At least three years had passed. Isabelle stayed alive during the time they were apart. The one thing she really couldn’t do was die. Because she had a lover that promised to marry her, Arno. So she lived. She gritted her teeth and lived. Even if she was made fun of or slapped by the King of the enemy country, she lived. After arduous struggles, she finally met Arno, “Isabelle, I hate you.” The person she loved so much hated her. With the same tongue that kissed his mistress, Arno uttered countless invectives. Even so, Isabelle was still unable to stop loving him. But her love was not infinite. The more she looked at Arno, the more she crumbled. By the time Isabelle could no longer ignore it, “If I told you that I’d even risked my life for you, would you believe me, Isabelle?” Arno’s love began once more.