‘She’s carrying a sword—must be a knight. But… why does she look so sad?’

From the looks of it, the woman had come to buy pastries, yet she stood there lost in thought, not even realizing she needed to queue. Whatever weighed on her heart must have been heavy.

“This isn’t my business,” Nathan muttered, giving his head a rough shake as if to chase away the thought.

But he couldn’t look away. Through her, he saw the reflection of his first love—the one he had never been able to forget.

“Are you not going in?”

“Huh? Ah… yes.”

He had been so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed the bakery door open or that it was now his turn.

After buying one of every dessert in the shop, Nathan was about to leave when a desperate voice stopped him.

“Ah… are they really all sold out?”

“I told you, they’re gone.”

“I have to buy some today. Are there truly none set aside for tomorrow’s batch?”

That pleading tone—fragile yet resolute—snatched hold of Nathan’s heart in an instant.

Even her voice… it’s uncanny.
If she had lived and grown older, her voice would have sounded just like this.

“There aren’t any left, miss. Please come back tomorrow.”

It seemed the bakery’s famous pastries had already sold out. The woman let out a weary sigh, her delicate features tightening in frustration.

“Haah… this is ridiculous.”

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

Approaching her was pure impulse. He knew she wasn’t her—wasn’t his first love—but he still couldn’t turn away.

“You came here for the desserts, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But… what business is that of yours?”

Her tone was sharp, belying the gentleness of her eyes.

“Here. Take this.”

“What?”

Nathan held out the box he’d been carrying. Maybe that was why he’d bought so many pastries without realizing—some part of him had already known he would give them to her.

“No, I can’t accept this. Wait—why are you even…?”

Even he had to admit it was a strange act of kindness, but Nathan didn’t back down.

“I only bought them because they’re supposedly famous. I’m not really a fan of sweets.”

The woman gave him a wary look, clearly finding his behavior suspicious.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. He must’ve looked like some man trying to flirt clumsily.

“I just figured it’d be better to give them to someone who actually wants them, instead of throwing them away.”

“Then… tell me how much I owe you.”

“No, not money. But… could you tell me your name?”

“…”

He pushed the box toward her again, waiting for an answer. Somehow, he felt that knowing her name might calm the ache in his chest.

“Just your name. That’s all.”

“…Laila.”

“Ah. Laila.”

Of course not.

Her hair color was different, and she was far too young back then—there was no way he could’ve predicted how she’d grow up.
Still, the sound of that name hit him like a blade of memory.

More than anything, she was already… gone.

‘I thought I’d moved on. Guess I was wrong.’

Nathan realized he was still trapped in the shadow of his first love—unable to let her go, no matter how much time had passed.

“All right then.”

“Ah—wait, please!”

He heard her voice calling after him, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The heart he’d barely managed to hold together shattered all over again.
He had to move—had to run—because standing still hurt too much.

***

Laila, her face pale and drawn, was riding hard on horseback. She hadn’t slept properly after her conversation with Carlo the night before, and her early morning trip to the bakery had left her utterly exhausted.

“Phew…”

A short sigh escaped her lips.

Why did the road to the Duke of Crussian’s estate, where she was meant to visit Roselina, feel so heavy?

Her heart felt like a pit of fire, while inside the carriage beside her, Carlo sat perfectly composed—as if nothing weighed on him at all.

‘That man from this morning… he was really strange.’

He had been unusually tall, with strikingly handsome features. Despite buying every dessert in the bakery, he’d handed them all to her—a complete stranger—asking only for her name in return.

Truly, it had been an odd encounter. Laila quickly shook the thought from her head.

“Welcome, Lord Siren.”

As the carriage stopped in front of the duke’s main estate, the waiting butler bowed deeply to Carlo.

Carlo stepped down, carefully holding the flowers and desserts he had brought for Roselina—every bit the image of a man in love.

‘I’d rather not watch this.’

Laila turned her gaze away, though it was useless. Her attention kept drifting back to him no matter how hard she tried.

When she followed him inside, she saw Roselina waiting ahead—a beautiful woman with pale skin and neatly coiled crimson hair that gleamed like silk.

“My lady, you look radiant as ever today.”

“Welcome, Lord Carlo.”

Carlo took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, his eyes never once leaving hers.

“How have you been feeling lately?”

“I’m much better now. Thank you for your concern. But… what have you brought with you?”

Flowers and desserts. Of course, Roselina knew they were meant for her, but she feigned ignorance with a graceful smile.

“I hope these suit your taste, my lady,” Carlo said, handing her the gifts.

Roselina’s lips curved in satisfaction—and then, as if deliberately, her gaze shifted to Laila.

Laila’s heart tightened. Every time Carlo came to visit Roselina, she was forced to endure this same uneasy feeling.

The look Roselina gave her—dismissive, tinged with wariness—never failed to sting.

“Shall we go inside?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Laila exhaled softly, a short sigh of relief. If the two of them went into the parlor, at least she wouldn’t have to watch them together. Of course, that didn’t mean her mind would be any freer from imagining what she couldn’t see.

“I’d like the young lord’s knight to join us as well.”

“…Pardon?”

At Roselina’s words, Laila’s delicate brows twitched in surprise.

Why?

Every time she faced Roselina, things turned uncomfortable. Laila had no desire to go through that again.

“They say you’re the reincarnation of an ancient sword,” Roselina said lightly. “Everyone’s so curious about it. I’d like to know more about you myself.”

“…”

It was a dreadful suggestion. Laila knew full well that Roselina had no intention of really getting to know her—she only wanted to keep her close enough to remind her of her place.

Laila prayed Carlo would refuse, but his answer came all too easily.

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

‘You know perfectly well Lady Roselina despises me… and still, you…’

Her eyes trembled as she looked at him, but Carlo’s gaze was fixed solely on Roselina. The sight of it made her chest ache—humiliation laced with sorrow.

“How did you know I like these desserts?”

“Didn’t you mention it once before? You said you weren’t feeling well yesterday, so I brought them myself.”

“Truly? I’m so glad you remembered.”

Just as Laila expected, Roselina didn’t spare her so much as a glance. Yet she made sure to keep Laila within her line of sight—
as though she wanted Laila to watch, to suffer as she witnessed their gentle exchange.

‘So… Lady Roselina noticed my feelings too, didn’t she?’

Of course—she had never been good at hiding her emotions. Her nature was too simple, too honest. And wasn’t that what they said about love? That no matter how hard you tried, it always found a way to show?

‘If that’s true… then Carlo really doesn’t love me.’

He had never once shown anything resembling love. Every smile, every gesture of his was measured and deliberate—never sincere.

The realization made her chest tighten with shame. She wanted nothing more than to find an excuse to leave this suffocating room, but with Carlo so openly devoted to Roselina, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Would it be all right if I escorted you to Princess Lenoa’s party in a few days?”

“You, my lord?”

Roselina smiled, her delight evident—but she didn’t answer right away.

“I’ve heard that many ladies have written, asking to be your partner. You haven’t… made the same offer to anyone else, have you?”

“Of course not. There’s no one I wish to accompany except you, my lady.”

Pleased by his answer, Roselina winked playfully.

“Then grant me the honor of attending as the partner of Cerclezia’s most beautiful lady.”

“The honor is mine, my lord.”

They were a picture-perfect pair—so perfect it made Laila’s stomach twist.
She reminded herself that this was all for revenge, and yet jealousy still burned through her veins.

She held her breath, turning away just as Roselina leaned in to kiss Carlo’s cheek.

And in that moment—

“Oh my!”

“Are you all right?”

Roselina had dropped the delicate, cream-filled dessert she was holding, leaving a stain on her beautiful gown.

“I must be a little unwell today—how careless of me. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing. Are you feeling all right?”

Carlo cupped her cheek gently, as if the ruined dress didn’t matter in the slightest.

That tender gesture made Laila bite the inside of her cheek to keep from showing her pain.

“I’m fine. But we should probably clean this up.”

“I’ll call for a servant—”

“No need. Lady Laila can help.”

Roselina’s smile, sweet and serene, didn’t reach her eyes. The malice behind it was unmistakable.

Ah.

She’d done it on purpose.

That look said it all—come here, wipe the stain from my dress, and pick up the pastry from the floor.

“I am Lord Carlo’s escort knight,” Laila said evenly. “So I’ll call for your lady’s maid instead.”

She refused to kneel before Roselina.
She couldn’t bear to step into their picture-perfect moment—a scene fit for a fairy tale—only to become the blemish that ruined it.

“Do as the lady says.”

Her stomach turned.
Carlo’s cold command left her no choice but to obey. It wasn’t a request—it was an order from her master.

Behind him, Roselina’s lips curved into a triumphant smile, her eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction. See? they seemed to say.

Moving forward on heavy legs, Laila felt a wave of humiliation so sharp it made her wish she could vanish altogether.

‘Do I really have to… do this?’

And yet she said nothing. Not one word of protest to the man who made her feel so small.

Her hand trembled as she picked up a napkin. Slowly, she knelt on one knee before Roselina.

Her roughened fingers—hardened by the sword—brushed against the soft silk of Roselina’s gown.

In that instant, the distance between them felt vast and cruel.
Roselina was the noble lady loved by Carlo, and she… she was nothing more than a mere knight.

Shame burned hot across Laila’s cheeks.