He gazed intently at Dahlia sleeping in his arms. 

 

Covered with a clean new blanket, Dahlia had fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately upon returning from the bathroom.

 

He had pushed her to the peak, time and again, even as she was swept away by the crashing waves, pleading with him to stop. 

 

It was a wonder she hadn’t fainted in the bathroom.

 

“…Dahlia.”

 

He softly uttered her name, letting it melt sweetly on his tongue. 

 

In the past, he had detested the surname that preceded it to the point of loathing, judging her by the weight of that name.

 

“Dahlia Baran.”

 

Even with the attached surname, he had once despised beyond measure.

 

“Princess Dahlia.”

 

Even with the attached roots of her lineage, which had unjustly perished like his own bloodline.

 

In the end, she was always, simply, Dahlia.

 

Beautiful Dahlia. Dahlia who held onto me even in the deepest, most wretched mire. Dahlia who, after endless twists and turns, ultimately came to my side. My Dahlia.

 

Embracing her small frame, he inhaled the subtle scent of figs that emanated from her soft skin.

 

Despite the harsh conditions of Moron, so different from Baran, she still carried the elegant fragrance of a noble princess.

 

He wanted to protect this scent. He wanted to hold anything she desired in his arms, and to bring to life any future she wished for.

 

Thus, he wanted to protect this scent, her smile, and the clear light in her eyes, forever.

 

‘To do that…’

 

Just as he was beginning to sort through the thoughts rising in his mind—

 

Tap, tap—

 

A soft knock broke the silence. The visitor was none other than Hovan.

 

“Lord Levitzenna. Are you within?”

 

The voice, carefully subdued, held a note of caution. 

 

It was the voice of someone who already knew Dahlia was here.

 

After taking Dahlia to the bathroom, he had used the Heart’s Vow to request a new blanket and pillow from the attendant. 

 

It seemed the attendant, upon seeing the blood-stained bed, had reported it to Hovan.

 

With a soft sigh, Hissin pulled the blanket tighter around Dahlia, wrapping her securely, before silently opening the door.

 

Hovan, who had shown little reaction to Hissin’s robe-clad state, furrowed his brow slightly upon glancing into the room. 

 

Even though Hissin had pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, the distinct, curved outline of her bare form beneath the covers remained unmistakably visible.

 

His expression was one of disbelief, as if witnessing something that should never have happened—or more precisely, as if Hissin had crossed a line he should never have dared to cross. 

 

He looked like an older brother who had stumbled upon his younger sister’s most intimate secret.

 

At Hovan’s expression, Hissin let out a low, breathy laugh.

 

“Should I offer you my cheek to strike?”

 

“…My apologies.”

 

Only then did Hovan realize how intensely he had been staring at the sleeping Dahlia, and he quickly lowered his head. 

 

Yet, his eyes still held a gaze sharp enough to slice through Hissin.

 

Just how much is he cursing me in his mind right now? 

 

Hissin thought, well aware of the special affection Hovan harbored for Dahlia, even if he never voiced it. With a quiet sigh, Hissin spoke softly.

 

“The explanation would be lengthy, but this… this was her wish.”

 

Even so, the disdain in Hovan’s eyes remained undimmed. Resigned, Hissin decided to reveal the truth to him as well.

 

“The Princess… she knows everything now.”

 

“Surely you do not mean… about the Hinnah clan?”

 

“I thought keeping her ignorant was for her own good, but…”

 

A weary smile touched Hissin’s lips.

 

“It seems the Nuaite Goddess has been searching for the Fifth Maiden all this time.”

 

How else could a truth, nearly buried forever, have reached Dahlia’s ears? 

 

Perhaps it was even the Goddess who had turned Dahlia’s heart in that moment when she had sought to kill him.

 

Leaving behind a visibly confused Hovan, Hissin quietly closed the door behind him. Then, stepping further away from the room, he asked about the tasks he had assigned earlier.

 

“The traces of the Hinnah clan. Have you found anything?”

 

After taking a moment to gather his tumultuous thoughts, Hovan answered in a low voice.

 

“Yes. In fact, a report came in just moments ago from the Lions in the Misilan continent. They said they have found remains nearby, presumed to be those of the Hinnah clan.”

 

Finally. Hissin’s eyes glinted with satisfaction at the long-awaited news.

 

“We must investigate this thoroughly to the very end and confirm the truth.”

 

“Yes. Please do not worry.”

 

With a bow, Hovan glanced one last time at the closed bedroom door, his expression tinged with worry, before quietly taking his leave.

 

Returning to the bedroom, Hissin carefully settled onto the bed. Perhaps sensing his presence, Dahlia curled slightly and let out a soft, muffled sound in her throat. Was she dreaming? Her delicate brows were faintly furrowed.

 

“Mmm… Mother…”

 

A fragile, plaintive voice escaped her lips. 

 

It was a word one would not expect from a princess who had spent her entire life speaking and acting according to the palace’s strict etiquette.

 

“Don’t… go…”

 

Yet, in her dream, Dahlia spoke as freely as a child from a common household.

 

Is she meeting her true family in her dreams? 

 

Hissin hoped so. He wished that even in her dreams, she could find comfort in the arms of family, freely whining, crying, and laughing to her heart’s content.

 

Only then would she be able to do the same in his own embrace.

 

“Shhh. It’s alright.”

 

Noticing the dampness gathering on her closed eyelids, Hissin drew her close, soothing her. 

 

Fortunately, his voice seemed to reach her unconscious mind, as the troubled furrow between her brows gradually eased. Wrapping his arms around her small form, he continued to stroke her back, offering comfort long into the deepening night.

 

For the first time in his life, Hissin found himself thinking that he did not want to fall asleep.

 

I wish I could be trapped in this moment forever.

 

💫

 

“Your Highness…!”

 

The moment they returned to her room, Bertha—her face streaked with tears—rushed forward and threw her arms around Dahlia.

 

“Where have you been?! You were gone from dawn, I was beside myself with worry! I thought… I feared you had been taken, that I might never see you again…! Waaah!”

 

As Bertha burst into wails like a child, Dahlia stroked her back with a remorseful expression.

 

“I’m sorry, Bertha.”

 

“Sob… Your Highness, please don’t leave me behind. I don’t want to be left alone, waaah…!”

 

Bertha clung to Dahlia tightly, as if nestling into her mother.

 

If I had remained ignorant and killed Hissin… if I had never been able to return here… this child would be weeping even more sorrowfully than she is now.

 

A wave of guilt washed over Dahlia for having thought only of herself. She held Bertha close until her sobs subsided, whispering tenderly.

 

“Where would I go without you? Without you, I can’t even dress or undress properly.”

 

“Sniffle… Really?”

 

“Yes, really.”

 

Bertha sniffled, blinking her teary eyes.

 

“But… where in the world did you go?”

 

A pang of discomfort struck Dahlia’s conscience. She couldn’t bring herself to speak openly. She could never tell Bertha she had been in Hissin’s chambers.

 

Nor that she had pressed a blade to his throat.

 

Nor that they had shared such an intense, consuming union, leaving her utterly spent.

 

“It’s… well, you see…”

 

As Dahlia hesitated, unable to find the right words—

 

“Her Highness rose early at dawn and joined me for a tour of the Moron Kingdom.”

 

Hovan stood at the doorway, having arrived without her notice. He had come to bring their morning meal. Dahlia’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

Unaware that Hovan had visited while she slept, his unexpected defense felt both jarring and painfully tender.

 

How could he…? 

 

Before she could even hide her flushed face, Bertha shot Hovan a sharp, accusatory glare.

 

“And why were you the one escorting Her Highness? You said you wouldn’t even keep watch if she stayed quietly, that you wouldn’t harm her—are you already breaking your promise?”

 

At Bertha’s bold challenge, Hovan let out a short, almost scornful laugh.

 

“What would I gain by harming someone who is no longer a princess?”

 

“No longer a princess? What do you mean by that…?”

 

Bertha looked up at Dahlia, her eyes wide with confusion. 

 

Dahlia had already been wrestling with how to break the truth to her. Feeling cornered, she turned to Hovan.

 

“That’s enough.”

 

From here, I want to be the one to speak. Conveying her intention with a look, Dahlia found Hovan quick to understand.

 

He, too, seemed to regret the sharp words he had spoken in a moment of pent-up frustration. With a brief bow, he offered a silent apology to Dahlia, set down the meal, and left the room.

 

Once the door closed, Dahlia turned her gaze to the bewildered Bertha.

 

“Bertha. Listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you.”

 

She proceeded to recount everything she had learned from Hissin the previous night. 

 

The story of the Hinnah clan, imprisoned for ages deep within the Baran Kingdom. And the tale of the one child they had stolen away.

 

“…I was never truly the Emperor’s daughter. So, in the end, I am not a princess of Baran either.”

 

Dahlia gently stroked the child’s hair, cut short in mourning, as she spoke with a touch of pity.

 

“So Bertha… you don’t have to serve me so devotedly anymore.”

 

“…Your Highness.”

 

“From now on, you can live however you wish. If you want to return to your family, I will make the arrangements. Wherever you go, whatever you do, it is entirely your choice.”

 

Bertha, who had been listening silently to Dahlia’s words, looked up at her, her lips trembling. 

 

Will she be angry now, knowing she served a false princess all this time? 

 

Dahlia waited, holding her breath, unsure what words would come from Bertha’s mouth.

 

“I begged you not to leave me behind, so why are you trying to send me away now?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“No matter who you are, Your Highness, you will always remain my lady.”

 

Bertha’s tears began to fall in earnest, each drop more heartrending than the last.

 

“Even if you are not a royal of Baran, it doesn’t change that you are my lady. So please, don’t send me away, Your Highness. I want to stay by your side, waaah…!”

 

As Bertha’s sobs grew louder, tears welled up in Dahlia’s own eyes. 

 

Overwhelmed, she let her own tears flow freely as she pulled the child into a tight embrace.

 

“Thank you, Bertha. Thank you…”

 

She had thought that with everything lost, nothing remained of her life but ruins.

 

Yet by her side stood Hissin, who had never once forsaken her, and behind her was Bertha, unwavering and steadfast as ever.

 

Perhaps, if she kept living resolutely, the number of people who stood by her would slowly grow. Perhaps what had been lost would, in time, be filled again.

 

Holding onto this faint, newly kindled hope, Dahlia shared a tearful yet warm smile with Bertha.

 

On the other side of the closed door, Hovan, who had been leaning against the wall, finally allowed himself to relax at the sound of their shared laughter and quietly took his leave.