I still cannot forget her piercing blue eyes.

The silver hair that grazed her pale white shoulders.

The small, delicate hands resting on her slender thighs.

To be honest, recounting these small details feels meaningless because I remember everything about her.

When did I fall in love? Was it the moment we first met? Or perhaps when the king told me her name: Mirian?

One thing is certain: even after learning that she was the queen, my feelings did not waver. Not even when the king subtly hinted that marrying the princess would be my reward.

It was far from a rational decision. Even if I had harbored feelings, she was someone I should have quickly forgotten and moved past.

Yet my heart refused to change. For so long, it remained gentle, then gradually burned brighter and more fiercely.

It was only then I realized—love is not a concept that can be defined by logic.

“Your Majesty, the hero has arrived.”

“…”

“Your Majesty.”

“…”

“Your Majesty?”

“…”

“It seems His Majesty has stepped out momentarily. Would you prefer to wait inside?”

When no response came after several attempts, the maid pointed to the door with a courteous gesture.

But I was reluctant to enter the king’s chambers before he arrived, and I politely expressed my refusal.

“No, I will wait here until His Majesty returns. It would be disrespectful for a guest to enter an unoccupied house without the host’s presence.”

“It’s alright. His Majesty specifically instructed us to allow this. If anything, he would feel more uncomfortable seeing you waiting outside.”

“In that case, I’ll wait in the antechamber.”

“The antechamber is currently undergoing renovations, so it may not be convenient to use. Please don’t feel burdened and wait inside instead.”

With such persistence, refusing further was no longer an option. Reluctantly, I stepped toward the room, and as if on cue, the maids closed the door behind me and spoke.

“We will be outside. Please call us if you need anything.”

“...”

I doubt that will happen.

The moment I was left alone in the room, I began wandering aimlessly, searching for any trace of someone’s presence. Whether the maids understood my feelings or not, they shut the door firmly and left.

Silence settled in. Yet, it didn’t feel silent at all to me.

In the past three years as both a hero and a detective, I had never once been left alone in complete quiet.

As if to prove this point, countless traces in the room began screaming for my attention. A mere glance at each object made their stories flash before my eyes like a kaleidoscope.

“…Sigh.”

Curiosity, after all, is just another form of desire. Like an itch that drives a person to madness if left unscratched.

Unable to overcome that obsession, I let out a sigh and approached the traces. My first stop was the desk where the king likely conducted his work.

There lay piles of documents and two stiff chairs. Standing before them, I muttered to myself like a madman trying not to lose his sanity.

“One chair for himself, and another for guests. The material… wood from the elven forest?”

The material was high-quality, but the difference between the two chairs was barely noticeable. It likely reflected the king’s unpretentious personality.

Considering his background—rising to the throne from a commoner’s status—it made sense.

Or perhaps it was a deliberate choice to mask his authoritative nature, focusing only on outward appearances.

If I were to rely on intuition rather than evidence, I’d lean toward the latter. The king was a man deeply attached to power and possession.

That’s why he was highly sensitive about how he was perceived. Evidence of this hung on the walls of the study: trophies he had claimed during his days as a hero.

“The fang of the great lion Hetroii.”

Beside it, a branch from the World Tree in the Forest of Hern.

“The hood of Mordo, the last necromancer.”

Next to it, the crystal orb of Nerian, the Witch of a Thousand Miles.

“The venomous fang of the Hydra, chewed a thousand times.”

And next to it…

Step by step, tracing the remnants of the king’s past, I stopped in a corner of the room.

There stood a shabby chair, devoid of history or magic.

Of course, it wasn’t a trophy. It was placed there for practical use, for someone who didn’t visit often but came by occasionally.

That chair was where I first met her.

“…Ah.”

Just facing it brought memories of that moment flooding back—her fragrance brushing past my nose, the humidity in the air, the laughter of the maids—all of it.

Cursed intellect had denied me the blessing of forgetfulness, and so, even the events of three years ago felt as vivid as if they were happening now.

Perhaps ordinary people aren’t so tethered to the past. Maybe that’s why they can casually claim that love fades, as if it were common sense.

“…Haha…”

I chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed by my envy of normalcy. It was unbecoming of a hero, so I pushed aside the negative feelings and refocused on what I was doing.

“The width is 35 cm. The height, 80 cm. The backrest is half the length.”

Smaller than expected. But judging by the cushion’s size, the user must have been slightly larger.

If someone rested their arms on the armrests, their wrists would dangle off the edge.

“…”

For a brief moment, I instinctively reached to stroke the armrest. Suppressing the strange urge, I shifted my focus to the cushion.

“Silk with cotton stuffing for the cushion. In contrast, the chair itself is made from plain oak.”

That disparity must have come from the difference between her personality and the king’s. She likely brought a simple chair from somewhere in the palace, indifferent to appearances, while the king couldn’t tolerate such plainness and added an elegant cushion.

It’s not hard to understand. That chair is far too unremarkable for someone like her—a trophy in her own right.

“…A trophy.”

I quietly repeated the word. If I were her, I’d have bitten down on it until my mouth filled with blood.

Then, when I said earlier that I wanted her, how would she have felt?

No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t guess. Unless she answered herself, I would never know.

As the thought crossed my mind, I stood in front of the chair. Facing the ghost of her presence, I softly opened my lips.

“Mirian.”

…

As expected, there was no answer. The chair, where the witch once sat, offered nothing but the dust of passing time.

Instead, a response came from the silence beyond the door.

“Excuse me, Hero.”

“Ah.”

Startled by the sudden voice of a maid, I turned my head. At that moment, the door opened, and someone stepped inside.

But it wasn’t the king. It was someone smaller, more delicate, and infinitely more devastating to me.

As she entered, she greeted me with an awkward smile.

“Hello, Alpheus.”

“Princess.”

“Sorry, did I scare you?”

Caught off guard by her unexpected appearance, I clamped my mouth shut. She glanced at me standing by the chair and asked nonchalantly.

“What were you doing? Exploring?”

“I was looking for a place to sit and wait.”

“Oh, I see. You could’ve just used the guest chair by the desk. Didn’t you know?”

“No, I didn’t. By the way, I heard His Majesty was coming.”

“He’s not. Because I lied.”

With a sly smile, the princess casually confessed the truth. As I struggled to react, the door shut with a resounding thud.

“Father’s busy entertaining guests. Thanks to you, the most famous figures from across the kingdom have all gathered here.”

“So that’s why the room was empty. I was wondering why His Majesty summoned me only to be absent.”

“He does want to talk to you, but I told him to just leave you alone. He’d just ramble on about useless things anyway.”

“Then, may I ask why you called for me, Princess?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Her answer was exactly what I expected. She turned to face me, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Then, without warning, she leapt into my arms. The sudden weight nearly sent me stumbling backward.

“…Ugh.”

“What’s this? You’re so weak, Alpheus. Are you tired?”

“It’s more that you’ve grown a little heavier, Princess.”

“That’s treason! Do you want to be locked in my room for the rest of your life?”

“I meant that you seem much healthier after your travels. It suits you far better, Princess.”

“Your flattery is so alive, as always. But I love even that about you.”

She casually muttered those words and leaned in for a kiss. When I turned my lips away, she pouted in frustration.

“What’s this? You could at least kiss me now. There’s no one around anyway.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean I can act carelessly toward you, Princess.”

“Ugh, you’re so strict with me. You were so eager to help every passing old woman on our journey, but you draw the line with me. Is it because I’m a princess?”

“The Princess is far too grand a person to be held by just one man like me.”

“Then was my mother not important enough for you to give her up when she asked?”

For a brief moment, her voice carried a chill. But she quickly smiled, as though it were a joke, and buried her face into my chest.

“I’m kidding, you idiot. Don’t make such a scary face.”

“I didn’t realize my expression was like that. It seems my face stiffened from the tension.”

“And your tone is way too formal. You weren’t like this during our journey. There were even times you called me by name.”

“That was to avoid revealing your identity, Princess.”

“So was your face turning red every time you looked at me part of that plan too?”

“…”

“Even now, you’re awfully dedicated to that plan.”

I had nothing to say and kept my mouth shut. No matter what I said, it would only come across as an excuse.

This is why the Princess is the most dangerous person to me—perhaps even more than she is to herself.

As if interpreting my silence positively, she swayed her hips in delight, clearly pleased.

“Your face gives away everything you’re thinking. That’s what I like about you—you’re so honest, unlike that sage or the elf.”

“If that pleases you, Princess, I’m glad to hear it.”

“Especially that elf… No matter how close a friend they are, I really can’t stand them.”

“Please don’t be too harsh. They’re kind-hearted deep down.”

“That’s hard to believe. Oh, speaking of which, what was that earlier? Was it just a joke?”

Her guard against Seha, the elf, flared up again, but then she abruptly shifted to asking about the events at the party.

This time, I couldn’t afford to hesitate—it would only deepen her misunderstandings.

So I answered right away.

“It was nothing, Princess. Please don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying. I’m just annoyed at that elf’s attitude.”

“They’re just naturally playful.”

“Playful, sure. They’ve teased me plenty. Teased you even more. But they wouldn’t act like that in front of the king.”

“Perhaps they were overwhelmed by the novelty of visiting a human kingdom for the first time.”

“Or maybe they were trying to protect you. They’re oddly devoted to you, aren’t they?”

“Princess, I…”

“If not, maybe they should be arrested for treason. Conspiring to overthrow the kingdom and repeatedly insulting the princess during the journey—sounds about right, doesn’t it?”

“…”

“But that would be too harsh, wouldn’t it?”

The Princess slowly pulled herself out of my arms. Tilting her head slightly, she looked at me with an expression that had hardened into seriousness.

“Tell me. If there’s some hidden intention behind this, what is it?”

“Princess…”

“Or, you could just say that elf forced you into everything.”

“But…”

“Alpheus”

Her voice turned cold again, sharper than before. This time, though, there wasn’t a trace of her usual playful smile. Her piercing gaze pinned me in place.

“Do you think I’m joking right now?”