After the tragic event, a week passed.
While Elizabeth slept, the nightmare returned — vivid, lucid, cruel.
The same incident repeated itself again and again.
Cold sweat soaked her body.
She heard the screams of burning souls, their cries clawing at her ears.
She tried to move, but her body wouldn't respond — as if countless dead hands were gripping her limbs, dragging her down into the ashes.
Elizabeth jolted awake in horror.
Yet the voices did not fade.
Struggling to breathe, she crawled toward the corner of her room, her movements desperate and broken.
She hugged herself tightly, trembling, rocking back and forth.
"Please forgive me… please forgive me…"
Her voice cracked as she whispered again and again,
"I shouldn't have done that… I shouldn't have done that…"
She kept slapping herself the entire night.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Like a mad person trying to wake from a nightmare that refused to end.
By the time the sun rose, her hands were trembling, her cheeks swollen and red, her eyes empty — yet wide open, staring at nothing.
When morning came,Queen Eirene arrived with breakfast.
She pushed open the door, carrying the tray, ready to wake her daughter.
The smell of fresh bread and tea filled the room — a cruel reminder of normal life.
And then she saw her.
Elizabeth sat there in that broken state.
For a moment, Eirene froze.
Then horror struck her all at once.
"Elizabeth—!"
The tray slipped from her hands, dishes shattering against the floor as she rushed forward.
She wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her close, her voice shaking with sorrow.
"Elizabeth… Elizabeth…"
Her heart clenched as she held her trembling child, unable to understand how a single night could destroy someone so completely.
The daughter who was once brave and full of life…
was now nothing more than an empty vessel.
Queen Eirene felt her heart ache so violently it was as if the weight of the entire world had crushed it. For a moment, she nearly broke.
But she forced herself to stay strong.
She gently held Elizabeth's face in her trembling hands.
"My child… look at me… please look at me…"
Outside the room, hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The door opened.
The king rushed in.
Not as a ruler.
But as a father.
The moment he saw his wife desperately trying to bring their daughter back from whatever darkness had swallowed her… something inside him shattered — the last fragile piece of strength he had left.
Before he could step closer, another voice broke the moment.
"Your Majesty!"
A knight entered hurriedly, kneeling.
"The Captain of the Red Tiger Knights has arrived," he said, breathless.
The king stood still.
His eyes remained on his wife and daughter — broken, fragile, drowning in silence.
After a few seconds, he turned away.
"Tell him to wait," he said quietly. "I will be there in a minute."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The knight bowed and left.
The room grew silent again.
The king glanced at Elizabeth one more time.
His voice was low. Heavy.
"…I'm sorry. For everything."
Then the king walked away.
Not like a king walking to meet his commander —
but like a father walking away from a battlefield he had already lost.
Behind him, the room remained silent.
Elizabeth's whispers continued — soft, broken, endless.