#30. Rohos
Ophelia had intended to tell him that there was no need to take her side—certainly no need to go so far as to kill a lord for her.
She still didn’t fully remember who Taeran was, but she was more than capable of handling things around her on her own.
However, before she could open her mouth, they reached the castle gates. Considering it was Idren who had adjusted their pace, it was clearly intentional.
Idren greeted the man waiting for them at the gate. It was the lord, Taeran.
As the man approached and bowed, Ophelia scrutinized his face. Hair like a wheat field, and eyes the same color.
Something about his face stirred a strange sense of déjà vu, and Ophelia frowned. At that, Taeran asked with a kindly expression,
“Is something bothering you, my lady?”
She was about to ask if they’d met before, but stopped herself. Never mind that the question might seem socially awkward—she had slapped him, after all. Of course they had met.
Not that he seemed to remember.
Ophelia shook her head. Taeran maintained his smile and stepped back.
“Please, come inside.”
As Taeran walked through the castle gates, Idren didn’t follow right away, instead widening the distance. Since he was holding her hand, Ophelia was also forced to keep her distance.
She didn’t like it. Watching Taeran a bit longer might have helped jog her memory. Ophelia tugged slightly at the hand holding hers, but Idren didn’t budge.
When they reached the guest quarters prepared for them, Idren dismissed everyone else and asked,
“What happened here?”
Her head already pounding, Ophelia pressed her forehead and said,
“…I told you, I don’t remember.”
“And that’s it? Just saying you don’t remember is enough? Do you even know why I—”
He closed his mouth, as if trying to suppress his anger. Ophelia, frustrated that he acted as if he knew everything, said,
“Then why don’t you tell me first? What exactly do you mean, you killed the lord because of me?”
It was a reasonable question, but Idren grimaced as if deeply offended. Turning his gaze away slightly, he answered,
“…Not long after we were married, you raised a hand to Taeran at his castle. Ever since, he went around badmouthing you maliciously—and you never once defended yourself.”
“…”
“I couldn’t let him continue to insult you, so I stepped in. Do you understand now?”
“…Why are you asking me about this just now? Why not back then?”
If he’d asked her at the time, she would’ve answered. Asking about something that happened years ago—something she doesn’t even remember—was a bit much. Ophelia’s voice turned irritable.
Idren nearly said he had tried to ask her back then.
He had, in fact.
But when he asked if there was a problem between her and Taeran Rohos, Ophelia had thrown the question back at him instead.
“What did that lord say about me?”
Maybe they could’ve had a deeper conversation then.
But back then, Idren had been so cautious around Ophelia that he chose to resolve things on his own, rather than risk offending her with anything he might say.
Ophelia had blinked at him with her usual detached expression and simply said,
“Do as you please.”
Looking back now, it was all so foolish. Idren wanted to slap his past self and tell him to get a grip.
Ophelia had clearly never approved of him anyway—so why had he been so desperate to please her?
Recalling his idiocy, Idren glared at Ophelia.
“I don’t know what the issue was between you and Taeran, but I have questions for him this time—so keep things civil.”
“…”
“If you have something to say, tell me, and then act. Understand?”
Ophelia furrowed her brows for a long moment before answering sullenly,
“…Fine.”
Before leaving the room, Idren said to the ever-dissatisfied woman,
“I have business to attend to. If you need anything, send someone.”
* * *
Taeran was waiting in the drawing room. As soon as Idren entered, the southern lord rose to greet him, but Idren waved him off. Taeran gave a respectful nod and sat down.
Once Idren took the seat opposite, Taeran gave an order to the attendant nearby.
“Serve the tea.”
The young boy, barely in his teens, brought over a kettle from a small brazier.
Idren watched as the boy poured hot water over red petals in a tea strainer. The floral aroma filled the room.
As the crimson tea filled the cups, Idren recalled the report he’d received in his past life.
A knight he’d assigned to Ophelia had said there was a loud commotion, followed by Taeran’s screams.
“Fortunately, Her Highness seemed unharmed, but…”
The knight had trailed off. Understandably so.
Taeran Rohos had been one of the few lords friendly to him from the start.
Before the rebellion, most nobles believed Remetel would ascend the throne. He was the eldest and the king seemed to favor him.
So the nobles had backed Remetel. When Idren killed him, their investments vanished overnight.
Caught off guard during such a turbulent time, they split into two camps: those who moved on and allied with Idren, and those who nursed a grudge and plotted revenge.
In the capital Eddegrun—Remetel’s power base—the latter were overwhelming.
But the South had remained relatively calm. Partly because the distance lessened their losses, but mostly because Taeran, an influential figure in the region, had supported Idren from the beginning. That support had lasted until Idren’s marriage, making Taeran a central pillar of his southern power.
Perhaps emboldened by his own status, after his fallout with Ophelia, Taeran had grown openly hostile. He claimed in public that she had struck him and left an irreparable scar on his face—a ridiculous claim, given how delicate her hands were.
Even so, Idren couldn’t allow Ophelia to be slandered, regardless of how close he was to Taeran. He’d given the lord two options: stay silent or bring his complaints directly to Idren.
Of course, if he chose to complain, protocol required full disclosure—not only of Ophelia’s actions, but of everything he had said or done as well.
Taeran had chosen neither. So Idren seized the justification to eliminate him.
Conveniently, Taeran’s own daughter had reported his corruption and involvement in slave trading, saving Idren the trouble.
It should’ve ended with a hefty fine, but Idren had exiled and then executed him. People claimed he was pruning his own branches, but the talk died down with time.
After Taeran’s death, his daughter took over as lord.
Since it wasn’t a typical succession, there was some mild resistance, and the southern faction centered around Taeran fractured—but fortunately, Ophelia got along well with the new lord.
Once Idren had confirmed that, he stopped concerning himself with the matter. He had more important issues to deal with.
“This tea is from Egelbamot.”
…Had he known things would turn out like this, he might’ve bothered to ask why Ophelia had hit him in the first place.
Idren eyed the man setting the cup in front of him.
In any case, he intended to uproot Taeran in this life as well. The man had once been a key supporter, yes—but now that he knew he’d come into conflict with Ophelia again, he couldn’t let him remain.
But before that, he had something to find out.
Taeran had a connection to Mahanas—close enough that money had changed hands.
Idren remembered what Ophelia had said:
“If you don’t get a bride price by selling me, Reden will fall.”
If she said that much, it meant Mahanas had racked up debts from multiple sources.
Reden and Mahanas were two of the few buttons that drew a reaction from Ophelia. So Idren intended to gather as much information as possible about them.
He asked the man across from him, still wearing a pleasant smile,
“Taeran, I’ll be blunt. Have you ever lent money to Prince Mahanas?”
At that, Taeran’s lips tightened slightly. His brow twitched. From that subtle reaction, Idren realized the man was hesitating.
Given how he’d badmouthed Ophelia in their past life, he clearly didn’t care about preserving friendship with the Reden royal family. He just couldn’t tell what Idren’s question was really about—and was therefore wary.
To ease his mind, Idren let out a small sigh and said,
“Ophelia has been worrying a lot about the prince’s debts, you see. I just wondered if you knew anything related to that.”
