#38. Let’s Get Along for the Next Three Years
Ophelia raised her eyebrow at the sudden words, but there was no time for explanation—they were already standing in front of the castle gate.
The lord’s daughter, standing at the entrance, bowed politely to her.
“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Annika Rohos.”
Ophelia looked at the woman who had once confided in her a plan to murder her own father. The girl who would become the new Lord of Rohos had the same hair color as her father, but her eyes were a deep, dark brown.
Idren didn’t allow her to stand in front of Annika for long. Tugging gently on her hand, he said,
“Aren’t you tired? Let’s go to your room.”
She had something to say to him anyway, so Ophelia nodded.
As they walked through the castle corridors, Idren asked,
“How was your friend?”
“Nothing special.”
He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer and furrowed his brow.
“Weren’t you two close? I heard you used to meet often in your previous life.”
Ophelia didn’t bother explaining that meeting a close friend didn’t always mean it would be pleasant.
Idren had no one he could call a true friend—that was one of the few things she knew about him.
He opened the door and looked back at her. Ophelia stepped inside. Unlike the commotion outside, the bedroom was neat and quiet.
Seeing the tidy bed that looked ready to collapse into, exhaustion washed over her. She sat at the edge of the bed, and Idren sat beside her. The once-firm bed dipped under their combined weight.
Ophelia propped her chin on her elbow resting on her knee. Her head felt heavy. Idren glanced at her and said,
“Don’t do that. Lean on me instead.”
So she did, giving her overworked wrist a break and resting against him. His solid shoulder didn’t budge under her weight. She shifted and brought her legs up onto the bed.
Pressed against his somewhat warm body, she asked,
“What do you mean the Lord of Rohos died?”
“Just that. Seems he met a beast while hunting and was killed.”
As he spoke, Idren twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. Watching the calloused fingers toying with her hair, Ophelia thought the beast the lord had met was probably this man sitting next to her.
That thought gave her a strange feeling—similar to the one she had the night before when he had held her.
Given they were touching again, it made sense she’d be reminded of it. Ophelia, trying to justify it to herself, murmured,
“…I could’ve handled it myself.”
She only said it because she knew Idren had acted solely for her.
“I know.”
His answer was bland. Hugging her knees, she leaned harder against him, but Idren didn’t budge an inch.
Realizing she couldn’t move him no matter how much force she applied, Ophelia gave up. Letting her body go limp, she said,
“You knew, yet you still did it.”
And then she wondered why she was even saying this. In her previous life, Idren had also killed that lord in her stead.
But back then, she hadn’t felt the need to say anything like this…
She tried to analyze the difference between then and now, but gave up—it was too much of a headache.
Then Idren spoke to her.
“I wanted to deal with it as soon as possible.”
He glanced down at her as she rested against him.
Having stopped resisting, Ophelia now had her eyes closed. Her pale face clearly showed her fatigue.
In a barely audible voice, she said,
“…You said you had something you needed to find out from him.”
Idren was slightly surprised that she remembered his words. He replied to the woman who seemed more mature than before,
“I asked what I needed to ask.”
“I heard the Lord of Rohos was part of your faction.”
“He was a branch I would’ve had to cut off eventually. It’s fine.”
He planned to place Annika in Taeran’s place. Since she was young and had a different political stance than her father, the existing power base would collapse, but she would build her own. Idren had seen how she operated in his previous life.
Just a little push, and she’d succeed as well as her father had.
Ophelia arched an eyebrow at his words but said nothing more. As he looked at her pale, exposed forehead, Idren felt the urge to touch it.
He reached out to her shoulder. Eyes still closed, Ophelia let him adjust her posture.
He gently laid her down on the bed. Pulling the blanket over her, he clumsily and slowly removed her accessories. For someone doing it for the first time, he wasn’t bad.
The jewels around her neck and hair came off, and soon his large hand rested on her forehead. He began to gently caress it.
Ophelia let him, even though this wasn’t something he had done in their past life. It wasn’t like her forehead would wear out from being touched.
More importantly, there was something she needed to say to him. She spoke to the man sitting beside her.
“I once told you your memories didn’t mean much.”
His thumb, which had been softly brushing her forehead, halted.
Though her eyes were closed, she could almost see his lips pressed tightly together. Ophelia thought again of the Lord of Rohos’s death, which still didn’t feel real.
In her previous life, Idren had hanged him. This time, he lured him into the hunting grounds.
She knew it brought him no benefit. But Idren acted as if none of it mattered.
That strange feeling started creeping in again. She turned her head slightly, not wanting to focus too much on the dip on her right side. Perhaps thinking she meant something else, he withdrew his hand.
Ophelia inhaled softly. It wasn’t something she said often, so she needed a moment to prepare.
Finally, she voiced the words she had been thinking about all the way back in the carriage.
“…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Then she turned her back to him.
Idren blinked at her slender figure turned to the side. The hand he hadn’t fully withdrawn hesitated midair.
He asked carefully, as if unsure of what he’d heard.
“…What did you just say?”
“If you didn’t hear, forget it.”
“No, I heard you. Clearly…”
But Idren didn’t sound like someone who’d clearly heard her. He mumbled to himself, Did I just hallucinate? Did I really…
Ophelia was glad she had already turned her back. If she hadn’t, she wasn’t sure she could’ve endured his ridiculous reaction.
Embarrassed, she grumbled,
“It was just a simple apology. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss.”
To that, Idren immediately retorted,
“Simple? How could your apology be simple?”
Ophelia flinched at his genuine outburst. Even though he was treating her words as something precious, it somehow felt like being scolded.
But the tactless man kept going, his voice filled with joy.
“I never thought I’d hear you say sorry in my life. Someone like you, apologizing… This must be a dream, right?”
“…Seeing how you’re acting, I’ll make sure never to do it again.”
Only then did Idren shut his mouth. But Ophelia could still feel his intense gaze on the back of her head.
Just as she was about to scold him for staring, he asked,
“What happened today?”
His tone was different from a moment ago—it carried concern. Ophelia noticed and gave a soft answer.
“…I just realized I’ve felt that kind of emotion before.”
She, too, had endured the suffocating palace thanks to Haslen’s warmth. That memory, as pure as gold to her, had merely been a habitual kindness for Haslen.
She knew what it was like to feel like you could breathe again from one small act of care. Ophelia continued.
“I knew how precious it is for someone to truly listen to you. But I spoke without any understanding back then.”
Her calm words were laced with bittersweet emotion.
Instinctively, Idren realized she was reminiscing about someone. A memory he didn’t know the time or the person involved.
Jealousy surged with mild shock.
He knew their feelings didn’t weigh the same.
But it was one thing to hold someone’s hand alone—and quite another to know they were holding someone else’s hand too.
A deep urge stirred inside to ask her about the part of herself he didn’t know.
He wanted to know if she also had a memory she clung to in hard times. Just like he had murmured a forbidden name while watching snow fall in the dawn, he wanted to know if she had a name she prayed with.
But at almost the same time, Idren realized he shouldn’t.
Even if he learned everything, what would change? Even if those memories were like her heart, there was nothing he could do.
Such memories couldn’t be cut out or erased. Not even by the one who gave them.
He knew that well—because he had them too.
Looking helplessly at her slender back, he heard Ophelia’s voice.
“Let’s try to get along for the next three years.”
And she reached her hand back over her shoulder.
He hesitated briefly, then took her hand. The calluses on his fingers met hers with a gentle warmth. Unconsciously, Ophelia relaxed the tension in her brow.
For the first time, she thought she might actually be able to become friends with him.
