“How did he recognize me?”
It had been years—so many years—and yet he had recognized her in an instant and come after her. Her name truly was Ephelia. Hearing it again after so long felt strange, as if it didn’t belong to her anymore. It was a name she had erased herself after dying once and coming back to life. She never imagined there would come a day when he would call her by it again.
“Maybe it’s only natural that he recognized me.”
Ephelia lowered her head, pretending to be frightened so that Regios wouldn’t see her bitter smile. After all, she too had recognized him in that fleeting moment. That was why she had forced herself to turn away and walk off instead of looking back. But she hadn’t expected him to recognize her and follow.
When she saw the city guards tearing down the wanted posters, she’d been unable to help feeling relieved—it was proof that he had finally given up searching for her.
What a cruel joke fate was. Why meet again now, after all this time?
Ephelia looked at the man standing before her. He had grown far more handsome than the beautiful boy she remembered.
Once, Ephelia had been the beloved youngest daughter of one of the Empire’s highest-ranking dukes. With her young, beautiful, and powerful parents, her kind eldest brother, and her mischievous second brother, little Ephelia’s world had been nothing short of a fairytale.
She remembered perfectly the day she first met Regios. It was the day she entered the Imperial Palace for the first time, holding her mother’s hand.
Ephelia was the precious young lady of a ducal house where girls were rare. With the Empress’s permission, the Duchess had decided to bring her daughter to court.
The palace was dazzling and immense. Walking beside her mother, little Ephelia couldn’t resist her curiosity and turned her head for just a moment. When she came to her senses, she was alone in what felt like a maze-like garden.
“Um… Mama? Mamaaa?”
No matter how much she looked around, there wasn’t a soul in sight. The hedges were only as tall as an adult’s waist, but to the small and young Ephelia, they towered over her. She couldn’t find her way. She could still remember the sting of her cheeks where her tears had dried.
Then—he appeared before her.
“Little one, why are you crying?”
The soft voice made her stop crying at once. The boy standing there captured her attention even more than the grand palace had. He was smiling gently.
Golden hair, clear golden eyes—even his eyelashes gleamed like sunlight. He was radiant. Somehow, he felt like the very center of the world.
Ephelia pouted, her plump cheeks puffing up. It clearly meant she was displeased, though the boy didn’t know why. He tilted his head, still smiling.
“Little one?”
He said it again. Little one. Even her parents had stopped calling her that because she’d demanded they do so. She lifted her chin and declared firmly,
“I’m not little. I’m Ephelia.”
The boy chuckled softly. The sunlight shone on him, making him sparkle.
“You’re right. My mistake, Ephelia. Why were you crying?”
“I wasn’t crying.”
“Really?”
He reached out and brushed a tear stain from her cheek with his finger. Only then did she realize he’d seen her crying. Her face, already flushed from crying, grew even hotter with embarrassment.
“I wasn’t crying!”
“I see. Then maybe the dew just fell on your cheeks. Right?”
“M-Mm.”
“Your hair is the color of caramel.”
He looked at her soft light-brown curls under her lace bonnet.
“It looks sweet. I wonder if it tastes good?”
Her hair wasn’t as dazzling as gold or red—it was rather ordinary. But because this boy with sun-bright hair said so, Ephelia suddenly liked her hair for the first time.
“I… I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.”
“Can I touch it?”
“O-Okay.”
The boy reached out without hesitation, gently touching her neatly combed hair. Then he brought a lock to his nose and sniffed it.
“It smells nice. I bet it tastes sweet.”
“That’s the first time anyone’s said that to me,” she murmured, blushing.
“I don’t usually like sweet things, but I like your hair.”
“Why don’t you like sweet things? I do.”
Her second brother, Keyran, always stole her sweets and made her cry, while her kind eldest brother, Meristo, often gave her his share instead. So of course, she liked Meristo more.
“Do you like candy?”
“Mhm! I do.”
“Your eyes look like candy too. You look really sweet.”
The boy peered into her eyes as he said it.
“You’re pretty too.”
He blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing.
“Why are you laughing?”
“No one’s ever told me that before.”
“Really? But you are! Everyone else must have bad eyes.”
That made him laugh again. Little Ephelia, of course, didn’t realize that she had just told the Crown Prince himself that he was pretty.
“Ephelia. What’s your family name?”
“Miriam.”
“Oh—the Duke of Miriam’s little lady? I heard you were coming to the palace today. Where’s the Duchess? Why are you alone?”
He said it like an adult, though he was still a boy himself. Ephelia puffed her cheeks again, and he laughed. His smile made the whole world seem brighter.
“Ephelia isn’t little.”
Apparently, this young lady despised being called a baby—like most children her age.
“Lady Miriam.”
“Huh?”
“I’m Regios,” the boy said, bowing slightly and pressing a hand over his heart in a perfect gentleman’s greeting.
Ephelia, who was clearly lost, pretended otherwise out of pride. When he addressed her as Lady Miriam and greeted her so formally, her cheeks turned rosy again.
“May I have the honor of escorting you, Lady Miriam?”
“Of course.”
Ephelia placed her small hand atop his. Though still a child, Regios’s manners were graceful and dignified.
“Regios, where are we going?”
“Lady Miriam, do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t trust people that easily.”
“Why?”
“If I were a bad person, you’d be in danger.”
“Regios isn’t bad.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because you’re pretty.”
“Pretty people can’t be bad?”
“Mhm.”
He had been called an angel since birth, but he’d heard it so often that the word had lost its charm. Still, hearing it from her didn’t feel unpleasant. Trying not to laugh, he extended his hand again.
“Then, Lady Miriam—your hand, please.”
Her small, soft hand rested on his. No one except her brother had ever escorted her before. Her heart thumped wildly.
Though she insisted she wasn’t a baby, Ephelia truly was one. She adored her elegant mother and longed to attend the grand balls she heard about. Her second brother teased her, saying she’d just trip and cry, but her kind eldest brother often played “debutante” with her to humor her dreams.
Regios was about her brother’s age, yet walking with him felt entirely different.
Holding his hand, she soon saw the end of the maze garden—and there was her mother.
“Mama!”
The Duchess turned and caught her in her arms.
“Ephelia! Where have you been? Do you know how worried I was? The knights were—”
“Please don’t scold her,” said Regios, stepping forward to defend her. The Duchess’s eyes widened in surprise at his face.
“Oh my, it can’t be—”
“I met Lady Miriam in the garden maze,” he said politely. “She granted me the honor of escorting her back.”
“Goodness… thank you, Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
“Crown Prince?”
Ephelia turned to him. She knew what that meant—the son of the Emperor and Empress, heir to the throne.
“Regios, you’re the Crown Prince?”
“Yes.”
“I was worried when you went missing, but it seems His Highness brought you back. How could I ever thank you…”
“You’ve eased Elsia’s worries,” said the Empress, who had arrived in the meantime. Elsia was the Duchess’s name; she and the Empress had been childhood friends.
“She’s the young Lady of House Miriam,” the Empress said kindly. “Be good friends, Regios.”
Regios smiled brightly. “Yes—if Lady Miriam allows it.”
“Oh my.”
“What do you think, Ephelia? Would you like to see His Highness again?”
Ephelia nodded firmly.
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Ephelia, you must speak respectfully to His Highness.”
“Do I have to?”
“I like it when she talks comfortably,” said Regios.
“Me too!” said Ephelia, beaming.
The Empress and Duchess exchanged amused smiles.
“It seems our Regios has taken quite a liking to her.”
“Yes, very much so.”
And the feeling, from the very beginning, was mutual.
