#25. How About a Deal?
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a wrong statement—but Ophelia still found it disagreeable. She shot back at the man who still hadn’t turned to face her.
“Are you really going to act this petty?”
“We lived together for three years. Didn’t you know? I’ve always been petty.”
Idren replied, his voice dropping a notch deeper.
“Then again, how would you have known? It’s not like you were ever interested in me.”
His tone made it sound like she was a terrible person, trampling all over something dear to him.
But wasn’t he also uninterested in her? Ophelia remembered how he had thoroughly excluded her from state affairs.
Not long after they got married, Idren had transferred to her the winter harbor and the nearby villa, saying:
“I’ll handle internal affairs. You just take care of the land I assigned you.”
He had quickly added before she could even respond:
“Whatever you do there, I won’t interfere. So don’t worry.”
Of course, she hadn’t been hurt by that. She had preferred a husband with a faint presence over one who meddled in every trivial matter.
They had mutually agreed—albeit without explicitly discussing it—to keep their distance. His actions had made that clear. And now he was trying to act all pure and innocent?
How had she not realized before just how childish this man could be?
Irritated, Ophelia sank into her chair, kicked off her shoes, and pulled her knees up. She was too tired anyway—it was better to sleep.
She closed her eyes and muttered:
“Fine. It wasn’t even something certain. It’s okay if only you know.”
And she turned away, as if to say she wasn’t going to listen to him anymore.
Finally, Idren turned his head slightly to look at her.
Ophelia had her eyes closed, her brows slightly furrowed. A soft crunching sound came from her mouth—she was chewing on candy.
Hearing that, Idren unconsciously rolled the candy around in his own mouth before cautiously asking:
“…How about we make a deal?”
Ophelia’s eyebrow twitched slightly. She asked in a calmer tone:
“A deal?”
“Yes. Tell me why you ended your life. In return, I’ll tell you what I know.”
He watched her closely, hoping she’d agree.
But after a long silence, her answer was simple:
“No.”
“……”
“Ask me something else. I’ll answer that.”
Ophelia waited, but Idren didn’t revise his offer.
She hadn’t slept well the night before and was terribly tired, so she didn’t wait long.
She finished crunching the rest of her candy and took a deep breath. The sunlight wrapped her body in a warm embrace.
When she opened her eyes again, the sun was beginning to set. Lying on her side, Ophelia blinked. The red light flickering through the curtains was beautiful…
Wait, lying down?
Startled, she sat up—and something dropped to the floor.
It was a coat, embroidered with gold thread. She recognized it. It belonged to Idren.
As the coat slipped from her shoulders, a chill swept over her. She hugged herself tightly. Her dress, chosen for aesthetics rather than practicality, was too thin to keep her warm.
She rubbed her exposed arms and looked around—then realized she was no longer in her original chair but on the longer seat opposite it. Someone must have moved her while she was asleep.
Just then, the curtains behind her were pulled back.
“You’re awake?”
A familiar voice. Ophelia turned to look. The man, wearing just a simple shirt, was gazing down at her.
Still groggy, she nodded slowly.
Idren glanced between her and his coat on the floor, then strode over and picked it up, grumbling.
“If you were cold, you should’ve kept the coat on. Why were you like that?”
Too tired to explain she had only just woken up and the coat had fallen off as she got up, Ophelia simply mumbled the most concise word she could manage.
“It fell.”
“…So you were just waiting for someone to pick it up for you?”
Does this man get itchy if he goes a single day without saying something dumb?
She yawned and thought. Meanwhile, Idren shook the coat out and draped it back over her shoulders.
“Just keep it on for now. I’ll get you a new outfit once we’re off the boat.”
Ophelia nodded halfheartedly.
Idren looked down at her with a complicated expression as she pulled the coat tighter around herself. Maybe he’d been too impulsive, bringing her along while he was still so emotional.
Still drowsy, Ophelia curled up and nodded off a few more times before asking:
“…Why are we still on the boat?”
She yawned again and rested her head against the soft, dark fabric.
In her past life, the canal crossing hadn’t taken this long. They had crossed over to Aglante’s territory and taken a carriage to a nearby lord’s castle.
The man sitting beside her replied:
“We changed our destination. We’ll disembark at a port near the lord’s castle.”
“Why?”
He didn’t say it was because he didn’t want to wake her. That had been the real reason, but it felt unfair to admit that to her.
So he gave a random excuse.
“It just seemed more convenient.”
That can’t be right.
Traveling from Aglante to Reden, maybe. But going from Reden to Aglante, it was quicker to use the canal. She knew that from experience.
Still, Ophelia didn’t call him out on the lie. He probably had his reasons, and she had gotten a good nap out of it.
As she blinked sleep from her eyes, he asked:
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m fine.”
“You didn’t even have a proper breakfast. I can have something light prepared.”
“I just woke up. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
He didn’t push her further. Grateful that he wasn’t being pushy, Ophelia yawned again and asked:
“Where’s the candy?”
He stepped outside the curtain and returned with a jar. Taking it, Ophelia noticed something.
Only yellow candies were left.
“What is this?”
“I shared some with the knights.”
“My candy?”
“You said you didn’t like sweet things.”
Then he added, perfectly nonchalantly:
“Anyway, there are yellow ones left.”
That irritated her for some reason. She shoved the jar back at him.
“Forget it. I don’t want them.”
“What now?”
“There’s a reason only the yellow ones are left. They probably taste the worst.”
“That’s not it…!”
But he trailed off, unable to finish.
You called yourself petty, and now you’re living up to it—Ophelia muttered:
“Why don’t you eat them?”
At that moment, a servant called from beyond the curtain.
“Your Highness, we’ve arrived at the dock. Shall I secure the ship?”
Still looking at her as if he were the victim, Idren replied without turning:
“Go ahead.”
Then he gripped the candy jar as if wounded and shot back:
“So the color is that important to you?”
Ophelia wanted to say it wasn’t about the color—it was about not wanting to eat something that tasted bad—but she didn’t get the chance. He vanished past the curtain before she could open her mouth.
When the boat docked, Ophelia pushed aside the curtain and stepped outside. The attendants and knights were bustling about, gathering luggage and preparing to disembark.
Even while carrying loads or giving orders, they all paused to bow when they spotted her.
Ophelia passed through them indifferently. These people weren’t hers—they were Idren’s.
If they ever learned she wasn’t a proper match for their master, they’d turn on her instantly.
She knew. She’d already experienced it once.
As she glanced around with emotionless eyes, she spotted a familiar envelope on a small table.
It was the one the candy had come in.
She picked it up absentmindedly—only to realize it was heavier than expected.
Strange. She had seen only yellow candies left earlier. Curious, she opened it.
Inside were several unopened candy jars, neatly packed. Yellow, red, green, blue—every color.
And at the bottom of the envelope, a few loose candies rolled around—green and red.
Realizing Idren had deliberately brought her only the yellow ones, Ophelia frowned. At this point, she wondered if he had spiked the yellow ones or something.
She looked up, searching for the lying man. He was on the deck, talking to someone.
Just as she was about to march over with the evidence—her candy envelope—someone shouted:
“Is Princess of Reden here?”
