Chapter 21: The Vermillion Princess

Time had passed since the Emperor's visit, and Rin found himself lingering in the aftermath of the Subspace Kidnappings. Despite being fully healed and able to walk, Terada Ken had insisted he remain under observation until someone from the White Palace came to escort him.

"Ugh, you're strict when it comes to the health of the imperial family," Rin grumbled with a sigh, though his tone was formal and measured. "Could you not make an exception, given that I am no longer part of it?"

Terada Ken, ever stoic, crossed his arms. "Whether officially or not, you are still a Prince, Rin. No exceptions. My duty remains the same."

Rin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It seems you remain as stubborn as ever, Sir Ken."

Before Ken could respond, a knock on the door drew both their attention. Ken moved to answer it, his measured steps echoing in the chamber. When he opened the door, standing there was Princess Takigawa Rei, her crimson royal robes vivid against the corridor's muted tones.

Rin straightened immediately, his demeanor becoming more formal as he greeted her with a slight bow. "Princess Rei," he said, his voice even, though his eyes showed a flicker of acknowledgment.

Rei stepped inside, her gaze immediately locking onto Rin. For a moment, her composed exterior faltered as she took in the sight of him—fully recovered, his posture relaxed, but his expression impassive.

"You're awake," she said softly, her voice carrying an almost imperceptible tremor.

Rin bowed his head respectfully. "Indeed, Your Highness. And alive, I am pleased to say."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her relief tempered by irritation at his stoic tone. "Do you always have to deflect with humor, Sir Rin?" she asked, folding her arms.

"It is either that or remain in somber silence, Your Highness," Rin replied, maintaining his formal tone. "I have found that humor serves me better."

Rei's expression softened despite herself, though the memory of him bloodied and battered on the stage was still fresh in her mind. "You don't get to joke about this," she said, her voice tinged with emotion. "Do you have any idea what it was like seeing you like that? Seeing you covered in blood, your clothes torn, barely standing..."

Rin looked away for a moment, his calm demeanor faltering briefly. "I did what was required of me, Princess," he said quietly. "That is all."

"You went alone," Rei said, her tone sharp with frustration. "You rushed in without thinking about what it would cost you—what it would cost us if you didn't come back."

He met her gaze then, his eyes steady but weary. "I had considered all possibilities, Your Highness," he said in a measured tone. "And I deemed it worth the risk."

Rei's hands clenched at her sides as she struggled to hold back tears. "You could've died, Rin."

"But I did not," he replied gently, his voice carrying a subtle weight of finality.

A heavy silence settled between them. Ken, sensing the weight of their conversation, quietly stepped out, leaving them alone.

Rei took a step closer, her voice softer now. "You don't have to carry everything on your own, you know."

Rin leaned back in his chair, his posture still formal, though his expression softened. "I have long been accustomed to carrying burdens alone, Princess."

"That doesn't make it right," she said firmly, her eyes filled with an intensity that made him pause.

"Perhaps..." Rin said softly, his voice trailing off as his gaze shifted away from the Vermillion Princess.

The distance between them grew more palpable in that moment. To Rin, the path he had chosen—the path of interfering with the events of the novel The Golden Girl's Rise—was something he should bear alone. It was a burden he refused to share, even if it meant bearing the weight of everything that came with it. The Vermillion Princess was unaware of the deeper complexities of his actions. She was soon to be part of the noble consorts, tasked with impeding the protagonist, Urakawa Miharu, a fate Rin knew all too well.

His actions inside the subspace might have consequences—consequences he was unwilling to face—but he would never reveal that to others. As a person who had lived through a second life, Rin knew all too well the harsh reality that lives must be lost for the story to progress. It was a painful truth he resented. He had interfered because he couldn't stand to watch people die for a plot that wasn't his own. He wanted to save them, to change the inevitable.

The Vermillion Princess, observing Rin's expression, felt a pang of sympathy. She saw a loneliness in his eyes, though he had not spoken further. It was the kind of loneliness that spoke of internal struggles, of burdens no one else could understand. Her heart ached, not because of pity, but because she realized there was nothing she could do to ease his pain.

For a moment, she stood in silence, contemplating. She wondered why she cared about him so much. Why did she feel the urge to get involved, when she had first met him as nothing more than a means to showcase her own talents in swordsmanship? That was the purpose she had seen, the reason she had allowed herself to approach him at all. But now, standing in front of him, she realized something deeper had grown. It wasn't just about showcasing her skills. It was about him.

At that moment, she understood: she wasn't just a person caught in the flow of the story. She was someone who had been fortunate enough to meet a person named Shimizu Rin.

Rin's gaze remained steady, his expression calm, almost serene, as he met the Vermillion Princess's eyes. The soft glow of the room seemed to emphasize his stoic demeanor, as though the weight of everything around him had been neatly tucked away behind an impenetrable wall.

"You don't need to care about this Warrior's troubles, Vermillion Princess..." His words were precise, deliberate. A subtle yet firm push to create distance, a wall that kept everything within him at bay.

The Vermillion Princess Rei felt the sting of those words deeply, her heart sinking. She had understood, without needing further explanation, that her desire to help had been rejected. The words hurt more than she could have imagined, and for a brief moment, she wanted to cry out in frustration, in sorrow, in helplessness. But she held herself in check, as a princess should, and the tears never came. Not in front of him, not now.

It was the calmness of the rejection that had taken her off guard. It wasn't harsh or cruel. It was too quiet, too composed, and it made the pain even sharper. In that moment, she realized something she hadn't fully understood before: despite the title she carried, the consort-to-be, she had fallen for the man who walked the lonely path, the man named Shimizu Rin.

She couldn't force him to confide in her, not when his heart was so closed off. The thought of pushing him further away, of him retreating even more into himself, was unbearable. She loved him too much to risk that. So, she stood there, her eyes soft but filled with sorrow, staring at him with a quiet sadness. Disappointment, too, settled in her chest—not for him, but for herself.

How could she not have seen it earlier? The man who had stood unwavering in the face of danger, who had fought through the chaos of the subspace with determination and strength. He had saved her head maid during the demon surprise attack, built walls to hold off the advancing demon waves, and singlehandedly wiped out the first wave. He had even fought until his blade met the throat of the Dark Magician who had trapped them all.

In every one of those moments, he had been alone. Alone in his strength, alone in his resolve, and alone in the heartache that no one could see. He had never needed her, and perhaps, he never would.

Her heart ached even more, but there was nothing she could do but stand there, silently, wishing she could ease the burden he carried.

"You just need to focus on yourself, Princess Rei..." Rin's voice was steady, the tone carrying an air of finality that pierced deeper than any sword.

For Princess Rei, those words were the final cut, a knife that severed her hopes of reaching out to him. She didn't need him to say it explicitly; the implication was clear. This was his way of saying goodbye, of pushing her further from the place where his burdens lay.

In her heart, she screamed against it. Don't say that, Rin. Don't push me away like this. Please... But the words never escaped her lips. She couldn't let them. A princess doesn't plead—not even for the man she loves.

Rin met her gaze, his dark eyes calm and unwavering, like the stillness before a storm. His face betrayed no emotion, only the practiced composure of someone who had walked a path far lonelier than most could imagine. It was the look of a man who had long since accepted his isolation as his fate.

To Rin, this was no different from the life he had lived once before. In his first life, he was at the height of power, only to fall, stripped of title and standing, becoming a nameless figure among commoners. Now, as the warrior Shimizu Rin, he walked a similar path—a man of high birth disguised as something far simpler, burdened with the weight of truths he could never share.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and unyielding. Princess Rei's chest tightened, her heart aching as she looked at him. She saw the strength that had carried him through battles and the resolve that had built walls to shield his pain from others. Yet, behind it all, she saw something else—a profound loneliness that no sword, no shield, no title could ever dispel.

And she hated it.

But what could she do?

Rin had chosen this path, and no matter how much she wanted to walk it beside him, he wouldn't let her. So, she stood there, helpless, her own words swallowed by the weight of his.

The Warrior Shimizu Rin—calm, composed, and unreachable.

And the Vermillion Princess Rei—hurt, longing, and unable to reach the man she had come to love.

"I understand... Please take care of yourself, Rin..." Princess Rei's voice was soft, though the weight of the unspoken words hung between them. Her heart clenched as she turned away, unable to bear seeing him so closed off, so distant. She forced herself to walk, each step heavier than the last.

But just as she reached the door, she glanced back. Her eyes met Rin's for one final moment, and though he offered her a gentle smile and a wave, the sadness in his eyes was undeniable. It was a smile meant to reassure her, but it only deepened her sorrow.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Princess Rei fought the rising tide of emotions, her heart heavy and aching. She could not help him. She could not reach him.

Behind the door, Terada Ken had been watching the exchange. He saw the forlorn expression on the princess's face and understood more than she realized. His gaze flicked to her before speaking, his tone quiet but firm.

"Is everything well, Princess?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Princess Rei nodded, though the mask of composure didn't quite hide the uncertainty in her eyes. "It is... I suppose."

Seta Tadao sighed inwardly. He had known for some time that Rin, or rather, Hoshimi Rin, as he once was, wasn't someone easily understood. Rin's decision to discard his title, to abandon the life that was laid before him, had been a deliberate one. The man he was now, the warrior Shimuzu Rin, was not the same as the prince who once stood poised to inherit the throne. And Ken had always known that, deep down, Rin would return to his rightful place one day.

"Princess," Ken spoke gently, his voice laced with quiet wisdom. "If you are thinking about helping him... then I would advise you to focus on your duties as the Crown Prince's consort. There's much you don't know about him, but when the time comes, you'll understand who he truly is."

The words were heavy with meaning, and Ken's eyes held a deep understanding that he could not share. Rin had chosen to walk his solitary path for reasons known only to him. But Ken had always believed that Rin, the real Rin—Hoshimi Rin—would one day return to the throne. He had shown the heart of a leader, a protector, through his actions. It wasn't just fate that had made him a prince; it was his nature. The world would one day need him, and when that time came, Hoshimi Rin would rise once more, as he always had.

Princess Rei was quiet, her brow furrowing with confusion. She still didn't understand, but she knew better than to question Ken, who was bound by his oath to protect Rin's secret.

"Focus on your duties, Princess," Ken urged. "You will see in time. And when that time comes, you will know how to help him, even if it is not in the way you think."

The princess nodded, though her thoughts were a whirlwind of uncertainty. As Ken left her with her thoughts, he knew one thing: Rin would return when the world needed him most. He had seen it in his actions, in the way he fought to protect others, despite his desire to stay hidden. One day, Rin would take his place—not just as a prince, but as a ruler, a leader, someone who would inspire and protect the empire once more.

But for now, all Ken could do was encourage Princess Rei to fulfill her duties, to play the part she was destined for, and trust that fate would guide them all in the end.