Suddenly, Dila's voice broke the silence, sharp and brittle.
"Now… let go of me!" she shouted.
Albedo's hands instantly released her, his body frozen, yet the sadness in his eyes couldn't be hidden. He watched her step away—not like a daughter leaving her father, but like something precious slipping from between his fingers.
As if he'd just lost her all over again.
Dila glared at him, though her expression trembled faintly. "Don't forget… old hag… our duel. This afternoon. Be prepared."
Her words cut harsher than any blade.
Without waiting for his answer, she turned sharply, walking out of the lobby room, her footsteps echoing like heavy stones dropping one after another.
Fran hesitated—her ears drooping, eyes wide—then rushed after Dila.
Behind them, the king didn't speak.
Didn't move.
He only sat there, silently watching the doorway where his daughter had vanished, like a man left standing alone in the ruins of a home that once felt alive for a moment.
