"Sometimes the darkness opens beneath our feet—and someone holds us back."
Crack.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the quiet street.
Medea walked swiftly, her pace relentless.
She knew she should wait for Neril to return from her brief errand, but she couldn't bear remaining in his presence a moment longer.
Simply sharing the same ground, the same sky, the same air—it felt like being strangled.
"Ha... ha... ha..."
Medea clutched at her chest.
I can't believe I'm meeting Jason here.
The first time he'd appeared in Valdina as part of the delegation should have been at the welcoming banquet.
Why has he already entered the royal grounds?
She'd momentarily lost her composure due to an encounter that had come far earlier than anticipated.
"Excuse me, might I know the lady's name?"
When she'd seen Jason again, Medea had to fight not to crush that young, vibrant face beneath her hands.
She'd restrained her writhing fingers so fiercely that tears had sprung to her eyes unbidden.
Scars are carved deep in memory. Medea forgot nothing.
I will return to you every wound etched into my blood.
Loving Jason had been a mistake—a stain upon her entire existence.
A mark from nightmares that branded her like a stigma, something she'd gladly carve from her flesh even if it meant cutting to the bone.
But what about the children?
Medea's body stiffened at the question rising within her.
Those children... my children are not a stain.
They had been the only breath, the only reason that kept her alive.
If she destroyed Jason in this life, she would never see those children again.
Medea stumbled without realizing it.
It was as though she stood at a cliff's edge—paralyzed, unable to take a single step forward.
Her pale hand wandered desperately, seeking something to lean upon, but found nothing and grasped only the fabric of her own garments.
Veins stood out starkly on the back of her hand, drained of color.
"Lian. Leah. Your wretched mother is abandoning you again."
"Mother, I don't want to go to the imperial palace. Can't I stay with you?"
"Mother, don't worry. Just wait a little while—I'll come get you."
Lian had always been brave and courageous. Medea had pushed that small, precious thing forward with her own hands and sent him away.
That little face kept turning back to see her even as he departed.
Those tiny hands wiping away tears while waving brightly to ease his mother's worry.
I will never see him again.
"Mama, don't cry. Leah will hug you. Is it because you miss brother?"
Chubby hands wiping away tears. The faint scent of milk still lingering while held in those small arms.
Anxiety and worry in young eyes watching their mother.
After losing her son, Medea had descended into madness—she'd never been a proper mother to Leah afterward.
"No! I don't want to go! I'll stay with Mama!"
The child had been hysterical, clinging desperately.
She'd wrapped her small arms around Medea's waist, trying not to be torn away. And Medea had forcibly removed her and handed her to Birna.
The last thing she'd seen was that wet, tear-stained face.
I will never see my children again.
A realization she'd unconsciously avoided since her return struck Medea with full force.
Perhaps she'd delayed confronting it precisely because she knew it would shake her like this.
"If I destroy Jason in this life, not even a trace of you will remain. Yet this wretched mother cannot abandon revenge."
You will blame me for eternity.
She felt as though she could hear the silent screams of her children.
Her vision swam. The ground seemed to give way beneath her feet.
Everything went dark. What lay at the bottom of that abyss?
If Lian and Leah are waiting for me down there, crying, then I...
Just as she was about to collapse completely, a strong hand caught her waist.
"Breathe."
A low voice commanded.
"Slowly. You need to take a breath."
I don't know how. How do I inhale? How have I been breathing all this time?
Medea couldn't remember a single thing.
Can't I just stay like this? It's comfortable in the dark—I don't have to think about anything.
"Now."
That calm voice insisted.
*Tap. Tap.*
Medea became aware of a gentle rhythm—someone tapping against her wrist.
*Tap. Tap. Tap.*
The pattern was slow, deliberate.
"Can you hear it?"
"One..."
The word emerged poorly between ragged breaths. The other hand patted her back as if praising her effort.
*Tap.*
"Two..."
*Tap. Tap.*
"Three... four..."
In the pale darkness, Medea concentrated solely on counting.
The arm holding her waist firmly was the only anchor she could grasp.
The counting voice gradually slowed to match her recovering rhythm.
"Well done."
She finally returned to herself when she heard that low voice above her head—gentle as a benediction.
When Medea opened her eyes again, she found herself in an unfamiliar place.
An alluring scent drifted to her nose. Smooth cream-colored sheets brushed softly against her cheek.
This isn't the Princess's palace.
She sat upright immediately.
A moment later, the room's opulent interior came into focus. Nothing about the carefully placed decorations was ordinary.
As if sensing her consciousness, a man wearing a white half-mask emerged from behind cream-colored curtains.
"You're awake."
"Why am I here...?"
"I erased all traces. The Princess of Valdina seems fond of taking risks, but if I were you, I'd exercise more caution."
A cup was held out before her.
She habitually checked its contents—only clear water.
The cold liquid sharpened her senses. His words brought back her final memory.
The moment she'd encountered Jason and been driven toward the abyss, strong hands had caught her as she collapsed.
Was it this man who brought me here after I fainted?
"Princess, isn't it rather premature to lower your guard?"
Medea bit her lip at the pointed observation. She'd thought she'd completely shed all traces of her past life.
How overconfident I've been.
If her identity had been revealed to the delegation in that condition, the consequences would have been dire.
But why isn't he asking about what happened?
Wary green eyes studied Cesare.
The man seemed entirely out of place amid this splendor reminiscent of a palace—yet paradoxically, he blended in seamlessly.
"Forgive me, but I'm not leisurely enough to follow you around indefinitely either."
His voice relaxed as he acknowledged the boundary.
"I sent word. Your maid should arrive shortly."
"I've shown you weakness."
One corner of the man's mouth lifted slightly.
"I'm saddened. Haven't we been allies ever since the Princess tended my wounds?"
"That didn't mean I intended to help you while making enemies of the Katzen Imperial Family."
Cesare's eyes flashed as if searching.
This Princess even recognized in that brief time that the assassination at the Count's estate originated from the imperial family.
"So the Princess of Valdina, who had no intention of opposing Katzen, came all this way to greet imperial visitors in advance?"
Cesare's long fingers traced a line across the table, then positioned a cup at the edge.
"Ally or enemy. For me, there are primarily these two categories. Katzen's delegation is here now."
Suddenly, he pushed the cup.
*Crash.*
It shattered cleanly, almost silently.
"Princess, don't you think our objectives differ?"
"...The debt will be repaid later."
Medea stood instead of answering.
She recovered and composed herself with surprising swiftness—as though refusing to reveal any further vulnerabilities to her opponent.
"As you wish."
He shrugged, following that slender retreating figure with leisurely steps.
*Creak.*
The door closed.
Soon, only the faint crackling of wood burning in the fireplace could be heard.
Dusk's darkness crept into the white mansion.
"Cesare, I've brought your medicine."
"Leave it there."
Terence set the steaming glass on the table, then studied Cesare.
Standing by the window, those golden eyes gazed outward as though contemplating something distant.
"Regardless of circumstances, you shouldn't have brought her to this mansion. What if the Princess discovered your true identity?"
"Has the Princess ever met Jason before?"
Cesare posed an odd question, as though he hadn't registered Terence's words at all.
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