The boring afternoon schedule was over. Ilarid gently rubbed her right wrist that had finished transcribing. Even after years of overuse, it had not become accustomed, rather becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Her whole body was screaming from constantly writing in the same position. Should I go for a walk? She wanted to move wherever her feet took her, using the excuse of getting some fresh air.

“I want to change into comfortable clothes and move around. Will you help me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

It’s a comfortable life. Just standing still, the ladies-in-waiting in charge of attire and maids surround her one by one, changing her clothes and accessories. Ilarid only had to leave her body to their movements.

“Which outfit would you like?”

The lady-in-waiting in charge of clothing took out four or five outfits. Knowing what kind of clothes Ilarid usually wore, she displayed mostly simple dresses.

Ilarid pointed to the darkest colored outfit, excluding all bright colors.

“That one, please.”

Is it because the sorrow is still too great to wear bright clothes? Lynette and the lady-in-waiting exchanged glances quietly and resigned.

Ilarid closed her eyes gently and received the maids’ service. Is it really okay to settle for such a life?

Along with a voice saying it was done, the sound of maids stepping back a few steps was heard. Ilarid looked at her reflection in the mirror, now comfortably changed.

At some point, even in her smiling face, worries could be seen. She wrapped her body in dark colors to hide her festering inner thoughts, but the more she did so, the more her heart sank.

“I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back before dinner, so don’t worry too much.”

Ilarid gently held Lynette’s hand and whispered. You’re going to the child’s grave again. Lynette quietly clasped her hand in return. When will warmth return to these cold hands?

“And… thank you for being considerate. It seems you told the gravedigger separately about the last incident.”

“Pardon?”

Lynette asked back with a puzzled face. She did ask the gravedigger to be considerate, but she had only spoken this morning.

“I did ask him to be considerate, but I was only able to say it this morning. I was going to apologize to Your Majesty for not being attentive earlier…”

“Then who on earth left that umbrella and flowers…”

Ilarid trailed off. Was there someone she could think of? Cledius? That man couldn’t possess such thoughtfulness.

Or could it be…

She quickly turned and left the Empress’s Palace. Lynette’s cry to be careful was heard from behind, but she couldn’t slow her quickening steps.

What if the tiny hope she held became reality? Ilarid hurried her steps towards the faintly shimmering kindness.

A man was lowered before the child’s grave.

Confirming the man’s appearance, Ilarid stopped in her tracks.

‘Lebel.’

He was saying something with his forehead against the tombstone. With his eyes closed, as if imagining Ilarid’s child in his mind.

In one of Lebel’s hands was a white bouquet similar to the one seen last time.

It seemed somewhat awkward, perhaps he had made it himself.

Lebel, having finished what might have been a prayer or a wish, placed the flowers on the small altar.

He hadn’t noticed Ilarid’s presence yet, and began to dust off the tombstone while kneeling. He didn’t even mind getting his hands dirty.

On the altar in front of the stone, a white bouquet similar to the previous one was placed.

‘How did he know…’

What shape would the heart of one who kneels and dusts off dirt for a stranger’s child take?

An unfamiliar, warm, and utterly kind gentleness. Ilarid stepped back hesitantly, as if burned by that warmth.

The sound of a twig breaking under her retreating steps was heard. Lebel, sitting in front of the stone, hurriedly stood up and turned around.

“Your Majesty the Empress.”

He was visibly flustered. Like someone caught in the midst of a secret act. His hands, which had been busily moving over the tombstone, were stained with sand and dust.

“Since when?”

“…Not long.”

“Ever since we met here last time?”

Ilarid approached slowly. Lebel lowered his gaze to the ground and hid his hands behind his back. It’s not like he committed a crime. She reached out her hand towards Lebel.

“…Your hand.”

Hearing the command, he obediently extended his hand. Ilarid took out a handkerchief and wiped the dirt from his palm. She could feel Lebel’s large, firm finger joints clearly.

The white handkerchief gently wiped away the dirt over the numerous scars and calluses engraved on his palm.

Lebel did not push away her hand. Both their gazes were directed downward.

“If I’ve overstepped… I’m sorry.”

His low voice fell over Ilarid’s head, but she did not look up. If she looked into Lebel’s eyes now, she felt she wouldn’t be able to control the emotions welling up.

The so-called father never visited. Did Cledius even bother to look at this place?

She had never encountered Cledius here on the child’s birthday or death anniversary. Even on other days, he didn’t show any sign of caring.

The title of father was too good for someone who wasn’t there at birth, wasn’t there at death, and didn’t appear afterwards.

But the man in front of Ilarid now was frantically dusting off the dirt for someone else’s child, not even realizing his own hands were getting dirty.

“…Why is a stranger’s child so important to you.”

Ilarid’s words were close to a whisper. The last period trembled slightly.

The first outsider to visit on the child’s death anniversary. Normally, obligatory words would have spilled out.

She would have given ordinary thanks, saying thank you, the child would like it, she wouldn’t forget.

Had her tongue become stiff? Now she couldn’t utter a single word.

Her hand wiping away the stains gradually applied more force. It was closer to desperately suppressing the overwhelming feelings rather than wiping away the specks of dust on Lebel’s palm.

Lebel, unaware of Ilarid’s fluctuating emotions, continued speaking.

“The death of a young child always weighs on one’s mind.”

His calm voice contained the sorrow he had witnessed countless times on the battlefield.

A child holding a paper with their guardian’s name written on it, shedding endless tears on the refugee road.

A woman wailing while holding a list of the deceased, and a child dozing off on her back. Nothing was as heartbreaking as encountering a young child’s corpse on the battlefield.

‘We should save the child first!’

Lebel had survived thanks to the warmth left by adults. This act now was one way of returning what he had received.

And above all, there was one most important reason remaining.

“If it’s Your Majesty’s child, it’s precious to me as well.”

The movement of wiping his hand stopped. Lebel gently grasped Ilarid’s small hand in its open position.

“Why… why would you say it’s precious when you have no connection?”

Droplets fell onto their overlapped hands. Tears began to pool between the gaps of their fingers. Although she had vowed not to cry until everything was over, this man in front of Ilarid melted that resolve in an instant.

If it were the Ilarid of the past, she would have been suspicious upon hearing these words. She would have thought the man in front of her surely wanted something.

She believed that unconditional loyalty did not exist. She had acted only to deceive them, to blind their eyes, and had to calculate endlessly.

But now, she just wanted to cry endlessly, leaning on the kindness of the person in front of her.

Her shoulders began to tremble intermittently. Her body slowly tilted forward, and her legs, unable to support the weight, gave way.

“…Your Majesty.”

Lebel caught her in his arms. A person who willingly bends his knees to lower his posture for someone who has collapsed. His hands remained motionless while supporting Ilarid’s shoulders.

“Though I cannot be your tool, my previous offer to lend you a shoulder… is still valid.”

Lebel’s words from before, recommending to cry freely when one wants to cry, echoed again.

The mourning and sorrow she had pushed away, thinking them unnecessary, washed over her like a tidal wave.

A place where the dead lie quietly asleep in the ground.

A place where no one would come, the most unfitting place for the imperial family.

It was perfectly suitable for lonely people to share their sorrow while supporting each other’s bodies in a lonely place.

Ilarid entrusted her head, her whole body to Lebel’s shoulder without wiping away the falling tears.

The area around his shoulder, composed of thick and straight lines, gradually became wet. Her breath, covered in tears, began to pant rapidly in his embrace.

“It’s all my fault. It’s my mistake… I couldn’t protect them all, I should have saved them at the cost of my life, but I was too… too late…”

It wasn’t just the child. Too many innocent people had died simply because of the reason ‘Melpiram’, or for working for pay under that name.

The slight sobbing gradually turned into intense wailing. Screaming tears shook on Lebel’s shoulder.

Due to her choked throat, some cries couldn’t even be uttered and just circled inside.

A time when even sorrow couldn’t be properly expressed. How many emotions had been contained in that small body all this time?

‘Your Majesty, my lady.’

Lebel’s arm slowly rose over her. His hand, hesitating for a moment, gently rested on her silver hair.

‘Ilarid.’

That name he couldn’t call yet. A relationship where only titles existed.

If only he could cry together and embrace her fully to comfort her.

“May I… dare to say a word?”

Lebel uttered a heavy sentence amidst Ilarid’s wailing.

“It is not Your Majesty’s fault.”

Unfamiliar comfort from a stranger. As soon as those words ended, Lebel wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

And through the silence between their touching warmth, he continuously spoke. Thanking her for enduring those difficult and painful times well.

Lebel’s arms tightened slightly. Forgetting even the fact that she was suffocating, Ilarid cried her heart out while clutching his firm arms.

When was the last time she had cried out loud? Unrefined, clumsy sobs continued between the tombstones.

Ilarid collapsed in Lebel’s arms.

Lebel struggled to calm his agitated heart. If he became careless, someone might catch Ilarid crying.

But the small shoulders that kept trembling and the intermittent sobs that broke off and resumed pushed him to his limit.

The emotions he had contained since meeting Ilarid began to stir under Lebel’s skin. Soon, his gray-blue eyes also reddened, spewing out unrestrained sorrow.

Countless teardrops fell onto the ground where they sat.

In the midst of death, the two became each other’s comfort, endlessly matching their warmth.

And Cledius was watching this entire scene from the other side of the cemetery.