Ulrich stared at Ashara for a long moment.

He was not the only one left momentarily stunned by the sudden reunion.

Ashara was just as speechless.

It had been five long years since she had last seen him. Back then, she still remembered clearly how cold Ulrich had been toward her, and how painfully their parting had ended.

Though she had come to the Capital today, she had never expected to find Ulrich here.

Even when she had entered the Kingdom again, she had not imagined she would cross paths with him in his own land. She knew well enough that Ulrich did not wish to see her.

And yet, it was as though fate had decided otherwise.

He stood there before her now, older, taller, broader, and even more handsome than before, no longer a boy but now a man. Yet his expression remained much the same as she remembered: distant, cold, unreadable. Still, something about him felt different. She could not quite place it, but there was softness now, albeit small.

Though, as always, Ashara did not dare hope to see him smile at her again the way he used to when they were children.

And yet, despite everything, despite the pain, despite the bitterness, despite how convinced she had been that she had long cut him out of her heart, the moment she saw him again after five years, a wave of aching nostalgia crashed over her. Her heart skipped a beat before she could stop it.

Ulrich stared back at her in silence.

Unlike Ashara, he did not let the shock show so plainly on his face, but seeing her again stirred something deep inside him all the same. Emotions he had long forced down now rose unexpectedly to the surface.

Feeling his heart stutter once in his chest, Ulrich abruptly turned on his heel and pressed a hand against it.

This was bad.

He knew that at once.

That kind of feeling, so sudden, so impossible to control, he had only ever felt it toward Faith in his past life.

But that only proved how important Ashara had always been to Ulrich.

The main reason he had driven her away back then was because he could not bear the thought of something happening to her. He could not endure that pain of loss ever again. And then there had been the matter of his broken Core. While Ashara had awakened a Prismatic Core, he had been left with that shattered disgrace inside him. In the years that followed, her kindness, her comfort, and her quiet presence had not soothed him. If anything, they had only made him hate himself more.

All of those feelings, fear, shame, longing, bitterness had twisted together until being near her had become unbearable, no matter how deeply she had carved herself into his heart.

The last thing he wanted was to pour out that unjustified hatred toward her a hurt her in the process so he drove her away, despite it still had hurt her.

"W—Wait...!"

Seeing Ulrich almost flee, Ashara hurried after him.

"Don’t follow me," Ulrich spat, shooting her a sharp look over his shoulder.

Ashara’s expression faltered at once.

"It has been five years, and you do not even want to speak to me?" She asked.

There was hurt in her voice now, impossible to hide.

A part of her still carried guilt. After Ulrich’s father had passed away, she had never gone to see him. In truth, she had been afraid, afraid of facing him again after he had lost both his parents, afraid of how he might look at her, afraid of what he might say.

Five years ago, the way he had pushed her away had already wounded her more deeply than she cared to admit. She had not wanted to suffer through that pain a second time.

And yet now, standing before him again, all those feelings she thought she had buried came rushing back. More than ever, she was reminded of how precious her bond with Ulrich had once been.

Ulrich saw the hurt plain on her face, and despite every wall he had built, he felt his heart skip another beat.

No.

He could not do this.

If he gave in, if he let himself feel even a fraction of what he used to, the probability of experiencing that unbearable pain of loss would only multiply. It was an automatic, inescapable response. He simply could not allow anyone to get close enough to form a bond with him. He didn’t want to experience that loss again.

"Who do we have here?"

At that exact moment, a man appeared in the corridor, directly blocking Ulrich’s path of escape.

Both Ulrich and Ashara immediately contorted their expressions in shared distaste.

It was the Crown Prince of the Kingdom, Albert Van Skargardia.

He wore a lopsided, mocking smile as he observed the two of them.

"The two lovebirds of Arcadia, reunited at last. Tell me, if shame truly existed within the Frost House, would the young Princess still be caught standing beside Ulrich Van Rubenhart?"

"Mind your words, Your Highness," Ashara snapped, her expression twisting into open displeasure.

"I am simply being honest," Albert replied, chuckling softly. "The previous Count shattered the supposed engagement between your two Houses, and Ulrich here has shown absolutely no interest in honoring his late mother’s wishes either."

Ulrich stared at the Prince, outwardly unbothered by the jab. Yet, if one looked closely into his dark red eyes, they were swimming with barely repressed contempt.

Albert saw it clearly.

His mocking smile vanished, instantly replaced by a deep scowl of discontent. Unfortunately for the Crown Prince, Ulrich was that rare noble in Skargardia who was untouchable even by them. Putting aside his power as a ruling Count, Ulrich’s late mother had been a Daughter of the Flameheart House, one of the four great Arcadian Houses, just like Ashara’s family.

Because of this, even Albert could not simply order Ulrich around or act too arrogantly. It was true that relations between Ulrich and his mother’s family were virtually non-existent, a cold estrangement entirely orchestrated by his late father but the inescapable fact remained: Ulrich carried Arcadian royal blood in his veins.

"Elder Brother."

A small, quiet voice echoed from behind the Prince.

Ulrich shifted his gaze to the figure standing just behind Albert. It was a young girl about Hermione’s age, possessing long, pale pink hair and vivid emerald eyes.

She was Albert’s younger sister, the only Princess of Skargardia, Camellia Van Skargardia.

For Ulrich, there was an even more crucial detail about her: five years from now, when the main events of the novel would truly began, she was destined to be the main love interest of the novel’s Protagonist.

"Father has called," Camellia informed her brother softly.

"Hm. Well, you heard her," Albert said, casting one last dismissive glance at Ulrich and Ashara before turning and walking away.

Left standing in the corridor, Camellia offered both Ulrich and Ashara a deep, respectful curtsy, delicately pinching the hem of her skirt.

"Lord Rubenhart. Lady Frost."

"Your Highness," Ulrich replied coldly. He barely spared her a glance before brushing straight past her.

His mood already sour, had turned for the worse because of Albert.

Camellia’s emerald eyes quietly tracked Ulrich’s retreating back for a moment before she turned her attention to Ashara.

"My apologies for him, Your Highness... he is always like that," Ashara offered, forcing a polite, apologetic smile.

"It is fine. Everyone knows what Count Rubenhart is like," Camellia replied with a small nod.

Ashara did not know what to say to that. It seemed Ulrich had done nothing to improve his abysmal reputation at court.

"Shall we?" Camellia prompted gently.

Ashara nodded. Falling into step beside the young Princess, she cast one last lingering stare at Ulrich, who was already striding impatiently ahead, clearly eager to get this royal summon over with.