Chapter 62
***
As expected, the moment Ethan was granted an audience with King Petra, the royal physician was summoned to examine him.
“Since I woke up, my head has been throbbing like it’s about to split open. My hands and feet tremble sometimes, and my vision blurs now and then.”
As planned, Ethan pressed the story of his head injury.
“It seems you suffered a severe blow to the head when you fell from that cliff. You must take absolute rest for a while,” the royal physician advised gravely.
With no way to look inside his patient’s mind, the physician had no choice but to believe him.
“I heard you fell from a sheer cliff, and yet, aside from your head and leg, you’re relatively unscathed. Remarkable indeed—worthy of the hero who led the Allied Nations to victory.”
Once the physician had done his part and departed, the King chuckled. His words might have sounded complimentary, but his gaze was sharp, his tone cool.
“Isn’t that so?” Howard interjected smoothly. “When I found Baron Isteban, I was shocked he was in such decent condition.”
He skillfully kept Ethan out of the King’s direct line of suspicion.
“Still, a head injury severe enough to leave him unconscious for several days—that’s troubling. External wounds can heal, but when it comes to the head, even the best medicine can do little. I only pray His Majesty joins me in wishing the Baron a full recovery.”
The King, slightly taken aback by Howard’s courteous tone, nodded stiffly.
“Yes, well… what matters is that he returned alive.”
“My apologies for causing concern, Your Majesty.”
“No, no. You saved the princess. I should be the one thanking you.”
The tension that had hung thick in the room began to ease—until Queen Meier arrived.
The King merely nodded permission, as if expecting her visit.
Howard, on the other hand, frowned faintly, pretending to be troubled, though inwardly, he was delighted.
After all, Queen Meier was the final piece in his carefully crafted plan.
Once she entered, he withdrew completely, allowing her to dominate the conversation. Whenever he put on an awkward expression, her outrage only grew louder.
“This is an insult not only to the royal family but also to the hero who saved our kingdom and the Allied Nations—Baron Isteban! The culprit who spread such vile rumors must be found and punished severely!”
“Do you truly believe so, Your Majesty?” Howard asked, his tone mild yet deliberate, as though he had been waiting for her to say those words.
The Queen faltered, her sharp eyes narrowing.
Howard met her gaze without flinching, his lips curling into a pleasant smile.
“Of course we must punish them,” he said lightly.
The tension between them was like a taut rope, pulled to its breaking point—until the King intervened, his voice deep and grave.
“We will find the one who defamed Baron Estevan and punish them. Rest assured, his honor will not be tarnished.”
“Then,” Howard said smoothly, “we must also punish the one who tried to kill him.”
At that, silence fell like a hammer. The air froze. Only the faint sound of someone swallowing broke the stillness.
Howard’s eyes turned to Queen Meier, watching her reaction carefully. She looked merely stunned—clearly unaware of the true reason Ethan had fallen from the cliff.
So Camilla didn’t tell her everything.
He almost laughed aloud. Of course she hadn’t—after committing such madness, how could she have confessed to her own mother?
While mocking the ignorant queen inwardly, Howard outwardly sighed in sympathy, turning his gaze toward Ethan. For a brief moment, their eyes met—understanding passing silently between them.
“Baron Estevan,” the King said at last, “tell us exactly what happened that day.”
Ethan nodded and began to recount everything.
How Princess Camilla had summoned him to the forest that afternoon, asking him to flee with her to the Laus Kingdom. How he had refused. That same evening, she had called him out again, threatening to throw herself from the cliff if he did not obey.
And finally, how, while trying to stop her, he had fallen.
By the time he finished, Queen Meier’s face had turned as pale as parchment.
She had realized—Howard’s words, the one who tried to kill him—had pointed to her own daughter.
“And when Her Highness visited me while I was unconscious,” Ethan continued quietly, “she said that, in gratitude for saving her, she would make me a member of the royal family… by marrying me herself, instead of entering a political union.”
It was the final, damning blow.
“A-ah…!”
“Your Majesty!”
Queen Meier could bear no more. With a gasp, she clutched her forehead and collapsed. Her ladies-in-waiting rushed to support her.
“Bring Camilla here! At once!” the King roared, his fury shaking the hall. The Queen, still unconscious, was carried out as his voice thundered behind her.
“Your Majesty,” Howard said calmly amid the chaos, “Baron Isteban’s health is still fragile. May we be excused?”
The King, looking suddenly older and weary, studied Ethan’s bandaged head, his crutches, and his limp. Finally, he nodded.
“…Baron Estevan, the princess is still young and foolish. Please… let this be forgotten.”
He spoke as though asking a favor, but it was clearly a command.
Ethan bowed deeply, resting a hand over his chest.
“As long as Your Majesty shows me such grace, my lips will remain sealed.”
***
From dawn until long past midnight—traveling by train to the capital, confronting Count Leslie, meeting the King and Queen—Ethan had not rested for even a moment.
His body and mind were both stretched to their limits.
Even a healthy man would have collapsed by now, and Ethan was far from healthy. The lie he had told the royal physician seemed to manifest itself—the dull, crushing pain in his skull had become very real.
His torn ligament throbbed, making it agony to walk on his crutch. Knowing he wouldn’t survive another horseback ride, he silently climbed into the carriage Howard had arranged.
He loosened the suffocating tie at his throat and sank back into the seat.
The streets outside were quiet, shrouded in heavy midnight fog. The only sound was the rhythmic clatter of hooves, yet even that echoed painfully in his head.
Run… run now!
Aaaah!
The voices came again—ghosts from the past. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut.
He saw it all, clear as day: the first man he’d ever killed, the spray of hot blood, the comrades who’d laughed beside him in the morning and lay dead by nightfall.
The nightmares of every war veteran. Many had taken their own lives, unable to bear it.
Ethan had been no exception—he had survived only by thinking of Elisa. When he pictured her face, the voices always faded.
But tonight, after such a relentless day, they refused to leave him.
“Ugh…”
A groan escaped him as cold sweat beaded on his brow. Even the old wounds from the battlefield burned as if freshly reopened.
Stay alive…
Go back…
“Baron!”
A hand shook his shoulder, pulling him back to the present. The coachman was looking at him, pale with concern.
“Are you all right, sir?”
Ethan could barely nod. He had no strength left to speak. The carriage had already stopped before the gates of House Estevan.
“…Thank you,” he murmured weakly, climbing out.
The night air bit at his skin as he made his way up the steps. The phantom voices still lingered, crawling through his skull.
For a fleeting moment, he wished someone would just strike him unconscious—anything to silence the pain and the whispers.
Would it help if he locked himself in a dark room and drowned in the smoke of a hundred cigars? Or if he drank until his thoughts blurred beyond recognition?
Would it stop, then?
“Back so late?”
The soft voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned toward it.
Elisa stood there, holding a candlestick, dressed in a thin nightgown that glowed faintly in the light.
And just like that—his pain vanished. The whispers, the dizziness, everything.
Of course. Without you, I can’t go on. Elisa… you’re everything to me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, stepping closer. “You look pale.”
Ethan said nothing. He simply pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“…I’m back,” he whispered.
His low, exhausted voice—so gentle it trembled—hit her straight in the heart.
She could only imagine how hard this day had been for him. Her chest ached with empathy and love.
Blinking back tears, Elisa wrapped her arms around him just as tightly.
“Welcome home, Ethan.”
At last, she could say the words she had longed to speak for so long
