“Misappropriation of Public Funds Prohibited”
Reaching toward the hand clinging desperately to the tree root, Regios stretched out as far as he could. But their hands wouldn’t meet. Just a little farther—if he could only extend his arm a bit more, he could have caught that hand and pulled her up. Yet the distance never closed.
The fierce wind whipped through Ephelia’s soft, caramel-brown hair. That same hair he had once tasted with his lips—now tangled and wild. Regios pleaded desperately.
“Ephelia. Please, take my hand.”
She only looked at him with sad eyes.
“Did you hate me that much?”
“What are you talking about?”
If only she would reach out and let him grasp her hand, he would do anything. Pebbles and dirt crumbled away from the tree root and fell into the abyss below.
“If I disappear… will that make you happy?”
No. Please, don’t say things like that. She was going to fall—he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose her like this.
Her eyes brimmed with sorrow, and behind that, despair—and resignation. Regios already knew what she was going to say next. Please, no. Don’t say those words again. He screamed the plea in his heart, but no sound left his lips.
“…I’ll give this to you. I think you’ll like it.”
Cruelly, Ephelia spoke those words again. Words he had heard hundreds, thousands of times. And never once had they failed to tear his heart apart.
“You may not, but Regios… I—I truly love you…”
When she said those words, Regios understood what was in her mind. In her lovely eyes, surrender had spread like ink. She had given up on life itself and accepted death. And the one who had driven her to that point was no one else—it was him.
“No, no, Ephelia, don’t do this.”
Please don’t. Regios leaned forward dangerously far, reaching again.
But—had he really reached out that far?
Had he truly tried to save her?
“…Goodbye.”
How could she say that? The memory seared into him, tearing at his heart.
“Farewell.”
And with that final word, all her strength gave out, and Ephelia let go of the root she had been clinging to.
“Hah!”
Regios gasped awake, bolting upright.
His body was drenched in cold sweat. His heart pounded violently in his chest. He caught his breath, then exhaled shakily, clutching at his chest as though to rip out the pain.
It was still dark outside. He rose from bed and lit a lamp. The clock read 4 a.m.
The last time he’d checked, it had been 2. He must have fallen asleep less than an hour ago after tossing and turning for ages.
He slumped onto the sofa. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. One or two hours of sleep—that was all he managed these days, and it had been that way for years.
This was his nightmare. No—his past and his present. It wasn’t a dream at all; it had truly happened. And every night, it replayed before his eyes.
The last moment of the girl he had failed to save.
“Ephelia…”
He whispered her name.
It had been years now. He had grown from a boy into a man—taller, broader, fully grown. But the girl he lost remained forever young within him.
“It’s my fault.”
He begged forgiveness, but there was no one left to hear him.
“Please, come back. I was wrong.”
He was still searching for her. Since that day, he had scoured the empire—posting wanted notices, traveling from city to city. Yet nowhere could he find Ephelia.
“You’re alive… aren’t you?”
His voice trembled. Regios buried his face in his trembling hands.
“Please, tell me you’re still alive. Don’t let me give up on you.”
She hadn’t reached for his hand that day. If she had, if she’d only reached out, he could have pulled her up. It had been such a small gap—but she hadn’t, and she’d fallen instead.
“Please, come back.”
He was the one who had driven her there—through pride or fear, he had denied his feelings. He told himself the love he felt for the girl who was too precious, too bright, could not possibly be love. And so he lost her.
Every night, he watched her die again. He couldn’t even cry. That was his punishment.
1
“You look tired.”
The Emperor spoke to Regios, his son—the Crown Prince of the Empire.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re still not sleeping well, are you?”
Worry colored the Emperor’s tone.
Since losing his destined partner years ago, his son had seemed half-mad. For the first year, Regios had neglected all his duties as Crown Prince, searching for Ephelia like a man possessed.
“I’m used to it now.”
Even years later, Regios continued to believe she lived somewhere, continued searching. But everyone else knew the truth: Ephelia was dead. They just couldn’t bring themselves to say it to the man who had lost his fated partner.
A year later, he had finally regained enough composure to resume his duties—but he never stopped searching.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Don’t worry, Father. I’ll go on the Imperial Tour.”
“Truly?”
The Emperor looked astonished. Regios had carried out every duty perfectly except one: the Imperial Tour.
Whenever he heard rumors of a woman resembling Ephelia, he would rush there, which was why he had never left the capital.
“Yes.”
His words meant something more—that he had decided to stop searching.
“Then… you’ll stop looking for Ephelia?”
“Yes.”
He had made that decision the previous night.
“Why?”
“Ephelia…”
Regios’s voice dropped low, his breath trembling.
“Ephelia is dead.”
His tone was calm—too calm—but the Emperor knew how much pain was buried beneath it.
“Everyone said she was, but you never believed it. Why now?”
“Because if she were alive… she would have come back to me.”
And so he stopped searching.
Not everyone was granted a destined partner. The Emperor himself loved and cherished the Empress, though she was not his fated one. So he couldn’t fully understand—but he could imagine. If he ever lost her, he too would lose his sanity.
“Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”
Everyone said that. But Regios knew.
“No. It was my fault.”
He knew her death was on his hands.
It had been just a fleeting moment—but in that moment, she had freed herself from him and from fate. Because he had rejected destiny—her.
She could have lived. But she died because of him.
The Emperor said nothing more, only changed the subject.
“So, when will you depart for the Tour?”
“As soon as preparations are complete.”
His decision meant great changes. Officially, the position of Crown Princess—recorded under Ephelia’s name—would become vacant. A new candidate had already been chosen: Seluna, Ephelia’s cousin and stepsister.
But Regios’s refusal to give up had frozen everything. Now, with his decision, it could all begin anew.
“Very well. Prepare thoroughly, and travel safely.”
“Yes, Father.”
A few days later, Regios left the capital to begin the Imperial Tour.
It was an ancient duty of the Crown Prince—to travel the lands he would one day rule. Everything went smoothly.
“I’ll take a walk.”
“Shall I escort you, Your Highness?”
“No. I’d like to be alone.”
His aide, Tail, bowed and stepped back. Regios slowly left the inn.
The tour was more than halfway done now, nearly complete. This small town hadn’t been on the original itinerary—just a quiet, peaceful place between cities. He stayed there incognito, posing as a minor noble.
As he wandered through the tranquil streets, something caught his eye—a wanted poster.
He gave a bitter smile. Perhaps he hadn’t truly let go after all.
It was her face. Ephelia’s face, faded and dusty on an old poster that hadn’t yet been taken down.
Gently, he brushed the dust away, his hand trembling as if afraid the paper would tear. Then, with a deep breath, he carefully removed the poster, folded it neatly, and tucked it into his coat. He couldn’t destroy it—he would burn it himself later, privately.
He turned back toward his lodgings. Then he stopped.
Had he imagined it?
No—it must have been a mistake.
He missed her too much, wanted to see her too badly. He had convinced himself to move on, yet his heart refused. Surely it was just his mind playing tricks.
Still—his body moved before he could think. He pushed through the crowd.
That woman who just passed—he had to find her. She only looked similar, that was all.
But still…
Regios tore through the streets like a madman, searching.
“I must be imagining things. Her hair color isn’t even the same…”
Yet he couldn’t make himself stop. He scoured the entire town—but she was nowhere.
“It’s not her. It can’t be. She’s dead.”
He told himself that again and again, but his feet wouldn’t stop. He had to be sure.
Before he realized it, he had reached the edge of town. He was breathing hard.
He thought about asking someone—surely the townsfolk would know if a stranger had arrived.
No, that was madness. Ephelia couldn’t be here. It was just his lingering obsession.
“No… I’m just tired. That’s all.”
He turned to head back—
But then, something pulled at him. A strange, sharp sense of recognition. He ran toward it.
There—a woman walking in the distance.
“Wait—wait, please!”
She didn’t turn.
He caught up and grabbed her arm. She flinched at the sudden touch—of course, being grabbed by a stranger would scare anyone.
“I’m sorry. You just looked like someone I know…”
The woman turned. Fear flickered in her face. Her features were different—but so familiar. If that sweet little girl had grown up, she would look exactly like this.
Regios stared blankly, and the name slipped from his lips.
“Ephelia?”
His eyes widened. He couldn’t believe it. Those eyes—deep, sunset-red. She was taller, older, but unmistakably her.
She stood before him.
A dream? No. He’d never dreamed of meeting her again—only of losing her. He didn’t deserve such dreams. This was real.
His heart pounded like it hadn’t in years. He knew—he knew it was her.
He had loved her from the beginning—from when she was a baby, through her girlhood, every time he saw her his heart had raced. But believing it was destiny had terrified him. He thought his feelings were just fate’s cruel trick. So he denied them.
And so he lost her.
Now, when he’d finally given up, she was before him again.
He wanted to ask a thousand questions—why she hadn’t returned, how she’d survived—but his mind was a storm, and no words came.
Instead, he pulled her into his arms. She was real, warm, alive.
“Ephelia… you’re alive.”
The woman blinked, startled, her expression anxious.
Why was she looking at him like that? Was she really that shocked to see him?
No—it was something else. Confusion, fear, embarrassment—all tangled together in her eyes.
As if she were looking at a stranger.
And then, in a trembling voice, she spoke.
“Who… are you?”
