MLHBMH 05

Chapter 5

“I’ve looked through it over and over, and I still don’t get it.”

Unable to find any connection between the Benjamin family and the Second Prince, Harold tossed the stack of documents onto the table and rubbed his throbbing temples.

As Dillon gathered the scattered papers, he remarked, “Looks like things aren’t going quite the way you hoped.”

“Yeah,” Harold sighed. “It’s hard for a sane person to understand the actions of someone who’s not.”

Dillon hesitated, then asked carefully, “You’re not saying you’re the sane one, are you, Captain?”

“I am.”

“…Oh, good grief.”

Dillon smacked his forehead and let out a long groan.

“If anyone else heard that, they’d faint on the spot. They’d say that’s nonsense.”

In the knighthood, hierarchy was absolute. No subordinate would ever dare talk back or challenge a superior’s logic. Doing so would mean immediate disciplinary action—or, at worst, losing one’s title as a knight.

But Dillon spoke to Harold as if he were an old friend, not his commanding officer. And rather than scolding him, Harold only smiled, amused.

“So you’re saying I’m not normal?”

“Not exactly abnormal, sir… but definitely not normal either. Or maybe you are abnormal.” Dillon frowned, thinking aloud. “Most knights from prestigious families would never volunteer for the border garrison.”

Yet Harold Maximilian—the second son of Duke Maximilian, the Emperor’s Sword—had done exactly that. And not because he’d been exiled or punished, but because he had volunteered. When he arrived at the border fortress of Cardin, the entire garrison had been thrown into chaos.

He must have some hidden reason. That was what every soldier there had thought, watching him with suspicion.

Dillon had been among them. Four years had passed since then, and although most of his doubts had faded, the curiosity remained.

“I’ve always wondered,” Dillon said frankly. “Why did you apply to the border defense, sir? With your skill, you could’ve joined the Imperial Knights without any trouble.”

Harold shrugged. “I thought I’d already answered that.”

“You mean that ridiculous excuse—that you came because life in the Imperial Knights was boring?”

“That’s not ridiculous. I was being honest.”

“Please, don’t say things you don’t mean,” Dillon muttered dryly as he stood.

“If you’re done reviewing the documents, let’s head back. The Duchess insisted that I bring you home early—the family’s holding a small welcome party for you this evening.”

The word party made deep lines appear across Harold’s handsome face.

“Do I really have to go?”

He sounded openly displeased, but Dillon remained firm.

“The Duke himself told me not to return without you, sir.”

At the mention of his father, Harold gave up with a sigh and rose from his seat.

As he stepped out of the café and was about to climb into the carriage, something caught his eye.

Down the tree-lined street, where the spring blossoms scattered pink petals in the sunlight, someone was walking toward them.

“…Lilliana Benjamin?”

It was her.

He’d been planning to meet her eventually—after all, if she really had any connection to the Second Prince, she was a key piece of the puzzle—but to run into her here of all places was a surprise.

Still, it saved him the trouble of seeking her out.

With that thought, Harold stepped back from the carriage and watched her closely.

In her portrait, she’d looked bright and fresh, like a flower about to bloom. But in reality, there wasn’t a trace of life left in her. She looked like a blossom that had already withered. Her dull, lifeless eyes were striking in a different way—haunting, even.

Perhaps that was why Harold couldn’t tear his gaze away. Then suddenly, his golden eyes flicked toward a shadowed alleyway nearby. Even under the afternoon sun, that alley seemed unnaturally dark.

Someone was following Lilliana Benjamin.

Because the family carriage had abandoned her, Lily had no choice but to rent a public one.

The rental fee was more expensive than she expected, so she couldn’t buy her mother’s favorite fruits—but at least she managed to reach the Calvador Sanatorium in time for visiting hours.

Her mother, Grace Benjamin, was currently a patient there. It was the most advanced, well-equipped facility in the Empire—though, of course, that also meant it was the most expensive.

And for safety reasons, visits were limited to once a week, for only two hours.

It was the same with most institutions of its kind.

Before her marriage, Lily had taken care of her mother herself. She had wanted to continue even after marrying Frederick, but his family had refused—especially Samantha, who had screamed that she could never live under the same roof as a lunatic. Those words had carved a wound in Lily’s heart that would never fully heal.

So, on the day Lily married Frederick Benjamin, her mother was moved to Calvador.

Knowing that her mother was in a comfortable place under professional care gave Lily a bit of solace—but every time she saw the tall, gray building surrounded by high iron bars, she couldn’t help but feel as if she were visiting a prison rather than a hospital.

And the moment she saw her mother’s bright smile, that feeling only deepened.

“Wow! It’s big sister!”

Her mother didn’t recognize her. She always greeted her as if she were someone else—an older sister, not a daughter. The sight made Lily’s throat tighten.

“Why the sad face? Are you sick?” Grace asked, tilting her head.

“Huh? Oh, no. I’m fine, mo—”

Mom.

The word nearly slipped out. Lily bit it back just in time and forced a shaky smile.

Two years ago, after the fire, Grace had suffered severe burns all over her body—and her mind had regressed to that of an eight-year-old. She remembered nothing about the Benjamin family.

At first, Lily had tried everything to bring her memories back—calling her “Mom,” telling her stories from the past—but every attempt ended the same way. Grace would scream, clutch her head, or lash out in panic.

“The shock of losing her husband must have triggered a trauma,” the doctor had explained. “It would be best not to call her ‘Mother’ or mention her family until her condition stabilizes.”

Not being able to call her mother “Mom”—the thought had crushed Lily. But she obeyed.

Still, habits built over twenty years weren’t easy to break. Sometimes the word would slip out before she realized it, and whenever that happened, Grace would have another episode.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Mom…”

Each time, Lily would hide in the bathroom and cry silently—tears of guilt for causing her mother pain, and tears of grief for being unable to call her by that simple, precious word.

“Don’t cry, big sister,” Grace said softly now.

“I’m not crying.”

Lily pressed her lips into a smile. I won’t cry. Not in front of her.

She wrapped her arms around her mother, breathing in her familiar scent. That warmth—the steady rhythm of her heartbeat—was Lily’s greatest comfort. Proof that her mother was alive.

If Grace had died in that fire two years ago, Lily would have followed her without hesitation.

So please, just stay with me, Mom. Even if you never remember me again… just don’t leave me. As long as you’re here, I’ll keep going—I promise.

Lily clung to her mother tightly, whispering that vow to herself for what felt like the thousandth time.

By early evening, the bright blue sky had turned crimson with sunset.

After parting reluctantly with her mother, Lily returned to the Benjamin estate—only to stop short at the sight before her.

The coachman was busy polishing a luxurious black carriage—Frederick’s personal one. Neither she nor Samantha were ever allowed to use it.

Which could only mean one thing.

“Is he back?” she asked carefully.

The coachman looked startled to see her, then bowed deeply. “Yes, my lady. The master returned about an hour ago.”

“I see…”

She had expected as much, but confirmation still left a bitter taste in her mouth. Lily stared at the mansion doors, her stomach twisting. She already hated being here—and knowing Frederick was inside made it ten times worse.

If asked to name the most uncomfortable person in the house, she wouldn’t even hesitate: Frederick.

Not because he mistreated her—on their wedding night, he had made it clear he would never interfere in her affairs, and he had kept that promise—but because she despised everything he represented.

He was both the man who had dragged her into this hell—and the one who had saved her and her mother from another. The irony stung.

“Madam?”

The coachman’s cautious voice pulled her back. She blinked, realizing she’d been staring so hard that her eyes ached.

“Thank you,” she murmured, forcing a small smile.

Then she walked into the mansion.

The hall was bustling with servants, but not one of them acknowledged her. They all pretended she wasn’t there, moving about their duties as if she were invisible. Even her own maids ignored her.

…So they’re all doing this on purpose.

It had to be Samantha’s doing.

Maybe she was even the one who’d ordered the carriage to leave her behind earlier—not Brian after all.

Lily changed her guess silently as she climbed the grand staircase.

But when she reached her room, her steps froze.

Because there, standing in front of her bedroom door, was a man she hadn’t expected to see.

“…Frederick?”