Kingston held Roseline quietly as the soft morning sunlight spilled across the room in golden streams.
A while earlier, one of the palace guards had knocked on the chamber doors, forcing Kingston to leave briefly. He had returned only minutes later without explanation, and Roseline had not questioned him. If he wished to tell her, he would.
Besides, ever since the wedding, the palace had been unusually gentle with them. Their honeymoon phase granted them rare privacy, and no one dared interrupt unless the matter was truly important.
Roseline exhaled softly against his chest.
With Kingston beside her, she finally felt something she had not experienced in years.
Safe.
Cared for.
Protected.
If he had not been with her through all of this… she truly did not know how she would have endured it.
Her tears soaked lightly into his robe, but Kingston never once complained. He simply held her closer and let her cry.
Years of loneliness.
Years of believing she belonged to no one.
Years of forcing herself not to hope too much—
All of it had shattered within a single morning.
And somehow, the most unbelievable part of all was this:
The terrifying king feared across kingdoms…
Was her brother.
Kingston gently stroked her hair.
"He really loves you very much."
Roseline tightened her hold on him slightly before whispering,
"…Then why didn't he tell me?"
Kingston sighed softly.
"Because Louis carries guilt."
Roseline slowly pulled back, her eyes still wet with tears.
"Guilt for what?"
"For what happened to your family," Kingston answered carefully. "For losing you. For not finding you sooner."
Her brows furrowed weakly.
"What happened to my family?"
The question lingered heavily between them.
Kingston hesitated.
Some wounds were too deep to explain carelessly.
Especially not now.
Especially not when the truth belonged to Louis.
"Louis should be the one to tell you," he said gently.
Roseline looked disappointed, though she nodded in understanding.
Kingston brushed another tear from her cheek before a faint smile crossed his face.
"Although…"
She blinked. "What?"
"He's actually worse than you think."
Roseline frowned in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
Kingston let out a dramatic sigh.
"Do you know he almost crushed my ribs last night?"
Her eyes widened instantly.
"What?!"
"He hugged me."
"That sounds normal."
Kingston stared at her in disbelief.
"No, Rose. That was not a normal hug."
Roseline looked at him suspiciously while he lowered his voice as though sharing a dangerous secret.
"I saw my ancestors."
A startled laugh escaped her before she could stop herself.
Kingston pointed accusingly toward the invisible direction of Louis' chambers.
"That man threatened my entire bloodline while smiling calmly."
Roseline covered her mouth, trying—and failing—not to laugh harder.
"He wouldn't do that."
"He absolutely would."
"You're exaggerating."
Kingston looked deeply offended.
"Rose, he literally said he would bury me alive if I ever hurt you."
The laughter slowly faded from her face.
Not because she was frightened.
But because she realized something important.
Louis truly cared.
Every warning.
Every silent stare.
Every protective action.
Even now, even from a distance, he was still watching over her.
A painful warmth spread quietly through her chest.
Kingston noticed the shift in her expression immediately.
"You miss him already."
Roseline looked away at once.
"I do not."
"You do."
"I barely know him."
"Mhm."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"Immensely."
Roseline huffed softly and turned away again.
But Kingston was right.
Her chest felt strangely empty knowing Louis had already left.
And the worst part?
She never even saw his face properly.
The thought suddenly made her pause.
"…Kingston."
"Hm?"
"Why does he wear a mask?"
Kingston blinked once before exhaling quietly.
"That…" his expression became complicated, "…is another story Louis should tell you himself."
Roseline frowned immediately.
"Everything is 'Louis should tell you himself.'"
"Because it's his life, Rose."
She fell silent again.
Kingston gently intertwined their fingers.
"He'll come back."
Roseline looked at him uncertainly.
"How do you know?"
A knowing smile appeared on Kingston's face.
"Because five minutes away from you and he's already probably miserable."
What Kingston did not tell her was the reason he had stepped outside earlier that morning.
A letter bird had arrived.
From Louis.
The king had asked only two things:
Had Roseline been told the truth?
And how was she handling it?
Kingston had replied on Roseline's behalf.
He told Louis that his sister had cried.
That she looked heartbroken after learning he had left without saying goodbye.
That she had been quietly sad ever since.
Kingston could already imagine the chaos those words would cause.
Good, he thought mischievously.
How dare he threaten me yesterday? Let him suffer a little too.
Far away—
Inside a massive black carriage crossing the borders of Armathia Kingdom—
Louis suddenly sneezed.
Across from him, Lucas Vale slowly lowered the document in his hands.
"…Someone is definitely talking about you."
Louis looked irritated already.
"I'm in a terrible mood."
Lucas nearly laughed.
"You've been in a terrible mood since dawn."
Louis' expression darkened further.
"Why was she crying?"
Lucas blinked.
"My king?"
"She cried," Louis muttered. "Kingston said she cried. He said she was disappointed I left without saying goodbye."
Lucas stared at him for a moment before finally realizing the truth.
King Louis was genuinely distressed.
The same man who terrified nations looked deeply troubled because his younger sister had cried over him.
Lucas sighed helplessly.
"Well… learning you suddenly have family after believing you were alone your entire life would naturally be emotional."
Louis looked out the carriage window quietly.
"…Did she hate me?"
Lucas nearly smacked his forehead.
"No."
"The letter said she looked shocked and sad."
"Because she was shocked and sad."
Louis became quieter.
His silver eyes lowered slightly.
"…I should've stayed."
Lucas almost smiled.
"You wanted to."
"I did."
"Then why leave?"
Louis clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Because I panicked."
Silence.
Then—
Lucas stared at him.
"You panicked?"
Louis glared coldly.
"She looked at me strangely."
Lucas nearly burst into laughter.
"She looked at everyone strangely yesterday. It was her wedding."
Louis ignored him completely.
"I practiced what to say for three nights."
Lucas froze.
"…You practiced?"
The moment Louis realized what he had admitted, it was already too late.
A dangerous silence settled inside the carriage.
Then slowly—
Lucas' shoulders began shaking violently.
"Oh no…"
Louis narrowed his eyes.
"Lucas."
"You practiced meeting your sister?"
"Lucas."
"You actually rehearsed it?"
"I will throw you out of this carriage."
But Lucas had already lost control.
Laughter filled the carriage completely.
"I cannot believe this," he wheezed. "The great King Louis standing before a mirror practicing introductions—"
"You're dead."
"What exactly did you rehearse?" Lucas continued shamelessly. "'Hello, dear sister whom I accidentally lost years ago'?"
For the briefest moment, Louis' cold composure cracked from embarrassment.
And that alone made Lucas laugh even harder.
"You're unbelievable," Lucas said between breaths.
Louis looked seconds away from murder.
Eventually, Lucas calmed enough to lean back again.
"But she won't reject you."
Louis went silent once more.
Then quietly—
"No."
Lucas smiled faintly.
"There's your answer."
Louis rested against the carriage seat slowly.
For the first time since leaving the palace, some of the tension left his shoulders.
Still…
His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon.
Quietly, almost thoughtfully, he murmured,
"…She said I looked lonely."
Lucas blinked softly.
Roseline noticed that?
Louis looked away again.
"No one has ever said that before."
The carriage fell silent afterward.
And somewhere far behind them—
Inside the royal palace—
Roseline sat beside the balcony once more, staring quietly at the morning sky.
Thinking about silver eyes.
Thinking about a masked king.
Thinking about the brother she never knew she had.
Then softly—
Almost unconsciously—
A small smile touched her lips.
"…He really is strange."