his agitation.

“That fickle heart of yours…”

His gaze never left her.

“How am I supposed to know? Am I wrong?”