Back in her room, Laila sank into the steaming bath and drew her knees close to her chest, holding her breath.

‘War? He wants me to kill people with my sword?’

In the chaos of battle, with enemies charging from every direction, she might be forced to take a life just to protect her own. No—she would have to.

“Haa…”

Laila sat in the bath until the water turned cold, unable to reach a conclusion. When she finally stood up, she hastily dried herself, threw on a robe, and stepped out of the bathroom. There, she met Carlo’s gaze as he stood in the middle of her room.

“Carlo…”

He looked as if he had made up his mind about something and strode straight toward her.

“…It’s too late.”

“…”

She pleaded silently, Please, just don’t say anything. Go back.

But Carlo didn’t move an inch.

And then—

“Carlo!!”

He dropped to his knees before her and bowed his head.

With that single motion, the last fragile piece of hope inside her shattered completely.

‘So in the end, you’re the one pushing me into hell.’

Laila stood frozen in shock, unable to speak. The sight of Carlo—begging her to do the one thing she dreaded most—felt utterly unreal.

“Laila, please…”

“…”

His voice trembled with desperation. His hands shook, his gaze wavered, and anguish twisted his face.

He was begging her to go to war.

Laila had always feared death. It was an instinctive terror shared by every living creature. But for her, that fear ran far deeper.

After losing her entire family and her memories, her fear of death had become almost pathological. Although she could not remember the details, she could still vividly recall the horror.

If anyone were to die by her sword, her soul would shatter.

Yet the man who understood her wounds better than anyone was now asking her to willingly walk into war.

“You’re asking me to go to war?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… but there’s no other way.”

“What do you mean?”

Laila demanded. She wanted to know—was there truly no other option? Was revenge so important?

“To catch the man who won Princess Roselina’s favor and delivered the poison—…”

“Stop it! Stop it!!”

Laila shouted, pressing her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to hear any more.

“How can you—how could you send me to a place where I have to kill people? How can you make me this miserable?!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“I kept silent while she treated me like dirt. I endured serving her like a maid. It hurt to watch you take another lady’s hand, kiss the back of it, and gaze at her so adoringly—but I endured it all!”

She had drawn her sword for fights she didn’t want, followed people when her pride was wounded—she did it all. For the sake of desperate love.

“And now you expect me to kill someone? To win the princess’s favor? For your revenge?!”

Even as she had every right to be furious, Carlo seemed to grow more tormented. He kept lowering his gaze, repeating that he couldn’t forgive himself. Watching him, Laila felt a dizzying emptiness wash over her.

‘No matter how easy you think I am… even if you think you know my heart, that doesn’t make this right!’

“I never thought lightly of you.”

“If you didn’t, would you be asking this of me? You know I love you. You know that because of my feelings for you, I can never refuse you—and you’re using that against me, aren’t you?!”

“Laila, please…!”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear another word.”

She couldn’t bear to hear his voice, especially when simply being in the same room as him was enough to make her heart ache. If she kept watching him suffer, she knew she would give in. She always did.

Laila burst out of the room, forgetting that she was still wearing only her robe, and ran straight to the training grounds. Then she swung her sword.

Swish! Swish! Slash!

It was a habit she’d picked up—whenever anger or frustration consumed her, she wielded her sword. Normally, it calmed her, lightened the heaviness inside. But this time, the pain only deepened.

Clang!

“Hh—huhh… ngh…”

The sword slipped from her hands and clattered to the ground. Laila broke down in tears. Blood stained her palms from gripping the blade too hard, the wounds stinging sharply—but it was nothing compared to the pain tearing through her chest.

“No matter how important revenge is… this is too much… ngh…”

Betrayal. Pain. One after another.

‘Is love supposed to hurt this much? Or is it only me who feels this way?’

Laila writhed in anguish, directing all her torment inward.

She convinced herself that her survival after losing her entire family was a punishment from the gods, as was her continued existence despite her inability to remember them. That must be why her desperate love would never be returned.

“How could you…? How could you do this to me? Argh!”

She hated everything: the merciless gods, Carlo, and the entire world. But more than anything, she hated herself for even entertaining the idea of going to war.

In the end, nothing ever changed. No matter how desperately she screamed or how fiercely she protested, she always lost.

Exhausted from swinging her sword throughout the night, Laila finally returned to her room at dawn.

“Laila.”

As she expected, Carlo was waiting there.

He didn’t dare move toward her; she looked as if she’d already given up on everything.

“I’ll go to war.”

At those words, the darkness in Carlo’s eyes vanished in an instant. His face lit up—so much that it made her wonder if this was all that truly mattered to him.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Laila raised a hand to stop him as he stepped closer. She knew—his revenge wouldn’t end here.

“Then promise me.”

“A promise?”

“When I return from the war, you’ll stop pretending to be some charming flirt just to win the ladies’ favor.”

“Laila, you know that isn’t my true self.”

A hard line formed around Carlo’s eyes. He pressed a hand to his chest as if to emphasize his feelings and spoke urgently. But that wasn’t enough. The desire for revenge carved deep into his heart would consume him completely unless it was truly over.

“No, I don’t know. So prove it. Act like you do with other women—affectionate, falling in love—no more of that. I can’t watch it anymore.”

“…”

He looked like someone who wouldn’t stop seeking vengeance, even if his dead mother came back to life. If that was the case, Laila thought, she had no choice but to help him, even if it meant losing her soul.

‘Promise me that when it’s all over, you’ll stay by my side.’

“Carlo, do you love me?”

“…!”

Carlo’s reddened eyes faltered. Laila, who had never once spoken the word ‘love’ aloud, had said it for the first time—perhaps the first and last time.

“Laila, what are you saying…? Of course I love you. You’re my only friend, my family—”

“No. Don’t lie to me with those words anymore.”

“Laila.”

“I asked if you love me the same way I love you.”

Laila wasn’t backing down. If he couldn’t give her a clear answer now, she knew how this would end—Carlo would move forward with his marriage to Roselina, and whatever they had would be over.

“…Laila, please stop.”

Carlo stepped back, as though the very question made him uncomfortable.

“What even is love, anyway? It changes. Feelings like that always do. We’ve spent six years together, just the two of us. Isn’t that enough?”

‘Feelings that change.’

She knew why Carlo had said that. Because he had been betrayed by his father, he no longer believed in love. That was why she’d waited, and why she’d never forced him to say ‘I love you’.

‘But not anymore. If I’m going to give up everything just to stay by your side, then this time, you’d better say it right.’

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, only you. You know that, Carlo.”

“…!”

There was no way he didn’t. She’d begged him with her whole body—with every look, every breath—for him to understand.

“I won’t keep hiding behind the word friend anymore. So decide.”

She knew it was a foolish choice—to beg for love from a man who only ever used her. She might regret it for the rest of her life. But that was how desperately she wanted him.

“Laila…”

“Decide whether you’ll keep treating me like a tool—or love me!”

“Stop it!”

Carlo’s voice cracked under the strain of his own turmoil, but Laila pressed closer, refusing to back down. Now that she had spoken the truth aloud, there was no turning back.

“It’s your turn now.”

“Laila!”

“Say it! Do you love me or not?”

“You’re exhausted… you don’t even know what you’re saying—”

At his continued evasion, Laila’s voice rose, trembling with fury.

“No. Answer me. Do you love me?”

“…”

“Answer me! This is your last chance, Carlo Siren!”

“Fine! I love you—I said I love you!”

Finally, Carlo raised his hand. He was breathing heavily and looked dazed, as if he didn’t understand what he had just said himself. Yet he didn’t take it back.

It was the confession she had yearned for; the words she would have given up everything to hear. Yet Laila couldn’t bring herself to be truly happy.

“I swore I’d never love anyone. I saw how much my mother suffered because of that foolish thing called love… I promised myself I’d never make the same mistake.”

It was love that destroyed his mother, trapping her in a life of misery until it ultimately took her life.

This is why Carlo stopped believing in love. If love were truly pure and beautiful, his father would have cherished his mother instead of taking a mistress.

Yet, whenever Carlo looked at Laila, that conviction crumbled.

When she smiled, he smiled too. When she was happy, he was happy too. No matter how hard he tried to push her away, she remained deeply rooted in his heart.

Above all, he had always believed himself to be unworthy of her love because he was still hiding the truth about her past.

“But I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you. You’re too beautiful, too precious…”