Chapter 16
Father scratched his cheek, looking embarrassed. On his wedding day, he told her about Mother. After losing his wife at such a young age, he received countless proposals, or so she had heard. Father rejected them all. He lived his life looking only at one person.
“I’m here.”
There was no grave for her mother. She hadn’t wanted one. She had said something incomprehensible—that she was returning to her hometown—and then fell asleep. That’s what she had been told. She didn’t know what Father did with her cold body afterward.
“……”
Mother left without leaving behind anything that could make them think of her. That was how she died. If at least a gravestone had remained, they might have had something to remember. But Father honored her words.
“……”
Empty. Mother had been cruel. She left nothing of herself behind. The day before she died, everything she had ever used was disposed of. Had she predicted her own death? Mother, who had done something so odd, disappeared like that. As a child, she heard the news through the butler. It was absurd—beyond comprehension. While her brother was struck speechless, Father simply accepted reality. Mother vanished from the world as though she had never existed.
“……”
A voice she could not remember, a face blurred with time. Only the warmth of those arms that once held her remained in her memories of childhood. That was the only trace her mother left in House Agnes. Isilia opened her eyes. On the empty grass, she placed a bouquet she had bought at the market.
[It’s cold today, my lady.]
[You visited the Count’s family?]
“……”
It was around this time last year. As always, she honored her mother and returned to the mansion—only to find her husband waiting for her. Ever since they began using separate rooms, he usually returned late at night. But that day, he had come home early. For four years, without change, he had waited for her. She realized this only last year. What about now? She had approached him and changed him. And then, after she changed, she changed him again. Would he still wait for her?
“…It’s cold. Let’s go back.”
Isilia turned around. The wind was harsh—unseasonably so. Judging from the puzzled looks of the knights, perhaps only she felt it that way. After one last glance at the flowers she had placed down, she walked down the hill. It was time to return to House Endrianz.
Upon returning to the mansion, she saw Luyian. Watching him carry the children into their room, she sighed. When she looked around, the butler approached. Marillian was nowhere to be seen. Nodding at the explanation that he had not returned yet—apparently the Crown Prince was holding him back—she headed in the direction Luyian and the children had gone. Johan, giggling moments ago, saw her and smiled. She stroked his hair and lifted her gaze. Their eyes met.
“……”
“……”
Stifling. Awkward. She didn’t know what to say. Isilia turned her head away. After watching him comfort the children and leave the room, she followed. Their footsteps echoed heavily down the hallway. Neither of them spoke. At his door, she hesitated before opening it. He sat at the table, so she sat across from him. Her body went rigid. Her cheeks flushed, and cold sweat trickled down her back. Ah… right now— She forced herself to stop thinking and looked at Luyian.
Meeting his eyes was painful.
Luyian dropped his gaze. His fingers, lifting the teacup, were slender. Once they had been calloused from holding a sword, but now they looked graceful. Too many thoughts swirled in her mind. His pale eyes turned toward her. Her heart pounded. The louder it thumped, the more nauseous she felt. The strange sensation made her blink. Luyian wasn’t looking at her anymore. With trembling lips, she called his name.
“…Luyian.”
The teacup touched the table. Luyian looked at her. Meeting his gaze, Isilia parted her lips—but no sound came out. She didn’t know what to say. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and Luyian blinked in confusion, as if asking why she had called him. Hesitating, she finally spoke.
“I…”
Her mind went blank. Pure white. The unfamiliar sensation made her swallow. At her unusual behavior, Luyian frowned. Seeing that expression, she shrank. In an instant, she became a coward.
“You don’t look well. If you have nothing to say, I’ll—”
“I—”
She stopped him from leaving. Her hand grabbed his sleeve, and Luyian’s movement halted. His expression cracked in surprise. Finding it amusing, she smiled faintly. He narrowed his brows.
“I…”
What would change if she apologized for hurting him in the past? She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Saying I didn’t know, I didn’t realize, I didn’t notice would only wound him again. The most popular book in the Empire said misunderstandings should be solved with words. She scoffed at such naïveté. Ignorance isn’t an excuse. Words can dig into wounds and make them deeper, preventing anything new from ever taking root.
I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding. Actually—
If only such words solved things, how easy life would be. Not everyone is healed by words. At least she and Luyian weren’t.
“I love you.”
“……”
It was the only thing she could say. She lifted her head and looked at him. She expected disgust or annoyance. Instead, his face remained unreadable. His indifferent gaze fixed on her. No reaction. No emotion.
What did that mean? She couldn’t tell.
Her face reflected in his pale blue eyes looked pathetic—like an abandoned puppy. Her distorted expression made her laugh bitterly. He only watched, silently.
“Did you… ever love me?”
“……”
His expression cracked. His brows furrowed, as if pained or irritated. She continued. How shameless she must seem. Would he think this was obsession? Would he recoil? Negative thoughts cut her like knives. She hated her constant self-pity. Yet she didn’t stop. She was too afraid to ask about the present, so she asked about the past.
“Luyian, I—”
“Yes.”
“……”
“I did love you.”
He covered her hand that held his sleeve. Startled, she looked at him. His gaze dropped to where their hands touched. The warmth of his palm spread to her fingers, and her heart pounded wildly. Lost in that sound, she didn’t realize he had left. Only when the door clicked shut did she look up.
She was swept away by emotions too strong to control. She still loved him. No matter what anyone said, she could not let go. Was it obsession, or was it love? Who could decide that? Not even she could control it.
He said he loved her. Past tense.
She could not ask about the present.
The answer was already there. Even if others told her, she wouldn’t accept it until she heard it from his own lips. The way he smiled at Marillian, the way he spoke to her—those images pierced her. And yet she couldn’t stop looking at him.
Her love was persistent, desperate, messy. First love was clumsy. Hers was tenacious.
What was right, and what was wrong? She had no idea.
“……”
She stood, left the room, and went downstairs. Calling the butler, she busied herself tending to the estate. Days passed like that. Marillian still had not returned. Among the stack of invitations, a familiar envelope caught her eye. She picked it up. The seal confirmed the sender—
“…The Duchess?”
She examined the crest. Opening the envelope, she read:
I would like to meet with you, privately.
She recalled the woman she had seen in the garden days ago. A beautiful lady with silver hair and violet eyes—Yuria La Brangio, elegant mistress of House Brangio.
“……”
She set the Brangio invitation aside and reached for the rest. A yellow envelope stood out. The seal was familiar. The sender was the wife of a noble family hostile to Luyian and aligned with the Emperor’s faction—also the lady served by Baroness Nerian. There was no need to go. Rumors about Marillian must have spread already. As the one closest to Luyian and Marillian, attending would only bring trouble.
She opened the invitation anyway.
The letter insisted she must attend.
How laughable. Was this supposed to be provocation? Crude and tacky writing. How vulgar. She called the butler for ink, pen, and paper. Her hand flowed smoothly. On a single sheet, she would show the difference in class—how bitter and humiliating that realization would be.
