The day before he was to return to Adelina, Theodore strolled through the imperial gardens with Renoa.

“I’ll continue looking into this man, Crook Zegner,” she said.

“Please do, Your Highness,” Theodore replied.

They were alone among the flowering hedges—no attendants, no guards, no audience.
To an onlooker, the scene might have seemed romantic: a prince and princess walking side by side in a sunlit garden.
But their conversation was anything but romantic.

They spoke of revenge—a topic far removed from what two betrothed royals should have shared.

After explaining everything his shadow knight had uncovered, Theodore finally allowed himself a moment to study Renoa’s face.
Then, after a long pause, he spoke carefully.

“I’m glad I had the chance to see you today, Your Highness.”

“Ah—yes, I’m glad as well,” she replied softly.

At that brief exchange, the air between them shifted.
It grew warmer, but tense—an odd mix of comfort and nerves that neither could quite name.

“You once told me you wished to keep our engagement,” Theodore said quietly.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Then… would it be all right if I invited you to Adelina soon?”

Their betrothal had begun as a means to revenge—
or rather, it was Renoa who had insisted that an engagement to the Crown Prince of Adelina was the most effective way to bring their enemies down.

But Theodore wanted more.

Beyond politics, beyond revenge—he found himself drawn to her strength, her dignity, her calm resolve. He wanted to know more of Renoa, not as an ally but as a person.

To him, their engagement was no longer just a convenient pact for vengeance.
It was something deeper—perhaps even the beginning of a bond that could last a lifetime.

“I’ve grown fond of Cerclezia,” he said. “As you said, there’s warmth here—the people live with a certain brightness, a sense of belonging.”

“…”

“So I’d like to show you my world as well,” he continued, his tone gentle but firm. “And I hope you’ll come to like it… and me.”

Renoa’s eyes wavered—subtly, but enough for him to notice.
It was rare to see her like that: uncertain, hesitant, almost shy.

But Theodore found that vulnerability beautiful. It told him she understood exactly what he meant.

“Your Highness, I… I…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Perhaps she was caught off guard—after all, the man who had once seemed cold and detached was now speaking with sincerity.

“I don’t want our relationship to end with an engagement,” he said quietly.

“…!”

“So please, consider our marriage seriously.”

Renoa didn’t answer—not in words. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

Theodore didn’t press her. He hadn’t spoken to demand a reply.

He simply smiled, content with the silence that followed.

Their relationship was still only beginning—and he was willing to let it grow, slowly and steadily.

***

Time passed quickly.
And soon, it was the day before Laira was to leave for the war.

Early that morning, Laira returned to the estate, utterly exhausted after a long day of departure preparations with the Imperial Knights.

“Haa…” She let out a weary sigh.

“Commander.”

“Oh—Derrick.”

Waiting for her at the entrance was Derrick, the vice-captain of her knight order. His expression was unusually heavy.

“What’s with that face?” Laira asked with a small smile. It wasn’t hard to guess—he probably wanted to see her off before she left for the battlefield.

“Please… take me with you,” he said quietly.

“No.”

Her answer came instantly—firm and final, as if she’d known he would ask.

Derrick’s shoulders slumped.

“You have to stay here and protect Lord Carlo,” she said. “Especially now that we’re short on knights.”

It was true. The number of knights under Carlo’s command was small—not because he lacked money or reputation, but because he preferred it that way.

He could have built a grand, well-funded order if he wished, yet he deliberately kept it lean.

In preparing for his revenge, Carlo had chosen caution over power, limiting both servants and knights to reduce the risk of outsiders uncovering his plans.

And with Laira’s exceptional skill, even a small unit was more than enough.

“But still…” Derrick began, clearly uneasy, but Laira stopped him with a raised hand.

“I’ll be back soon. I won’t get hurt,” she said with quiet certainty.

“…”

As vice-captain, Derrick knew his duty was to remain behind and protect Lord Carlo, yet every part of him wanted to follow her instead.

In his heart, his true lord was not Carlo—it was Laira.

Her swordsmanship alone commanded awe, but what he respected even more was her character.

Though she wasn’t one to easily open up to others, she treated her people with genuine warmth and fairness. She was kind, even when she tried not to be.

They say war is merciless…

Derrick wasn’t afraid of her being wounded in battle—he knew well that few swordsmen alive could match her skill.
What frightened him was something deeper: that the cruelty of war might wound her heart instead.

“Take good care of the knights while I’m away,” Laira said gently. “You’ll have more to handle in my absence, so don’t take on anything too risky. And don’t push yourself, Derrick.”

“…Yes, Commander.”

“And… please take care of Lord Carlo.”

Her voice was soft, but her sincerity was unmistakable.

The way she spoke—how naturally she put Carlo’s safety above all else—made Derrick fall silent.

He bowed deeply, hiding the storm of emotions behind his lowered head.

Please… come back safely.

Laira gave Derrick’s shoulder a reassuring pat before heading to her room.
And as she expected, Carlo was already there, waiting for her.

“Laira.”
“Carlo.”

The moment she saw him, she went straight into his arms.

She remembered the vice-captain’s parting words—get proper rest and eat well before departure. It was the most basic yet vital order for any knight: to face war, one needed strength and focus.

So tonight, she intended to rest—peacefully, by the side of the man she loved.

“I was waiting for you,” Carlo said with a faint smile.

She had been gone only a few hours, visiting the palace for final preparations, but from the way he said it, one would think she’d been gone for days.

A quiet laugh escaped her lips, and she nestled closer into his embrace, whispering a small prayer in her heart.
Please, let this war end quickly—so I can come back to him.

“Mm. I’m back,” she murmured.

Carlo nodded against her shoulder, as if savoring the words. His breath brushed against her neck, and Laira’s heart began to pound faster.

“Ah!”

Startled, she gasped as Carlo suddenly lifted her off the ground. Instinctively, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his head.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice half-breathless, half-amused.

“What are you doing? I can’t see anything if you hold me like this!”

Unlike the flustered Laira, Carlo only smiled calmly.

“I just wanted to spend some time alone with you,” he said softly. “We won’t see each other for a while.”

At those words, Laira’s struggling stopped. The sudden weight of sadness pressed against her chest, and she rested her head on his shoulder in silence.

Carlo brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead, then carried her out of the room. He didn’t stop until they reached the highest point of the mansion.

On the rooftop, a private dinner awaited them.

A modest table was set beneath the evening sky, lit by candles that burned with a warm, golden glow like the fading sunset. The gentle breeze carried the faint fragrance of daisies, their white petals swaying lightly in the wind.

“Daisies…” Laira murmured, eyes widening.

“They’re your favorite flower, aren’t they?”

When she turned to look at him, Carlo smiled and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“You knew? I’ve never told you that.”

“Of course,” he replied simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her chest filled with warmth.
He remembered the smallest details—things she hadn’t even said aloud.

The carefully arranged dinner, the tender atmosphere, the way his eyes lingered on her and her alone—

It was more than enough.
It was perfect.

At least, until someone unexpected arrived to shatter that perfect moment.

“…What’s that about?”

Carlo stood there with an apologetic look, having been pulled away by the head steward who’d arrived unexpectedly.

“Sorry. I have to go—right now.”

The day before he left for war. Tomorrow she would face the nightmare of the battlefield, and now he was leaving?

“There’s an urgent dispatch. Duke Crussian requests to see me…”

Laira lowered her gaze without a word. If it was the Duke of Crussian, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“Laira.”

Carlo dropped to one knee in front of her and cupped her face in his hand. The apology in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

“You really have to go now, don’t you?”

She wanted to grab him, to beg him to stay—if only once more. Time was running out for them both.

“Yes. He wouldn’t have called unless it was urgent.”

And what matters to you most isn’t me, but your revenge.

Laira answered quietly, “I understand…” and lowered her head.

She kept her gaze on the ground, even as Carlo pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and left the rooftop.

“…Hh—”

A trembling sound escaped her lips. Droplets began to fall at her feet one by one—her tears pooling soundlessly on the cold stone floor.

***

“Commander, have you heard? The genius knight Laira is marching to war.”

Knights in gleaming gold armor, carrying the banner of the Adelina Empire, slowly crossed the mountain pass. They had been dispatched under Theodore’s command to aid Cerclezia in the ongoing conflict.

“Yes,” a man with striking orange hair replied, tying it high behind his head with a bright smile. “Thanks to her, this war will be over in no time.”

He was Nathan—the same knight who had once handed Laira a dessert with a friendly grin.

That woman… she looked so much like the princess.

Nathan had never forgotten the woman he’d met while scouting Cerclezia’s capital.

He knew the princess he had loved since childhood was long dead—yet the woman named Laira had the same pure eyes, the same gentle, luminous air. Every time he thought of her, his heart stirred uneasily.

No… it can’t be.
There were countless people in the world who shared a passing resemblance.

Nathan shook his head hard, as if to drive out the foolish thought. But the harder he tried, the clearer both faces became in his mind—Laira’s, and the princess’s.

“Commander, bandits up ahead!” one of his men called.

Nathan’s gaze turned toward the figures menacing travelers beyond the ridge.

“So we’ll have to draw our swords before even reaching the battlefield,” he muttered, frowning slightly.

He drew his long sword in one smooth motion and looked back at his soldiers.

“Move quickly. Protect the civilians first—then wipe out every last one of them.”

“Yes, sir!”

The easy smile that usually accompanied Nathan vanished. In its place was the sharp, cold focus of a seasoned knight.

With his heavy blade balanced effortlessly in one hand, he spurred his horse forward—charging straight toward the enemy.