The carriage leaving Silverstel raced south.
Inside, Lloyd smiled dreamily as he gazed out the window.
He was thinking about Yuliana and Denian, who were waiting for him at Vent Castle.
Things at Silverstel had gone well — positively, in fact.
Since Yuliana had never felt comfortable living at Vent Castle, she would surely be happy to move to Silverstel.
After all, she had once lived there as the lady of the house in her previous life. It would be familiar, even comforting.
Once he inherited the title of head of the Silverstel family, even Valdormer would not dare treat him lightly.
And unlike before, this time he already had a strong connection with the Emperor.
If he asked for it, the Emperor would surely lend his full support.
Now, all the preparations to make Yuliana truly his were complete.
In his previous life, she had left him only because of the child.
But now Denian was with her — there was no reason for her to reject him anymore.
Lloyd opened the small box he had been holding tightly in his hand.
Inside, a dazzling diamond ring — as white and pure as Silverstel's snowy plains — sparkled brightly.
By tomorrow, he would arrive at Vent Castle.
She was probably staying in the cottage he had built for her, together with Denian.
Proposing to her in front of that cottage didn't seem like a bad idea.
It was a place she liked.
Closing the ring box, Lloyd looked out the window again, a wide, excited smile spreading across his face.
Denian, exhausted from crying, had fallen fast asleep.
I sat beside him, staring blankly for a long time.
He was holding my hand even in his sleep, and looking at his tiny fingers gripping mine made my chest ache deeply.
'I should've been more careful.'
How could I have let my guard down near the river, not knowing what could wash up there?
Was I feeling at ease just because Kallian was with us?
'What was I even trusting?'
I sighed heavily and rubbed my face with one hand.
Denian had revealed both the fire spirit and dark spirit energy in front of Kallian.
It was a mixture — slightly different from the original power — but if Kallian had been in his right mind, he would have recognized it immediately.
Just like in the previous life, Denian's dark spirit power had awakened when he turned three.
The only fortunate thing was that, unlike the fire power that had appeared when he was a baby, this time he had enough awareness to learn control.
Through constant teaching and warnings, clever Denian had learned to hide his power fairly well.
But still, he was only three or four years old — it was impossible for him to control it completely.
From what happened earlier, it seemed that when he panicked or when his emotions surged, the power went out of control.
I had thought we'd managed to keep it hidden all this time…
Who could have imagined it would explode like that — right in front of Kallian.
I brushed my face with trembling hands and looked at Denian with sorrow.
'Even keeping his ability under control must have been a heavy burden for such a small child.'
And it was my fault for putting him in such a dangerous situation.
"I'm sorry, Denian. Mommy's sorry…" I whispered.
'I shouldn't have listened to Kallian.'
If his memory returned, he would see me as less than a stranger — so why had I trusted him, even a little?
Just because he was Denian's father?
I suddenly remembered the way Kallian had looked at Denian while staying in the cottage — how gently and fondly he had treated him.
That affection hadn't seemed fake.
But that was probably only because his memory wasn't intact.
'If he remembers who he is, and realizes that Denian inherited the power of Heister…'
'Would Kallian still look at him the same way?'
The image of Kallian from our previous life flashed in my mind — the way he had looked at his own son, cold and detached, as if Denian were an object.
Back then, I had denied it, but maybe some part of me — a mother's instinct — had already known.
Kallian had denied Denian's existence.
No — it was worse than denial.
That cold gleam in his indifferent eyes… I could never forget it.
It was the look of someone who wished the child would disappear.
'Yes. I have to keep him far away from Denian — as far as possible.'
If his memories returned, I would have to be ready to leave this place entirely.
For now, what mattered was getting Kallian out of here first.
He had said he would leave tomorrow anyway.
Though after what happened, his condition didn't seem good enough to travel…
I remembered the moment he had shielded Denian from the attacker, getting wounded in the process.
I forced the thought out of my mind.
'Whatever his condition is, I can't think about him now. I have to think about Denian first.'
Taking advantage of the time while Denian was still asleep, I headed for the cottage.
Yes — I told myself it was just to make sure he wasn't planning to stay because of his injury.
If he refused to leave, I would drive him out by force if I had to.
With that firm resolve, I entered the cottage — and froze.
Standing there was a man fully dressed in armor, gloves on, ready for battle.
Sunlight streaming through the window fell on his broad back, making him look larger and stronger than ever.
For a moment, I almost called his name.
"Kal…"
But I bit my lip hard and stopped myself.
Hearing the faint sound of my voice, he slowly turned around.
There was no trace of the gentle man who had once stayed here as a wounded guest.
It was the same man — and yet, everything about him felt different.
Even a simple change of clothes could make such a difference?
As I stared in confusion, he spoke softly, his back still to the window's light.
"I thought I might leave without seeing you."
The light behind him made his expression unreadable — only the faint glint of his damaged armor could be seen.
"Are you… leaving already?" I asked quietly.
"It's the day I promised," he said simply.
Then he stepped forward, out of the shadow.
I could finally see his face — and he was smiling faintly, bitterly.
I stared at that smile before blurting out, "Your wound…"
He smiled a little wider.
"It's fine. I remembered something more important than this wound — that's why I must leave right away."
His words puzzled me, and I looked at him in surprise.
Kallian continued, his tone quiet and regretful.
"I think I've regained part of my memory."
"…!"
My hands clenched tightly, and my whole body froze.
"You… remembered?"
But his gaze toward me was distant — cautious.
He was keeping a clear distance, as if drawing a line.
The Kallian who had fully remembered would have already grabbed my wrist and demanded answers.
But this one… was different.
Before I could think of what to say, he went on.
"Not everything is clear yet. But…"
He paused for a moment, staring out the window blankly.
"I know now that I was the one who started the war."
"…"
My palms were slick with sweat.
"I remember that I am of House Valdormer. So I plan to go there — to the Valdormer estate."
My heart pounded violently.
It felt like any second now, he might remember everything.
He looked back at me with a faint smile.
"I kept feeling a strange familiarity with you. I wondered if perhaps we had known each other before I lost my memory…"
I couldn't even open my mouth to respond.
He smiled gently, sunlight glancing off his face.
"I suppose… that was just wishful thinking."
He picked up his helmet, then walked toward me.
"After the war ends… may I come back here?"
I could feel his eyes fixed on me, unyielding — but I kept my gaze on the table, refusing to meet them.
"Forget everything that happened here," I said quietly.
He seemed to misunderstand, thinking I was ashamed of his background.
"I don't care if you're just a poor woman living in a small cottage, or a single mother," he said firmly. "None of that matters to me."
"It's not about that," I replied, my voice trembling slightly.
He didn't understand. He couldn't.
Because I knew exactly how he would look at me — and at Denian — once all his memories returned.
His words, so gentle now, only filled me with dread.
And then—
I felt another presence. I turned quickly toward the door.
Someone stood there, holding a bouquet.
Bathed in sunlight just outside the door stood a man with white hair gleaming like snow.
"Yuliana."
The sharp, cutting voice and the furious glare aimed at Kallian — belonged to none other than Lloyd.