#36. Love Him
Idren stood up, leaving behind the man who no longer moved. Though he hadn’t drawn his last breath yet, he was quiet enough that leaving him like this didn’t seem like a bad idea.
He pulled off his gloves, now damp with something foul-smelling. The pungent leather was handed to the knight who had approached—someone who had been waiting discreetly out of sight.
Perhaps without realizing it, he’d been gripping too tightly—his wrists ached. As he rotated his wrist, Idren glanced at the knight, who was picking up the sword he’d left on Lord Rohos’ body.
While the knight wiped the blade clean, Idren asked,
“Where’s Ophelia?”
“Still on the ship, sir.”
She’d said it was fine to come late, and it seemed she truly planned to return only when she wanted to.
Thinking about who she was with made Idren press his lips together. It was a shame he couldn’t go with her, especially after he’d gotten her permission.
But he couldn’t let Ophelia see something so vile. Just the thought of Taeran Rohos—with a tongue and hands—meeting her made Idren feel sick.
Even if he didn’t have a tongue and hands, it’d still be disgusting. As he wiped his face and neck with the damp handkerchief the knight offered him, Idren reassured himself that he’d made the right choice.
Though he missed the chance to inform her friend that Ophelia was already married, he had at least cleared away something that might disturb her future.
Idren looked down at the bloodied handkerchief for a moment, then asked the knight,
“Do I look that bad?”
“Aside from the scent of blood, not at all, sir.”
His dark clothing helped mask the stains. The knight offered,
“Shall we switch clothes?”
“No need. By now, Anika Rohos should have arrived.”
Since Ophelia wasn’t likely to return anytime soon, he could delay his bath until a few tasks were handled.
Last night, Idren had sent a fast messenger to Taeran’s daughter, who was staying with her mother at a nearby villa. He had told her that he would take care of what troubled her most, and that she should come and handle the rest.
If she didn’t comply, he’d have to destroy House Rohos entirely—but Idren was certain Anika would accept his offer. In a past life, Anika was not someone to pass up a chance to tear out her father’s throat.
As expected, she had sent word that she’d arrive at the Rohos estate on time.
When she did, Idren would say that a tragic accident had occurred to Lord Rohos during the hunt.
Of course, the body wouldn’t look like something mauled by a beast, but… it didn’t matter. Anika, his only child, would be the only one to identify the corpse.
Idren patted the neck of his horse, which had waited patiently. He’d deliberately let Taeran’s horse run off—to make the beast-attack story more believable.
Even if the hunting ground only had herbivores, no one would question if he said a few wild dogs had wandered in. He was the king, after all. No one would dare contradict what he claimed to have seen with his own eyes.
And if someone did challenge the lie in a situation where they were clearly supposed to read the room—well, then they were asking for trouble.
Adjusting his blood-stained clothes, Idren mounted his horse. The knight, who had wrapped Taeran in a cloth, did the same.
Idren took a moment to breathe in the fresh spring air around him and then said,
“Let’s return to the castle.”
* * *
Ophelia looked at her friend, confused by his cryptic words. Perhaps thinking she hadn’t understood, Netepel repeated himself.
“Hm? It’s fine not to get married. A marriage just for show… You don’t want that either, do you?”
He twirled a strand of her hair around his fingers. Ophelia realized she was slightly annoyed by the way he touched her hair like he used to when they were children. He’d done it often—yet she couldn’t figure out why it bothered her now.
She tilted her head away. Netepel, realizing what that meant, quickly withdrew his hand.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just worried about you…”
His voice trailed off, eyes lowering. Ophelia noticed the flutter of his long eyelashes—a pitiful expression she’d seen even in their childhood.
She didn’t want to hurt him, but some things had to be addressed. She leaned slightly back and faced him squarely.
“Netepel, don’t you know who I’m engaged to?”
“I do. I know very well.”
“Then why are you saying things like that?”
Ophelia genuinely couldn’t understand. Netepel had always been cautious and thoughtful. For him to say something like this while fully aware of her fiancé…
Had she misjudged his character all along? Sighing, she explained patiently.
“Do you really think there’s anywhere in this world to hide from the Crown Prince of Aglanthea?”
Even if there was such a place, she had no intention of running.
She’d never forgotten what Idren said in the Reden palace—that if she didn’t seek revenge, he’d support Maharnas and Reden to avoid ruin. And running away just wasn’t in her nature.
Besides, if she vanished… Idren might cry.
Ophelia recalled the warmth of his embrace on her shoulders the night before. Idren had thanked her even though she hadn’t done anything. He was petty and moody and sulked often, but still—
Though she had no special feelings for him, Ophelia didn’t want to make him cry. No one would want to be the reason a man with such big eyes cried.
Three years of patience would be better than that.
It’s not like she had anything better to do anyway. Eat well, sleep well—she might even build up enough strength for one more round of payback.
Ophelia decided to bury the fact that just days ago, she’d wanted to be extremely cruel to Idren.
Back then, she’d been exhausted—and tired thoughts are bound to be sharper and meaner.
But she soon realized that her thinking wasn’t just from exhaustion. Since the Lakmata family left Reden, she had treated all emotional games as meaningless.
She frowned slightly at this realization—but Netepel was quicker to speak again.
Still avoiding her gaze, his voice was soft and serious.
“I own an island. If you change your hair color and stay there for a few months…”
“Netepel.”
Before he could say anything more foolish, Ophelia cut him off and admitted to herself that she’d misread him. At least before her marriage, Netepel seemed rather naive.
“Stop saying stupid things. I told you—I’m already engaged.”
“But Ophelia, it wasn’t your choice.”
Such empty, dreamy words.
Ophelia tilted her head. When had anything in her life ever gone her way?
His repeated comments frustrated her. She pressed down the irritation rising in her chest and spoke, her tone sharper than she intended.
“That doesn’t matter.”
Perhaps sensing her displeasure, Netepel immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry if I upset you. I was just… afraid you’d be unhappy…”
His sentence trailed off again, drawing a breath as he looked lost. Over his face, she saw the image of the nervous boy he used to be.
Ophelia sighed again, this time more gently.
“I won’t be unhappy. You don’t have to worry.”
It was a statement based on her previous life—something she could trust.
Those three years of marriage hadn’t been happy, but they hadn’t been unhappy either.
Idren had always been a balanced, decent husband. Except for a few recent incidents, she’d had no real complaints about him.
Besides, her unhappiness back then wasn’t his fault. It was just who she had become.
After losing Haslen, Ophelia gave up on happiness. No matter what, she couldn’t forget the image of that head falling on the execution block.
She reminded herself that Netepel didn’t know how uneventful her marriage had actually been.
Maybe in the previous life, he stayed silent because he saw her and Idren getting along.
Understanding that the man who would be her husband might feel unfamiliar to her friend, Ophelia added,
“Idren’s not a bad person. He’s kind. Quiet—”
She paused. His recent behavior didn’t exactly fit that last word.
Still, since she couldn’t take it back, she finished:
“—dignified, and dependable.”
Oh, and handsome. And rich.
She almost forgot to mention those.
Listing off his good qualities one by one, Ophelia hoped this would ease Netepel’s worries.
Saying it all out loud, Idren really did sound like a great husband candidate. If Netepel were marrying someone like that, she wouldn’t be worried either.
But then, after hearing her explanation in full, her friend said something completely out of nowhere.
“…Do you love him?”
Ophelia was stunned speechless.
She stared at her friend, dumbfounded by the out-of-place question.
Love? Where had that come from?
Not once had she ever placed Idren next to such an emotion.
Flustered and speechless, she couldn’t respond—and Netepel seemed to have misunderstood badly.
He suddenly looked up. In his red eyes, she saw the faint shimmer of tears.
With a wounded expression, he said,
“I thought you loved Haslen.”
