LMJO 54

#54. Please Call My Name

At the words that seemed to insist on accepting her, Siana slightly opened her eyes. The queen, looking like sugar herself, glanced at her husband and asked a question.

Soon, the king’s gaze fell upon her. Siana felt his cold golden eyes scanning her from head to toe. Frightened, she lowered her eyes. It felt as if something terrible was about to happen.

But contrary to her expectations, the king spoke in a gentle voice.

“Do as you wish. If you want to stay in the castle, just inform the steward.”

That can’t be.

Her father had always interfered with anything the king tried to do, simply because Siana carried the blood of the Brinwell royal family. Even here, in Aglante, not Brinwell, it was the same.

So naturally, the king did not like the Nebel people, led by her father.

It was then that the queen looked back at her and asked:

“Will you continue to enjoy the banquet, or go to your room?”

It was as if there was no option to send her away.

If she stayed, her father’s plan would be ruined. Siana lowered her eyes in dismay. Surely, her father wanted her to be driven out by the queen’s hand. But if she stayed in the castle…

Yet, the queen did not seem inclined to send her away.

She had no idea how to act in such a situation. Her spine grew cold with embarrassment. She had to respond quickly to the queen’s question, but her mind went completely blank.

“I… I…”

She couldn’t think of the words to continue. Enjoy the banquet? But if she went back to the hall, she would have to face her father.

Even without looking down, Siana could tell—her father was watching her.

And if she told him that the queen intended to keep her in the castle…

He would hit her again.

Her chest felt tight. No matter how much violence she endured, she could never get used to it. Whenever her father raised his hand, it still hurt, and it still scared her.

At the moment she couldn’t continue speaking, the king said:

“Judging by the situation, it’s better to go to your room.”

With that cold remark, he signaled a nearby servant.

“Take Siana Nebel to the steward.”

“Gilrod Nebel did not offer his daughter with good intentions.”

That night, in the shared marital bedroom, Idren said this.

Ophelia, lying on the bed and staring at the canopy, responded silently: I know. I have my own plans too.

“Will you not tell me what you are thinking?”

“I will, once it succeeds.”

She had said this because she would have to handle things herself if Siana did not act according to her plan. Idren gazed at her for a moment and said:

“Do not take unnecessary risks.”

Since he had provided a knight, any tasks could be left to the knight.

Then Idren climbed onto the bed. Ophelia felt the mattress sink under his weight. Soon, his fingers brushed near her forehead—a touch she had grown accustomed to.

Playing with her hair as if it were yarn, he spoke.

“Gilrod didn’t seem to treat his daughter well.”

“He didn’t even in a previous life.”

Ophelia, sensing he knew something, asked:

“What happened?”

“I don’t remember clearly, but… in a past life, Gilrod Nebel tried to secure a son-in-law to inherit the family.”

“Instead of leaving it to his child?”

Even in Reden, where men were generally treated as superior, family inheritance followed bloodlines. While some distant lands might accept sons-in-law for inheritance, it did not apply to Aglante, Reden, or Egelbarmot.

Because the royal family strictly followed bloodline succession, noble families naturally followed the same custom.

Idren stared at her silently.

“Gilrod Nebel was greedy. He probably thought he could not leave his family legacy to a stammering daughter.”

Hence, he sought someone with Brinwell royal blood. His words carried a chill. Ophelia thought that, at least among the people she knew, Gilrod seemed to have the worst relationship with Idren.

She asked the man, who did not hide his resentment:

“So what happened?”

“The marriage never happened. When the groom’s procession crossed the Aglante border, Siana’s body had already floated in the moat.”

Then Gilrod adopted the man he originally wanted as his son-in-law. Idren added, asking her: May I kiss your forehead?

Ophelia looked at the man who had changed his mind in a single day after saying he didn’t want to do anything yesterday. The yellow eyes, shadowed by the angle, looked down at her.

Yesterday, she had been willing to accept anything, yet today, seeing those slightly wavering eyes, she could not speak.

She turned on her side, staring silently at the unique-colored eyes. Idren, without further questioning, rose and extinguished the lamp.

In the darkened room, lying beside her again, he said:

“Please call my name.”

“…Why all of a sudden?”

“You were about to call it earlier, weren’t you?”

Only then did Ophelia recall their conversation at the banquet. Back then, Idren had tried to get her attention by calling her name several times.

It was not difficult. As Ophelia was about to speak, Idren added:

“I want to hear the name you call me without anger.”

Yesterday, and even today, he made her feel as if she were a terrible person. Ophelia frowned.

“What will it make me if I say it?”

“It will make you the same Ophelia as always.”

He muttered a little indignantly: Then why do I like you so much?

A truth she had forgotten, quietly pressing upon her, made Ophelia sigh and speak:

“…Why are you asking me that?”

Then she wondered if her small, soft reply might sound strange. It was unusual.

Fortunately, Idren said nothing. Instead, he persisted:

“Regardless, call my name.”

Sensing he would sulk if she did not, Ophelia let out a small sigh and spoke:

“Idren.”

“….”

“Are you satisfied?”

Yet no answer came. Curious about his expression, she turned to look, and Idren, who had been watching her all along, quickly turned on his side.

The sudden reversal made Ophelia blink.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“…It doesn’t matter.”

A voice trembling from his broad back revealed moisture. Realizing it was tears, Ophelia’s mouth fell open in surprise.

“You’re crying?”

“Who’s crying?”

The rising tone of denial sounded suspicious. Ophelia gazed briefly at his back, knowing tears must be there, then asked:

“Shall I call it again?”

“…No need.”

Hearing it too many times in a day wasn’t good. In the pitch-dark, Idren blinked, recalling the first time she gently called his name: Idren.

In Aglante Gaur, it was a word that meant nothing. The late king had given it casually as a mere name to call. Yet, hearing it on Ophelia’s lips made him choke up with inexplicable emotion.

He would ask her to do it again. Idren thought, clenching his lips. Next time, she must call it without anger. Then he might finally like this name, which he had never liked before.

Ophelia cleared her throat behind him, carrying a hidden, unspoken wish.

“I’m not crying, but I’ll ask one thing.”

“…Ask.”

“It’s about Netepel.”

“Do you want to ask that at this moment?”

Ophelia watched the man, who had completely changed his attitude in a single breath, with disbelief.

“You said I should ask.”

“Really, there’s nothing to ruin the mood… fine. I was foolish to expect anything from you.”

Idren then turned to face her. The blanket beneath them rustled.

Even if he had stayed still, Ophelia thought she could have hidden her face. The room was too dark to see anything.

“You’re friends, right? Why don’t you ask directly instead of asking me?”

Why was he sulking again?

Turning toward the man whose emotions were impossible to predict, Ophelia asked:

“In the previous life, did Netepel also go down to Reden at the same time?”

She worried he might refuse to answer—as he often grumbled over trivial matters—but Idren surprisingly answered without hesitation.

“Probably. Around the time he returned to Aglante, I recall hearing that the prince of Egelbarmot stayed near the river.”

Idren remembered that in the past, Ophelia had never opened a window for him.

Then she had thrown herself off the balcony, and later even locked the room door.

Compared to that, they were now practically a close couple. Buried the bitter memories quickly, Idren asked:

“Why do you ask?”

“Something feels off.”

“What seems off?”

“If he came to Reden before, why didn’t he come to see me?”

Hearing the pure curiosity in her question, Idren let out a small sigh.

After a brief pause, he said:

“Perhaps he could not come.”