Chapter 40
“I imagine you must have felt the same as I did. I don’t truly understand… but I think I understand a little. I do not intend to write a new marriage certificate. I assume you feel the same. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“…Are you saying we should stop this?”
“I know very well that what I’m doing is rude. The ceremony we already held… that can’t be undone. Weren’t we prepared for that from the moment we held it? I don’t believe you’re the type to suddenly care about what others think now.”
Marilyan murmured softly as she stepped forward. Her face was pale with exhaustion, yet her voice was firm. Because of that, Luiyan couldn’t say anything to her. She took several steps away, then bowed. When he approached, he saw she was weaving something.
“This is…”
“I can’t make it as pretty as she did.”
A rather clumsy flower crown sat on Marilyan’s head. When he offered her a handkerchief for her grass-stained hands, she shook her head. Luiyan awkwardly slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket.
“…Even if I could never have a warm conversation with Lady Endrians, I still dreamed that someday we might be able to look at each other face-to-face. But when the time came to imagine actually living with her, I found it unbearable. With the woman who stole away the person she loved right in front of her, she asked what benefit she would gain from harming me.”
Her fingers hesitated slightly as she adjusted the flower crown she had made. Luiyan silently watched her. It was as though she deliberately ignored his gaze, caring only for the crown on her head.
“If I had been in her place, I would never have been able to act the way Lady Endrians did. She wasn’t even certain you loved her, and yet she looked only to you… To throw everything away for a person like that, there is far too much one must lose.”
“……”
“You care very much about Lady Endrians. I thought it was nothing more than discomfort. Your attitude, your atmosphere around her—I convinced myself that was all it was. But that wasn’t the end of it. You were uneasy with her, yes, but something else was there. I have many questions. Why did you hesitate then? Were you truly unaffected? Do you really not understand His Highness’s intentions when he mentioned the marriage certificate?”
“But I won’t ask. You wouldn’t be able to answer anyway.”
At her sudden, almost declarative statement, Luiyan stared at her. The firmness in her eyes felt unfamiliar. Her words wouldn’t settle in his head. …What is she saying right now? Marilyan shook her head, wiping the faint smile from her lips. Luiyan stared blankly at the petals drifting down.
“Are you really looking at me?”
“……”
“No, are you looking only at me?”
He couldn’t respond to the trembling eyes filled with unease. Despite her cynical tone, her gaze was pleading—desperate for something. His body wouldn’t move. He knew what she wanted from him, yet he couldn’t reach out. If he could just give her the answer she sought… perhaps that would be enough… but he couldn’t open his mouth.
“I didn’t want to see you hesitate. I like someone who looks only at me. Luiyan, do you truly dislike Lady Endrians?”
“……”
“…I should go. His Highness dislikes those who dawdle.”
Her narrow eyes curved faintly with a smile. After her light farewell, she walked away, and Luiyan remained rooted to the spot for a long time. Her words were sincere. He didn’t intend to stop her from leaving, but just as she said, he realized he too had been sincere. At the very least, the time he spent with her had made him happy. Even with the weight of countless responsibilities, he always smiled when his eyes met hers. She was competent at her work, but clumsy in everything else—endearingly so. The innocence that occasionally showed through… he found it lovely.
When he returned to the mansion, he could rarely breathe properly, crushed beneath the suffocating guilt. His shoulders were heavy; he often frowned without realizing. On days he ran into Isilia, he couldn’t sleep at night. Their conversations never lasted long; his hands shook like someone with a tremor. He suffered from insomnia. Once he understood that it all stemmed from guilt, it grew even worse. That was why his time with Marilyan felt so pleasant. At least with her, the weight that bound him loosened a little. He could breathe.
Sometimes, when Marilyan’s gestures or expressions reminded him of someone else, the pressure on his chest returned—but it was bearable. He knew this part of him was wrong. —And yet he couldn’t help it.
“…Ah.”
Luiyan raised a hand to his mouth. Come to think of it, Marilyan had once visited the Endrians estate. Something about having tea with Isilia? It wasn’t something she needed to come to his room to inform him about, so he brushed it aside. She had stared at him for a long time. Perhaps she had wanted something from him.
“……”
Boarding the carriage to return home, Luiyan sank into thought. He recalled the hand that had soothed the feverish child. The slender hand brushing El’s hair; the tired golden eyes narrowing slightly. Over Isilia’s twenty-one-year-old face, a younger, more youthful version overlapped. Her worn face once again glowed with vitality. Even after all these years, the golden eyes that looked at him were unchanged—still shining.
[“I like you, my lord.”]
Her trembling voice. Her vivid blonde hair catching the chandelier’s light. He had been foolish to send that invitation to the Agnes household, all because he was curious about the man who even the emperor found troublesome. If they hadn’t met that day, she would have been quite popular among boys her age. No one approached the girl who delivered such impertinent words with a flushed face. Ah—no, there was one person. Even the thought of that ashen-haired boy disgusted him. With a frown, he chased away the memory.
Noble marriages were not romantic. They happened when goals aligned and calculations matched. Genuine affection was rare. His friend, the Duke of Branzio, and the father and son of the Agnes household were unusual cases. As for himself—he lacked for nothing: his title, the crown prince’s trust… everything was sufficient. He thought that finding a suitable partner, having heirs, and retiring to a quiet place outside the capital would make for a perfectly happy life—at least, until he met Isilia.
“……”
He had tried so hard to avoid her. Yet the more he thought of her, the more memories resurfaced. When had it begun? When did the bothersome child start appearing cute to him? Every time she flinched at his reactions and tried to act calm with that cheeky smile—he found it amusing. Adorable, even. One day, the thought simply hit him: she was lovely. Once he recognized that feeling, he recalled all his behavior toward her and felt utterly lost. He had grown accustomed to turning her away. By the time he understood his feelings, she had already become cautious in everything.
Her reactions had become so faint he couldn’t notice them. When she confessed and looked at him with trembling golden eyes—filled with expectation, yet bracing for the wound she knew was coming—he had seen all of that. The girl who smiled brightly, saying she was fine, didn’t seem to realize how he hesitated. And so he, too, grew cautious.
“……”
…No, he was just making excuses. He, who was terrible at expressing emotions, had probably been happy. But he couldn’t answer her declaration of love. The words she offered so confidently—“I love you”—were far too overwhelming for him to return. He hesitated, mouth opening and closing uselessly. Sometimes the words came to him without thinking, burning hot enough to surprise even himself. With the children, it was natural. He often said to them the affectionate words he couldn’t say to his wife. That must have hurt Isilia. No—of course it did.
[“I do not like you.”]
[“I’ve said it many times—I do not like the young lady. I don’t even feel the slightest affection.”]
He had laughed at her childish heart. Perhaps that was why he rushed the marriage—fearing the flame would go out at any moment. How pathetically impatient. Yet despite that, he treated Isilia that way.
“…Completely self-centered.”
He laughed bitterly at his own words. He never needed to make the effort to express his feelings. Isilia always spoke and acted first. He only needed to nod or offer short replies. And she smiled—as if that alone made her happy, as if it was enough—satisfied. He appreciated that he didn’t have to exert himself, didn’t have to force actions that felt too heavy. It was comfortable. He was content with “enough,” with doing the minimum. While the child who had grown into a woman did everything she could to stay by his side, he simply rested in what was handed to him. And he wounded her.
“……”
The crushing truth drew a hollow laugh from him. How had he not seen it until now? The carriage rocked and he came back to himself. The servant alerted him they had arrived at the mansion; he nodded though there was no need. Glancing at the elderly butler, then around the quiet estate, he realized the children hadn’t come home yet. …Good. He needed time to sort out his thoughts. Luiyan let out a sigh.
Even while carrying the children to their rooms, he was barely present. Not even during the most complicated, daunting tasks had he been this undone. Perhaps it was the overthinking—his head felt feverish. Johan giggled as he turned to smile at Isilia. As she stroked the boy’s hair with her slender hand, their eyes met.
“……”
His heart constricted. His shoulders tightened. Cold sweat collected in his clenched fist. A self-mocking laugh escaped him. After comforting the children, he stepped out. Isilia hesitated briefly before following him. …Now what? What should he say? Without any preparation, he had simply called her.
“Luiyan.”
At her trembling voice, Luiyan set down the teacup he’d been holding. His lips parted and closed repeatedly in hesitation. He didn’t avoid her gaze. Encouraged, Isilia finally spoke.
“I…”
