Laila steadied her breathing, forcing her trembling heart to calm.
She had never been afraid to hold a sword before—but today was different.
Still, the decision was made. There could be no turning back, no regrets.

After taking a deep breath, she dressed herself and fastened her armor piece by piece.
When everything was finally in place, she turned to look around her room.

For seven years, it had been her quiet refuge—a place of rest, of safety. Leaving it behind felt unexpectedly heavy.

“…I should go.”

With no more time to delay, she opened the door.

And there, waiting outside, stood the knights of Carlo’s order.

“Ah…”

“We came to see you off, my lady. No—”
The vice-captain smiled awkwardly, straightening his posture. “—to give you all of our luck.”

“Your skill far surpasses ours combined,” another knight added earnestly, “but still… please be careful.”

Laila’s lips curved faintly. “Thank you.”

“And… um, this is…”

The vice-captain stepped forward, looking a little embarrassed as he held something out to her—a folded handkerchief.

“What’s this?”

“Ahem… we, uh… did a bit of embroidery ourselves…”

“What?” Laila blinked, caught between surprise and disbelief.

At the word embroidery, Laila carefully unfolded the handkerchief she’d been given. The moment she saw what was stitched into the fabric, a small smile escaped her lips.

“I-it’s clumsy, I know,” the vice-captain stammered. “But we all took turns adding a few stitches.”

Their faces were flushed with embarrassment, as if they knew how uneven the handiwork looked. But to Laila’s eyes, it was beautiful—perfect, even.

Giving an embroidered handkerchief to a knight heading into battle was a long-standing gesture of goodwill, a prayer for safe return. This one carried the hearts of everyone in the order.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “When I return, I’ll have this tied to my sword.”

Her calm promise made several of the knights’ expressions twist; they were clearly fighting back tears.

“Take care of yourselves,” she added, patting the vice-captain’s shoulder.

They had always thought of her as their commander, their pride—but she saw them now as something more. She had once believed her only family was Carlo and Theodor. How wrong she had been.

After saying her goodbyes, Laila turned toward Carlo’s office to offer her formal farewell before leaving for the front.

But as she raised her hand to knock, the door suddenly opened—and she was pulled inside.

“Laila…”

Carlo’s voice trembled slightly as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if he’d known exactly when she would come.

“I’m sorry about last night. You must’ve waited a long time.”

“…”

Laila said nothing. Words refused to come—she didn’t even know what she should say.

Carlo only tightened his hold on her, his voice trembling with regret.

“Laila, I don’t want our time together to end on this kind of note.”

His tone was soft, pleading, almost pitiful. Laila exhaled quietly.
Yes, she was angry. Disappointed. But she didn’t want to part with him like this either.

No one knew when the war would end—or who would survive it.
If this were their last moment together, she didn’t want it filled with resentment.

“…All right.”

Laila slowly lifted her limp arms and wrapped them around his broad back.
The familiar warmth, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it filled her with both comfort and bitterness.

She’d spent the night resenting him for not returning sooner, yet now, feeling her heart race in his arms, she could only feel foolish.

“Thank you, Laila. And I’m sorry… for sending you to such a harsh place.”

Carlo cupped her face gently in his hands, gazing at her with eyes dripping with honeyed affection—eyes that seemed to hold no one but her.

“Keep your promise,” she whispered. “You have to.”

Laila reminded him once more of their promise—her eyes pleading as if to say, Please, don’t disappoint me this time.

“Of course. I’ll keep it,” Carlo said softly.

At those words, her lips curved into a faint smile. Then the two of them shared a long, lingering kiss—one that felt both like a vow and a farewell.

***

By the time Laila departed from the capital with the Imperial Knights, Carlo had already arrived at the Duke of Crussian’s estate.

“My lord, I was told you wished to see me.”

Carlo greeted him with a respectful bow, carefully studying the duke’s pallid face.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” the duke said wearily.

“Think nothing of it.”

The shadows under the duke’s eyes and his ashen complexion made it clear—he hadn’t slept at all.

Most would assume it was worry over his daughter’s recent s*icide attempt that kept him awake, but Carlo knew better.

He must feel like he’s walking on thin ice, Carlo thought. After all, Crown Prince Theodor himself is looking for Crook Zegner.

“Ahem… about that man you mentioned,” the duke began hesitantly, “Crook Zegner…”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I’ll find him for you.”

Just as Carlo had expected. The duke’s offer sounded generous, but it was nothing more than a pretense—a move to keep the man hidden under the guise of cooperation.

“Thank you, my lord. I’m deeply indebted to you.”

“Oh, nonsense,” the duke replied with a strained laugh. “It’s I who owe you. You saved my daughter’s life, after all.”

The forced smile on his face was almost pitiful, a thin veil over the unease beneath.

“I’ll be sure to inform His Highness, Crown Prince Theodor,” Carlo said smoothly. “He’ll be pleased to hear that you’re assisting in the search.”

“N-no! That won’t be necessary!”

The duke’s sudden outburst was sharp enough to make Carlo feign surprise.

“…My lord?”

“Ah—what I mean is, there’s no need to trouble His Highness over such a small matter,” the duke stammered, forcing a smile back onto his face. “Finding one man shouldn’t be difficult. There’s no reason to bother the Crown Prince when he’s already so busy.”

Carlo tilted his head slightly, frowning as if puzzled by the reaction. “I understand your concern, but His Highness specifically instructed me to report everything about this matter—without exception.”

A bead of sweat rolled down the duke’s temple. His composure was starting to crack.

Carlo gave the duke a reassuring smile as the older man nodded several times, then left the estate in a light mood.

I should send a letter to His Highness at once, he thought as he settled into the carriage and replayed his meeting with Theodor from a few days before.

“Even if we catch Crook Zegner, Empress Scarlet and the duke might slip away. They’re cunning—if they feel the noose tightening, they probably prepared contingencies. If he’s captured, they might even kill him quietly so no one ever finds out.”

Theodor’s words made sense. Despite countless crimes, Empress Scarlet’s misdeeds had never surfaced. She was thorough and powerful—would it be difficult for her to dispose of Zegner without leaving a trace?

“So you mean we should use him?” Theodor had asked.

“Yes. If the duke learns I’m searching for the man, he’ll get nervous. He’ll try to find out what I know through you—or he’ll try to turn you into one of his people.”

“So I’m to play the duke’s spy. Pretend I’m a lovesick fool. But what if the duke tells Empress Scarlet about it?”

No matter how well they deceived the duke, Scarlet wouldn’t be fooled easily. If she learned the truth, everything could be for nothing.

“Or perhaps their relationship isn’t as solid as we think,” Theodor had said. According to documents he’d uncovered, they weren’t allies in the usual sense. Their bond was more like a single, snarling food chain than a partnership.

Empress Scarlet knew of the duke’s illicit enterprises and used that knowledge to blackmail him. In turn, the duke had gathered evidence of Scarlet’s crimes. Each held leverage over the other, threatening and extracting what they wanted in a precarious, dangerous dance.

“So the duke will want to free himself from Scarlet’s hold. If we play him right, we might be able to catch her,” Theodor had concluded.

Carlo exhaled, leaning his head against the carriage wall. Where might Laila be right now? Leading an army, she could still be on the march. The thought of the revenge that drew nearer and nearer thrilled him even as it made him anxious and restless.

‘I have to finish this before Laila returns.’ He needed to close this terrible chapter of the past quickly if he and she were to have any chance at a new life together.

“If this revenge ends… maybe Laila will be able to breathe a little easier,” he murmured, picturing Theodor’s hollow expression when the prince had thought of his own brother and crumpled with helpless sorrow.

For a moment Carlo wondered if he should have told the prince everything. Guilt rose up, a familiar tug from the past—but he shook his head firmly.

“Laila said she only needs me.”

He was her only family. So he pushed the guilt aside and told himself to hope only for her safe return. He didn’t want to drag Laila—who had no memories—into the past and confuse her with old sins. What she wanted was a happy life with him; if she came back, he would give it to her.

‘Yes. That will be enough,’ Carlo soothed himself. Guilt still pressed at a corner of his heart, but he chose to turn away from it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have the face to meet Laila. Above all, he would not let the Adelina court take her from him.