I'll Abandon the Fake Savior (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 2

Fortunately, Yuricien had one perfect solution to break through this hellish situation.

That was marriage.

Specifically, marriage to the prince of the Solzerion Empire—her first love, whom she had adored for fifteen long years.

Although they had never been formally engaged, nor had she ever heard him say he loved her, Yuricien never doubted for a moment that they were lovers.

‘Marriage to my first love…’

This incredibly romantic event, something most women had dreamed of at least once, had now befallen her. It was Yuricien’s unchanging happiness and sole refuge. As she pondered deeply, her face suddenly flushed hot.

There was someone so beloved and precious that even uttering his name made her heart tremble—and for Yuricien, that person was the prince. She was utterly, hopelessly infatuated with her lover.

“His Highness Prince Heathcliff Oppenhide.”

Even the sensation of rolling his name on her tongue felt sweet. Perhaps even his name itself was this splendid. Though he wasn’t even standing before her, her heart pounded so fiercely it nearly burst from her chest.

This fluttering feeling had never once faded in the past fifteen years.

‘Love truly is extraordinary.’

Yuricien placed her folded hands over her racing heart and recalled the man she longed for even in her dreams.

Heathcliff possessed stunning silver hair. If one were to cut a single thread from the pure, flowing moonlight of a pitch-black night—so dark even owls might doze off—it would yield precisely that hue.

His complexion was equally fair. Despite his lively and combative nature making hunting his favorite pastime, he boasted noble, immaculate white skin. Altogether, he gave a distinctly androgynous impression rather than a traditionally masculine one.

‘I wish His Highness had a sturdy build like the knights…’

Yet Yuricien thought he seemed even more quintessentially Heathcliff precisely because his features leaned closer to beauty than mere handsomeness—a graceful man straight out of a fairy tale. How could her heart not flutter? Still, above all else, what Yuricien cherished most about his face was undoubtedly his eyes.

‘I’ve never seen such a mysterious, enigmatic color anywhere else.’

Heathcliff’s eyes, inherited from his mother Empress Greta, were a blend of green and blue—like the boundary where sea meets lake. Whenever she saw her own reflection in those eyes, she grew so entranced her mind spun dizzily, as if subjected to some love-induced brainwashing.

[Windsor Young Lady.]

She didn’t even need to consciously recall it—the gentle voice already echoed in her ears. Though Heathcliff had met Yuricien when she was seven and maintained a close relationship with her for a full fifteen years, he never took her for granted. He must simply be a kind soul whose thoughtfulness and kindness were ingrained in his very being.

[You are my lover—my lover, and no one else’s.]

Perhaps that was why, whenever Heathcliff occasionally couldn’t restrain himself and showed possessiveness or jealousy toward Yuricien, she felt a distant, swelling pride.

‘To call someone “my lover” is no different at all from saying “I truly love you.”’

In truth, everything Heathcliff did brought Yuricien happiness. She was the sort of woman who, with only a slight exaggeration, would still find him adorable even if he stepped in dog dung.

Then again, how could it be otherwise?

‘It must be fate, ordained by the Lord Himself…’

Yuricien still often dreamed of that day.

That winter when she was seven, when she’d accompanied Jorgen to the imperial palace’s tea party.

‘The dream of the moment I fell into Chalice Lake.’

To the north of the imperial palace lay Chalice Lake. Legend held that the sacred chalice used by the Lord of the Gwisheon Church for his final drink lay submerged within it. So potent was its divine power that the lake’s depths were always crystal clear. Young Yuricien, fascinated by the transparent ice covering the lake, climbed onto it fearlessly.

“This time again, there was poison in the food.”

“The culprit is so obvious, yet we have no way to act…”

“If His Highness the Crown Prince falls like this, the beneficiary is clearly…”

At that time, the Crown Prince was suffering repeated assassination attempts. Jorgen, as head of the neutral faction, was deeply engaged in serious discussions with the nobles and failed to notice Yuricien in time.

Yuricien was utterly absorbed in watching fish swim slowly beneath the thick ice. Thus, she didn’t realize the spot where she stood had a swift current, making the ice dangerously thin. By the time she heard the crackling sound of breaking ice, it was already too late.

Splash-!

Before she could even cry out “Father!”, Yuricien had plunged into the depths of Chalice Lake.

‘Huh…!’

She wanted to rise to the surface, but her waterlogged dress weighed her down. In her mind, she kept hearing Jorgen’s voice from that morning, as he’d personally fastened her cape around her neck.

[“Though it’s warmer than yesterday, you never know after being outside long. Better to dress warmly, even if it feels a bit hot.”]

Both the quilted cotton dress and the thick cape Yuricien now wore had been chosen by Jorgen for his beloved daughter—out of his wish that she feel not the slightest chill, that she not even catch a mild cold… Yet tragically, his love was now killing her.

Yuricien sank beneath the lake without even producing a single bubbling gasp.

‘Save me. No. Please, save me!’

It was through the worst possible means that Yuricien learned one could shed tears even underwater.

Her flailing limbs slowly stiffened from the water’s bone-deep cold, so frigid it gnawed at her very skin. Even a young child could understand:

That everything was truly over now, that she would die right here like this, that any further struggle was utterly futile.

In that moment of despair—

‘…!’

She saw the sun in the distance.

A sun shining with absolute purity and clarity, swimming toward Yuricien even as it turned its back on all the world’s light.

‘Please save me!’

Driven solely by her desperate will to live, Yuricien stretched her hand straight toward that sun, though she knew touching it would surely burn her.

It would be a lie to say she felt no fear before such a dazzlingly radiant being—but fortunately, the sun did not harm her. Instead, a hand even colder than hers slipped firmly between her fingers and gripped them tight.

Something hot and soft touched her frozen lips.

‘…!’

Yuricien had no time to wonder what it was before she eagerly drank in the rushing air. Breathing in brought pain—this was the first time she realized how agonizing it was to be deprived of something she’d always taken for granted.

She forced her numb, frozen hands to clench tightly around him. Even as Yuricien dragged him toward the lakebed, the sun didn’t pull away; instead, he embraced her back with even greater strength. Truly, this was the power of the sun that subdued night and ushered in day.

Gurgle gurgle.

The sun, who had shared his breath with Yuricien, immediately swam upward with her toward the surface. Watching his retreating back, the seven-year-old Yuricien’s mind locked firmly onto a single word.

‘Savior.’

Through her blurred vision, Yuricien dazedly watched the golden thread of the sun—who had plunged into the lake to save her—rippling in the water. Sadly, the boy’s face, hazy all along, remained unseen even then. Only the sharp line of his jaw, clenched tight, was briefly visible.

The force driving her upward to survive was powerful. Her head kept lolling helplessly backward. In that instant, she thought she glimpsed something glittering on the lakebed—but she squeezed her eyes shut again and couldn’t confirm what it was.

The surface drew nearer. Beneath the sun’s warmth, the ice that had dragged Yuricien underwater began to melt.

Thus, Yuricien was saved.

‘My first love, my savior, my lover—all thanks to His Highness Prince Heathcliff.’

According to Jorgen, when he frantically searched for Yuricien, he found her alone and unconscious near the lake’s edge. Though footprints remained in the surrounding snow, they never identified who had left them. But it didn’t matter.

‘Because I saw him.’

Perhaps because the incident was so traumatic, her memories from that time were vivid yet hazy.

Still, she remembered with perfect clarity the badge pinned to the sun’s clothes—the one who’d saved her. It was the ‘Proof of Bloodline’: a solid gold badge issued only to direct imperial descendants, fastened to the rescuer’s lapel.

At that time, only Crown Prince Benjamin and Second Prince Heathcliff possessed such badges. But Benjamin, who had golden hair, was notoriously frail and reportedly hadn’t left his bed even once on the day of the tea party. Therefore, the only imperial family member present at the tea party—and thus the one who saved Yuricien—was unmistakably:

‘His Highness Prince Heathcliff alone.’

Admittedly, it troubled her that Heathcliff’s hair resembled moonlight—silver, not gold—but the lake was so transparent its light reached the very bottom. Perhaps sunlight reflecting off his silver hair had simply made it appear golden.

That incident became the foundation of their bond, and today, Heathcliff and Yuricien had grown into lovers who cherished and adored each other deeply.

‘His Highness, who’s now spoken of as the likely next emperor instead of the frail Crown Prince, will surely stop this absurd marriage.’

Yuricien decided she would bring it up during the upcoming Crown Prince’s homecoming party.

Heathcliff loved Yuricien—he would never abandon her.