TMLOP 52

Chapter 52

The One and Only Between You and Me

Is this what it means to be the protagonist?

The moment Lucalina’s voice reached her ears, Senelia couldn’t help but wonder.

How else could someone approach so casually after having overheard the entire conversation that had just taken place?

Even so, Senelia instinctively stepped aside.

As if unwilling to stand between Benelucia and Lucalina.

“Don’t do that, Selly.”

In that moment, Benelucia pulled Senelia’s hand, the one he had been holding while they danced.

The thought of her slipping away from him made him tense up without realizing it.

“Lady Daphnen, I have something to say to Ben. Would you step aside?”

Lucalina’s expression hardened at Benelucia’s action, and she turned to face Senelia.

A surge of emotion rose in Senelia.

Lucalina’s words sounded like a blatant dismissal.

“Luna, I told you before…”

Benelucia tried to stop her.

But she didn’t wait even a moment.

“Your Grace, Duke Benelucia Afron, would you honor me with a dance?”

Suddenly, like a knight, Lucalina knelt on one knee and offered a dance to Benelucia.

She wasn’t wearing a dress, but an ornately embroidered formal suit tailored for the ball—just like in the original novel.

Only then did Senelia truly take in the sight.

In the original, that very outfit had been a gift from Benelucia to Lucalina.

Why was she wearing it now?

Once again, it felt as though this world was mocking Senelia’s every effort.

As if to say: the original story cannot be changed.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

She was upset.

Senelia let go of Benelucia.

Had Lucalina ordered that outfit herself?

Or—just like in the original—had Benelucia gifted it to her?

Without realizing, Senelia considered the latter a distinct possibility.

After all, even now, Benelucia wouldn’t be able to refuse Lucalina.

“Wait, Selly…!”

Benelucia instinctively reached out toward the retreating Senelia.

But the moment he stepped past Lucalina, the entire ballroom stirred.

He froze in place.

Lucalina was still kneeling on one knee.

In high society, it was still customary and proper for a man to ask a woman for a dance.

Of course, it wasn’t unheard of for women to ask first, but that was usually done as a charming gesture when she was certain the man would not refuse.

If Benelucia were to reject Lucalina now, her reputation would be ruined.

So Senelia didn’t hesitate.

She was sure Benelucia wouldn’t go that far.

And so, without a glance back, she walked off the dance floor.

No voice called after her.

* * *

“…Are you angry?”

Lucalina asked cautiously, watching his expression.

In the end, Benelucia had accepted her offer to dance.

Just as Senelia had predicted, he couldn’t publicly humiliate Lucalina at the imperial ball.

“Do you think I’m in a good mood right now?”

Lucalina flinched.

There was a sharpness in Benelucia’s tone that wasn’t usually there.

She knew she had been pushy, but she never thought he would treat her like this.

Since her return, nothing had gone her way.

She had even turned back time to save Benelucia’s life.

She had endured that endless war for him.

And yet, why did she feel less happy now than before her regression?

A shadow crossed Lucalina’s radiant face.

“…Ben, did you really have to say it like that?”

She didn’t bother hiding her hurt.

She believed, if only subconsciously, that she was entitled to act this way.

And who could blame her?

If you counted the time before the regression, she had spent nearly twenty years fighting in the war because of Benelucia.

Of course, Lucalina knew it hadn’t been Benelucia who sent her to the battlefield—it had been Clifford.

Benelucia had never asked her to make such sacrifices.

Still—human nature demanded compensation.

“You said you’d wait for me.”

Once again, Lucalina clung to that promise from eleven years ago.

When Benelucia was fifteen, he went off to war.

At sixteen, Lucalina waited five years for him.

But one year before his victorious return, she had no choice but to take up arms herself at twenty-one.

And when Benelucia returned to the capital at twenty-one, Lucalina was no longer there.

So he wrote her a letter.

He promised he would wait for her.

It was the only promise he could make to her under Clifford’s watchful eye.

“You said you wouldn’t change… that you loved me.”

Her voice trembled, her expression on the verge of collapse.

“And now, if you’ve changed… what am I supposed to do?”

Benelucia couldn’t stay angry any longer.

He knew as well as she did how horrific the battlefield was.

A heavy guilt wrapped around his throat.

No amount of anything could make up for the time they had lost.

If Lucalina hadn’t defied Clifford for Benelucia’s sake, she could have lived comfortably in the capital as the daughter of the Marquis of Elian.

Benelucia wanted to close his eyes and shut it all out.

And then—he caught sight of someone.

Yenelov Pendragon.

He was heading toward the terrace—the direction Senelia had gone.

Strangely, the moment Benelucia realized that, the guilt in his mind evaporated.

Senelia was someone who always retreated.

If he hesitated now, if he did nothing—he would lose her for good.

“Luna, regardless of everything…”

Just then, the music ended.

“I can’t spend the rest of my life with you just because of guilt.”

And like a period at the end of a sentence, Benelucia’s words settled between them.

“…What?”

Lucalina froze in place.

It wasn’t that he said he didn’t love her.

It was the fact that the only thing left between them was guilt—that pierced her like a blade.

“I’m sorry.”

Benelucia offered the final bow of their dance and stepped away.

Before she could even grab hold of him, he was already walking away.

And strangely, the way he didn’t look back—it resembled Senelia moments earlier.

To a degree Lucalina didn’t want to admit.

* * *

The ballroom buzzed with talk of Senelia, Benelucia, and Lucalina.

Senelia wanted nothing more than to escape the unwanted attention and chaos.

“Lady Daphnen.”

But even her attempt to flee to the terrace and pull the curtains for privacy proved futile when an uninvited guest called her name.

“…Young Master Pendragon?”

Yenelov appeared in her line of sight.

The moment she saw him, her expression stiffened.

She assumed Clifford had sent him to pressure her, unable to wait any longer.

Of course, she also knew she didn’t need to hide her emotions in front of Yenelov.

“Please don’t misunderstand…!”

He cried out urgently, clearly reacting to her cold expression.

But his next words caught her completely off guard.

“I just… you looked like you couldn’t breathe.”

Yenelov held out a hand.

In it was a chilled glass of champagne.

“I thought this might help.”

For a moment, Senelia was speechless.

She didn’t think their last encounter had left any good impression on him.

Yenelov was a proud man, and she had crushed that pride without mercy.

Yet in this moment—he was the only one who noticed her suffocating silence.

Senelia couldn’t bring herself to take the glass.

She guessed he acted like this only because, like her, he followed the emperor’s orders. They were both victims of the same machine.

And still, it meant something to her.

He was an ordinary person who, like her, had been caught up in imperial schemes.

And in that shared pain, he showed a rare and quiet kindness.

Of all people—it had to be Yenelov Pendragon.

He resembled her first love too much.

“…Did I overstep?”

Yenelov asked carefully.

His arm dipped slightly, awkward and unsure.

That small gesture made Senelia accept the glass without realizing it.

“No… I was actually feeling quite parched.”

Yenelov’s face lit up a little.

But before even a second passed, a deep voice shattered the fragile mood.

“If you knew, you shouldn’t have opened the terrace curtain.”

In social etiquette, a closed curtain on a terrace meant someone was already there.

Senelia hadn’t pointed it out, but Yenelov’s entrance, no matter how well-meaning, had still been improper.

Of course, Benelucia had no right to say that either—he had entered despite the closed curtain just the same.

“Your Grace.”

Yenelov stiffened and offered a curt greeting.

But Benelucia didn’t care.

He reached for the glass in Senelia’s hand and took it from her.

His movement was so smooth and natural that she didn’t even realize it until it was already done.

And then…

The champagne glass fell.