~Chapter 115~
Bella drew attention wherever she went.
Anyone could see she was a noble, yet she walked alone without a single attendant—swinging her arms casually. No one could help but notice her path.
“So she went that way?”
Armians looked toward where the witness pointed.
It was a mountain at the far western edge of the capital district, the border between the capital and the western autonomous territory.
The terrain was harsh and few people passed through, so Bella’s trail was easy to find.
Following the traces up the slope, he reached a cave. From the circumstances, she was likely inside.
“It looks pretty dark.”
A local told him the cave was very narrow and no animals lived there.
In other words, storming in with a squad of knights would do nothing but frighten Bella.
Armians decided to go in alone.
“Lantern?”
“Here, sir.”
He took the lantern from a knight—
“Th—the cave is collapsing!”
With a thunderous roar, the cave shook. Bella was inside. The entrance was buried under a pile of rocks.
“—!”
[We were nothing to each other.]
He hadn’t even corrected those words yet. He hadn’t even had the chance to push out whatever had taken hold of Bella’s body—now the way to her had vanished.
“Is this our end…?”
No, it couldn’t be.
Armians set down the lantern and drew his sword. He slid the blade into the gaps between the rocks—but then the stones moved again.
“Your Grace!”
“Step back—!”
Those running over, thinking it was a second collapse, stopped awkwardly.
This time, it wasn’t the cave falling; the rocks already piled there were sliding to either side.
Through the passage that opened, someone stepped out.
“…”
No words.
But from the gaze they shared, from the shy smile, he knew.
“Bella!”
He knew this was the Bella he knew.
“I’ve come back, my lord.”
“Welcome home, Bella.”
Armians pulled her into his arms.
I returned to the mansion in Armians’s embrace.
My legs had gone weak; I could hardly walk on my own. The aftereffect of using magic the moment my memories returned was heavy.
But at least, I no longer had to pay any price for using magic—no burdens to carry from now on.
Many people were gathered at the Grand Duke’s residence. Of course—they’d been worried after the master left suddenly and now returned.
My eyes met the maid standing at the front.
“My lady…?”
“Marina.”
The moment I said her name, her face crumpled. She tried to hold back tears, but failed—drops trembled at the corners of her eyes.
“You… you remember me!”
“Of course.”
After all the time we’ve known each other.
I smiled—then paused. The people standing behind her looked… odd.
“Why those faces—”
“She’s back!”
Huh?
“My lady has returned!”
Halter threw his arm high and shouted. The booming voice drew everyone’s attention so hard my ears burned.
Other retainers chimed in:
“One less worry now.”
“At last, we won’t have to face our porcupine-lord—feels like a dream!”
What on earth?
I glanced at Armians. He turned his head away, refusing to answer. His neck looked a little red—apparently something about that bothered him.
“Since this is a day for the history books, shall we declare today as My Lady’s Day?”
“Well said! I always thought we needed such a day!”
Stop.
“I’ll run away from home.”
With that one line, I prevented the creation of a bizarre holiday.
“I’ve felt so sluggish lately.”
I’d been dozing off more often.
“Won’t you eat a bit more?”
“I don’t know… I don’t have an appetite.”
Whatever I brought to my lips made my stomach roil.
“Maybe I’m just tired from everything lately.”
I brushed off the odd feeling. I was busy, and Richard—who had visited the east—said he’d return to the kingdom.
“When I came because the curse suddenly vanished…”
Richard did not speak at length.
“You’ve regained your memories too, it seems.”
Since many people already knew, I nodded.
Then Richard sat across from me. He was old and moved slowly, but since he could still walk on his own, the petrification curse truly must have lifted.
“Your magic…”
“I can’t use it anymore.”
I didn’t remember every detail in the cave, but I understood the gist.
“Don’t you regret it?”
A mage unable to use magic—it was like having a part of your body go missing. It wouldn’t threaten life, but it would be inconvenient and frustrating.
“Of course it feels empty… but the relief is greater.”
Richard laughed heartily.
“We won’t be called a mage family anymore. But to gain one thing, you must set another down. I was already prepared for that.”
So it’s fine.
We can endure.
Richard meant it.
Even if the future wasn’t peaceful, he truly believed they could withstand it.
He was a descendant of a great mage and of Abelron, after all.
The capital regained its liveliness as if it had never been chaotic.
The imperial family repaired broken roads and homes, and granted compensation to families of those who died fighting the beasts.
Since Axxion’s assets were reclaimed into the national treasury, the imperial family had plenty of money—enough to bear such expenses.
Public sentiment calmed. All that remained was to fill the vacancies in the imperial knight order.
Once things settled, Isabel summoned Armians to the palace.
“Sit.”
He sat where she indicated, quietly studying her complexion.
He’d already heard from Beril what happened when the last crack vanished: Isabel was the first to be thrown out, and palace people took her away.
For about a week afterward she hadn’t regained consciousness, and Armians had been too busy caring for Bella—who had lost her memories—to check on the palace.
In other words, it had been a fortnight since he last entered the palace or saw Isabel.
Seeing her again…
“She doesn’t look unwell.”
In fact, she looked better than ever.
Just then, the chief lady-in-waiting, Lil, came in and set tea before them. Armians reached for his cup without thinking—then paused.
The tea in Isabel’s cup was a different color than his—and a faintly bitter scent rose from hers.
“That is…”
“I’ve been drinking it—they say it’s good for the body.”
Isabel smiled, the expression as bitter as the tea’s aroma.
“Isn’t it funny? When Axxion was alive, I thought it would be better to die sooner, if only to stop him…”
She sighed and finished the cup.
“But only after he died did I feel I should live even one day longer—for his sake.”
[Please… come to me late.]
She hadn’t known those last words of Axxion’s—his tear-streaked farewell—would chain her heart.
“But this position inevitably leads to overwork. No matter how many tonics I drink, without removing the root cause, I won’t truly get better.”
“What do you mean…?”
“I’m going to abdicate.”
Armians’ eyes widened.
“Your Majesty!”
“Why so shocked? You must have expected it. Isn’t it ridiculous for me—who was essentially the cause of this incident—to remain on the throne?”
“But—”
“It’s already decided.”
Isabel rose slowly.
“So don’t argue.”
The moment their eyes met, he understood.
Her abdication wasn’t a command—it was a request.
Let her spend her final days not as an emperor, but as the woman who loved Axxion.
Armians could say no more.
True to her word, Isabel brought up abdication at the next council meeting.
Everyone already knew her health was poor. Many had guessed she would pass the throne to her half-brother and retire.
After a few formal objections, Isabel removed the imperial crown.
It seemed she had planned abdication long ago; despite the complex procedures, everything concluded quickly.
Armians’s coronation was set for a week later.
But Isabel chose to leave the capital without seeing it.
She had been a kind sovereign to those beneath her; most came to see her off.
Those who would accompany her directly were few—Lil, the chief lady-in-waiting, and a small number of senior maids. Most remained to serve the next emperor.
“Why are you out in the cold?”
“Your Majesty is out as well.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
Isabel took each sorrowful hand in turn.
“I’ll be sure to visit the south before the year ends.”
“Don’t. My home is small—not fit for guests.”
“If I come, I could make you mille-feuille.”
“…I’ll think about it.”
As Empress Emerita, Isabel decided to spend her remaining life in a mansion at the southernmost edge of the realm.
She had visited the area a few times during her engagement to Axxion, for convalescence, so the layout was familiar.
“Let’s go.”
Isabel climbed into the carriage and shut the door.
By habit, she took out the handkerchief in her breast. It was clean—no blood on it.
She looked down at her palms—flushed with color for once—and slowly clenched her fist.
Axxion.
Soon, the carriage began to move.
