Second chance. Same love. A different kind of goodbye.
Crown Prince Alvis Verdian watched the woman he loved walk toward her death—sealed behind an iron grate while the palace burned around them, powerless to save Sierra, the commoner-born Royal Knight who had sworn to protect him. He never told her how he felt. He never got the chance.
Then he opens his eyes to morning light and a wound that shouldn't exist, and realizes: he has been given his life back. Years before the coup that will be kno
Second Silence - A Cold Proposal—The Milk-Sibling's Blade and a Swaying Heart
The Royal Palace Knights' headquarters was already full of men's shouting and the clash of blades before the morning light had even crept in.
Boots pressed into the dirt of the training yard. Wooden swords struck one another, and the dry crack of impact echoed off the walls. The smell of sweat, leather, and iron hung heavy in the air.
Alvis Verdian stood in one corner of it.
His platinum hair swept back, his pale blue eyes quietly watching the knights at their training. His crimson formal attire as crown prince was utterly out of place here—and precisely because of that, it made his presence stand out all the more. The small ornament at his left ear glinted in the morning sun.
"To find Your Highness at the headquarters is a rare thing."
A low voice, carrying well.
He turned, and there stood Leonhardt Rosenheit.
His black hair was cropped short, his gray eyes betraying no emotion. At a hundred and eighty-eight centimeters, his uniform as captain of the Royal Palace Knights was worn without a single wrinkle out of place. On the palm of his right hand, the mark of years gripping a sword hilt remained as hardened skin. Above his left brow ran an old scar from boyhood training.
He was Alvis's milk-brother.
They had nursed from the same breast, been raised in the same house, learned the sword from the same master. But now, the gray eyes that turned toward him held none of the innocent trust of those days.
"Leonhardt. Your duties as captain must be trying."
Alvis wore a gentle smile.
But behind that smile, his wariness was honed to a fine edge.
(This man knows something.)
The memories of his previous life whispered it to him.
"Your Highness's circle has been quite lively of late."
Leonhardt's voice was sardonic, faintly cold.
"Lively, you say?"
"The sword-training hall in the East Slope district. I hear a commoner knight has been going there."
Alvis's fingertips moved, just slightly.
(How much does he know about Sierra?)
"Ah, you mean Sierra Vardan. She's one of my guards. Nothing more, nothing less."
"I fail to understand why Your Highness would go so far to favor a commoner knight."
Leonhardt took a step closer to Alvis.
"That woman will become your weakness."
At those words, something deep in Alvis's chest ground and creaked.
(Weakness.)
(Ah, yes. You're right.)
(She is my one and only weakness.)
But he did not let his smile falter.
"I'll gratefully accept the advice."
"I am the son of the Minister of Military Affairs. Anything that disturbs the order of the palace, I am duty-bound to remove."
"...I suppose so."
A cold silence fell between them.
The clamor of the training yard sounded distant.
A memory from his childhood flashed behind Alvis's eyes.
The garden of Marguerite Noule's estate.
Two boys gripping wooden swords.
Soaked in sweat, laughing, striking at each other again and again.
"You've gotten stronger."
"As have you, Your Highness."
The days when they had put their backs to each other and said such things.
(Back then, I never had to be wary of you like this.)
Alvis murmured softly, in his heart.
"Then I'll take my leave."
Leonhardt turned his back.
"Your Highness. Do not let that woman get too close."
He left those words behind without turning around.
Something in the lowness of that voice stirred an indefinable unease in Alvis.
(Leonhardt.)
(What are you plotting?)
He stared fixedly at Leonhardt's retreating back.
――――――――
The East Slope district was alive with the bustle of early afternoon.
Merchants' carts creaked their way down the cobblestone slope. The calls of the fruit sellers, the hammering of the blacksmith, the laughter of children. All of it blended together into the clamor unique to this quarter.
On its outskirts stood a sword-training hall.
"Vardan Dojo."
It had once trained commoner swordsmen, but now it was on the verge of closing. The wooden sign had faded, and cracks ran through the gateposts.
Yet today, spirited voices rang out from within.
"Yes, once more! Move your feet!"
A girl with chestnut hair tied back short was putting a group of boys through their drills, wooden sword in hand.
Sierra Vardan. Eighteen years old.
A special appointee who had risen from commoner to palace knight. Her amber eyes looked straight at the boys. She was always quiet-footed when she moved—even within the Knights, she was called "like a shadow"—but here, she carried the heat of a teacher.
"Your blade tip is dropping. Look your opponent in the eye more."
"Yes! Teacher Sierra!"
The boys swung their wooden swords desperately, their sweat glistening.
Then.
A shadow fell across the dojo's entrance.
Sierra sensed the presence and turned.
Standing there was a tall man clad in the formal uniform of the captain of the Royal Palace Knights.
Leonhardt Rosenheit.
Expressionless, he surveyed the inside of the dojo.
The boys stiffened with a start.
"Wait outside."
At his low voice, the boys scrambled out of the dojo.
Sierra faced him, still gripping her wooden sword.
"Captain. What business do you have here?"
Her voice was quiet. But her hand had come to rest softly on the hilt of her beloved sword, Miralda, at her hip.
Miralda. A one-handed sword passed down from her commoner-born master. A purely practical blade with no ornamentation. Yet fine patterns were etched into its steel, and it was said that channeling ether through it changed its edge.
"So you are Sierra Vardan."
Leonhardt looked down at her as if appraising her worth.
"Yes."
"If you truly care for the crown prince, come to me."
At those words, Sierra's breath stopped for an instant.
His voice was cold.
But deep within its lowness, she felt something else lurking.
(A fixation he refuses to acknowledge.)
Unconsciously, Sierra tightened her grip on Miralda's hilt.
"...I don't understand what you mean."
"You should. Merely by being at His Highness's side, you expose him to danger."
Leonhardt took a step closer to her.
"The military faction has made you a target. Because you are a commoner special appointee. Your very existence drags His Highness down."
His words pierced Sierra's chest like a blade.
(I am... dragging His Highness down.)
She bit her lip.
"As long as you remain at His Highness's side, he cannot be protected. And you yourself will be erased before long."
"...Are you telling me to leave His Highness?"
Her voice trembled faintly.
"No. I am telling you to come to me."
For the first time, emotion colored Leonhardt's gray eyes.
It was neither anger nor sorrow.
Something darker, deeper.
"I will protect you. Anything that does not serve His Highness, I will manage with my own hands."
Sierra stared into his eyes.
(This man is serious.)
(But I don't understand why he's so serious.)
"If you care for His Highness, you should accept my proposal."
He stepped in even closer.
Sierra's back touched the dojo wall.
"You will become His Highness's weakness. Do not turn your eyes from that fact."
His breath brushed her forehead.
Sierra could not move.
The hand gripping Miralda's hilt was damp with sweat.
(I want to run.)
(But if I run, it will cause trouble for His Highness.)
Her heart wavered violently.
"You need not answer now. But the longer you delay, the worse your position becomes."
Having said only that, Leonhardt drew back.
"By the old well in the East Slope district, there is a place for contact. When you've made up your mind, come there."
He turned his back and made to leave the dojo.
Then.
"...I will hear what you have to say."
Sierra's voice rang quietly through the dojo.
Leonhardt's feet stopped.
He did not turn around.
But the corner of his mouth loosened, just for an instant.
"I see."
With only that, he left—this time for good.
Sierra slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor.
(What did I just say?)
(To protect His Highness, I'll accept the captain's proposal, in a place His Highness knows nothing about.)
(Isn't that betrayal?)
She drew Miralda.
Her own face reflected in the blade.
Pale, wearing an expression of hesitation.
"Your Highness..."
Her murmur reached no one, dissolving into the dusty air of the dojo.
――――――――
Dusk had dyed the palace's stone walls orange.
Alvis stood at the window of his chambers.
He was gazing fixedly toward the East Slope district.
(Leonhardt went to the East Slope district.)
It was only moments ago that he had received that report from Marguerite Noule.
A discreet knock came at the door.
"Lord Alvis. I've brought your tea."
"Ah, come in."
Marguerite entered carrying a silver tray.
Her graying hair was gathered at the back, and her deep green eyes shone quietly, as if seeing through everything. She was Alvis's wet nurse and the palace's head lady-in-waiting. She stood in a position where all the palace's information gathered—and yet she was a woman who never used it as a weapon.
She set a steaming cup on the desk.
"I mentioned earlier that Lord Leonhardt had headed for the East Slope district, did I not."
"Yes. Sierra is at the training hall. I wonder if he has some business with her."
"Who can say. That is beyond my knowledge."
Marguerite wore a serene smile.
But her eyes were not smiling.
"I will say only one thing."
She softly adjusted the sleeve at her left wrist.
Her habit of hiding the burn scar.
"The day may come when a milk-brother's affection turns to a blade."
At those words, Alvis's heart gave a heavy throb.
"...Marguerite. What do you know?"
"Nothing at all. Merely an old woman's rambling."
She said so and smiled quietly.
"Shall I pour the tea?"
"No, that's fine. You may go."
Marguerite bowed and left the room.
Alvis was left alone at the window.
(The day a milk-brother's affection turns to a blade.)
(Marguerite sees through everything.)
He exhaled deeply.
(I want to believe in Leonhardt.)
(In the man who crossed swords with me as a child, who put his back to mine.)
(But the Leonhardt of now is not the man he was then.)
Deep in his chest, something ground and creaked.
――――――――
Night.
In the palace corridor, the candle flames flickered unsteadily.
Alvis had summoned Sierra to the corridor.
She came walking quietly in her knight's uniform.
"Your Highness. I was told you called for me."
She stood before Alvis and bowed deeply.
On her face lingered a faint hesitation, as though recalling the day's events.
(She is hiding something.)
Alvis felt it instinctively.
"Yes. I wanted to talk a little."
He gazed fixedly at her face.
(I want to demand to know about her contact with Leonhardt.)
(But if I demand it, I will only corner her.)
(Besides—do I even have the right to interrogate her?)
He swallowed his words again and again, deep in his throat.
"...Um, Your Highness."
Sierra spoke first.
"Captain Leonhardt made me an offer—that he wished to be of service to Your Highness."
Her voice was small and trembling.
"Leonhardt did? To you, directly?"
"Yes. ...That is all. Nothing of the details yet."
She dropped her gaze.
(She is withholding the details.)
Alvis felt it.
(She is hiding something from me.)
(But I cannot blame her for it.)
(Because I, too, am hiding my past life from her.)
He placed his hand gently on Sierra's shoulder.
Her body gave a small start.
"Sierra. What do you want to do?"
His voice was kind.
But the question sank heavily, deep into her heart.
(What do I want to do?)
(I want to stay by His Highness's side.)
(But if I stay, I expose him to danger.)
(The captain's proposal is one way to protect His Highness.)
(But that would mean betraying him.)
Her heart was tangled into a mess.
"...I don't know."
She answered as if forcing the words out.
"...I see."
Alvis lifted his hand from her shoulder.
Silence fell between them.
The candlelight in the corridor cast their shadows long against the wall.
That silence was heavy and cold.
The sound of the first crack running through their mutual tr
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.