Chapter 44
“……”
The moment he stepped down from the carriage, the first face he saw was his young son, cheeks puffed out in full sulk. With a face smeared with displeasure, Royan glanced at the butler. The elderly butler quickly approached and explained the situation. Royan suppressed the smile tugging at his lips and looked at Johan. He seemed angry that his mother had disappeared without a word. At this hour, she would have gone to the palace. No one would question it—it wasn’t unusual for the crown prince’s long-time friend.
“Johan, where is your mother?”
“I don’t know!”
“Johan.”
“……”
He didn’t expect a proper answer anyway. Royan bent down. As he stroked his son’s small head, he reached out toward the blue hair quietly standing beside Johan. El’s golden eyes narrowed with satisfaction. After sending El and Johan upstairs, Royan entered his room. He had been frequenting the social circles these days—there was no way he didn’t know. Sooner or later, the crown prince would bring it up. When Isillia returned from the palace…
“……”
Royan leaned back in his chair. His heart felt hollow. Maybe he’d grown so used to the weight on his chest that the emptiness now felt foreign. Lost in this strange sensation, he sat blankly until a knock sounded at the door. Even if his mind was scattered, to sit long enough to lose track of time—how lazy of him. Clicking his tongue at his own behavior, he spoke to whoever was outside. Even after waiting, no answer came. Royan frowned. Was it Isillia? The small, hesitant tremble of her voice confirmed his suspicion.
“When I brought up divorce, I thought you’d accept it.”
“…What did you say? I can’t imagine why you’d bring this up so suddenly.”
The way she jumped straight to the point was unfamiliar. Startled by her uncharacteristic behavior, Royan lowered his gaze. Avoiding the golden eyes staring at him, he pretended to look through papers. Pumpkin-colored irises filled his vision.
Are you truly looking only at me?
There was no lie in his heart. But it was a bond already ended. Thinking back now, Marillian’s decision had been wise. He couldn’t answer the question she had once asked him. He loved her, but he could not be certain. Contradictory. When she said she wanted to part, he neither stopped her nor mourned—he simply accepted it, as though it meant nothing.
“So… shall we divorce?”
“…What?”
This time it was Isillia putting the end to things. It was the same situation. Just as he had calmly accepted it from Marillian not long ago, he should simply do the same now. Yet Royan asked again. Isillia, startled by his reaction, began to say something, but it didn’t reach him. Somewhere in the blurred past, the same pounding noise filled his ears. Marillian, this must have been the reaction you wanted from me. Only now do I realize it.
“…And the children? Johan and El—do you think those little ones will accept this? That’s far too cruel.”
“The children…”
The words slipped out thoughtlessly and couldn’t be taken back. How ridiculous—he hadn’t even considered the children, preoccupied as he was with other thoughts, yet now he lectured her as if she were heartless. Isillia’s face flushed. Her voice grew smaller. He knew… he knew that what she said was the best decision in this situation. But his words weren’t wrong either. Her suggestion only applied to the two of them. No matter what method they chose, the children would be hurt. How absurd. What right did he have to say such things?
Royan sighed. Her trembling golden eyes slowly lowered. She hadn’t given up. Gathering her wounded heart, she offered the answer she had reached. The only thing unchanged was himself. He was the only one left stuck here, wallowing. …A pathetic, foolish man. No—
“I’m not asking for forgiveness.”
Should he hold onto her? The thought flickered past, but Royan shook his head. Everything remained only a thought. He could not turn thought into action. He still waited for her to speak first, still refused to act even though he knew what she wanted. Too much time had passed. Even now, it felt laughably late, and he muttered excuses to himself. It was already over. The moment he brought Marillian before her, he had effectively thrown everything away. Saying he regretted it now, that he hurt, that he was sorry—none of that would be enough. Not that he could say them anyway. She would never forgive him.
“Royan.”
“I…”
Yet he opened his mouth anyway—selfish, to the point of madness.
“I used to love you. It irritated me how you wouldn’t give up and kept clinging no matter how I pushed you away…”
“……”
“His Highness teased me, said you grow fond of someone you keep fighting with. And… he was right. At some point, I found myself looking at you. It was annoying, troublesome… and even a little cute.”
The stream of words was fragile, almost wistful. A voice from his youth—a past he could never return to. Her golden eyes shook. Her lips parted, unable to close, as she stared at him. A blush tinged her cheeks. It was endearing. The loud, buzzing noise in his head faded, replaced by a calm flutter. A faint smile touched his lips.
“When the child who used to chase after me suddenly changed her attitude, I thought it was funny how hurt I felt. But when I met Marillian, I thought I was fine. I thought the dulling pain meant I was fine.”
He had been hurt. …Had he? He couldn’t remember. Maybe he had adapted quickly then too, just like now.
“You can’t understand it, can you? I don’t understand myself either.”
It was both an excuse and the truth. He raised a hand to cover his face, sighed, then lowered it. The conclusion he had reached on the way home murmured from his lips. He was—
“…the worst.”
“……”
“In the chaos of everything happening so fast, even with my head a mess, that much was clear.”
Royan let out a short laugh. Just like when he had asked Isillia if she was happy, it held no joy at all. Marillian wanted an end. He agreed to her choice. And now you also want an end. I…
“Royan.”
Can I answer you?
“I love you.”
What was he supposed to do with you, suddenly confessing love like this? You say you want to part, yet you claim to love him. Ridiculous. And yet… he was happy at those words. …Truly insane. How could a person be this selfish? The situation made him sick. He wanted to erase the disgust he felt toward himself.
Have you ever wondered why she bothers you so much?
Why are you so harsh to Isillia when you weren’t to Marillian, Duke?
He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t—
It wasn’t only guilt. There was something else. Something he couldn’t express. How could someone else understand him better than he understood himself? Absurd—and yet it was true. His head throbbed. The long-felt emptiness was a lie; chaos surged through him, and Royan closed his eyes. —Disgusting.
“If you had told me I’d hurt you… I wonder if things would have been different. But then another thought came. If, when you hid your expression from me… if I had simply asked what was wrong,”
“……”
Still, nothing would change. Even if he returned to the past, could he act differently? He had no confidence. Even if she had spoken to him then, he likely would have ignored it. He didn’t allow himself false hope.
“Royan.”
“……”
“Let’s divorce.”
“……”
“We won’t file the papers yet. Let’s live separately for now. Take time to sort out our thoughts, and decide whether we’ll drift apart for good or not. It won’t be too late to submit the papers then.”
Jordan’s words echoed in his head—mocking him for his abnormal thoughts and actions. …What did he even want? Vague words gathered in his mouth but dissolved before forming. Listening to her calm, measured voice, Royan could only nod.
Chapter 9. Time Solves Nothing.
At the sound of the door opening, Jordan wiped the smile off his lips. The person who had been staring at his sprawled posture let out a sigh. The woman who entered the room stepped in with a face far too composed for someone familiar with the crown prince’s antics. Her vivid red hair, bright enough to hurt the eyes, swayed with her movements.
Jordan straightened himself and sipped the tea prepared for him. The cup on the opposite side of the table—the tea he had prepared for his recent visitor—remained nearly untouched. The level of tea in the cup was unchanged from when she had brought it out. Why did people never drink the tea he served? Staring at the untouched, now-cold cup, Jordan muttered,
“His Highness drinks it far too sweet. Count Marin begged me to spare his life.”
“No appreciation for flavor. What a waste.”
“It is precious—such a waste indeed.”
“But… why are you so restless? You’re giving me a headache.”
At Jordan’s comment, the woman froze mid-movement. Unlike the indifferent crown prince, she was visibly anxious. The rumors they had spread were already sweeping the capital, reaching the nobles’ ears, and their outrage was immense. Since early morning, petitions concerning herself and the duke had been flooding the Emperor’s desk, and the woman was panicking.
The documents arriving for the crown prince were no less overwhelming. She had expected backlash, but not this quickly… The nobles were demanding punishment for the young duke of Endrianz and the woman who had mocked the nobility. And yet Jordan looked utterly unconcerned, as if none of it mattered. His relaxed—almost bored—demeanor, so out of place in this urgent situation, twisted the woman’s—Marillian’s—expression.
