It's Too Late for Regrets - Chapter 8.0

She dreamed of the past.

 

It was a dream of a day she remembered most clearly from her time living in the imperial palace of Jenaire.

 

She was about twelve at the time.

 

“You must be that ‘troublemaker’ of Jenaire, huh?”

 

“Uh…”

 

That day, Ines looked especially messy.

 

She was always a bit scruffy, but it was worse around then. The maids who usually looked after her were too busy to pay attention.

 

She overheard some people talking as they passed by—an important guest was coming to the palace. Apparently, it was a delegation from a powerful empire.

 

As always during big banquets at the palace, Ines had been told to hide in a small, shabby storage room.

 

Janine, one of the older maids, had warned her sternly not to be seen by any nobles. If she was, she could lose even the tiny room she’d been allowed to stay in.

 

But hiding like that was only possible for a day or two.

 

After lying in the cramped room for three whole days, her body started to ache.

 

She was hungry too. The bread and dried meat Janine had hurriedly left for her were already gone.

 

So, she had sneaked out. Her plan was to grab a few hard pieces of bread and go right back…

 

But she ran into a stranger in the back garden.

 

“You’re too small and gentle-looking to be called a troublemaker…”

 

A man crouched down in front of the startled, seated Ines.

 

Up close, his face was striking—not because he was handsome in a traditional way, but because he wore a mask.

 

A white mask decorated with topaz, ruby, emerald, and soft feathers.

 

‘So pretty…’

 

Without realizing, Ines reached out to touch the sparkling gems. But her hand was suddenly blocked.

 

Something long and black—like a stick of dark wood? No, on closer look, it was a sword sheath.

 

“How dare you touch that.”

 

A quiet but sharp voice snapped.

 

Ines slowly looked up.

 

There was another man.

 

He was also wearing a hood and a mask that covered half his face.

 

His mask was black.

 

It fit tightly over his forehead, nose bridge, and one side of his cheek. Diamonds were embedded around the eye, glittering coldly.

 

He looked young, maybe a boy—or maybe a fully grown man.

 

He was tall, tall enough that Ines had to crane her neck to look up at him. His shoulders and chest were broad.

 

For some reason, Ines thought the black mask suited him well. It felt dark and dangerous, yet beautiful.

 

But then his cold voice pulled her back to reality.

 

“Step back. You’re not someone who should casually touch—”

 

“Wait, brother.”

 

The one with the white mask interrupted the harsh voice.

 

Even though the full mask hid his face, something about his voice made her think he was smiling.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Ines.”

 

She answered clearly. He smiled and said it was a pretty name.

 

Encouraged, she asked shyly:

 

“What’s your name, the one with the white mask?”

 

“Oh, right. I know your name now, so I should tell you mine too.”

 

He seemed a bit troubled. But after glancing at his companion, he smiled cheerfully.

 

“Rayan.”

 

The man beside him flinched. But the white-masked boy continued, unbothered.

 

“My name is Rayan Eleanor.”

 

Eleanor? She had heard that name before. It came up a few times in the maids’ gossip.

 

While Ines was trying to remember where, the white-masked boy gently brushed her black hair.

 

“Ines, for some reason, I feel like we’ll meet again someday.”

 

His eyes, their color hidden by the shadows of the hood and night sky, curved gently.

 

Those eyes looked a little sad, and Ines found herself reaching up to touch his mask.

 

“Until then, don’t break. Stay strong, sweet girl.”

 

With those final words, he stood up. The man in the black mask glanced down at her.

 

Their eyes met for just a second.

 

Or maybe it was only her imagination.

 

The boy in the white mask turned first. The man in black followed.

 

“What are you thinking, Edgar?”

 

“Oh… nothing serious. Just quietly asking you to see the girl more kindly. She’s a sweet, gentle child.”

 

“…Such nonsense.”

 

Their quiet voices did not reach Ines.

 

The strange men crossed the courtyard darkened by twilight and disappeared into the distance.

 

Ines sat there for a while, staring as they became part of the night.

 

“Eleanor…”

 

It finally came to her. Eleanor was the name of a famous duchy from a great empire in the northeast of the continent.

 

“Rayan Eleanor…”

 

Her soft whisper floated white into the cold night air.

 

It was a small meeting on a late autumn day, when twelve-year-old Ines, still just a child, had met the young heir of Eleanor and the crown prince of Lezan who had come as envoys to their enemy, Jenaire.

 

In a hidden corner of the imperial palace.

 

 

In the 1st month of Imperial Year 1135, thick snow had been falling constantly for a whole month in the eastern part of the empire.

 

Even the Elroin Monastery—Lezan’s largest—could not escape the heavy snow.

 

The bitter cold froze the snow solid before it could melt, and more thick flakes kept piling on top.

 

Nearly three months had passed since messages from across the empire had stopped arriving due to blocked roads.

 

Then one day, a knight dispatched from the capital finally arrived at the monastery, breaking through the snowy path.

 

The head of Elroin took the letter and sighed heavily.

 

“His Majesty the Emperor has passed away. It happened two months ago.”

 

Someone sitting by the fireplace, quietly reading a book, looked up.

 

“He was just about to restore Lezan’s old glory… and now he’s gone.”

 

Eleanor had finally taken back the capital of Jenaire just last fall.

 

So, after seeing Lezan begin to regain its dignity and escape the title of a dying empire, the emperor was said to have passed peacefully.

 

“Anyway… because of that, the crown prince has now taken the throne. The empire has a new ruler, and we didn’t even know for months. We must now call him ‘His Majesty,’ not ‘Your Highness.’”

 

“His Majesty…”

 

A light voice repeated the words, as if lost in a dream.

 

The head of the monastery looked away from the letter and smiled at the one sitting in the armchair.

 

“When you see the brightest star in the Randeva social scene, that’s when you’ll need to call him that.

 

Celia. I’m sure you’ll recognize him right away.”

 

“…They say he shines like sunlight?”

 

“That’s right. Do you remember what His Majesty looks like?”

 

The red-haired woman only moved her lips slightly to smile and then lowered her gaze back to the book in her lap.

 

“I just feel like I’ve seen him before.”

 

“….”

 

“On a sunny day… in front of a house full of blooming roses.”

 

A bright summer day, a grand mansion gleaming like ivory, a beautifully designed garden, a marble fountain…

 

Her blue eyes seemed to sink deep, chasing a memory from far away.

 

<…Why do I need permission just to go outside…?>

 

A faint echo rang in her ears.

 

As she searched her memory, a piece of that day came back.

 

<I just didn’t want you to be lonely. Write anything, even silly talk, like to a dear friend.>

 

“…I think we wrote letters together.”

 

“Letters?”

 

“Yes. But I can’t remember where that was.”

 

The head of the monastery looked at her with surprised eyes. This was the first time she had said she remembered someone on her own.

 

Celia Irope, the treasured daughter of the Irope family, had been staying at the monastery for nearly two years. She remembered almost nothing.

 

Two years ago, on her way back from visiting the Duchy of Eleanor, her carriage had overturned, and she had suffered a serious head injury.

 

Nearly every doctor had believed she wouldn’t survive, but she woke up two months later, like a miracle.

 

Yet, as with any miracle, there was a price. When she awoke, Celia had lost almost everything—her parents, her own name, age, status… all gone from her memory.

 

She couldn’t even speak for another month, trapped in a haze.

 

Finally, her parents sent her to Elroin Monastery, where the abbot was a close friend of her father.

 

They had hoped that the sacred peace of the monastery, along with time and prayer, might help her body and mind recover.

 

Their hope wasn’t entirely wrong.

 

After two years, Celia was in much better shape than when she had arrived.

 

The golden light in her eyes had returned, and she spoke clearly. Though she hadn’t fully returned to the lively girl she once was, she smiled and got along well with others at the monastery.

 

But her mind was still shrouded in thick fog.

 

That someone like her could remember anyone—even vaguely—was something to be glad about.

 

And that the one person she remembered was Edgar Ruseliger, the current emperor?

 

Just two years ago, Celia Irope had been the most likely candidate to become his bride.

 

It was a strange, fateful coincidence.

 

Perhaps her time in this place would soon come to an end.

 

The monastery head sighed, a mix of joy and relief, and turned his eyes back to the letter.

 

“And… Jenaire has finally fallen completely. The archduke has beheaded their emperor, it says.”

 

Her hand, which had been calmly turning a page, froze for a moment.