The morning light crept through the Valestria estate like a trespasser, pale and uninvited. The scent of steel and candle smoke still lingered from the night before — remnants of both study and survival.
Countess Eunha Valestria sat at her writing desk, quill poised but unmoving. The folder from the archives lay open beside her, its words still burning into her mind:
> Testimony provided by: Sir Jiheon Ardent.
Her pulse had steadied, but her thoughts hadn't. The knight she had begun to trust — perhaps even depend on — had once sworn to protect her… before betraying her to the pyre.
But he didn't remember.
And that was both a curse and an opportunity.
Mirae entered, carrying the morning tea. "Milady, you haven't slept."
"Sleep is for the untroubled."
The maid hesitated. "Sir Ardent waits in the training yard. He said he wishes to… speak with you privately."
Eunha arched a brow. "A knight seeking a private audience with his lady? The scandal writes itself."
Still, she rose. She couldn't afford avoidance — not now, not when his loyalty was her shield and his memory her ticking bomb.
---
⚜️
The training yard smelled of iron and morning dew. Jiheon was there, bare-armed, sword flashing under the dawn's glow. His movements were precise, but there was an undercurrent — a hesitation between swings.
When he saw her, he stopped and bowed. "Countess."
"You seem troubled, Sir Ardent," Eunha said lightly. "Has someone offended your honor, or are you merely punishing the air again?"
His lips twitched — almost a smile. "I was thinking."
"Dangerous habit for a soldier."
"Sometimes necessary," he said. "Especially when the past refuses to stay buried."
Eunha's expression didn't falter, but inside, her heart paused. "Go on."
He wiped sweat from his brow, eyes dark. "I keep seeing things. Memories that shouldn't exist. Battles I don't recall fighting. Faces I've never met."
"Faces?"
"One in particular." He met her gaze. "Yours."
Eunha's pulse quickened. "Mine?"
"Yes. You looked… different. Dressed in white. There was fire behind you. And I—" His voice broke slightly. "I was holding a sword."
Silence cut between them like glass.
Eunha stepped closer, every word measured. "And what did you do with that sword, Sir Ardent?"
He hesitated, struggling to breathe. "I— I don't know. I woke before I could see."
Eunha's hand brushed his shoulder, soft and deliberate. "Then let that dream die. You are not a man defined by ghosts."
"But it feels too real."
"Then perhaps," she whispered, "you're meant to face it with me."
He looked at her, something shifting in his eyes — confusion, trust, desire. "With you?"
"Who better?" she said with a faint smile. "You protect me, don't you?"
"Always."
"Then protect me from your past too."
The words were silk, but underneath them was strategy. If he ever remembered the truth, it would destroy them both — unless she tied his loyalty to her first.
She turned away before her expression could betray her. "Now, come inside. The prince arrives at noon."
---
⚜️
By midday, the palace envoy arrived bearing the royal seal. Prince Seojin entered the grand hall in a flood of gold and arrogance.
"Countess Valestria," he greeted smoothly. "The empire sings again of your heroics in the archives. A shame about the assassin — but it seems you've retained your flair for theatrics."
Eunha bowed gracefully. "I only play the roles your court assigns me, Your Highness."
He laughed, a sound too charming to be sincere. "Then let's cast you in another. The Council will soon vote on the succession act. I want your endorsement — publicly."
Her eyes flickered. "You have my respect, Highness. But an endorsement is currency I spend rarely."
"Then consider this a lucrative investment."
He stepped closer, his tone lowering. "You've already defied half the court by returning. Align with me, and I'll make sure no one ever questions your… resurrection."
Behind him, Jiheon's posture tensed.
Eunha tilted her head. "And if I decline?"
"Then I might have to remember inconvenient details about your past life," Seojin said softly. "You wouldn't want the empire reminded of that trial, would you?"
Her lips parted in a smile that could cut glass. "Careful, Your Highness. Threats from a prince only sound impressive when whispered in the right ear. Otherwise, they sound like desperation."
For a brief second, the mask slipped — his eyes hardened, sharp and cold. Then he laughed again, backing away. "You haven't changed. I admire that. Even if it will kill you again."
When he left, the hall felt colder.
Jiheon spoke quietly. "You shouldn't provoke him."
"I provoke truth," she said. "If it can't survive mockery, it's not worth fearing."
"You risk everything."
"I already lost everything once, Sir Ardent. What's left to lose?"
He said nothing — because in her eyes, he saw the same haunted defiance he'd seen in his dreams.
---
⚜️
That night, Eunha stood on the balcony overlooking the city. The wind tugged at her hair; the scent of lilac and rain lingered in the air.
Jiheon appeared silently at her side.
"I dismissed the guards," he said. "You shouldn't be alone."
"Alone?" she murmured. "That's the only thing I've ever been sure of."
He hesitated, then spoke. "If I did something to you in the past… if I hurt you somehow… tell me."
Eunha turned to him, her expression unreadable. "You did nothing wrong."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes," she lied. "In every way that matters."
He looked at her for a long moment — as if searching for something he couldn't name. Then he bowed slightly. "Then I'll keep protecting you. Until you no longer need me."
"Careful," she said softly. "Men who promise that tend not to live long."
"I'll take my chances."
And when he left, Eunha whispered into the night,
"You already did once."
---
⚜️
Far away, in the palace observatory, Prince Seojin poured wine into two cups. Across from him stood Captain Daejun Kareth — Jiheon's commanding officer.
"The knight grows attached," Seojin said. "To the Countess, no less. That cannot continue."
Daejun's eyes narrowed. "You want him removed?"
"Not yet," the prince said. "Just… reminded where his loyalties lie. If he remembers the truth before she bends him to her will, he'll turn the blade on her again — just like before."
Daejun smirked. "And if he doesn't?"
"Then I'll make sure he does," Seojin said, raising his glass. "After all, history deserves consistency."
They drank — to treachery, to memory, to the second act of a tragedy being written anew.