Chapter 3
The first month after Mercy passed away, the sky over Joslinton remained shrouded in a dull, endless gray.
The four men wandered through the city like soulless zombies, as if all color had been drained from their world.
Jeffrey still carried the air of the high and mighty crown prince, but he never set foot in Ariella's palace again.
Every day, after attending to the duties and affairs of the day, he went alone to the Starlit House.
From dusk until deep into the night, he sat in silence and fixated on the spot where Mercy had leapt to her death, replaying the scene endlessly in his mind.
He tried to imagine what Mercy had felt in those final moments. 'Was she desperate, bitter, or finally free?' he wondered.
But he never found the answer.
It felt as though his own heart had shattered, falling from that tower with her.
Ariella visited him a few times, her tears flowing like relentless rain.
"Your Highness, are you still blaming me? Mercy's death hurts me, too," she sobbed.
In the past, her tears would have pierced him, making his heart ache.
Now, however, looking at her face, which bore a faint resemblance to Mercy's, he felt only irritation and disgust.
"Get out," he barked, his voice harsher than it had ever been.
Ariella froze, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at him. "Your Highness..."
"I told you to leave," Jeffrey snapped, sweeping petitions from the table as he glared at her with bloodshot eyes and a fierce, unrelenting stare. "If it were not for you, Mercy would still be alive."
At that moment, he finally admitted it.
In his desperate attempts to gain Ariella's favor, he had driven Mercy into a corner, step by step, until she had no escape.
He had destroyed the only woman who had ever truly loved him.
*****
Clyde headed back to the frontier.
He thought that leaving Joslinton, the city that had shattered him, and immersing himself in the heat of battle would finally erase the memory of Mercy falling from the tower.
He was profoundly mistaken.
Late at night, in the silence that pressed against him, Mercy appeared before him in his mind. She was drenched in blood, and her voice echoed endlessly, demanding, "Clyde, why didn't you believe me?"
He would awaken abruptly from those nightmares, his back soaked with cold sweat.
He threw himself into relentless drills and merciless combat, driving his body to its limits in a desperate attempt to numb the pain through exhaustion.
However, the harder he pushed himself, the more vivid Mercy's presence became in his thoughts.
He remembered her gritting her teeth and refusing to cry aloud when she took arrows for him.
He remembered her trudging through snow for three days and nights to deliver rations, her lips blue from the cold.
He remembered her first time on the battlefield, trembling with fear yet standing unwaveringly by his side.
Every memory he had tried to suppress now pierced his heart like sharp blades, tormenting him endlessly.
During one fierce battle, enemy arrows fell like a torrential rain.
His second-in-command yelled, "General, look out!"
But as if possessed, Clyde didn't even try to dodge.
'If I die here, maybe I can finally beg her forgiveness in hell,' he thought.
But right before the arrow struck, he seemed to catch a glimpse of Mercy's eyes, filled with disappointment.
Clyde suddenly snapped out of it and dodged clumsily, barely avoiding the arrow.
'I can't die now,' he thought. 'I haven't atoned for my actions. I'm not worthy to see her yet.'
*****
Ethan's business continued to expand until he was nearly in control of the kingdom's entire economic landscape.
He smiled more often than before. His warmth and elegance made him appear identical to the refined young man he had once been.
However, only Ethan understood that beneath that composed exterior, his heart had already turned into a barren wasteland.
He placed the charred hairpin inside the most ornate box he could find and kept it with him at all times.
On nights when silence filled the room, Ethan would take out the hairpin and run his fingers over the scorched marks. He would murmur the same words again and again. "Mercy, I was wrong."
He began to target those merchants who had once relied on the Randall family and abandoned them at the first sign of trouble.
His methods were ruthless and absolute. He allowed no compromise and showed no mercy in return.
Whispers spread through society that Ethan was no longer the man he once was. People said he had become like a predator driven by the scent of blood.
He paid no attention to those voices.
His thoughts remained trapped in a single regret. He believed that if he had possessed the same fearlessness he had now, and if he had protected the Randall family and Mercy without hesitation, everything might have ended differently.
But life offered no second chances.
No matter how vast his wealth became, he could never bring back the girl whose smile had once bloomed for him over a simple hairpin.
*****
Edgar's lodge remained sealed, its doors never opening again.
He shut himself away, refusing to see a single soul.
His spiritual practice faltered. His resolve crumbled, and he could no longer focus enough to prepare even the simplest remedies.
He spent his days holed up with ancient texts, searching desperately for a way to call her spirit back.
All he wanted was one final glimpse of her, even if it was only a fleeting presence of her soul.
He wanted to say to her, "I am sorry."
Despite poring over every tome and scroll he could find, Edgar never discovered a single method to restore her.
Doubt began to creep into his mind, eroding the faith he had placed in the spiritual path he had devoted his life to.
He wondered, 'If the pursuit of transcendence requires the severing of all emotions, the abandonment of desire, and the cultivation of a heart as cold and unfeeling as stone, perhaps the path I follow so faithfully is not worth it.'
In a fit of despair, Edgar destroyed every pill he had prepared and set fire to all his medical and alchemical texts.
'If I were a regular doctor, maybe I wouldn't have been so hesitant. Maybe I could've saved her right away when she was burning with fever, without second-guessing myself,' he thought.
*****
The four men each bore their pain in their own way, tormented by regrets that seemed to have no end.
Ariella, the girl who never left their thoughts, struggled as well.
With Mercy gone, the one they had once regarded as their enemy, their attitude toward Ariella shifted sharply.
Jeffrey treated her as if she did not exist.
Clyde's letters from the frontier no longer asked after her well-being. Instead, he demanded to know why she had lied, each word pressing for an answer.
Ethan cut off all financial support, leaving her to fall from privilege into hardship.
Edgar refused to let her approach his lodge, slamming the door in her face.
Ariella grew anxious, her nerves fraying.
She could not understand why, now that Mercy was gone, the men only became colder and harsher toward her.
She only wanted to replace Mercy and wondered what she had done wrong.
Ariella began to imitate Mercy, copying her speech, her walk, and even the fierce gaze that had once defined her.
The more she tried, the more intolerable she became to the four men.
A fake would always remain a fake.
Watching her awkward imitation only reminded them how irreplaceable Mercy had been, a treasure they had lost forever.
*****
Today marked Mercy's birthday.
Without any prior arrangement, the four men arrived at the same scorched burial ground.
None of them spoke. They silently placed their offerings in front of the ruined earth.
The items included her favorite pastries, the wine she had once preferred, and a newly prepared outfit paired with matching jewelry.
Jeffrey said in a low voice, "Mercy, I have placed Barrett's memorial tablet in the royal ancestral shrine and granted him a prince's burial."
Clyde's voice carried a rough edge as he continued, "Mercy, I have confessed to His Majesty that I was the one who believed the rumors and destroyed your family. I have also gathered all the evidence that proves Barrett was framed."
Ethan gave a bitter smile as he added, "Mercy, I have restored the value of your wedding gift tenfold, no, a hundredfold. Everyone who once harmed the Randall family has already paid the price."
Edgar said softly, "Mercy, I'm sorry. If time could be reversed, I would choose a different path in every moment."
But only the cold and desolate wind responded to their words.
Just then, from somewhere in the distance, a lingering zither melody drifted through the air.
The tune was clear and cool, carrying a restrained pride and a deep loneliness, while also evoking a haunting sense of familiarity that none of them could ignore.
The four men lifted their gazes at the same time, drawn toward the source of the sound.
On a nearby hillside, an elegant coffeehouse had appeared without warning.
Above the entrance hung a sign written in bold and flowing strokes. The name "Mercy" stood there unmistakably.