The sisters made their way out of the castle and into the heart of the maze garden. At its center stood a small, elegant pavilion—soft curtains stirring in the breeze, a round table beneath it, and a neatly prepared tea stand waiting as though it had anticipated their arrival.
They took their seats opposite one another. Princess Diamond calmly poured the tea, her movements practiced and graceful.
"Thank you," Clover said quietly as she accepted her cup.
Diamond sat back, her gaze steady and expectant.
"So," she said. "Tell me."
Unnoticed by either of them, Vetra slipped into the maze's winding hedges, concealing himself just well enough to listen without being seen.
Clover drew in a slow breath.
"It was Jericho's twelfth birthday," she began. "Father forced me to attend with him. You couldn't go because of your private lessons… so I was chosen instead, since I 'stayed indoors too much.'" She smiled faintly. "At least, that was Father's excuse."
Diamond listened silently as Clover continued.
"The celebration was crowded. Overwhelming. I felt like I couldn't breathe." Clover wrapped her fingers around her cup. "So I went out onto a balcony for some air. That's when I saw a boy wearing a gray hood, sneaking out of the castle with a huge sack over his shoulder."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"I panicked at first. I thought the castle was under attack. But when I watched more carefully… I saw there was no danger, and my fear turned into curiosity. So I followed him."
Diamond's interest sharpened.
"He went to an orphanage in the capital," Clover said. "The sack was filled with food and drinks—taken straight from the castle. He laughed with the children, ate with them, played with them… and he looked so genuinely happy."
She paused, smiling softly at the memory.
"I left before he noticed me and returned through the same secret passage. Not long after, I saw him heading back toward the castle. I thought he was being greedy—coming back for more when what he'd already taken was enough. I got angry and decided to stop him."
Clover hesitated.
"I followed him into a room and when I entered, I—I—"
"Yes?" Diamond leaned forward. "You what?"
"I saw him completely naked, okay?!"
Diamond gasped, nearly spilling her tea.
"Tio! You pervert!"
"It wasn't my fault!" Clover protested. "He was changing! But I didn't even care—I thought he was stealing clothes this time. All I could think about was how kind King Richard was, and how cruel it would be to steal from someone like him."
She shook her head, embarrassed even now.
"I burst in and tried to stop him. He was mortified and kept asking what I was doing there, but I turned it around on him—trying to grab the clothes out of his hands. He kept trying to explain, but I wouldn't listen."
Then her expression softened.
"That's when there was a knock on the door. A maid called out, 'Prince Jericho, are you all right? His Majesty says you should come down soon—the guests are ready.'"
Diamond's eyes widened.
"When I tried to call out to her," Clover continued, "he covered my mouth and answered instead, telling her he'd be right down. When she left, he snatched his trousers back and finally got my attention."
She laughed quietly.
"He apologized—laughed, actually—and said I'd misunderstood everything. He told me I must be a very kind person to care that much."
Clover looked down, her cheeks faintly warm.
"No one had ever called me kind… or interesting… or funny before. I didn't know how to react."
Jericho, she explained, showed her a portrait—himself, King Richard, and a younger Prince Jace. Only then did the truth sink in.
"I was mortified," Clover admitted. "I apologized so many times I lost count. But he just kept smiling."
As it past, They talked—about the world, about responsibility, about dreams, and goals.
"He told me he left his own birthday celebration because the orphanage felt more real. Because the children were happy to celebrate him, not the power attached to his name. He said he hated pretending—but as a prince, he belonged to the people. And if they ever strayed too far… he'd guide them back."
Her voice grew quiet.
"I had never heard words like that before. Especially not from a child."
Clover smiled, distant and warm.
"We were interrupted again, of course, she returned to call on him again, we had to cut our conversation short. When I returned to the hall, I saw Father laughing with King Richard—really laughing. Then Jericho came down, and…" She pressed a hand to her chest. "My heart skipped. I didn't understand the feeling—but I didn't mind it."
She chuckled softly.
"Everyone surrounded him, throwing themselves at him. I didn't like that… but seeing how uncomfortable he was made me feel better. He wasn't like that with me. Not even when I accidentally saw him naked."
Diamond stared at her, speechless.
"That day," Clover finished, "was the only time I can say I was truly happy. And I never wanted it to end."
Silence settled between them.
"Oh, Tio…" Diamond whispered.
"When I heard he died," Clover continued, her voice trembling, "I broke. I buried myself in my work—everything we talked about that day. Changing the world. Making it kinder. Every breakthrough felt like I was making him proud."
She laughed softly.
"And now that I know he's alive… I was so relieved. So happy. I wanted to scream." She glanced up at her sister. "I suppose I couldn't fool you."
Diamond stood, crossed the space between them, and wrapped Clover in a tight embrace.
"It sounds like love to me," she said gently. "And I'm so glad to see you smile again."
Clover stiffened slightly.
"I—I don't think it's love," she insisted. "It's respect. Admiration. Not—"
"Keep denying it, little sister," Diamond teased with a laugh as she returned to her seat.
They continued talking, the afternoon passing softly between shared laughter and warmth.
Behind the hedges, Vetra stood rigid, his hands clenched.
Every word he'd heard burned into him.
"There's no way I'll let them meet," he muttered. "I'll protect Clover—even if I have to stop that disgraceful prince myself."
With that, he turned and disappeared back into the castle, hatred sharpening his resolve.
⸻
A full week had passed before the delegation finally set out for the Unified Nation of Warmark.
King Gustavious entrusted the affairs of Righteous to his prime minister, Duke Monza Will Hidenham, leaving him behind to govern in his stead. The journey itself was anything but modest.
Accompanying the king were his Royal Guard, the Holy Knights, and the newly formed Elite SoulBound Knights—a name personally chosen by Princess Erica, much to Jericho's quiet dismay. His own suggestions had been mercilessly laughed out of existence, adding yet another tally to his long and tragic history of poor naming sense.
The size of the escort was not originally part of the king's plan. Gustavious had intended to travel with only his Royal Guard, but his daughter—now both princess and knight commander—had firmly insisted otherwise. In the end, he relented.
Present among the delegation was Princess Erica Von Righteous herself, attending not as a commander, but as royalty. She wore an elegant blue dress, tastefully adorned with fine jewelry and light makeup. The contrast between her regal appearance and the warrior she truly was drew more than a few admiring glances from the knights—though none dared linger too long.
Beside her stood Sir William Grey, Vice Commander of the Holy Knights, dressed in a sharply tailored black suit that fit him perfectly. His posture was relaxed but dignified, the bearing of a man accustomed to both ceremony and battle.
Lady Alice Will Hidenham followed closely, radiant in a graceful dress and jewelry of her own, her expression calm and observant as ever.
And then there was Jericho.
Jericho Von Menssai—the First Prince of the Dynasty, co-founder of the Elite SoulBound Knights—was dressed in formal attire for the first time since his return. A pristine white suit tailored to perfection, complemented by a long crimson cape draped over his left shoulder.
He hated it.
Even during his years in Menssai, he had never grown accustomed to ceremonial clothing. It felt restrictive, foreign—like a reminder of a life he had lost and only recently reclaimed.
Yet uncomfortable as he was, the effect was undeniable.
Erica found it increasingly difficult not to glance in his direction. Each time she did, warmth crept up her neck and into her cheeks, forcing her to quickly look away and pretend interest in something else entirely. Same with Alice, and a few of the female knights in the squad.
The procession consisted of four royal carriages, each crafted with the finest workmanship.
Two were self-moving carriages—marvels of enchanted engineering created by the Golden Mind, Princess Clover of Warmark—while the remaining two were drawn by horses.
The first carriage carried members of the Royal Guard, with several others riding alongside on horseback.
The second, a self-moving carriage, was reserved for King Gustavious himself, accompanied by Princess Erica and Jericho.
The third self-moving carriage carried Sir William, Lady Alice, and a small number of high-ranking Holy Knights.
The final carriage held the gifts prepared for King Leohart of Warmark, heavily guarded by the remaining Holy Knights and Elite SoulBound Knights riding in formation.
As the convoy rolled forward, banners fluttering in the wind, Jericho gazed out from the carriage window, his expression unreadable.
Warmark lay ahead.
And with it—fate, old sins, and a reunion that would shake the world.
⸻
"Wow… the roads are so smooth. This is incredibly comfortable," Jericho said in open awe, his face pressed slightly toward the carriage window. "Things really changed this much in just four years? After a massive war, no less… this is amazing."
His excitement was genuine, almost childlike. Watching him, Erica couldn't help but smile.
"As much as I hate to admit it," she said, her eye twitching faintly, "Princess Clover was the biggest contributor to Warmark's rapid recovery. And the rapid recovery of the entire Human Continent."
"Princess Clover, huh…" Jericho murmured, a soft smile forming.
{"It's been so long… I wonder how much she's grown. Would she even remember me?"}
The thought made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.
"Jericho?" Erica asked, noticing his expression. "Are you alright?"
"Uh—y-yeah. I'm fine." He hesitated, then tilted his head slightly. "Hey… do you have a problem with Princess Clover? You always sound a little… off whenever you talk about her. Even when you're praising her."
A loud, amused laugh came from the seat behind them.
"I see you still haven't gotten over your little spat with Warmark's second princess, my dear," King Gustavious said warmly.
Jericho turned slowly toward Erica, his eyes practically begging for an explanation.
"…Sigh. Fine," she relented. "I'll tell you."
She crossed her arms, clearly reliving an old grievance.
"It was my first visit to Warmark. I was twelve, and I believe Clover was eleven. Princess Diamond and I were playing, pretending to be knights—rescuing a princess while our fathers held their meeting."
Her eye twitched again.
"Then we saw Princess Clover walking past. Diamond got excited and ran over to her. I followed and invited her to play with us."
A pause.
"I insisted she join."
Jericho could already sense where this was going.
"She refused," Erica continued, teeth clenched. "And not politely. She said—very calmly—that playing pretend would not benefit her in the slightest, and that she only uses her valuable energy on things that would meaningfully benefit herself and the world."
Jericho bit the inside of his cheek. King Gustavious failed to hold back a chuckle.
"And it didn't stop there," Erica went on darkly. "She walked away… then stopped. Turned back. Looked me directly in the eyes."
Her voice sharpened.
"She said she wasn't interested in girls—and even if she were, it wouldn't be someone like me, who only knew how to daydream and lacked long-term goals that could help the world."
Silence.
"Oh no…" Jericho thought, forcing a nervous smile.
{"That's Princess Clover, alright."}
"WHAT DID SHE EXPECT FROM ME?!" Erica suddenly exploded. "I WAS TWELVE! NOT EVERYONE WAS A SUPER GENIUS AT THAT AGE! AND I WASN'T EVEN INTO GIRLS EITHER— STILL NOT—GRAAAHH!"
——
Her shout echoed loudly enough that nearby knights turned their heads toward the carriage.
"Sounds like the commander is at it again," Alice said lightly from the next carriage.
"I'd bet anything Jericho caused it," William sighed. "Honestly, with those two, I feel more like a babysitter than a knight."
Laughter rippled through their carriage.
——
"Easy, Erica," Jericho said gently. "You're one of the strongest knights in the world now. You've helped change it for the better."
She exhaled slowly.
"That's the thing," she admitted. "Her words didn't truly upset me. They… resonated. I chose this path because of them. Becoming a Holy Knight was brutal—hellish, even—but I kept those words in my heart. They pushed me forward."
Jericho smiled, pride clear in his eyes.
"And succeed you did," King Gustavious said with satisfaction.
"Says the man who gave me the hardest time of all," Erica replied tiredly.
"And in doing so," he continued calmly, "I watched you grow stronger than I ever imagined. You didn't just prove me wrong—you showed everyone that this kingdom will be safe in capable hands. I have always been proud of you."
Erica smiled softly.
"Thank you, Father."
Watching them, Jericho felt his chest tighten. Memories of his own father—laughing, guiding, standing beside him—rose unbidden.
His eyes stung.
He turned away and discreetly wiped the tears before anyone could notice.
Just then, a series of distressed screams erupted from the front carriage.