The dawn light coming through the window made her appear in a unique atmosphere.

Her see-through nightgown was loose, and her disheveled hair and plump lips that seemed swollen were enough to make his blood vessels bulge throughout his body.

Her blushing cheeks and bright smile would be one of the beautiful sights etched into Harchen’s brain, never to be forgotten for a lifetime.

“A banquet in the salon. It will be recorded in paintings and records. Is something important happening?”

She put down her cutlery and pressed her cheek with the back of her hand, smiling shyly.

“I won’t know for sure until that day, but it’s a significant event in my life.”

Harchen clenched his molars tightly. The tips of his eyebrows trembled involuntarily.

Why, is she planning to run away with that bastard? Who does she think she is?

“The meal is over.”

He put on the black uniform coat hanging on his chair, buttoning up the dense buttons while scanning his wife, who was smiling with an unfamiliar expression.

A significant event in her life. That bastard helped her escape from Pana Castle too.

Harchen, who had never had anything taken from him or been betrayed in his life, was left traumatized by the Pana Castle escape incident.

He still had occasional dreams. Dreams where he woke up and she had disappeared.

He hated waking up alone in bed, so he decided they would sleep together at Aster Palace, and it became a habit for him to wake up before her.

When he came here after waiting at Aster Palace, the head maid said the Empress would tell His Majesty directly about the afternoon outing.

In the end, you didn’t say anything about yesterday afternoon even when I gave you the chance.

The corners of his mouth, smiling coldly, trembled slightly.

Sensing something strange in his expression, Patricia slowly rose from her chair as he turned abruptly and left.

“I’ll be back.”

A cold metallic sound came from his choked-up throat.

*

Patricia appeared riding a brown horse. She was wearing the same black robe as yesterday. Bern followed closely behind her.

“Huh, it’s really her, elder sister.”

Harchen and Bark sat on the terrace of Bark’s office on the second floor of Arteum, watching Patricia pass right in front of them as she galloped along the lakeside.

Harchen sat motionless like a frozen statue, exuding coldness. Even the white birds flying around suddenly perched in a row on the terrace railing with their wings folded.

She disappeared behind the spruce trees, then reappeared in Harchen’s sight. Because she was riding at a constant speed, Harchen could gauge her position even when she was out of sight after turning a corner.

After being out of sight for a while, she galloped up the gentle hill leading to the green-roofed townhouse at the two o’clock direction from where he sat.

And then she was no longer visible.

The wide lake, spruce trees, afternoon sunlight, cold early winter wind, dazzling glare on the lake surface, and also, old affection? Hidden truth, …… tender love? Inappropriate relationship.

The more Harchen recalled the layers piled up like walls between him and her, the colder his expression became.

Tender love and inappropriate relationship. He felt pathetic sitting here, imagining such a situation.

Pfft, as he let out a hollow laugh, Bark offered him a lit cigar. The flock of birds with folded wings turned their heads in unison towards the source of the cigar scent that smelled like burning forests.

While smoking the cigar, Harchen and Bark stared at one spot.

“Shall we send the birds flying?”

Bark’s question was a proposal to shoot white bird arrows at Eden.

“Never mind.”

Harchen answered shortly. Then, Harchen’s eyes, which had been glaring at the opposite side, narrowed slightly.

Bark, who had been looking at Harchen, handsome enough to captivate even men despite his arrogant expression, turned his head following Harchen’s gaze.

Patricia appeared on the driveway where the yellow soil was visible.

“Oh, oh. Looks like she’s just coming out.”

That’s two rejections.

“Harchen, I have something to tell you in three days, no, two days. How about a banquet in the salon?”

She expected him to refuse today as well, and it was her intention to make her strongest move tomorrow, phew.

“Interesting.”

“Pardon?”

Bark questioned, but Harchen stood up from his chair and tucked his sword into his waist inside his black uniform coat.

“I’ll come tomorrow.”

Calip, standing behind Harchen, nodded slightly to Bark and went down the stairs towards the backyard of Arteum where the horses were kept.

Whew, Bark finally let out the breath he had been holding. Simultaneously, the white birds that had been perched on the railing flew around Bark’s head.

*

The caretaker was standing at the beginning of the corridor above the central staircase. As Patricia climbed the stairs, he bowed politely, bending his upper body and head.

“Your Majesty, I apologize, but the Count has instructed not to let anyone inside.”

Patricia scanned the salmon-colored outer wall before fixing her gaze on the terrace on the second floor where a pot of fully bloomed red flowers was placed.

“Is that geranium?”

The caretaker, following Patricia’s gaze and looking up, nodded.

“It’s a Tane flower. Most Tane houses have geraniums on their windowsills.”

At her words, Bern raised his head to look at the red flowers on the second-floor terrace.

“Could you bring me some paper and a pen?”

“Ah, …… yes, Your Majesty.”

The caretaker, hesitating for a moment, answered and walked down the corridor.

Patricia walked in the opposite direction of where the caretaker was going. She was about to sit on a stone bench but walked a bit further, looking at the statues carved with mythological gods.

When she reached the end of the corridor, she saw large pieces of marble and huge chunks of stone piled up in front of an unkempt shrubbery.

Does he do sculpture work himself?

As she turned the corner at the end of the corridor, there was a workbench in front of the side wall.

On the large wooden workbench were a brass basin with white clay dough stuck to it, a leather apron, work gloves and face shield, various large and small chisels and punches, iron hammers, etc., and next to it was a statue in progress.

Patricia approached the unfinished statue as if drawn by a magnet.

“……Ah!”

The adult-sized female statue was wearing plate armor and holding a helmet in one hand and a sword in the other.

Although it had curly hair and a rough surface with no eyes, nose, or mouth, it was recognizable at a glance.

It was Patricia herself.

She reached out and stroked the rough, unfinished cheek of the statue. The intense sunlight reflected off the sparsely embedded quartz, stinging her eyes.

As the reflected light touched her, her vision blurred. Tears that had been welling up in her eyes overflowed.

Heavy smell of blood, clanking sound of armor colliding, splat, swish. The sound of stabbing and butchering accompanied by hot blood splattering, blood and oil-stained blades, screams, gasps, the sound of breath being cut off, the space where the souls of the dead wandered, the pungent smell of men in the barracks telling obscene jokes while undressed to shake off the fear of death.

The reason she could survive that hell was thanks to the iron wall Eden had built. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have thought to live so tenaciously.

She would have long ago ended her remaining life by someone else’s sword, no, by Patricia’s own sword.

“Empress, Your Majesty.”

At Bern’s call, she quickly walked towards the main entrance, wiping her eyes and cheeks.

The caretaker held out paper on a wooden clipboard and a quill pen. Patricia sat on a stone bench, wrote a short memo, folded it in half, and gave it to the caretaker.

“Eden, I’ll call you Eden for the last time.

Tomorrow, I’ll come as the Empress, have a cup of tea with Count Cabanian, and leave. I have a favor to ask, please meet me tomorrow.

Patricia.”

*

At Boras Palace, Patricia received a medical examination from Helen alongside Isabella.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty. You’re pregnant.”

Isabella held Patricia’s hand.

Helen said the fetus was relatively healthy and that Isabella’s baby would be born in spring while Patricia’s would be born in summer.

Helen told Patricia she had passed the morning sickness period well, gave her precautions, and said she would come to White Palace for an examination in three days.

Patricia had lunch with Isabella and parted ways. She postponed Isabella’s suggestion to go shopping for baby items together.

The imperial carriage carrying Patricia stopped in front of Count Cabanian’s townhouse. The caretaker waiting at the top of the stairs guided her to the reception room. Patricia sat on the sofa with Bern standing behind her.

Shortly after, the Count entered wearing a deep green house jacket. He frowned at Bern standing behind Patricia but didn’t order him out.

“Rising morning sun, Otto Cabanian greets the Empress.”

Eden knelt on one knee in front of Patricia and took her silk-gloved hand. After raising his moist blue eyes for a few seconds, he slowly pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

Eden sat on the single-seat sofa across from her. His gaze was not directed at her but at the table placed in the middle.

Patricia looked at him, straining her eyes that were blurring with tears.

The platinum blonde hair that had looked like a stream of light-filled water had become black hair holding darkness, and the jawline and sharp nose bridge were as sharp as if emotions had been removed. The corners of his eyes were turned up fiercely, but his pupils and gaze remained the same.

After a knock, the caretaker brought in refreshments and placed them on the table. Patricia picked up a teacup and took a sip of tea.

“Is Count Cabanian a painter?”

“Yes, it’s a hobby.”

“Although I’m not a connoisseur, could I see your work?”

“It’s not of a level to show anyone.”

His voice, Patricia felt her heart flutter as she heard his voice. It was Eden’s unchanged voice.

“Do you do any other work besides painting?”

“I do…… sculpture.”

She recalled the workbench and unfinished statue she had seen in the backyard at the end of the corridor. It was indeed his work in progress.

“Are you aware of the news about establishing a women’s specialized academy in Carsic?”

“Yes.”

“And that I’m taking the lead in preparing for it?”

“Yes.”

“My request is for you to take charge of instructing the swordsmanship department.”

“I know there are many excellent swordsmen in Carsic.”

“Excessive modesty is uncomfortable. Is that a refusal?”

“I apologize, but yes, it is.”

“I have one more request.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“I had a knight. He protected me on countless battlefields. If it weren’t for him, I would have died dozens of times, but thanks to him, I lived.”

“……”

“I’m going to give birth to a child next summer. Please become my first child’s knight.”

Patricia sat up straight, wrapped her hands around her belly, and looked at him.