Roger sat frozen, staring at the girl whose form shimmered and shifted before his eyes. Where a young maid had stood moments ago, there now appeared a figure he had long consigned to memory, a face he thought he would never see again.

Golden-blonde hair tumbled down to her slender waist, catching the light as if spun from the sun itself. Scarlet eyes—so achingly familiar—looked back at him, wide and nervous, yet carrying the same warmth he had once known. For a moment his breath stopped, his heart stumbling painfully in his chest.

Not because of her beauty.

But because of the face that collided with his memory—the one etched deep within him.

The hair brushing broad shoulders. The same sunset-colored eyes, once steady and kind. And above all, the smile that had guided him through boyhood.

"Roger?" A deep, calming voice seemed to echo from the hollow of his heart.

His eyes blurred as he staggered upright, clutching the armchair for balance. His lips trembled, his throat raw.

"B-Brother Soros..." The name fell from him like a prayer. His body shook as tears welled, years of grief unraveling in that single moment.

Beside him, Alys tensed. Fear flitted across her delicate face as Roger stepped forward, and instinctively, she reached for the nearest anchor. Her fingers clutched tightly at the fabric of Ocean’s sleeve, sliding closer until she was half-hidden behind him.

"Alys..." Roger choked, his voice cracking as if torn between two truths. "No... Brother Soros..."

Her grip only tightened, and she ducked further behind Ocean’s steady frame.

Ocean looked down briefly at her pale fingers, then laid his hand gently over hers. His expression was calm, voice measured, though his words cut through Roger’s trembling haze.

"Considering the childhood she endured," Ocean said evenly, "it’s no wonder Her Highness remains wary of the royal palace... and of the royal family, Your Majesty."

Roger stopped short, no more than two steps away, his face crumpling as though struck.

Ocean gave Alys’s hand the faintest pat, reassuring.

"He is your uncle, Your Highness," he continued, his tone softening, steady enough for her to lean on. "For years, he has been trying to shield you from the dangers within these walls, even while he himself was bound by them."

Roger’s breath caught sharply, guilt and yearning battling across his face.

The weight of the truth—or perhaps the half-truth—pressed into him, hollowing him out. He stood like a man undone, tears brimming but unfallen.

Ocean’s gaze shifted back to the King, his words sharp enough to carry weight.

"It was His Majesty," Ocean said, "who entrusted me with your protection four years ago."

Alys’s fingers clenched harder at that, her body taut with unease, though Ocean remained unmoved—an unshakable wall between her and the man unraveling before them.

They both knew the truth behind his words. Roger had gone to Ocean with a plea to keep Alys safe... but only after he learned Ocean already had her under his protection. Even so, the truth hardly softened the sight before them.

Roger looked like a man stripped of everything—head bowed, shoulders collapsed beneath invisible chains.

"I... I never thought I’d see you again," his voice wavered, raw with grief. "Alys... h-how are you? I—I’m sorry... I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect your father, or your mother... or even you." His voice broke entirely, and he fell to his knees, hands trembling as tears spilled down his lined face.

Alys peeked from behind Ocean’s arm, her scarlet eyes flickering between fear and pity. Ocean’s hand descended lightly on hers again, giving the smallest nod of reassurance.

Her throat tightened. Swallowing hard, she gathered her courage and took a step forward. Slowly, hesitantly, she crouched beside Roger, placing a tentative hand on his shaking shoulder. She said nothing—words deserted her—but she stayed. And Roger wept, his body shuddering with each broken sob.

Alex stood silently to the side, his gaze fixed on Ocean, as if anchoring himself by avoiding the rawness of the scene.

After a time, when the sobs dulled into quiet shivers, Alys felt her own fear ebb enough for her to act. She reached for Roger’s hand, small fingers curling around his calloused ones, and gently urged him back to his feet, guiding him to his chair.

Roger wiped at his face clumsily, still trembling, but when he looked up at her again, his lips curved into a wavering smile.

"You’ve grown... so much," he murmured, nostalgia softening his tone. "You look just like your father..."

His eyes darkened again, guilt rushing in. "And when I think of how much you suffered because of my failures—how I left you to that pain—" His words dissolved, and he buried his face in his hand once more.

Alys’s own eyes misted, but she reached out, laying her hand gently on his shoulder.

"I... I’m fine now," she whispered, voice trembling but steady enough to carry. "I suffered a lot when I was young. Always running from the ones who wanted me dead... always afraid to sleep... always trying to remember my parents. But..." Her voice broke, her scarlet eyes glistening.

"But?" Roger coaxed gently, lowering his hand to look at her.

Her lips quivered. "I... I couldn’t remember them. Not their faces... not their voices..." The confession spilled out, raw and small, leaving her looking so fragile that Ocean’s presence behind her seemed even more absolute.

Roger’s eyes softened with unspeakable sorrow, yet a tender smile touched his lips.

"Then come," he said, his tone quivering with hope. "We still have their portrait here. I’ll take you—right away!"

He pushed himself upright too quickly, only for his body to betray him. The blood drained from his face as he swayed, his knees threatening to buckle.

"Your Majesty!" Alys gasped, clutching his hand in alarm, while Ocean stepped forward at once, steadying him firmly by the other arm.

Roger gripped his head with a wince, breath hissing through clenched teeth. Ocean’s voice cut through the silence, calm yet edged with finality.

"I suppose I’ll have to tell you now."

Roger lifted his head, eyes narrowed. "Tell me what?"

"The tea you’ve been drinking..." Ocean’s gaze flicked to the porcelain cup, then back to the King. "It’s brewed from the leaves of the Grileri plant."

For a heartbeat, Roger blinked in confusion—then his face drained of color. "Grileri...? But isn’t that used to—" He stopped mid-sentence, realization slamming into him. His eyes widened, voice trembling. "Wait—you said Grileri?"

Ocean nodded, expression unchanging. "Yes. Grileri. Not Gileri."

The distinction was knife-sharp. One herb was medicine, famed for easing pain and strengthening the mind. The other—near identical in appearance—was a poison that dulled the nerves, twisted the body into dependency, and slowly rotted the mind. The only way to tell them apart was by scent: Gileri carried a faint spiced aroma, while Grileri’s sweetness lured the unwary.

Roger’s face flushed red, his temples pounding as his fury erupted. "How dare they—how dare they poison me so blatantly! In my palace!" His roar rattled the chamber.

Ocean remained steady, even placing a hand on Roger’s shoulder to ground him. "Your Majesty, please. Don’t let rage worsen the poison’s hold. I’ve studied this before—I can treat you. I can ensure the side effects don’t cripple you further."

Together, Ocean and Alys guided him back into his chair, though the King’s body still trembled with anger and pain.

Roger’s breath came ragged. "Treat me? You don’t understand... I’ve been drinking this tea for months. My body craves it now. Even when I try to stop, I—" He gripped his head again, groaning as the headache lanced through his skull. "...I can’t."

Ocean leaned closer, his tone as calm as ever, though his violet gaze sharpened. "There is a way, Your Majesty. But before I act... I need your word on something."

Roger’s bleary eyes lifted, narrowing again as suspicion flickered beneath his exhaustion. "...You want to make a deal out of this?"

The words carried a sharp bite, but Ocean remained unfazed. His lips curved in the faintest smile, his tone soft yet immovable.

"Not a deal. A promise. And it’s not even my request." He shifted slightly, gesturing toward the girl standing beside him. "It’s hers."

Roger’s gaze followed Ocean’s hand, falling on Alys. His anger faltered, the steel in his eyes softening in an instant as he looked at her—at the scarlet eyes so much like Soros’s, at the trembling hands clutching her skirt. The rage drained from his face, replaced by a fragile tenderness.

"What is it? Do you want to be the Crown Princess?" Roger’s voice trembled, desperation bleeding through every word. "I’ll even make you the Queen if you ask, Alys."

Alys’s eyes widened, and she shook her head violently. "I don’t want it!" Her voice cracked with raw emotion. "I... I don’t want to be part of it—any of it!"

Her lips quivered, but she forced herself to breathe, remembering Ocean’s steadying presence beside her. She had to say it clearly, had to open the path Ocean needed.

Her hands clenched at her skirt as she inhaled deeply, then raised her scarlet gaze to Roger’s tear-streaked face.

"I’ve been running for so long," she whispered, her voice trembling yet strong, "running for my life because of this place... because of the throne. I hate it." Her fists tightened. "I hate the bloodshed done in its name. I don’t want to be dragged into it. I... finally found a place where I belong, with a man who loves me. I’m happy. I don’t want to go back to that nightmare again. Please..." her voice broke, her head lowering, "don’t make me return here... or I’ll end up killed like my parents."

The chamber was silent, Roger’s uneven breathing the only sound. His jaw locked, eyes blazing as though he wanted to smash the world itself for the truth she uttered. For a long moment he sat frozen, fury etched into his features—then he exhaled sharply through his mouth. His body slackened, some of that violent tension draining from him.

"...All right," he said at last, voice low but firm. "I won’t force you. If you wish no part in the throne’s struggle, I will not drag you into it."

But his eyes snapped open again, sharp as steel.

"However—" his voice cut like a blade, "—what did you mean just now? That you will be killed like your parents if you returned here?" He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Do you know who did it? Do you know who was behind their deaths?"

Alys’s lips parted, but no words came. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard, the weight of his question pressing on her chest. Slowly, almost instinctively, her eyes shifted—toward the man standing beside her.

Ocean.

The faintest curl of a smile touched his lips as their gazes met. The stage was set exactly as he had intended.

Ocean could have chosen to withhold the truth, to save it for another time when the board was more in his favor. But this—this was the perfect opening. A single card placed now could serve him far more than a full hand revealed later. And if played well, it would ensure that Roger and Katherine would never stand as allies again.