For a long time, she could only manage a near-whisper, her voice trembling to the extreme as she asked softly:
“…What you said—”
That sentence was like a sigh squeezed from the deepest part of her soul, laced with shards of ice.
Sophia’s body swayed, and she instinctively steadied herself on the stone bench beside her.
“Really?”
This word was like a rusty key, suddenly prying open the door she had sealed in dust for a hundred years.
Behind that door was the flood of memories she had forcibly repressed—memories she believed had rotted into ashes.
That face… those eyes, once burning with hatred and determination.
Tulia. Tulia.
Her heart was in turmoil.
Utterly, hopelessly in chaos.
A buzzing rang in Sophia’s mind—everything turned blank.
She thought she had long since learned calm.
During those endless years after Tulia left, she’d moved like the living dead, trying at times to numb herself with frantic work.
In the end, she chose to bury that searing longing deep in the darkest, most hidden corner of her heart, seeking false solace for her crime through the self-deceiving wish that “she is well somewhere out there.”
She thought she had let go.
But when this name was mentioned again, when confirmation of her existence crashed down like a bolt of thunder, Sophia realized that so-called “letting go” was nothing but a lie she told herself.
That obsession, that madness, that love—none of it had ever disappeared. She’d only sealed it beneath thicker layers of ice.
And now, the ice was cracking, inch by inch.
Guilt, a tidal wave of guilt, was the first emotion to smash her fragile walls of reason.
More than anyone, she knew what she had done to that girl.
The hunger and cold in the dungeon, the humiliation and trampled dignity in words, and… that night of violence and violation, in the pouring rain.
She had personally shoved her into hell, grinding all her dignity into mud.
In the name of “love,” she had enacted the most cruel atrocities.
This sin was her eternal nightmare.
Every time she awoke in the dead of night, she would see those hollow blue eyes, never able to focus again, and hear that broken, pleading cry—“sister.”
How could she… how could she ever dare to see her again?
She feared seeing even a trace of fear or hatred in her eyes—either would cast her back into a bottomless abyss.
But…
Longing, like the wildest vine, instantly coiled around her heart, squeezing her until she could barely breathe.
More than forty years.
For more than forty years, she hadn’t seen her again.
Countless times she searched the crowds for that familiar silver-haired figure, countless times she pictured that stubborn face in her dreams.
She wanted to know if she was living well, wanted to know if she had ever—just once—thought of her again.
That forcibly repressed love, like a dormant volcano, had been awakened completely in this moment.
She wanted to see her.
She wanted to see her with a madness.
She wanted to hold her again, to feel her warmth again, to kiss those lips that always bore a trace of defiance—just one more time.
These two extreme emotions, like savage beasts, tore wildly at her heart, leaving her at a loss.
See her? With what right? What qualifications did she have?
Don’t see her? How could she bear it? How could she endure the hopeless waiting now that she knew the other was so close?
Sophia’s breath grew rapid; she could feel her hands trembling uncontrollably.
Those hands, always full of control and strength, were now as weak as a helpless child’s.
She looked at Selina. In those deep violet eyes, the former majesty and chill were gone—what remained was a near-begging, utter vulnerability and confusion.
“Selina…” Her voice was hoarse, on the verge of tears. “I… What should I do?”
This was only the second time in Sophia von Noerstein’s life that she had shown such helplessness.
The first had been in her teens, in that fire that devoured her entire world.
Selina gazed at the Miss before her, all her hard armor stripped away, revealing a soul already riddled with scars. A deep ache welled up in her heart.
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked forward, picked up a forgotten thin shawl from the stone bench, and gently, as if caring for a child, draped it over Sophia’s shoulders.
“Miss,” Selina’s voice was as steady as ever, but it held a power that soothed the heart, “You’re asking me, but I know you already have the answer in your heart.”
Sophia lifted her violet eyes, rendered all the more fragile by tears, and stared at her in confusion.
“You’ve searched for her for a hundred years. Wasn’t it all for the day you could see her again?” Selina’s gaze was gentle yet resolute. “Be it guilt, or longing… these things, only by meeting her can there be closure. Whether she hates you or… something else.”
“But… I…” Sophia’s lips parted. “I’m afraid…”
“You’re not afraid of her hatred.” Selina pierced to the heart of her fear. “You’re afraid of losing her again. But Miss, she’s no longer under your control. This time, you’re not chasing down an escaped bird, but seeking back a person… someone you’ve loved for decades.”
That sentence landed heavily in Sophia’s heart, like a morning bell at dusk.
Yes.
She was not going to capture, not going to imprison.
She only… wanted to see her, just once more.
Sophia slowly, slowly closed her eyes.
Her trembling body finally calmed, little by little.
She stood up, slowly. That once-upright back once again bore the pride of the Noerstein Family heir.
“Prepare the carriage.”
Her voice was still hoarse, but there was no hesitation left.
Sophia did not depart immediately.
She returned to that bedroom full of complicated memories with Tulia, standing before the giant dressing mirror, changing out of the work clothes stained with earth.
She did not choose the Security Department uniform symbolizing authority, nor did she pick any of her extravagant or seductive dresses.
In the end, she selected a simple yet exquisitely made deep blue traveling gown, with a matching hooded cloak draped over her shoulders.
This outfit made her seem no longer a lofty queen, but more like… an ordinary traveler about to embark on an unknown journey.
She gazed at herself in the mirror. On that face, unchanged in a hundred years, now rested emotions so unfamiliar even to her.
She reached out, gently brushing her lips with her fingertips, as if they still retained a trace of someone else’s stubborn warmth.
The carriage rolled steadily along the official road to Southheart District Town.
Sophia did not sit in the comfort of the carriage compartment but instead chose to sit beside the coachman, outside.
The late autumn wind, carrying a chill, swept her cloak and cooled the heart that pounded with anticipation and fear.
Selina did not come along. This was Sophia’s own decision.
This reunion, decades overdue, was something she had to face alone.
She was coming.