For some reason, her back felt damp. Unable to fall back asleep, Ariella got up and stepped out onto the balcony.
The cool dawn breeze tickled her sweat-soaked skin. Standing in the dim moonlight and gripping the railing, a voice she had long forgotten suddenly came to mind.
“When we went, he was already dead from the illness. His last words were to tell you that he was sorry.”
On a winter day when she was thirteen, a knight from Bedford came to inform Ariella of Kaia’s death. With an indifferent demeanor, as if a neighborhood puppy had died.
Ariella was not even given the time to properly mourn Kaia’s death. Not for a single day, not for a single hour could she think of Kaia and grieve fully.
To avoid being trapped again, she had to learn at least one more foreign word and review one more document.
Only after reaching adulthood did she gain the leisure and power to investigate Kaia’s death separately. But by then, far too much time had passed, and all that remained was the fact that he was truly dead.
‘He usually doesn’t come to visit. Why did he choose today to appear in my dream?’
As Ariella returned to her room with Amira, she posed a question to someone who had already died and remained only in her memory.
‘Did you want to warn me? That I shouldn’t do this, that I must forgive to be happy.’
If it were Kaia, he would have said that. He was the one who spoke of forgiveness even when the food he had obtained after three days was taken away by thugs.
“But Kaia. Unlike you, I’m a rotten human being, and I just can’t forgive. I have to make those who hurt me feel the same… no, even more pain. Only then do I think I might… someday feel what happiness is.”
Ariella unconsciously reached out, groping the place where a pocket might be.
The worn statue was no longer by her side, but she fumbled through the air as if to stroke something that didn’t exist, offering her final prayer.
“I’m sorry, Kaia.”
The well-oiled door opened gently before her eyes.
At the same time, pieces of white cloth fluttering in the wind came into view.
“It’s already too late to turn back.”
Clenching her fist tightly as she looked at the torn white dress, which was shredded like her faith, Ariella felt a surge of emotion.
The proud crown prince of the Bingham Empire.
Aaron Ferdinand de Bingham/Bingham, whose name alone is dazzling, had been going through rather unpleasant days lately.
His mood had been particularly low since the dinner party held at the Count of Lancashire’s residence, where he had encountered that detestable Nobert Ashbon.
If it had only been a matter of facing him, the foul mood would not have lingered for so long. However, the fool who had no sense of propriety dared to speak ill in front of the crown prince, whom he should have revered.
“All of them are utterly despicable. The guy who flirts with another woman in front of his fiancée, and the idiots who laugh and cheer him on are just the same.”
It was a statement that warranted immediate kneeling on the spot, but Aaron was momentarily silent, unable to muster a proper response.
He knew well that Nobert was a reckless man, but it was the first time he had revealed his true nature so openly, which left him flustered.
As he left without an apology, a late anger surged within Aaron. He wanted to chase after him, to force him to kneel, but he hesitated.
The last sight of Nobert, looking around as if searching for something, caught his attention.
In that moment, Aaron felt an intense intuition that he could not put into words.
‘That guy, could it be that he really likes Arrie…?’
The nonsense he had spouted about helping in the garden of Count McCoy, and the way he had harshly rebuked those who spoke ill of Ariella at the dinner party, these two incidents clicked together like cogs in a machine.
No, it couldn’t be. He must have chosen Ariella merely as a means to rebel against him. If not, there would be no reason for Nobert Ashbon to show any kindness to the unfortunate false princess.
Aaron tried to convince himself of this, but he could not erase one assumption from his mind.
‘What if Nobert Ashbon likes Arrie?’
He had always looked at Ariella with a strange gaze. Although he never approached or spoke to her, the situation had changed since the party at Count McCoy’s.
Unlike before, Ariella was no longer just the crown prince’s fiancée or the only princess of Bedford. So perhaps he thought it was acceptable to consider her as a lowly and pitiful match.
