A few strands of blond hair escape from behind her ear and dangle in the cold night breeze as she sets down the glass, slightly cracked bottle in the bitter sea. She notices how she called it bitter, yet the waves remind her of a dove's soft wings.

"I really love doves," Len commented, staring at the two birds in the white, rusty cage, a warm smile on his face, smooth as caramel.

"I'm sorry," the girl says, her mournful blue eyes laced with tears that she imagined would taste as salty as the sea if they were to slip into her mouth.

The girl sees a spark of green in the moving water.

"I-I'm sorry?" Len questions his queen's command, breaking an uncomfortable, two-minute silence. "You want me to… to send orders to the army to… destroy the Green Country?"

"I'm sorry," the girl says repeats. A terrible feeling swishes inside her, and she does not think of it as guilt, but something else that she has only felt once or twice in her royal life.

She bites her fragile, chapped lips so hard that she can taste blood in her dry mouth. She gasps and then thinks of the colour of blood—and thinks of blood splattered on her neck, on the floor, on the wood of the execution site—

"Any last words, your majesty?" the woman in the red armor spits out, emphasizing the 'your majesty'. Her brown eyes appear to be cold and dark.

A pause, then, in a high voice, Len imitates, "Ohohoho~" A dark and evil smirk. "It's tea time!"

"I'm sorry," she echoes, and now, she cannot appear to stop. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry… I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

"Forgive me… Len," the girl says, suddenly breaking the cycle of 'I'm sorry'.

"You don't have to be."

She feels a cold hand on her right shoulder, and she whips around, only to see a crying girl with long hair that is white as cotton with a knife raised. She is standing, and the girl—the queen—Rin—sees that she is mourning as well. She can see it in the white-haired girl's eyes.

There is no Len.