The first rays of dawn crept over the Duke's estate, washing the marble halls in gold and pale ivory. The storm of last night had left the air cool and fresh, yet the manor seemed anything but calm. Servants hurried through the corridors, whispering about the unexpected royal visitor who had sent word at sunrise.
Lady Seo Rin, seated before her dressing mirror, stared blankly at her reflection. The silver comb in her hand had stopped midway through her hair. She hadn't slept much — Duke Min Jae's confession had replayed endlessly in her mind. His voice, his eyes, that hint of sorrow beneath his calm...
> "Treason that was never his."
Those words echoed louder than any bell. Her father's honor, her family's ruin — all of it tied to a truth she'd never known.
"Milady?" her maid, Hana, said softly, adjusting the folds of Seo Rin's lavender gown. "The Duke requests your presence in the dining hall. The royal guest has arrived."
"The guest?" Seo Rin repeated, her voice distant. "Do we know who it is?"
Hana hesitated. "They say it's His Highness... Prince Eunwoo."
The comb slipped from Seo Rin's hand. "Prince Eunwoo?" she whispered.
A memory bloomed — a sunlit garden, a young prince offering her a white rose when her father still held rank. 'Even in shadows, the rose blooms proud,' he'd said. Back then, she was merely the governor's daughter, too shy to reply.
And now, years later, the prince was here.
---
The great dining hall gleamed with morning light. Chandeliers sparkled like frozen dew, and the long oak table was set with porcelain and crystal. The Duke sat at the head, composed and regal as ever, though his gaze seemed sharper than usual.
When Seo Rin entered, all eyes turned to her. Her gown shimmered like lilac mist, and her hair, tied with a single silver pin, framed her calm yet uncertain face.
And then she saw him.
Prince Eunwoo — dressed in white and gold, the emblem of the royal house gleaming at his chest. His smile was soft, but his eyes carried the weight of knowing far too much.
He rose from his seat immediately. "Lady Seo Rin. It's been... far too long."
"Your Highness," she said, bowing gracefully. "I did not expect—"
He interrupted with a gentle chuckle. "—that I'd visit this far from the capital? Forgive my intrusion. But I heard whispers of your return to court life, and I thought it only polite to see an old friend."
Across the table, Duke Min Jae's spoon rested midair. His gaze was steady, unreadable, but the faint tension in his jaw betrayed his unease.
"Your Highness," Min Jae said coolly, "had I known you would grace my home this morning, I would have arranged a more formal welcome."
"Ah, formality," the Prince replied lightly. "But I've never been fond of walls between old acquaintances."
The two men exchanged polite smiles — the kind that looked civil but felt like drawn swords.
---
Breakfast was quiet at first — too quiet. The only sounds were the clinking of cutlery and the occasional murmur of servants. Yet beneath that silence, the air simmered with something unsaid.
Seo Rin sat between them, aware of every glance, every pause.
At one point, the Prince turned to her, his voice warm. "Do you still tend to the gardens, Lady Seo Rin? I recall you used to care for moon lilies — they were your favorite."
She blinked, surprised. "You remember?"
"How could I forget?" he said softly. "They were the only flowers that bloomed after your father's exile. You said they reminded you that beauty could survive sorrow."
Her lips parted slightly. "Yes... I did."
Min Jae's eyes flicked toward her — just briefly, but enough to make her heart race. His grip on the glass tightened almost imperceptibly.
> He remembers details from years ago... and I never told anyone about that garden.
Before she could reply, the Duke spoke, voice smooth yet cutting: "It seems Your Highness holds quite the memory for the past."
Eunwoo's smile didn't waver. "Memories, after all, are what keep us human, don't you agree?"
"Some are better left buried," Min Jae replied quietly.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush air. Seo Rin could almost hear the tension crackle between them.
---
After breakfast, Eunwoo asked if he might stroll through the gardens — "to revisit old memories," he'd said. Min Jae, ever the proper host, offered to accompany him, but the Prince declined with a smile.
"I would much rather Lady Seo Rin join me. If she would be kind enough to guide me."
For a moment, Seo Rin hesitated, glancing at the Duke. His gaze was calm but unreadable. Finally, she nodded. "Of course, Your Highness."
The garden stretched endlessly — a labyrinth of marble fountains and climbing roses. The morning sun glowed through the mist, scattering gold across the dew.
As they walked, Eunwoo's tone softened. "I was there, you know... when your father's trial was announced. I didn't believe the charges then, and I don't now."
Seo Rin's steps faltered. "You... you think he was innocent?"
"I know he was," Eunwoo said, stopping beneath an arch of ivy. "But the evidence was twisted. And the man who gave the final order..." He hesitated, his expression darkening. "It wasn't who everyone believed."
Seo Rin's heart pounded. "Who then?"
Before he could answer, a voice cut through the air.
"Your Highness."
Duke Min Jae approached from behind, his black coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. His tone was courteous, but his eyes— they were locked on Seo Rin.
"I thought it best to ensure the Prince's safety while he's within my walls," he said smoothly.
"Ever the vigilant Duke," Eunwoo replied with a faint smirk. "I was merely speaking with Lady Seo Rin about her late father."
Min Jae's jaw tensed. "The past is a dangerous garden, Your Highness. One may easily find thorns among the roses."
Eunwoo raised a brow. "And yet, isn't truth worth a few thorns?"
For a heartbeat, silence. Then Seo Rin stepped between them, her voice trembling slightly but firm.
"Please," she said. "If the truth is what binds my past and your duty, then I deserve to know it. Both of you owe me that much."
The Duke looked at her, pain flickering in his eyes — but also something deeper.
Finally, he said quietly, "Some truths destroy more than they heal, Seo Rin. But I promise you this — before the moon rises again, you'll know what truly happened that night."
Her breath caught.
The Prince's expression turned unreadable. "Then I'll hold you to your word, Duke."
As they stood there, the breeze carried the scent of roses between them — sweet, sharp, and tinged with memory.
For the first time, Seo Rin realized that both men were bound not just by duty or guilt — but by her.
And somewhere above them, hidden behind the morning veil, the moon still lingered — faint, pale, waiting for its time to rise once more.
___
End of Chapter 12