Andrew was finding it difficult to concentrate on his work.

After rubbing his heavy eyelids, he looked towards the small cabinet beside his desk. As if drawn by something he couldn’t resist, he opened the drawer to find a navy velvet box inside.

His hand hovered over it for a moment before he picked it up.

When he opened the lid, a worn pendant necklace came into view.

The faint, steady beat of his heart echoed in his ears.

The ruby pendant caught the sunlight streaming through the window and glowed a vivid, striking red.

“I like you.”

It was almost laughable.

There was no reason he should feel anything over a confession from a woman he had never even crossed paths with.

“I mean—Hyacinth. I like this painter’s work the most too.”

Her voice, trembling as if it might break into tears at any moment, had been carefully measured—spoken with courage she had clearly struggled to gather.

“Who?”

At the time, he had no idea who the woman standing before him was. She had her head lowered and was fidgeting nervously.

At least, not at first.

But he remembered the expression on her face when their eyes finally met.

He remembered it vividly: Humiliation.

After that day, she appeared before him less and less. Even when their eyes met by chance, she would quickly look away.

Then, one day, he heard about her.

Naetale Grandly, the gambling addict obsessed with money. And his unsophisticated sister.

Lost in thought, his vision had grown distant until a knock at the door brought him back to the present.

He closed the velvet box and returned it to its place before inviting them in.

Derek stepped inside, bowing respectfully before approaching him.

“Is it true that you’ve accepted the order to join the Allied war?”

Andrew let out a quiet scoff, as though he had been reprimanded. Without answering, he picked up his pen again and resumed reviewing the documents.

Scratch, scratch — the inked tip dragged across the paper.

“Your Excellency.”

Derek’s eyes trembled.

Andrew’s pen came to a stop, a dark blot of ink gathering at its tip.

“You could have refused. It’s not as if there are no other commanders who could take your place. Then why… why return to such a dangerous place again?”

“Well.”

Setting the pen down, Andrew rested his chin against his hand and looked at Derek with an indifferent expression. Shadows of the fading sunlight deepened the elegant lines of his face.

“Perhaps this is exactly the kind of ending my mother would want to see.”

“……”

“Wouldn’t the glorious death of a Blackwood on the battlefield be the very thing that preserves both our family’s honor—and hers?”

Seeing the slight curve of his lips, Derek flinched.

As if amused by his reaction, Andrew let out a low chuckle.

It had been a long time since Derek had seen that vague, distant smile. He swallowed dryly.

“I’m joking. Relax, Derek.”

“The Allied forces are preparing for an all-out offensive to reclaim Repenia. Even if they are confident in victory, you know better than anyone how dangerous the battlefield is. Please… reconsider.”

Burddale had made huge profits from exporting the latest weap*ns and supplies to the Allied nations.

The Emperor declared that he would spare no troops in support of the war effort.

While this brought an economic revival to the empire, it was, in truth, little more than a calculated diplomatic maneuver designed to strengthen the Emperor’s authority and secure his position.

Ultimately, the decision was made to appoint a high-ranking officer as commander of the Allied forces and the order for Andrew Blackwood’s deployment was issued.

Derek couldn’t understand it.

Despite the widespread rumors branding him a war maniac, Andrew had never believed that war was beneficial — yet here he was, choosing to return to the blood-soaked battlefield once again.

Work had piled up during the time lost to war.

Dozens of meetings had been scheduled, including those with the board of directors.

The Andrew Derek knew would have refused without hesitation.

He had every reason to.

After the Burddale Empire war, he had even submitted a formal discharge request to military headquarters.

However, its approval had been delayed due to Massertis’s strong opposition.

“Derek.”

“Please, speak.”

The setting sun burned red. The glow of dusk, filling the wide window, obscured Derek’s view.

A fracture formed in the once-peaceful life of House Blackwood.

“I’ve entrusted everything here to you, Derek. I’m counting on you to manage it well until I return.”

“…Your Excellency.”

“I have no intention of reversing my decision.”

Dismissing Derek’s plea, Andrew lowered his gaze and returned to the documents before him.

“…Do you regret it?”

The scratching sound of pen against paper came to a halt.

“Regret?”

At the quiet question, Derek drew in a breath. His wavering eyes searched for the right way to begin—until, at last, they steadied.

“I’m referring to the hunting festival held when His Majesty was still the Crown Prince.”

“…Yes.”

“You once said it was Miss Bricklin who saved you when you were bitten by a venomous snake and on the brink of death.”

“That is correct.”

Andrew answered slowly, as though organizing his thoughts.

They both already knew.

The premise itself was wrong.

And yet, neither of them had ever corrected it.

“Miss Heather Bricklin was not in attendance at the hunting festival that day.”

“……”

“I should have told you sooner. I apologize.”

All sound seemed to fade. Only the indistinct rhythm of a heartbeat pierced through the heavy silence.

“You said that day, in that forest… you suddenly caught the scent of lilies. Do you remember?”

“Derek.”

“It was a flower the late Duchess was very fond of.”

As Derek continued, fragments of long-faded memories surfaced—and a bitter expression crossed his face.

At last, Andrew Blackwood’s peaceful world collapsed.

***

There is no dawn.

As the seasons passed, the fragments of time were swept away by their flow and returned to him night after night, like invisible blades piercing his heart.

It was as though he had chosen to destroy himself, or perhaps he truly wished to die.

Andrew Blackwood led his soldiers across the battlefield. He devised careful strategies to minimize unnecessary sl*ughter, yet paid no heed to his own safety.

Even as tabloid newspapers across Burddale spread rumors about his strange behavior, the time that defined his existence seemed frozen in a single moment.

There is no dawn.

At least, Andrew Blackwood knew that much.

Dreams stirred the sealed box of his forgotten memories.

Within them, every sense was laid bare, exposing the deepest parts of himself.

There were countless reasons why he should not remember.

And yet, Andrew continued to chase the shadow of the woman who had taken hold of his subconscious.

It was not easy to dispel the illusion of the dead.

Like a habit, she returned, filling every corner of his mind.

A heart with no empty space does not know how to stop.

The tangled weight of emotions, beyond anything that words could convey, was enough to shatter his reason.

He survived being burned by shrapnel from an air raid and being struck by a deadly stray bullet.

Andrew Blackwood survived.

He survived.

Only then did the absurdity of this reality truly sink in, and he let out a broken, deranged laugh.

In his blood-soaked hand, he held a single, pure white lily.

The flower slipped from his grasp and was soon crushed beneath a soldier’s boot, ground into nothing.

In that moment, As he stared blankly into the distant sky, a faint blue light slowly seeped into his lifeless eyes.

***

“Congratulations. It’s a healthy baby boy.”

The child was born in autumn.

Against the backdrop of a clear sky, the infant’s loud cries echoed endlessly in his ears.

With his jet-black hair and deep blue eyes, the child was named after Ainer, the god of winter in Burddale.

Ainer.

Rive cradled the tiny newborn in her arms, struggling to contain her overwhelming emotions.

‘My precious baby.’

Unfortunately, the child had not inherited a single one of Rives outward features.

If anything… that was a relief.

‘Ainer, you look so much like your father. And that made your mother so happy.’

For Rive, who had once thought that life was meaningless, this child was a gift from heaven.

Her vision wavered as tears welled up.

Whenever she longed to see him, thoughts of him would return like a sudden seizure — overwhelming and impossible to resist.

She knew she shouldn’t remember him.

And yet, her foolish heart kept turning back, again and again, unable to let go.

The wounds left by her time with him still ached, but when she held Ainer, she felt she could endure any pain.

Just as the remnants of the past, carefully buried in the darkest corners of her heart, began to weigh heavily on her.

The hospital room door slowly opened.

“Liz!”

The Burnett family had gained an adorable new member.

As she looked at the two men approaching her, each holding a large bouquet, Rive blinked away her tears and forced a bright, cheerful smile.

Disappearing from her life was something she was used to.

So this would be fine, too.

“Hello, Ainer.”

The gentle greeting welcoming the new family member brushed over her like a quiet, comforting warmth.