I woke up startled and disoriented, my heart pounding. The terrible nightmare was finally over. I sat up abruptly in bed and started crying silently, tears streaming down my face without sound. The emotional pain was too overwhelming to contain. Suddenly, I could understand Aiona so much better—understand her in ways I never had before.
Why did she hate humans so intensely? The answer was painfully clear now: because she had loved them far too much, and that love had forced her to endure such unbearable pain. Over the long centuries, she had grown to hate everything that had deprived her of her fated mate. So many years had passed since that tragedy, and she had convinced herself that she should hate humans because they only ever caused her pain. They were weak beings that couldn't protect themselves. Treacherous by nature. Destined to disappoint.
It was her coping mechanism, I realized. She had convinced herself that she hated the source of her pain as a way to survive the grief.
Years and years had passed after that tragedy. And Aiona had successfully convinced herself of that hatred through sheer repetition. After around a thousand years had gone by, when she finally met me and merged with my consciousness, she had completely buried her former self. She had replaced that warm, loving version of herself with a proud, arrogant version instead. Because that was easier to maintain. Not having feelings was better than having them. It was far less painful to be cold than to risk being hurt again.
"Aiona?" I called out to her consciousness gently, reaching for her presence within me. But she remained completely unresponsive, silent. This experience must have been incredibly hard for her to relive. That's why she had tried so desperately to forget it all, to bury those memories. But because of my curiosity, she had been forced to dig them all out with her own hands, dirtying herself with the pain, reminding herself of the great agony that it had all caused.
"I'm sorry, Aiona," I told her sincerely, ignoring her continued silence. "I shouldn't have been so curious. I shouldn't have pushed you to show me."
I knew she could hear me at least, even if she couldn't respond.
"And I don't know if this is any comfort to you at all," I continued, "but despite everything that old dragon god said to you..."
I took a heavy, steadying breath into my lungs.
"It wasn't your fault," I told her with absolute certainty and conviction. "You did what you thought was right at the time. You made the choices you could make with the information and emotions you had. That wasn't your fault at all. Please don't carry that guilt anymore."
---
After I finally got up from bed and got ready for the day with the help of my attending maids, I had practically flown through the palace corridors to find Arvid. Last night's long, painful dream had made me realize with profound clarity just how lucky I truly was. He was here and he was alive, breathing and smiling when his eyes found me approaching. That simple fact felt like a miracle.
I quickly dismissed his servants who had been helping him dress and took their place, wanting to be close to him. I helped him finish dressing myself, my hands careful and attentive.
"You look absolutely stunning today," he said with obvious delight as his eyes wandered appreciatively to take me in. "Like you stepped out of a painting."
"Did you do something special to prepare?" he asked me curiously.
Of course I had. I had taken considerably more time getting ready today than usual, paying meticulous attention to every single detail of my appearance. I had chosen a beautiful lehenga with intricate golden embroidery work on a rich green background as my outfit. And I had styled my hair in a neat, elegant updo, carefully adorning it with precious sapphire jewels that caught the light. I wore matching green earrings with an elaborate gem set in the middle of each one.
"I did," I answered him honestly as I carefully placed his decorative brooch in its proper place on his collar. "I was thinking of going to the merchant district today—with you accompanying me."
I told him as I patted his overcoat with my hands, tidying it up and smoothing the fabric.
"The merchant district?" he asked, somewhat surprised by the request. "Any particular reason?"
I nodded with a little affirmative hum.
"Last time I saw it only in passing, and I couldn't enjoy it fully or explore properly because I had an urgent mission to complete," I explained. "We should go back and thank the old merchant who helped us get inside the city in person. And your uncle Prince Yarun said that he would introduce me to a talented seamstress he knows. There's so much to do and see there."
I looked up at him hopefully. "So can we go? Please?"
I asked him somewhat cutely, tilting my head to the side.
He chuckled warmly at my action, clearly amused and charmed. He held my face gently in both his hands and leaned down to place a soft kiss on my lips. "Of course, if that's what my adorable wife wants, that's exactly what we should do. Let's plan to go this evening after the court meeting ends."
He gave me another tender kiss on my forehead.
After he left for his morning court meeting, I stood in the doorway and waved him goodbye, watching him walk away. I kept my eyes on him until he was completely no longer in my sight, his figure disappearing around a corner.
It filled my heart with something like nostalgia, though I was certain there wasn't any logical reason for that feeling. Maybe the vivid memory of Hunter—Arvid's previous incarnation from a thousand years ago—had triggered that strange emotion in me. It felt exactly like smelling a particular scent that you had encountered ages ago, something that brought back buried feelings.
---
The sun had already begun its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, as we finally started our journey through the bustling merchant district. The security details and arrangements had taken considerable time to organize properly. And a formal message had been sent ahead to Prince Yarun, letting him know of our intended arrival so he could prepare everything and arrange for us to visit the seamstress he'd recommended.
He had eagerly sent back a page boy with a response, stating that the seamstress would be ready to receive us as soon as the sun fully set. Until that appointed time arrived, we had decided to explore the district and have a pleasant time making our way to meet the old merchant who had helped us infiltrate the city.
His current situation, as I had learned from Arvid's cousins during our lunch gathering, was being kept deliberately secret—or more accurately, just strategically omitted from conversation. I hadn't told Arvid about what had happened to the merchant yet because I wanted Arvid to see the injustice with his own eyes. I was certain Arvid would be appropriately enraged when he learned the truth. That's why I had decided to structure our visit this way: sightsee first to enjoy ourselves, then meet the merchant and confront that situation, and finally visit the seamstress to end on a better note.
We had both taken considerable effort to dress really plain and simple, without any standoffish or noble outfits that would draw attention. We both wore common clothes that any merchant or craftsperson might wear, with hoods that concealed our identities and allowed us to blend in. The clothing was much more comfortable than our usual formal wear. We held hands as we walked through the busy streets, just like any other couple.
The streets were absolutely bustling with activity as the day transitioned toward evening. The people were buying goods, haggling enthusiastically with the merchants in loud voices, calling out prices. Others were simply enjoying a leisurely stroll through the market just like us, talking animatedly among themselves about their day.
The stalls positioned on both sides of the streets were filled with various wares—everything imaginable. There were food vendors whose offerings had wonderfully fragrant smells wafting through the air, and many more diverse goods. The merchants loudly announced their wares in practiced calls, trying their best to attract buyers and customers to their particular stalls.
I saw one booth displaying various trinkets made with colorful thread and polished stones, and a group of young ladies surrounded it excitedly. They were enthusiastically choosing pieces for themselves, holding them up to the light and comparing.
"...As the novel said, the knight presented the princess with a precious moonstone set in a gold thread..." I overheard one animated girl say with a loud, dreamy voice, urging her boyfriend to buy her one of the many stone necklaces on display.
"It's just an ordinary stone..." the boyfriend protested weakly, which immediately got him a sharp slap on his arm.
"It's not just a stone!" the girl exclaimed indignantly. "It's symbolic! Don't you understand romance at all?"
The boyfriend rubbed his arm with a pained expression, clearly realizing he'd said the wrong thing. "Alright, alright, which one do you want?" he conceded with a sigh.
I couldn't help but smile at the exchange as we continued walking past them. It was such a normal, everyday scene—the kind of simple moment that made life feel real and precious. Young people in love, arguing over trinkets and novels, completely absorbed in their own world.
We passed by that booth, and it made me genuinely wonder which novel they were referencing. I had browsed extensively through the imperial library's collections, but I had yet to find any fictional romance books there. Maybe I should ask Arvid's cousins about popular novels. They would know.
The next booth we approached was what made me stop walking entirely. It was a vendor selling rice cakes made with honey and fried in deep oil until golden. The sight and smell seemed intensely familiar—exactly like those rice cakes I had seen in Aiona's memories from the foundation festival. Deep sadness mixed with bittersweet nostalgia filled my heart unexpectedly.
Arvid stopped walking next to me, following my line of sight to see what had caught my attention.
"Do you want to try one?" he asked me gently, noticing my interest.
I nodded yes, not trusting my voice.
It took him some time to actually get one for me. The booth was completely filled with customers, all clamoring for the popular treat. But finally, he managed to work his way through and returned, handing me the warm rice cake wrapped in paper.
I took it carefully in both hands and bit into it, the honey-sweet taste filling my mouth.
It was absolutely delicious. And it tasted exactly like I somehow remembered it should.