Chapter 38
“……”
“If you need it, I’ll hand you a piece of paper.”
The man speaking wore a serious expression, and he meant every word.
Louisian opened his mouth, ready to answer that he would do just that without a second thought, but then shut it again. Something in his chest felt uneasy. Unable to find a proper reply, he only opened and closed his mouth in silence. Jordan, who had been studying his face for a moment, let out a sigh.
“That hesitant look of yours is the same as before.”
“……”
“So soft on the child, yet so oblivious yourself—what a comedy. Not that you’d understand what I mean. You never think deeply.”
His dark blue eyes shifted toward another person. Following his gaze, Louisian met a pair of amber eyes. She must have been staring at him the whole time—when their eyes met, hers trembled violently.
“I told you it’d be better to stop. You ignored me, and this is what you get.”
Her face, even paler than moments ago, was turned silently toward him. Her lips were red and swollen. Louisian looked at the crushed lips in confusion. The marks, as if she had chewed them with her teeth, were unfamiliar—something she normally would never do.
“…I’m fine.”
Contrary to her words, her trembling mouth betrayed her. Jordan looked at her with disinterest, then turned his head. Even as the Crown Prince’s gaze returned to him, the slender fingers gripping the hem of her uniform trembled as though she were trying to hide her shaking hands.
“I think I’ve been kind enough. The rest, you’ll have to think through yourself.”
“…I…”
“The reason you’re being stupid is in what you just said, so you’d better give it some thought. And this time, don’t turn your eyes away. Every time I ask you something, your mind wanders off elsewhere.”
When Louisian’s gaze shifted from Marilian back to him, Jordan smiled, satisfied.
Sir Arwin wants to see you, he added in a murmur, He didn’t ask me directly, but isn’t it a superior’s duty to help a timid subordinate? The Crown Prince, speaking in an insinuating tone, narrowed his blue eyes. His playful expression returned as he took a sip of tea.
“Think about the answer while you walk. That way you’ll realize just how foolish you are. Ah, and you don’t need to come report your answer to me later.”
Might be amusing in its own way, he muttered regretfully, looking at Louisian. He mouthed the words: What are you doing? Go. Smiling lightly, he stared at him. Without a chance to study Marilian—who was clearly not herself—Louisian had no choice but to rise from his seat.
Chapter 8. Louisian von Endrianz
Louisian was doing as the Crown Prince had said. Even as he walked, he tried to think—but nothing came to mind. In the end, with no insight gained, he went to meet the commander of the Red Knights. Whether Jordan had informed him beforehand or not, Roian rose to his feet with a bright smile. At the mention that he was looking for Arwin, the man standing beside Roian whispered something with an awkward expression. Probably his adjutant. His older brother’s face, looking at him, filled with discomfort.
If Arwin wasn’t here, he had no business staying. Without hesitation, he rose from the sofa.
“Sir Arwin is at another order right now, but he’ll be back soon.”
Roian grabbed him before he could leave. His hand pressed down firmly on Louisian’s shoulder. With a sigh at the half-coercive gesture, Louisian sat back down. Roian, pleased by his obedient younger brother, took the seat opposite him. His eyebrows were scrunched in complaint, but his face still shone with unconcealed joy. Louisian sighed as he looked at his elder brother, smiling so brightly it seemed almost foolish.
The Red Knights, being directly under the Crown Prince, were not a group Louisian liked. He had no desire to stay here long. More than that—the commander of the Red Knights was his own brother, Roian, the eldest son of House Endrianz. What part of the Crown Prince had bewitched him enough to abandon his family name and dedicate his life to him? There were many other knight orders; why choose this one? From Louisian’s standpoint—perpetually dragged about by Jordan—his brother’s decision had always been unpleasant. That hadn’t changed, and so, unless necessary, Louisian avoided meeting him.
Besides, the two held different positions—one a civil official, the other a knight—and their duties never overlapped. Unless they set aside time deliberately, they rarely met. Roian had made the effort a few times, but Louisian had not welcomed it. Partly because of the murderous workload Jordan’s pranks often caused him, and partly because he disliked wasting precious time on trivial matters. More accurately—he disliked the order itself and the brother who had chosen it.
“Loren’s letters are full of stories about you these days.”
They exchange letters, do they. Then again, Louisian was a man who considered anything unprofitable a waste of time, and Loren hated that about him. His younger sister clearly saw just how different the two brothers were: the blunt second brother, and the gentle first brother who doted on her. She adored Roian the most. When the family gathered, the contrast was so stark that Roian would often glance at Louisian for permission.
Whether she liked or disliked him, Louisian felt nothing in particular. Responding to her was a chore, and besides, he knew she didn’t truly hate him. Though judging by her reaction at the ceremony, that might have changed. The memory of her pale face and sharp voice made him lower his gaze. She was probably filling her letters with complaints about him. Unlike the Endrianz brothers, who hid their emotions well, Loren was terrible at hiding her anger.
“I see.”
He answered indifferently. Roian, less curt than Louisian, was close enough to Loren to exchange letters often. Even though he had abandoned the family name, Loren treated him no differently.
“……”
“……”
Silence settled over the reception room. Roian seemed eager to continue the conversation, but lacked a proper topic. Loren’s letters surely contained harsh words about Louisian, and he couldn’t very well bring that up to a brother he hadn’t seen in so long. Whether Roian agonized or not, Louisian simply looked out the window, waiting for Arwin.
Have you ever wondered why she bothers you?
Jordan had pinpointed what Louisian had been avoiding. The Crown Prince was right—Isilia bothered him. But he didn’t know why. No—he didn’t want to know. The more he thought about it, the more tangled his mind became, leaving him nauseated. A firm aversion, mixed with guilt, exhausted him. Jordan was right—he had been avoiding her. And yet…
If you ask me even now, I could stamp it in front of you.
Then why hadn’t he answered Jordan? What was he hesitating for? He didn’t know—or perhaps he did, but refused to think about it. An invisible wall stood between him and the answer.
“Commander, I knocked several times, but you didn’t—”
The man who entered with a frown fell silent. His wide green eyes landed on Louisian. He was the first to turn away, unable to hold the gaze. Arwin looked at the man beside Roian and frowned.
“Sir Demion, you must have heard my knocking. Why didn’t you respond?”
“I didn’t wish to interrupt the commander and the duke’s conversation.”
“…Yet in the end, I’m the one who barged in.”
“Because you came in so suddenly.”
“I definitely knocked, Commander.”
It isn’t rudeness, Arwin said stiffly as he stepped toward the man called Demion and handed him the documents he held. Demion flipped through them quickly and nodded.
“Well done. Perfectly done.”
“Stop making me do these things. They’re your job.”
“Thank you, as always.”
Arwin glared at Demion with clear irritation before sighing. Ruffling his hair, he turned toward Louisian. Looked toward wasn’t quite right—his gaze was sharp, nearly hostile. Now that Arwin had arrived, there was no reason to remain here. Thinking so, Louisian rose to his feet.
“Sir Arwin, he’s here for you. His Highness sent him.”
“…Then, I’ll escort him to my reception room.”
Casting a fleeting glance at the disappointed commander, Arwin narrowed his brows. His green eyes showed open displeasure. Leaving the room with Arwin leading the way, Louisian followed in silence, lost in thought. According to Jordan, Arwin wished to see him. He must have something to say, and judging by the palpable hostility, it wouldn’t be pleasant. The thought made Louisian laugh quietly. Now that he thought about it—what had he been pondering earlier? When it came to Isilia…
“There was a time I spoke rudely to you, Your Grace.”
His tone was impeccably polite, but the eyes that looked at him carried a killing intent. The sharpness pricked at Louisian’s skin, though he didn’t react. He couldn’t recall any “rude remark” Arwin was referring to.
“When we were young, there were words I couldn’t bring myself to say to my sister… Do you remember those words?”
“……”
