LDAD 75 s

Chapter 75

A young lady raised without a wrinkle.
The one who would become the most precious person in Escliffe.
The one who would be Ian’s mother.
And the woman who would be Ian’s wife.

On her way back to the West Palace, Amelia kept recalling the titles attached to Jane Clarke. Each one grand, dazzling, and shining. Things Amelia herself could never dare to covet.

And things completely opposite to Amelia Escliffe, who had nothing at all.

“Priestess?”

“I just… want to be alone for a while.”

It felt as if someone had ripped her heart out and slammed it onto the ground. She didn’t want to see anyone in such a state. She had no will to control her expression either, so she absolutely didn’t want to run into Louis, who was probably pacing about in her room.

Thud. The door closed behind her. Amelia leaned against it and slid helplessly down. She didn’t care whether the floor was dirty or not.

“……”

What lingered in her mind was Jane Clarke—the beautiful woman’s afterimage. Ian’s bright, smiling face. And Ivan. Ivan Wade Escliffe.

That damn man.

Amelia now fully understood why she never wanted to hear news related to Jane Clarke, why she wanted to avoid her.

“Why.”

The words barely slipped out, trembling on her lips.

“Why do they suit each other, why.”

Because Jane Clarke was the one who would perfectly belong at Ivan’s side. Because she was someone who could hold in her hands all that Amelia would never have.

Tears dripped down. No matter how hard she tried to hold them back, it was useless. After wiping them with her hands again and again, she finally gave up once they began flowing endlessly.

“Why. Why…”

It was sorrowful and miserable. Why can’t I have it. Why not me. Why… The unfinished questions only weighed like bruises in her heart. And with them came the realization, again, of what she truly desired.

“Hhhuuk…”

The truth was, she still wanted him. She wished his heart belonged to her. She wanted to stand at his side.

She still loved that damnably arrogant, cruel man. She still wanted his body and his heart. She wanted to live and die at his side, even if he could never be truly hers.

That was why she had buried even her resentment toward him—because it all came from the same root, her lingering love and attachment. She couldn’t let it show, afraid that it would betray the fact that she still longed for him.

But no matter how much she struggled, she always ended up back here. Amelia could never truly turn away from her feelings for Ivan.

Even after being used, mocked, and discarded—she still couldn’t break free. It was a feeling so consuming, it seemed more like madness than love.

Unless his eyesight had suddenly betrayed him, the flickering figure at the corner of the building had indeed been Amelia.

“He’s fussing. Let me take him.”

The bright sunlight dimmed under a passing cloud, and Ian began to whimper. Madam Howard, saying it was just a fit of drowsiness, reached toward Jane.

“Give him to me. I’ll carry him back.”

Ivan stepped in. Madam Howard blinked at him in surprise. Ivan was not the sort to so kindly tend to Ian.

“Very well.”

But since it was the Emperor’s will, she could hardly refuse. Even so, she watched anxiously as she passed the baby over, afraid Ivan might drop him. But to her surprise, he held Ian quite securely.

“May we disperse now?”

And Ian, resting his cheek against Ivan’s chest, actually closed his eyes in comfort. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the lack of a soft bosom he was accustomed to.

“Of course.”

Jane stood, delighted, thanking him graciously. Ivan, Ian in his arms, left the garden. The boy had already quieted down, as if he had never fussed at all.

“Madam Howard.”

“Yes?”

Entering Ian’s chamber, Ivan stopped before the child’s bed. Madam Howard’s eyes widened.

“Leave us. Make sure no one approaches the child’s room for a while.”

Though bewildered, Madam Howard obeyed. She wondered if she should have taken the child with her, but since Ivan had said nothing, perhaps he had his reasons.

Thanks to that, Ivan could lay the sleeping Ian gently on the bed, then leisurely move toward the adjoining room.

“……”

He followed the unnatural trace of a red cloth stuck in the door. Without hesitation, he opened it. He had no intention of pretending not to notice—otherwise, he wouldn’t have dismissed Madam Howard in the first place.

Sure enough, Amelia was there, leaning against the unopened door, her gaze lifting to him.

“Leave.”

She glared, finally speaking. Her eyes were swollen.

“Did you cry?”

Ivan ignored her demand as if he hadn’t heard it, shameless as ever. Amelia’s face crumpled, as though even looking at him was unbearable.

“I said leave…”

“Why did you come to the main palace earlier?”

Before she could finish, Ivan interrupted with his question. Amelia pressed her lips tightly shut. Too many words surged in her chest. If she spoke, she didn’t know what might slip out.

“……”

Another tear fell. She had thought she’d stopped crying. But at the sight of his brazen face, the image of him with Jane resurfaced like a painting.

“I hate you…”

She realized anew she would spend her life tormented by her desire for him, until she died. Amelia’s voice broke with resentment.

“You should’ve just killed me the first day we met.”

She would have preferred not to know him at all. Then her heart wouldn’t ache like this.

“You make me miserable.”

“……”

“Sometimes even worse than Aaron…”

Aaron had been the one to teach her not to think. Then one day, Ivan appeared and showed her another world. He gave her the freedom to desire—and then abandoned her. Desire, but never have, he told her.

“You keep reminding me that I can never have what I most want.”

And he circled her, mocking her, making her crave it even more.

“What is it you want most?”

Ivan asked. Amelia stubbornly kept silent. So Ivan stepped closer, shut the door behind him, and crouched down. Gripping her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze.

“Tell me. Maybe I can give you what you want.”

He whispered seductively.

“You devil.”

Amelia spat the curse, her face twisted as if she’d spit in his face. But strangely, Ivan wasn’t offended. To him, it felt like a surrender.

“Bastard, damn you…”

Even as she hurled insults, tears streamed down her cheeks. Ivan’s heart brimmed with certainty.

“Fucking bastard.”

“……”

“And still, I want you…”

Her voice was steeped in despair, yet Ivan felt exultant.

Yes, of course you can’t escape me. Of course you’re jealous of Jane Clarke. Of course you still love me.

“Then I promise you this.”

“……”

“Anything you want, except the crown of Empress—I’ll give it to you.”

The night Amelia had bitten his tongue, Ivan had realized with clarity: he wanted to possess her. His head told him it was an unnecessary inefficiency, but his heart wanted it.

So he decided. And he was a man who could make it happen.

“So swear you’ll be my mistress.”

Amelia let out a hollow laugh, as though she had already foreseen that she wouldn’t be able to refuse him.

“Fine. Until the day I die…”

Her voice trailed off into a blur. But it was still a promise. Ivan cupped her face and lowered his forehead to hers. She didn’t resist.

Feeling the warmth of her tear-heated skin for the first time in so long, he pressed his lips tenderly along the tracks of her tears. They were salty, but soft, even sweet.

“……”

When he finally pulled away, Amelia opened her eyes. He stared into them.

“Did you really sleep with Aaron Skipper?”

The question that had lingered in his heart all this time surfaced again.

“…No.”

Her small denial was enough. Satisfaction welled in Ivan as he claimed her lips, lifting her frail body into his arms. Entwined, the two of them fell together onto the bed in the adjoining room.