"What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted to see?"
"Great man from a forgotten corner of history, why are you making that expression?"
Within the beautiful palace of ice, snow, and crystal, its mistress sat upon her throne, looking down at the man seated on the steps leading up to it.
Ruslan merely sat there.
There were only three steps beneath him. His posture looked more like a crouch, his elbows braced against his knees, his hands clasped together against his lowered forehead.
The queen could not see his expression.
No one could.
Not even himself.
Or rather, people were never able to see their own expressions.
He did not answer the queen upon the throne.
His eyes were closed. His lips trembled, and his teeth chattered together in rapid succession.
"Why aren't you speaking?"
"I can sense it, you know. That [love] of yours."
".Stop talking."
In response to the queen's words, Ruslan's somewhat hoarse voice squeezed out from the depths of his throat.
"What is it that makes you want me to stop speaking?"
"Is it that pity? That pain born of resonance?"
"Or is it that..."
"You betrayed [them]?"
".Stop talking!"
Ruslan raised his voice slightly.
The queen smiled and, as he wished, said no more.
Ruslan did not want to remain here any longer either. He stood up, pushed off with both legs, and vanished from the palace in an instant.
"Ah... how unbearably sad."
"Such heavy [love], no matter how it is handled, it will..."
The queen looked at the empty palace and shook her head.
She seemed regretful.
Or perhaps she truly was saddened for the man who had left the palace.
Sometimes, things simply developed into such helpless situations.
[Love] was real.
[Betrayal] was real as well.
The one who had been left