“The debt of sin… has been piling up inside me all along, hasn’t it?”

 

Hissin mumbled dazedly, staring blankly at the closed door before him. 

 

Lost in thought, he had wandered aimlessly, his feet carrying him of their own will—straight to Dahlia’s chamber.

 

His eyes lingered on the doorknob before he reached out. But then, on the way here, he noticed the trail of blood left by his own steps. 

 

The long, smeared path of crimson emitted a painfully metallic scent, thick enough to horrify.

 

Seeing it, Hissin slowly lowered his hand.

 

That blood is the mark of a regret that came too late. 

 

A stain that cannot be erased, a debt that can never be repaid.

 

“Ahaha, Your Highness. You need to aim a little more to the left.”

 

Just then, from beyond the closed door, Bertha’s innocent laughter drifted through. And beneath it, faintly, came the shy, gentle sound of Dahlia’s smile.

He wanted to open this door right now. 

 

To step inside and see Dahlia’s smiling face. Not her tears, damn them all—nor her gaze filled with disdain or dread—just that pure, radiant smile she once wore.

The smile she will never show me again.

 

“Leave it.”

 

A guard, sensing Hissin’s turmoil, moved to open the door but was immediately stopped by Hissin’s arm.

 

There was a moment, just once, when I thought of abandoning the revenge I’ve spent years preparing—all for you.

 

It was when you climbed over the temple wall and smiled brightly at me. When that single moment of recklessness made you look as if you’d won the whole world.

The moment I saw that smile, everything else felt meaningless.

 

I thought of letting go of it all—revenge, hatred, resentment—just to take you and flee that cursed land together.

 

If I had given everything up then and brought you here instead—if I had endured those days with my eyes fixed only on you, who knew nothing—Would that smile be mine by now?

 

‘…What good is it to wonder now?’

 

A bitter, mocking smile touched Hissin’s lips. 

 

Dahlia’s smile is no longer something permitted to him. It has become something he dare not wish for, something he must not even desire.

 

Unable to bring himself to grasp the doorknob, yet equally unable to turn away, he stood there for a long while.

Trapped before a door he could not open, helplessly chasing the sound of Dahlia’s voice, he only managed to step away when Hovan arrived with her meal.

 

“Her meals,” 

 

Hissin asked, his voice barely reaching Hovan.

 

“She has been eating regularly ever since Bertha was allowed inside.”

 

A bitter smile spread across Hissin’s face at Hovan’s reply. She must have already heard from Bertha. 

 

That this is Levizenna Hissin’s palace. 

 

That if she behaves, the locked door may one day open. She is clever. She will wait patiently for her chance. 

 

And the day the lock is removed, she will vanish from here without a trace.

 

I wanted her to act exactly like that when she overheard my words. To dangle a fragile hope just within her reach, only to seize her again as she tries to flee and cast her into utter despair.

 

To slowly, slowly let her spirit bleed dry until she withers beside me.

 

“…Do not add any more locks.”

 

“Already, Your Grace?”

 

“A month is quite a long time to endure, is it not?”

 

A desolate smile lingered at the corner of Hissin’s mouth.

 

If I reveal the truth to you now, while you cling to revenge—your world, already balanced on such narrow ground, will collapse completely.

 

If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be better to preserve even the hatred that makes you want to kill me? 

 

Wouldn’t it be better if that venom is what keeps you breathing?

 

Even if it truly means I die by your hand.

 

You… would live.

 

You would go on living.

 

Just as I once did.

 

“She deserves at least one chance to fly.”

 

Without realizing his smile had vanished like vapor, Hissin forced his expression into a semblance of calm. Then, a sharp pang throbbed in his chest, making his brow twitch. 

 

It was a pain so fierce it felt as if a savage beast had sunk its claws deep, stealing the very breath from his lungs.

 

If the mere thought of Dahlia leaving me is already this suffocating…

 

If you truly do leave, will I be able to endure it?

 

He drew a strained breath, forcing air into his constricted lungs, and twisted his lips into another smile—one more a grimace than anything genuine.

 

“That would be… only fair.”

 

Did the red of his irises bleed into the corners of his eyes? 

 

Even in the dim corridor, the rims of Hissin’s eyes were visibly flushed.

 

“Just… don’t tell her too soon.”

 

He said it almost like a twisted joke, then wiped all expression from his face and walked away from Dahlia’s door.

 

Hovan watched his master’s retreating back intently before accepting the key from a guard and unlocking the door. 

 

Click—

 

The sound of the lock turning instantly silenced the laughter inside.

 

For reasons even he couldn’t fully name, Hovan removed the lock with deliberate, soundless care.

 

“I’ve brought your meal.”

 

It wasn’t just his master’s order that made him cautious. 

 

Hovan himself wished he could lock this door forever—to keep Dahlia confined here, where she could never step outside.

 

He knew all too well that the world beyond these walls would be far crueler to her.

 

💫

 

A quiet night. Dahlia’s eyelids fluttered open. 

 

Slowly, she sat up, waiting until her eyes adjusted to the dark.

 

Beside her, Bertha lay fast asleep, breathing soft, steady breaths. 

 

At first, Bertha had stubbornly insisted that a princess and a maid should not share a bed, but Dahlia had replied, “What use are such formalities when our kingdom has already fallen?” 

 

And insisted that Bertha sleep beside her.

 

After a few awkward days, Bertha grew used to sharing the princess’s bed. These nights, she slept so deeply she wouldn’t stir even if carried away.

 

Tonight was one of those nights.

 

“…I’m sorry, Bertha.”

 

Dahlia gently stroked Bertha’s hair, swallowing back tears before pressing a kiss to the girl’s forehead.

 

After tonight, neither she nor this child could be sure of tomorrow. 

 

The fragile life they’d managed to cling to might vanish like dew on an executioner’s block.

 

But Dahlia could not bear to go on living like this. No—she did not want to spend another day in this terrible place.

 

Not long ago, she had heard that all the captured royals of Baran had been executed at once. 

 

Hissin—whom she thought would spend a lifetime tormenting them in brutal revenge for Janna—had instead slaughtered them all in a sudden, cruel whim.

 

All except the Emperor and his daughter.

 

Shuddering at the horror, Dahlia had raged and screamed, demanding that he kill her too. But the only reply was the sound of the lock turning once more.

 

And even that lock had been removed within a day. 

 

By now, it felt as if Hissin was pushing her from behind, as if to say, Go on, try to run.

 

As if he knows he’ll just catch me again.

 

Suppressing a surge of anger, Dahlia slipped silently out of bed. 

 

From the bedside table, she gathered the items she’d prepared earlier and tiptoed to the door, carefully turning the handle.

 

Creeeak—

 

With the soft groan of wood, a long hallway stretched out before her.

 

Even the guard who usually stood watch was nowhere to be seen. 

 

A few days after the lock was removed, the soldier, too, had left this post.

 

[She deserves at least one chance to fly. That would be… only fair.]

 

The words he had whispered by her door—as if daring her to hear—echoed again in her ears. 

 

Dahlia clenched her fist tightly and moved forward.

 

Even if it led to a terrible death, she no longer wanted to drag out this wretched existence. She walked cautiously down the corridor, lit only by small, flickering candles.

 

After passing through the long, quiet hall, she reached a staircase branching upward and downward. 

 

For a moment, she paused at the fork, glancing back the way she had come.

 

Hissin’s palace was starkly simple—so plain it seemed humble even compared to the most modest wing of the royal palace in Baran. 

 

But it wasn’t just the structure. 

 

In terms of security, this place felt unnervingly exposed.

 

There isn’t a single guard in sight.

 

…Could it be?

 

The belated realization brushed her mind, but turning back was no longer an option. 

 

If Hissin had made up his mind, the palace would remain like this until he achieved whatever he wanted.

 

That man was calling to her. Dangling bait—whether as a trap or some twisted form of reward—right before her eyes.

 

To break free from this cruel bind…

 

Her gaze lingered briefly on the left staircase leading downward before she turned and stepped onto the stairs to the right.

 

Step by step, she ascended toward tragedy.