His words were so affectionate that Ophelia almost blurted out everything to the boy.
The truth that she was not the princess raised with only love like he knew and that Mahanas and Dareth viewed her as merely costly livestock to sell off.
But if she did, Haslen would surely break off the engagement and find a worthier girl, so Ophelia could not let the words rising in her throat escape.
There were set words she could only say.
"Go back. I don't want you to see my face today."
And Ophelia couldn't help but let out a small sob. Her face had never fully dried in the first place.
Haslen did not say anything further to her. When she finally heard the retreating footsteps and the surroundings fell silent, Ophelia thought he had left.
It was for the best that he didn't see her unsightly state, but the thought of being left alone made her feel unbearably cold and sorrowful. After hastily wiping her face, she turned to look back.
But standing there, where she had expected emptiness, was the boy. Ophelia's eyes widened to see Haslen slightly turned away, his back to her.
Realizing she had turned around, Haslen said in a small voice,
"I thought it might be alright if I didn't see your face by doing this."
At those words, Ophelia broke down crying. Though Haslen tensed upon hearing her sobs, he did not turn around.
Managing to glimpse her bedraggled face, Ophelia asked,
"Why did you come back early?"
The boy hesitated before replying,
"Your birthday is coming up soon, Your Highness."
Indeed, her birthday was at the end of the seventh month.
"...You didn't have to do that."
"But I wanted to."
It was a simple statement, but the affection imbued in it sounded so pleasant to Ophelia that she could not say anything more, not wanting to dispel it uselessly.
Even without her response, Haslen continued softly,
"Actually, I didn't expect to be able to see you today. You hadn't promised to meet me in advance, and I also heard you weren't feeling well..."
Hearing that, Ophelia thought to herself, It would have been better if we didn't meet. Strangely, the words did not come out of her mouth.
As she continued to remain silent, the boy cleared his throat slightly.
"So, I just came to the rear courtyard you showed me before, and unbelievably, you were here."
"..."
"May I turn around? I have something to give you."
She should have said no. She should have told him not to and to go back.
But unable to find her voice at all, Ophelia missed her chance to respond, and the boy slowly turned around.
Seeing his widening emerald eyes, Ophelia took a step back, further covering her face with the shawl.
"Don't look. It's unsightly..."
But this time, Haslen did not let her flee. Striding up to her, he asked in a trembling voice,
"Who did this to you?"
Ophelia felt the boy's fingertips touch her cheek.
Haslen gently removed the shawl draped over her face with careful hands. Her bruised face, not faded at all, was fully exposed.
In that moment, Ophelia realized she could no longer deceive the boy. Seized by fear, she stammered,
"Will you now break off our engagement?"
The terror of losing him overwhelmed her. Having seen her in such an unsightly state, it seemed Haslen would surely seek out someone better than her.
Haslen looked at her as if unsure what to say. To Ophelia, his silence felt like years.
The anxiety grew heavier with each passing silence, until finally when the boy opened his mouth, she braced herself for the worst unknowingly.
But Haslen's words once again defied her expectations.
"No."
The boy spoke in a small but very firm voice.
"I will marry you, Your Highness."
And he gently stroked her cheek. When his slender fingers brushed over the injured area, Ophelia could not help but wince despite his tenderness.
"Have you applied any medicine?"
"...Yes."
Though it had likely washed away with her tears, Ophelia did not add that part.
After wiping her damp eyes for a moment, Haslen asked,
"Won't you tell me who did this?"
"..."
"I don't mean to interrogate you, Your Highness. But you are severely injured, and I feel... distressed."
Haslen could not finish that sentence, as she ended up embracing him through her sobs.
The boy seemed embarrassed, but hugged her without saying anything.
That day, Ophelia held him and cried for a long time. The fact that there was someone who cared about her wounds made the corners of her eyes constantly sting.
Haslen waited long enough for her to cry, but he didn't forget the point either.
Ophelia eventually had no choice but to tell him the truth.
“Brother said that.”
She was still right to be afraid that Haslen would leave, but she could no longer keep her feelings inside.
Mahanas had pushed her to the point where it was unbearable, and Ophelia now really wanted to be comforted by someone.
Once she started to reveal the truth, it came out one after another.
“It’s not the first time. My brother has been like that for a long time...”
And Ophelia realized that she had been deceiving him all along by agreeing with them. She apologized.
"Sorry. I am not a princess who grew up receiving only love like you think.”
Even after that, Ophelia vividly remembered the fear she had at that moment. Haslen said he wouldn't do that, but she was so scared that the engagement might be broken off.
However, the boy who always exceeded her expectations put an end to her anxiety with just one sentence.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t even know the princess was going through something like this.”
What a sweet boy he was.
As if by fate, Ophelia was certain that no one in the world could give her the same feelings.
Just as there is nothing that can replace spring, so was it.
* * *
That day, the boy gave her a ring with a dark blue gem. He said he bought it because it reminded him of her while he was abroad with his father.
After fiddling with her hand with the ring on it for a moment, the boy spoke in a low voice.
"Someday I will put a far grander ring on your finger, under the osmanthus tree."
Those words were tantamount to declaring he would marry her. In Reden, there was a custom where on their wedding day, the groom slips a ring onto the bride's finger under an osmanthus tree.
Ophelia even remembered the faint blush on the boy's face as he spoke those words. She had etched it deep into the recesses of her heart, so desperate to believe him.
However, the boy's words never came to fruition.
Ophelia vividly recalled how their story ended.
A few years later, when she turned twenty-one, Haslen Rackmata was executed. Her cruel brother had him put to death on the charge of assault against royalty - for brushing against her when shielding her from his slap to her cheek.
The Rackmatas had tried to help their heir but were in dire financial straits from successive business failures around that time, so their efforts were futile.
Not a single person they had previously aided surfaced to help. Ophelia could not understand it.
The Rackmatas had assisted countless people. They sheltered orphans and paupers neglected by the state, and unhesitatingly blocked the king and prince whenever they tried raising taxes for their indulgences - acts other nobles dared not due to fear of their cruelty.
Yet when truly cornered, everyone turned their backs on her and Haslen.
Having nothing but her own body, Ophelia begged before her brother's palace. She kneeled, prostrated herself, pleas pouring like a lowliest servant with her head to the ground.
Rain and morning dew drenched her body. Even as her soaked form crumpled, she did not budge an inch. Her frozen, numbed limbs may as well have been ice, but she did not so much as twitch.
Stepping on her head, Mahanas mocked her:
"A wretch begging for another wretch."
Though Haslen had never been anything of the sort, and it was her brother closer to an insect,
Ophelia did not retort.
If she could only save Haslen, she was willing to endure anything - to wallow in filth if told, to enter a beast's pen if commanded.
But her patience proved worthless.
That day, Ophelia realized there were weights even to begging.
The knees of a penniless princess held no value at all.
In the end, Haslen was executed - on the first sunny day after the long rains that had persisted around that time.
To catch even his last glimpse, the battered Ophelia climbed to the palace watchtower. The execution grounds were faintly visible in the distance.
When the head of the youth who had once promised her vows under the osmanthus tree rolled, Ophelia sank to the floor. She wailed his name like a madwoman.
But the tower was too high for her screams to reach down below - just as her attempts to save him had been fruitless, her anguished cries died that way too.
Huddled on the cold stone, Ophelia watched clearly as the city folk hurled rocks at her betrothed's severed head on the spike. Her vision was blurred from burst blood vessels, yet she did not miss a single moment, scorching every detail into her eyes.
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