My Lady, I am a terrible sinner.

The Imperial Family was wary of the North, which possessed the largest territory among the Great Lords and a powerful order of knights, and the North found such an Imperial Family offensive. It was a time when neither side could kill the other, nor could they leave each other alone, simply baring their teeth.

The Emperor forced a war of aggression against the territories of nomadic tribes, and my master, Kaif Veltenberg, opposed the war. The Emperor not only ignored the opposition but also declared his intention to retaliate against the North if they did not participate. My master eventually sent the knights.

The war ended in victory, but my master lost many lieutenants, including an advisor he cherished like a brother. The Imperial Family monopolized the victory toast. Consequently, my master came to hate the Imperial Family more than any Veltenberg before him.

Perhaps fearing that my master might start a rebellion, the Emperor sent you, the youngest princess, as a partner for a political marriage to bind the North to the Imperial Family through matrimony.

That is how you came to the North. Even with my limited insight, I could tell you had simply been discarded.

My master did not hide his contempt for you. He provided a room in the most secluded, dark, and cold corner of the annex as the Grand Duchess's room and never even looked toward the annex. Whenever you happened to catch his eye, he spared no insults or verbal abuse, and at times, he even seemed to raise his hand.

As for me, I was no different.

Like a true Northerner, I also hated the Imperial Family. Furthermore, since my master and I grew up together, we were more like friends, and I saw how much he suffered because of the Imperial Family. So, I disliked you quite a bit as well. Because of the difference in status, I didn't insult you openly like my master, but I simply treated you as if you weren't there.

On the rare occasions I saw you, my body would heat up and my heart would beat irregularly, but I dismissed it as a feeling of unpleasantness and erased you from my life even more.

The Imperial Family also never inquired about you after the marriage, except for formal letters.

In a foreign land with no family, no friends, and not even a neighbor to ask how you were doing, I wonder what you were thinking, and I don't know if I even have the right to ask.

It was a few years after the political marriage. The sound of coughing began to drift from your room in the annex. Since it is common for a woman from the capital to catch a cold in the cold North, I didn't think much of it.

A few days later, no sound could be heard from your room.

When I opened the door out of a sense of foreboding, it was already too late. You lay on the bed, cold as ice, just as if you were asleep. You weren't even thirty yet, but you left this world at such a young age.

It was an illness that could have been cured if you had seen a physician in time. However, neither your husband, nor the butler, nor the maids—no one even knew you were sick. Because no one cared. Thus, the woman who was once the Emperor's daughter and the mistress of the North quietly breathed her last in a prison-like room where even light barely reached.

Only then did I realize that I loved you.

Faced with my master's order to burn all the Princess's belongings, I secretly slipped one of your brooches into my pocket. I thought the peridot, glowing with a soft grass-green light, looked just like your eyes.

After that, the rest of my life was nothing but bone-deep regret and guilt. It was as if I had killed a young, beautiful, and lovely woman with my own hands. Only I and the heavens know that I cried out in silent agony every night, clutching your brooch to my chest.

I died of old age like that, in the Grand Duke's castle in the North that had swallowed you whole.

And when I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day I became the Head Butler of the North after losing my father at a young age. With all my memories and regrets intact.

I have decided not to distinguish whether this is an opportunity for atonement granted by God or a punishment for my sins.

However, this time, I will not repeat the same mistake.

My Lady, I am a terrible sinner.

I do not seek your pity, your forgiveness, or your love.

I only hope that you will criticize me, return the hatred you received to me, slap my cheek, or even throw a teacup at me. I only wish that, by doing so, you will not swallow your resentment alone in this freezing North.

I pray, offering this lowly life, that this time your brilliant youth will not be taken from you.