With tears streaming down his face, Ruth whispered softly, prompting Ail to tighten his grip on Ruth’s hand. It was a silent plea not to leave his side.

“I’ll stay with you. Please rest,” Ruth murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Ail’s forehead. Only then did Ail close his eyes, his breathing becoming steady and calm.

Watching him sleep, Ruth finally let his pent-up tears fall. He hadn’t died. He was alive. Last night, when Ail had shielded him and been struck by the arrow, Ruth had thought it was the end. But it wasn’t. Ail was still alive.

Gently stroking Ail’s pale face, Ruth reassured himself of his warmth. Taking Ail’s limp hand in his own, he pressed a kiss to the back of it. He began organizing his thoughts, knowing now was not the time to be consumed by relief. As much as this joy was unparalleled, Lyman would not give up. And this wasn’t even Karileum—it was Clozium. If Lyman chose to act, he could strike at any time, even after Ail recovered, on their journey back to Karileum.

That couldn’t be allowed to happen. He couldn’t let Ail get hurt again.

As those thoughts surfaced, Ruth’s hatred and anger toward his father reignited. He had never wished for Lyman to be his father. By mere chance of fate, he had been born as his son, but not once had he loved him as a father. Lyman, too, had never regarded him as his son. Their bond was nothing more than a forced connection, an oppressive tie. Much like the one between him and Ail.

Looking at Ail with a bitter gaze, Ruth muttered softly,
“There are things in this world that are impossible, no matter how much you try. Things you inherit without wanting to, and things you can’t achieve, no matter how much you wish for them.”

He swept Ail’s hair back gently, offering a faint smile.
“Children don’t get to choose their parents. And while parents can’t choose their children, they can abandon them. I suppose that means I should let go too. I don’t even know why I tried so stubbornly to hold on.”

Kneeling beside the bed, Ruth rested against it, tears flowing freely. He didn’t bother wiping them away as they fell, dampening the pillow. Once they started, they didn’t stop.

“The only tie left to me is the one that connects me to you. So please, don’t leave me alone,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Burying his face in Ail’s shoulder, Ruth’s tears soaked into him. His voice, wet with emotion, echoed faintly in the room.
“Thank you for staying alive.”

If anything had happened to Ail, Ruth knew he would never forgive himself. He would curse his decision to leave the palace, loathe himself for bringing Ail here to be hurt, and hate his father for making Ail a target. His life would be consumed by rage, regret, and sorrow.

The reason he had lost his grip on reality wasn’t anything else—it was the fear that Ail might die and the anger at himself for being the cause. He had wanted to escape, to shut off his mind, to convince himself it was all a dream and retreat into the comfort of unconsciousness.

He had thought that when he woke up, everything would be back to the way it was. That he could return to the quiet autumn of a year ago, before his relationship with Ail had fractured, to a time when nothing had happened, and life flowed peacefully. But what greeted him when he opened his eyes was a reality so cruel it was almost unbearable.

Escaping wouldn’t change reality. And simply enduring wasn’t enough to solve the problem. Ruth had learned that lesson too late. Silence and patience weren’t always the answer. Passive responses to harsh realities often led to even greater catastrophes.

Sometimes, you had to express your anger, raise your voice against those who disregarded you, and fight to protect what was precious. Sitting silently and waiting brought no peace. Silence invited disregard and oppression. That was the harsh law of the world Ruth lived in.

Looking down at Ail’s sleeping face, Ruth’s expression was calmer than before. Accepting reality and organizing his thoughts had brought him a sense of peace. There was no longer a reason to cling to hesitation or regret. He didn’t need to grasp the severed ties from the other side anymore. It was time for him to cut those strings, too.

Letting out a small, pained sigh, Ruth pressed a kiss to Ail’s shoulder, which was still damp with his tears. In a quiet voice, he whispered,
“Now… I’ll cut away all the remaining ties.”

The rain continued to fall incessantly, its steady drizzle casting a heavy, oppressive atmosphere throughout the house. The damp and stifling air seemed to weigh down on everything, making it hard to breathe. Having returned to the family estate in Virel from Kaizel’s residence in the capital of Karileum, Leysha stood, gazing at the man before her as she questioned him once more.

“Is that true?”

“Yes, it is. Please make haste. Lord Jessie has instructed me to ensure that both of you safely enter Vera and to protect your safety there for the time being,” the man, Jessie’s personal guard, replied.

Hearing his words, Leysha turned her head to look out the window. Just that morning, Lyman had stopped by the estate on the pretext of urgent business following the sudden departure of the crown prince from the imperial palace. Leysha had felt a sense of foreboding.

She had already suspected something when she secretly intercepted the letters—one sent to her by Rosen and another by Jessie to inform Leia of the situation. But never had she imagined that Lyman would hire the Red Scorpions to assassinate Ruth. She had thought he would only send trackers to trace Ruth’s movements and pose a threat to Ail. She had never dreamed he would orchestrate such a large operation to kill both Ruth and Ail.

After all, Ruth was his son. Even if Lyman only saw Ruth as a tool for his own benefit, he was still his flesh and blood, his child.

“So, it’s come to this,” Leysha murmured in a calm tone, rising from her chair and walking toward her vanity.

“I’ll wait outside, then,” the man said.

“No, please wait a moment,” she replied, raising a hand to signal him to stay.

Approaching her vanity, Leysha grasped a large pendant hanging from her necklace. Pressing the top of the pendant with her thumb, a small, shiny silver key emerged. She used it to unlock a large drawer beneath the vanity, retrieving several letters and a thick stack of documents.

After counting them carefully, she placed them in a jewelry box, emptying its contents onto the vanity before securing the papers inside. She then handed the box to the man.

“Send a messenger immediately to deliver this to Prince Ail,” she instructed.

“What is this?” he asked.

“A record of Lyman Kaizel’s misdeeds. I stole it after he left the estate, so he doesn’t yet know it’s in my possession.”

The man’s expression turned to shock, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. Leysha gave a bitter smile.

“He may be the father of my children, but he tried to kill my son. No, he has already killed Ruth. My son is no longer his son, and he is no longer the father of my child.”

“But this…” the man hesitated.

“Even though his treason alone is enough to destroy him, these documents also contain the names of those who colluded with him and provided him with funding. Use this to wipe them all out. I will not forgive anyone who dared to harm my son.”

Her resolve was unwavering. The fact that she had stolen these documents immediately after Lyman’s departure showed that she had already prepared herself for this confrontation. The cold fury emanating from her made the depth of her anger clear. She was willing to risk her life to bring about Lyman Kaizel’s downfall.

“Understood. I will deliver this directly to His Highness via Vera,” the man said resolutely.

“Thank you. I’ll call for Leia to make the preparations,” Leysha replied.

“I will wait outside with the carriage ready,” he answered before departing.

Leysha then called in her maid, May, who had been waiting outside. May was a loyal and sharp-witted maid who had served Leysha faithfully since her time in Vera and had accompanied her to Karileum.

“May, tell Leia to prepare for a journey,” Leysha instructed.

“Yes, my lady,” May replied without hesitation.

“You also have an errand to run, and it will take you far,” Leysha added.

“Where shall I go?”

“Go to Turthan and find Yael. You should remember her—the desert woman who aided me in Vera. She must be older now,” Leysha said, recalling the woman.

May nodded as she remembered the dark-skinned girl from their past. “I do remember her.”

“Bring her with you to Vera. You’ll find me at Le Bleum,” Leysha concluded.

May, well aware of what kind of work Yael did, quietly closed the door and stepped out of the room. Once she was gone, Leysha began packing her belongings without the assistance of her maids. There wasn’t much to prepare. She had no intention of taking anything given to her by Lyman Kaizel. In the end, all that remained were a few gold pieces she had brought with her when she left Vera.

When she had left Vera, she had deliberately left everything behind, fearing she might miss the place. But now, it was revulsion at the thought of Lyman that compelled her to leave behind anything tied to him. It was only a one-day journey from Virel to Vera, so she planned to take only what she had brought from Vera and discard even the clothes she was wearing as soon as she entered Vera, burning them to ash.

She packed lightly: a ring, a bracelet, a hair ornament given to her by Rosen on the day she left, and the necklace she now wore. All the jewelry Lyman had given her—hairpins, earrings, and rings—she removed and threw onto the vanity table. As she did so, a wry smile crossed her lips.

I’m just as ruthless as him, she thought, letting out a bitter laugh. At the same time, she lamented her own foolishness.

She had left everything behind and chosen him, even knowing his love was insincere and that he was a bad man. She had made that choice, hoping her children wouldn’t be denied choices in life as she had been. But this place offered even fewer choices. People were forced into marriages, used, and discarded. It was a place without the freedom to choose one’s life or dream of a better future.

“You were right… I should never have left Vera, Ruth,” she murmured, lowering her head before looking toward the distant sky.

In her mind, the face of young Ruth appeared vividly. She remembered his sorrowful expression as he kept glancing back at the land he was leaving, peeking out of the carriage window on the day they departed Vera. She recalled the warmth of his hand as he held hers tightly, enduring the harsh treatment at the Kaizel estate with unyielding strength. Even as an adult, he had always longed for his homeland.

The quiet and kind Ruth, who bore everything in silence, enduring for the sake of others—his image was so vivid it made her chest ache. At the same time, a murderous rage burned within her for the man who had tried to kill her son.

He was her child. Precious beyond all the treasures in the world, worth more than this entire country. A boy so dear and pitiable, loved all the more because he had never known a peaceful home or complete love. And yet, Lyman had tried to kill him. He had hired the infamous Crimson Scorpions, known for their brutality, to end her son’s life and even planned to kill Ail, who had gone to save him.

She would never forgive Lyman. Never. She would make him pay, even if it cost her life.

—

Time passed in a languid haze. In the indistinct flow of space and time, Ruth sat silently by Ail’s side, unmoving like a doll, waiting for him to wake. Six days had passed since Ail had been injured. During that time, Ail woke briefly twice a day, managing only to swallow a bit of thin porridge before falling asleep again. Even then, he never let go of Ruth’s hand.

When he opened his eyes, he looked for Ruth, and Ruth never left his side, unwilling to miss even a single moment when Ail might wake.

The physicians had recommended plenty of rest, mixing sedatives into his medication. Thanks to this, proper care, and his youth and natural resilience, Ail’s wounds were healing quickly despite the harsh winter. The injured muscles and bones were mending rapidly, and the prognosis was that he would soon be able to move without much difficulty.

Ail’s waking periods were growing longer, allowing Ruth to spend more time looking into his beautiful golden eyes. This gave Ruth a sense of stability, knowing Ail was recovering. Though Ail still couldn’t move, it seemed likely he would be able to get out of bed and take a light walk in a day or two.

As Ruth gently stroked Ail’s hair, he heard the sound of the door opening. Recognizing that his awaited visitor had arrived, he turned his head.

“Is he here?” Ruth asked, lowering the hand that had been brushing Ail’s hair and turning to face the person entering the room.

“Yes, he’s just entered Rengetti,” the boy replied.

“I see… I should go meet him,” Ruth said.

“Are you really going to meet him?” the boy asked.

Ruth rose from his seat and walked toward the boy. Standing face to face, the boy barely reached Ruth’s chest. Looking down at him, Ruth spoke calmly.

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

“I only told them that he hasn’t yet entered Rengetti,” the boy assured him.

“Well done,” Ruth said, a faint smile crossing his face as he ruffled the boy’s hair.

“How old are you?” Ruth asked.

“Thirteen,” the boy replied.

“I see…”

When Ruth first met Ail, he had been the same age as this boy—thirteen. Now that he thought about it, the boy reminded him a great deal of Ail. Not in appearance, but in demeanor. Ail at thirteen had been just as clever, composed, and full of confidence as this boy was. Perhaps that was why he felt a sudden pang of nostalgia. And why this boy felt so familiar to him.

“Go on ahead and wait outside the estate. I’ll come out shortly,” Ruth said.

“Yes, sir,” the boy replied, bowing his head slightly before leaving the room.

As Ruth watched the boy’s retreating figure disappear, he turned back to Ail and approached him once more. Taking Ail’s hand in his own, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll return soon… I promise.”