IWMHWD 119

Chapter 119 – Love

2024.02.27

“Lara told me before she died. She asked me to take care of our child. I couldn’t even protect my wife, but I can’t lose my child, Rosalyn, so senselessly too.”

He muttered, shoulders hunched. His voice was small and weak—so unlike the man who had shouted with blazing eyes just moments ago.

Even now, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his wife’s face for the last time.

The blood-soaked birthing room had been terrifying, even for Anton, who had already been knighted. He stroked his pale wife’s cheeks, shedding silent tears.

“Please don’t leave me, Lara. How am I supposed to raise a child alone without you?”

“Anton… the child resembles you.”

“You’re more important than the child.”

“Come closer… look. The hair, the nose—they’re exactly like yours.”

Guided by his wife’s hand, Anton held Rosalyn for the first time. She was so tiny, red, and wrinkled that he couldn’t think of her as beautiful. Instead, he felt only resentment—if anything, he wished the child hadn’t existed, so that his wife might have survived.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that. Please, don’t. Lara… my God… please, please…”

Anton clutched his wife’s hand desperately as her strength faded. Born as the heir to the Embley family, he had lived a life without want, so he had never imagined such desperation. Yet if someone had told him then that they could save her, he would have knelt without hesitation.

“Take care of our child…”

Those were Lara’s last words. For the next three days, she suffered agonizingly before finally passing away.

Putting aside the vivid memories that felt like they happened yesterday, Anton roughly washed his dry face.

“This child… saved by Lara’s sacrifice. And Rosalyn is only eighteen. She has so much she hasn’t done yet, so much she wants to do. Yet… yet…”

“Miss Embley must have lived a happy life.”

“How would you know? You’ve never even met Rosalyn.”

“Because she had a father like you, she surely was happy.”

…

Cordelia spoke sincerely. If even a fraction of the care that Anton showed her had been shown to her by Pablo Vasquez, she would never have left her father’s side.

Anton’s expression grew complicated. He parted his lips as if to speak but ultimately said nothing.

“So please, let it go. The living and the dead have different paths to follow.”

“Who decided that path?”

An unexpected voice cut through, and both Cordelia and Anton turned their heads toward the door. Surprisingly—or perhaps not surprisingly—Maximilian was standing there.

He limped badly as he approached.

“Do not be fooled by that woman’s sly tongue, Your Excellency.”

“So it was you—the one who spun such absurd tales to His Excellency.”

“What do you know to dare speak? You wouldn’t understand, coming from a ruined Vasquez family burdened with debts. But in a sacred family, there’s always a secret strategy passed down.”

Maximilian abandoned the polite tone he had tried to maintain and bared his teeth at Cordelia, pressing aggressively.

Seeing this, Cordelia became even more certain that he was lying. Unlike his old habit of mocking under a false courtesy, there was genuine urgency in his demeanor.

“That secret… coincidentally involves resurrection magic? You whispered to me that such magic existed in Atillay right when His Excellency lost his daughter, urged me to kidnap her, and even pushed me to poison her?”

“Acheron’s future is pitch-black. And this idiot is his only heir.”

“Answer me properly. Why involve Acheron at all? His future has nothing to do with this!”

Cordelia crossed her arms and openly scoffed at Maximilian, whose expression twisted strangely.

“You only used me and His Excellency as tools for revenge against your master, didn’t you?”

“Leonard knew I wouldn’t be with Rosalyn when I fled to Ancen! That’s why Rosalyn gave birth in haste and died. So, the beginning of all this tragedy is Leonard Atillay.”

“Speak properly. By your logic, Miss Embley died from difficult labor. More precisely, it’s your fault for getting an already weak, young Miss Embley pregnant.”

“Don’t speak recklessly if you know nothing. We loved each other.”

“Love? If you truly loved her, you wouldn’t have been with an unmarried woman and gotten her pregnant. You knew how deadly that could be for Ersche’s daughter. Don’t wrap love in those filthy words—it’s nothing but irresponsible lust.”

Cordelia shot Maximilian a relentless glare. Her anger rose the more she spoke. The idea of seducing a young girl, getting her pregnant, then using her death to control the father was utterly revolting.

“If you had any shame, you should have hanged yourself in the palace prison. How dare you even think of coming near Embley?”

“Your tongue is far too brazen.”

“Is that all you can blame? Compared to the horrors you’ve committed, my words are nothing.”

Maximilian’s face reddened—a rare sight—as he clenched his teeth and reached for the sword at his left hip. Anton, noticing immediately, warned him.

“Do not disgrace yourself in front of my daughter. My reasons to spare you are running out.”

“…My apologies, Your Excellency.”

Maximilian inhaled deeply, gritting his teeth. He had to endure it for now. The day to crush Cordelia Vasquez’s audacious face would come soon enough.

“Please forgive my disgraceful behavior. But understand that the documents I showed Your Excellency are the absolute truth.”

“Leave. And if you enter my daughter’s room without permission again, I will not forgive you.”

Anton’s stern face forced Maximilian out. Once outside, Maximilian composed himself as if his previous anger was fake, even bowing politely as he departed.

Cordelia, after confirming he was gone, spoke to Anton:

“Maximilian only uses Your Excellency as a tool for revenge—just like he used Miss Embley to satisfy his desires.”

“Mind your words.”

Anton frowned, clearly displeased. Normally, Cordelia might have softened her words, but there was no time.

“Rosalyn Embley died giving birth. Whose child was she to bear? Why did young, frail Miss Embley have to flee to Ancen and die giving birth? And why, after her death, did Maximilian claim that magic to resurrect the dead exists?”

“…Enough.”

“Why not find another way to avoid conflict? Why insist on poisoning Leonard Atillay’s only disciple to threaten him?”

“Stop!”

Anton flailed his hands in frustration. Cordelia fell silent and took a steady breath.

“Open your eyes, Your Excellency. Anyone can reach the truth if they look without bias.”

Whether Cordelia’s heartfelt words reached Anton was unclear. After that day, he noticeably avoided her. While frustrating, she understood he needed time.

Moreover, grim rumors were spreading, casting unease over the castle.

“People from the north are coming.”

“Surely Hasimus won’t send that devil himself, right?”

Najabut, possessing Lydia’s body, had roamed Ersche, killing countless innocents. The north had suffered greatly, with people fleeing south in fear.

Although the King of Ersche and the demon hunters sent forces to counter him, no significant results had been reported yet.

The young maid brushing Cordelia’s hair shivered. Blinking her large eyes, she murmured:

“Could it have been that devil who attacked Miss Rosalyn?”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing.”

The maid shook her head quickly. Before Cordelia could ask more, Chelsea exclaimed:

“Oh, Miss! Pilgrims are arriving at the castle today.”

“Pilgrims? From Yeratcus—the Leman Church priests?”

“Yes. His Lordship is a devout follower of the Leman Church and always invites pilgrims around this time.”

Unlike the people of Ersche, who only visited the temple for weddings and funerals, Yeratcus was a powerful theocratic nation where all citizens relied on the priests, and the high priest could decide the fate of the country.

“That’s surprising. I thought few in Ersche followed the Leman Church.”

“The late lady came from Yeratcus. Also, when Miss Rosalyn was ill, the priests often performed blessings.”

Cordelia let the information pass, tapping her foot. Her body had almost fully recovered. Though unable to leave Embley without an antidote, persuading Anton properly might turn this into an opportunity.

“I must hold Maximilian until my master arrives.”

She counted the days. It had already been a week since arriving at Hasimus, so if Leonard had heard the news and left, he would likely reach Embley by tomorrow or the day after.