The Princess Who Cannot Trust
Rhea's chill was freezing the forest. Within the blue mist that blanketed B-7, her mana stood out with unusual clarity. Rhea Silverrian's ice magic was normally precise—freezing only what needed to be frozen, moving only when necessary. Her power was calculation, not an emotional outburst. But now it was different. Entire trees were freezing solid. Rootless trunks hardened white in midair, and frost crept across the blue moss carpeting the ground. Mist in the air crystallized and fell, each shattering fragment ringing like a tiny bell.
"Your Highness's mana is wavering," Aria said. She was still somewhat pale. She had only just overcome her own illusion and her breathing had yet to steady. Even so, holy power was already gathered at her fingertips.
I nodded. "She's not on the verge of losing control yet. She's still holding it back."
"Even while holding back, it's this severe?" Edan asked quietly.
"That's simply who Princess Rhea is," I said, gazing at the frozen forest. "She pretends not to waver even when she is wavering."
She had always been that way. Beneath the title of princess she hid her emotions, turned suspicion into judgment, and wrapped fear in commands. Rhea Silverrian did not know how to lean on someone. Instead of asking for help, she gave orders. Instead of admitting anxiety, she reached conclusions. That was both her strength and her weakness.
We ran toward the source of the cold. The frozen path gradually transformed into a palace corridor. Blue moss became white marble, trees became towering pillars. The mist vanished, replaced by the glow of cold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. B-7's illusion was overlaying Rhea's inner world onto reality.
"This place……" Aria swallowed softly.
What spread before us was the imperial palace—or rather, its grand ballroom. An endlessly vast hall, a soaring ceiling, golden ornaments, a crimson carpet. Imperial crests adorned every wall, and countless nobles stood along both sides. Yet something was wrong. The nobles had no faces. Their features were smooth and blank, devoid of eyes, noses, or mouths. Still, we could tell they were laughing—because their voices echoed through the hall.
"The Third Princess is far too cold."
"Her ice magic is beautiful, but insufficient for the throne."
"That child cannot trust anyone."
"Those who cannot trust will never be trusted in return."
"Who would pledge loyalty to a princess who never extends her hand?"
The voices filled the hall. At its center stood Rhea. No—a much younger Rhea. A silver-haired girl far smaller and frailer than the one we knew. Yet her expression was almost identical to the present Rhea's: back straight, chin lifted, refusing to show weakness to anyone.
Before the child Rhea were three chairs. The first held a crown. The second held a bloodstained glove. The third held a frozen hand.
I didn't immediately grasp their meaning, but Edan spoke quietly. "An illusion forcing a choice."
Aria clenched her fists. "What Her Highness fears most……"
Then another Rhea emerged from the far end of the hall—this one the present Rhea. Her silver hair gleamed coldly, her blue eyes revealing nothing. She looked down at her younger self.
The child Rhea asked, "What must I choose?"
The present Rhea answered, "The crown."
"Why?"
"A princess who is not chosen will be discarded."
The child Rhea gazed at the crown resting on the first chair. At that moment the nobles' voices grew louder.
"If you choose the crown, you must abandon blood."
"A princess does not take hands."
"A princess discards first."
The child Rhea looked at the bloodstained glove on the second chair. "What about this?"
"A price," the present Rhea said.
"Whose blood?"
"The blood of those you trusted."
The child Rhea's eyes wavered. On the third chair lay the frozen hand—a small hand, as though someone had reached out only to be trapped in ice.
"What about that hand?" the child asked.
The present Rhea was silent for a moment. Then she spoke coldly. "Something you must not take."
"Why?"
"Because taking it will make you weak."
The nobles' voices laughed in unison.
"Take a hand and you will be betrayed."
"If you rely on others, you will be abandoned."
"If you trust, you will die."
"A princess must stand alone."
At that moment, the child Rhea slowly extended her hand toward the frozen hand on the third chair. The present Rhea seized her wrist.
"You mustn't."
"But……"
"Do not take it."
"Being alone is cold."
Those words rang through the hall. I held my breath. Rhea would never have said such a thing. At least, the real her would never have voiced it aloud. That was what made the illusion so cruel—it was dragging out emotions she would never admit, even to herself, and giving them form through her younger self.
The present Rhea inside the illusion turned toward us—toward me.
"Do not come."
Her voice was the same as the real Rhea's, yet colder. "This is my problem."
I took a step forward. "I've been hearing that far too often lately."
"Stop, Kyle Diaren."
"I refuse."
Aria drew a sharp breath beside me. Edan quietly lowered his sword, realizing steel could not resolve this situation.
I walked into the center of the hall. The marble beneath my feet froze over. Cold seeped up through my ankles—similar to what I had felt in the imperial archives, yet deeper. This chill flowed from Rhea's memories themselves.
"I told you not to come," the illusory Rhea said.
"If I stop, will you stop as well, Your Highness?"
"I do not waver."
"Isn't the very existence of this illusion proof that you are wavering?"
At those words, the illusory Rhea's expression hardened ever so slightly. The child Rhea looked at me. Her eyes were far more honest than the present Rhea's—filled with fear, loneliness, and the quiet hope that someone might reach out.
I stopped before the child Rhea. "Your Highness."
She asked, "Who are you?"
"Kyle Diaren."
"You seem like someone I cannot trust."
"You're correct," I admitted readily. "My reputation is the worst, I have many secrets, and my body is weak."
The child Rhea blinked. "Then why did you come?"
"Because I said I wouldn't leave you alone."
The present Rhea inside the illusion spoke coldly. "You cannot keep that promise."
"Perhaps not."
"People always leave in the end."
"They might."
"Then why extend your hand?"
I fell silent for a moment. The words I had spoken in the imperial archives came back to me: if standing alone was strength, then standing together was greater still. But simply repeating that would not be enough. This was an illusion—one that stabbed at Rhea's deepest wounds. She did not merely fear taking someone's hand; she feared losing it afterward. What terrified her more than betrayal was the thought that someone she trusted might be hurt because of her. The poison aimed at the crown had proven as much. Her lady-in-waiting had fallen in her place. Rhea understood better than anyone that danger directed at her would inevitably harm those around her.
I spoke. "I cannot promise that taking your hand will mean I will never be hurt, Your Highness."
The child Rhea's eyes wavered. The illusory Rhea said, "Then it is meaningless."
"No," I shook my head. "The meaning lies in choosing to stand together even while knowing harm may come."
The nobles' voices murmured again.
"Lies."
"He will leave someday."
"The princess freezes everyone."
"That hand will freeze as well."
My fingertips began to freeze. Sensation drained from my ungloved fingers first. Frost bloomed across my skin, and pain like needles stabbed beneath my nails.
Aria cried out from behind me. "Kyle!"
Edan started forward, but I raised a hand to stop him. "I'm fine."
I was not fine. Feeling was leaving my hands. Yet if I retreated here, the illusion would force the same conclusion upon Rhea once more: taking a hand makes you weak. Trusting brings pain. Therefore, stand alone. That was the curse she had heard her entire life. I had to break it.
"Your Highness." I looked at the child Rhea, not the present one. "Was it cold, standing alone?"
The child Rhea's lips trembled faintly. The present Rhea inside the illusion snapped, "Do not ask that."
I ignored her. "Did you learn that standing alone makes you strong?"
The child Rhea did not answer, but her eyes did.
I extended my freezing hand. "Then let's learn differently this time."
The child Rhea stared at my hand. "If I take it…… you'll freeze too."
"Then we'll thaw it."
"How?"
"Alone, it would be difficult." I glanced back. Aria had prepared her holy power. Edan watched us with his sword lowered. "But we're not alone."
Aria stepped forward. "Your Highness," she said gently. "If Kyle freezes, I will heal him. If you waver, we will hold you steady."
Edan added, "Princess Rhea, I do not believe trust is something obtained through commands or proven alone. It is forged by enduring danger together."
I glanced at Edan. He really did say such things naturally. How very protagonist-like.
The illusory Rhea gritted her teeth. "What do any of you know……"
Her voice wavered for the first time.
At that moment, the real Rhea appeared. From behind the illusory present Rhea, the true Rhea Silverrian slowly stepped forward. Her silver hair was disheveled, fatigue shadowing her blue eyes. Yet she had not collapsed. She looked at her younger self for a long while before speaking.
"It was cold."
The child Rhea lifted her head. The real Rhea continued slowly. "But admitting that I wanted to take someone's hand because it was cold…… that felt even worse."
The illusory Rhea spoke coldly. "You've grown weak."
The real Rhea regarded the illusion. "No. I have only now learned to distinguish between them."
"Between what?"
"Standing alone…… and pretending to stand alone."
The faceless nobles cried out in unison.
"A princess must stand alone."
"The crown belongs to the lonely."
"Trust is a weakness."
"Take a hand and you will be abandoned."
Rhea raised her staff toward the voices. "How noisy."
A single sentence, yet the entire hall froze. Ice sealed the mouths of the faceless nobles. Rhea stood before her younger self.
"If you wish to take a hand, then take it."
The child Rhea asked, "Is it all right?"
"It is."
"Even though I'm a princess?"
"Precisely because I am a princess."
Rhea looked at me. "Kyle Diaren."
"Yes."
"Once again, you were the first to extend your hand."
"It would seem so."
"You really are a troublesome man."
"I hear that often."
Rhea smiled faintly. Then she extended her hand—not to me, but to her younger self. The child Rhea hesitated, then took it.
In that instant, all three chairs crumbled. The crown shattered into ice fragments. The bloodstained glove dissolved into white light. The frozen hand melted away. The illusory present Rhea twisted. "Taking a hand makes you weak."
The real Rhea said, "Then I will simply win while remaining weak."
Her chill erupted—not a rampage, but something precise, beautiful, and cold. The palace illusion shattered. Frozen nobles, marble floors, chandeliers, and crimson carpet all scattered into blue light.
We stood once more in the forest of B-7. Rhea was before me. Her breathing was slightly rough, yet she had not broken. Even after the illusion collapsed, she remained silent for a time. She looked down at her hand—the one she had extended to her younger self, and the one I had offered moments ago. A thin layer of frost still clung to her fingertips. She was not trembling; Rhea Silverrian was not one to show such vulnerability easily. Yet I saw it: her fingers had stiffened ever so slightly.
"Your Highness?" I called.
Rhea raised her head with a composed expression. "It was a confirmation."
"Of what?"
Instead of answering, she took my wrist. Cold seeped through her glove—not a tight grip, yet one that showed no intention of letting go.
"Whether you are still here."
The words were so quiet that even Aria and Edan might not have heard them clearly. I held my breath for a moment. Rhea soon released my hand, though her fingertips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. It was only an instant, but it was enough.
The princess was still clumsy at trusting. So she confirmed—again and again. Even after seeing with her eyes, she confirmed with her hands. Whether I had truly not disappeared. Whether the hand she held was still here.
"Have you confirmed it?" I asked.
Rhea looked away. "Imperfectly."
"Pardon?"
"To confirm completely, I will need to see you more often."
The words were spoken so calmly that they sounded all the more dangerous. Aria approached cautiously. "Your Highness."
Rhea regarded her for a moment before speaking. "If treatment is needed, say so."
"Right now?"
"Not necessary."
Then, in a very small voice, she added, "Not yet."
Aria smiled softly at those words. "Understood. I will keep watching for now."
At that reply, Rhea's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Saintess candidate."
"Yes."
"What of Kyle's condition?"
"I am continuing to monitor him."
"Continuing?"
"Yes. I am currently treating Kyle."
Rhea stared at Aria for a moment. Between the cold princess and the pure-white saintess candidate, a thin tension passed. Edan quietly averted his gaze at the sight. I swallowed a sigh inwardly. Even in this situation, they're like this. Strangely, however, even that tension did not feel entirely unpleasant. At least these people were not fighting to push one another away. Each was simply confirming my presence in their own way.
Was that what made it more dangerous?
Edan offered Rhea a respectful bow. "I am glad you are safe."
Rhea regarded him briefly. "Did you see an illusion as well?"
"I did."
"What did you see?"
Edan was silent for a moment. "Myself harming others in the name of justice."
Rhea's eyes narrowed. "Interesting."
"I doubt it was meant in a good way."
"It wouldn't be."
An awkward silence settled between them. In the original story, these two would have grown deeply entangled here in B-7. But things were different now. Rhea assessed Edan with cool eyes, while Edan maintained a respectful yet distant stance. And between them stood I—an uncomfortable triangle.
Then a crimson sword flash erupted from the opposite side of the forest—far rougher and more unstable than before. Siella. At the same time, Noel's voice echoed in my mind.
— Come quickly. The knight lady is in the most danger.
"What did you see?" I asked.
Noel answered shortly. — A world where she cannot hold a sword.
Rhea's face hardened. Aria grasped my arm. Edan tightened his grip on his sword. I looked toward the direction of the crimson flash. Siella Bayern. She had once said that even without a sword, she would still be Siella. But perhaps it was only now that she would truly come to believe those words.
"Let's go."
I ran. This time Rhea, Aria, and Edan ran with me. After only a few steps, however, Rhea drew alongside me.
"Kyle."
"Yes."
"What you said earlier."
"Which part?"
"That you would stand together even while knowing you might be hurt." She spoke while looking ahead. "Do not forget those words."
"Neither should you, Your Highness."
Rhea glanced at me. "How insolent."
"I hear that often as well."
"But you are not wrong."
Her chill parted the mist before us. That cold path was strangely not one that demanded we walk alone—it was one that invited us to walk together.
B-7's final illusion awaited us.