Lossa approached Bijonne, bleeding on the ground.
“You said you didn’t want regrets. You wanted to be happy. Why did you do this?”
She’d vowed not to die, to live happily—yet she’d ended her life.
Recalling her past life vividly, Lossa wailed in anguish.
She was gone, and the barrier was broken.
The four, bound as its core and pillars, could no longer exist as will.
With Inayari and the monsters freed, only the barrier’s accumulated power remained, built through the four houses’ blood. Had it lasted longer, it might have eradicated them.
Lossa chose to use that power.
Sharing one will for eons, she held Sian, Zaivan, and Rou’s memories. They were four, yet one.
The odds were slim, but it was worth trying. Their will would soon fade.
Lossa turned back time.
“Are you happy?”
Lossa asked Bijonne, who carried Jia’s memories.
Her gamble succeeded. Time rewound to when Bijonne was eleven—Jia, meeting Torong, who was Lossa.
“I’m happy.”
The girl who’d wept for happiness was gone. Bijonne’s face radiated joy.
Thank goodness.
“May you live long and happy in this life, my…”
Lossa smiled at Bijonne.
The barrier’s power was spent. Soon, the remaining Inayari would cross into the world.
But Lossa wasn’t worried. During the time reversal, the barrier’s power had destroyed him and most monsters. Only a few stragglers remains, no longer a threat to her happiness.
It was time to fade away.
Act 3: First Love
“I wish I didn’t have a name.”
“What?”
Startled by the sudden voice, Isnal looked up from his book. A boy with shimmering silver hair and the golden eyes of the royal family gazed out the window, his face etched with melancholy.
“Len, slow down!”
“Hurry, Mother!”
Outside, a beautiful woman strolled hand-in-hand with a boy who seemed to be her son.
He was born a few months before His Highness, wasn’t he?
The boy, laughing brightly, was the son of a concubine, born slightly earlier than the Crown Prince.
“Your Highness?”
Isnal cautiously called to Sys, who was fixated on the mother and son. Sys slowly turned, his face a mask of restrained sorrow despite the faint smile.
“A name no one can even call is worse than none at all.”
His expression looked ready to crumble into tears, starkly contrasting the carefree joy of the young prince outside.
“Your Highness…”
“Even my closest friend can’t call me by my name. I’d rather it just be ‘Your Highness.’”
Isnal fumbled for words, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.
Few could call the Crown Prince by his name—only his parents, the Emperor and Empress. But Sys had lost his mother, the Empress, shortly after birth. Now, only the Emperor could use his name, yet he never did, treating Sys more as Crown Prince than son.
Seeing Isnal’s hesitant gaze, Sys let out a wry chuckle, his face shifting to playful mischief as if the sadness had never been there.
“Tch, you’re no fun to tease with that blank reaction.”
“Your Highness…”
Despite Sys’s impish grin, Isnal couldn’t shake his concern.
Isnal’s mother, Countess Lionel, was Sys’s nursemaid. He and Sys had been inseparable since birth, closer than blood brothers. Isnal knew Sys’s heart, no matter how brightly he smiled.
“Don’t call me so tenderly. It’s not exactly thrilling coming from a guy like you.”
“There is.”
“What?”
Sys, about to resume reading, looked up, puzzled by Isnal’s cryptic words.
“Someone who can call you by your name.”
“Ha, if you mean Father…”
“No, not His Majesty.”
Sys’s bored expression turned to surprise as he stared at Isnal, who met his golden eyes with earnest conviction.
“The Crown Princess can call you by your name.”
“Crown Princess?”
“Yes.”
The Crown Princess, Sys’s future spouse, was the only one besides the Emperor and Empress permitted to use his name.
“Bee… Bee… Bee…”
Sys murmured the word, lost in thought. His lips curved into a gentle smile, growing brighter with each repetition.
“You’re right. Bee could call my name.”
A faint flush colored his cheeks, excitement sparking in his eyes.
Burdened by the weight of his title, Sys had always suppressed his emotions. Now, for the first time, his face came alive.
“Even my nickname?”
His golden eyes sparkled like stars as he looked at Isnal.
“Of course,” Isnal replied.
Sys’s face bloomed like a flower in full spring. His gaze drifted to the air, dreamy and soft.
Sys.
Had he longed for it so much? A sweet, gentle voice seemed to echo in his mind. His lips moved slowly.
“My Bee.”
“Nel!”
Isnal, sweating in the training yard, paused his sword practice at the sound of his name. Turning, he saw Sys charging toward him, silver hair flying, his face alight with urgency.
“Pant, pant—my Bee’s been chosen!”
Sys shouted, breathless and flushed. Isnal, wiping sweat with the back of his hand, raised his sword to resume training.
“I heard,” he said flatly.
“Then why no reaction!” Sys snapped, puffing out his cheeks in frustration.
Isnal kept swinging his sword, ignoring Sys’s glare.
“Training’s not done.”
“Training’s more important right now?”
Isnal’s sword stilled again. Sys stood with arms crossed, glaring. In their usual spats, Isnal always lost. With a sigh, he lowered his sword.
“Talk of your Crown Princess never ends quickly.”
Sys often rambled about who his Bee might be.
What kind of person will she be?
Will she like me?
When will we meet?
