~Chapter 22 ~
Again, Marriage (2)
Just because someone dies after losing everything in a miserable way doesn’t mean all hope and dreams disappear as well.
If anything, human desire is far too strong. Most people would see regression as an opportunity—a second chance to finally achieve what they couldn’t before.
And Pheon—born a filthy bastard without a father, a dirty mongrel from the very beginning—naturally longed even more shamelessly than anyone else.
He wanted something painfully simple and ordinary:
To live happily with the person he loved.
This time, he wanted to truly look at the person he loved, to resolve every tragedy he already knew of, and to change her ending from an untimely death into one of peaceful old age.
No matter how hard he tried to suppress those desires, they would force their way back up from the severed roots. That was simply the nature of the blood he’d been born with.
Or perhaps it was because of the Emperor’s twisted upbringing.
Either way, he had been born a dirty bastard and had grown into a magnificently thick-skinned son of a bitch.
That son of a bitch grinned when Caella stared at him without moving and, instead of offering her the peach again, ate it himself.
The smile suited him far too well for someone like him—fresh, dazzling enough to make her chest tighten so painfully she forgot even the fate of death awaiting her.
“Me?”
Caella, so upset that she had completely torn down the walls of manners and restraint she’d carefully built up, widened her eyes. The delicate corners of them were still damp.
Pheon couldn’t take his eyes off her.
At least now, he could finally look at her as much as he wanted, and that alone let him breathe easier. At the same time, he realized he would never again be able to turn away from her.
Even before dying, he had forced himself to practice letting go of her. Now, even that was impossible.
“You’d show interest…in me?”
Her pink lips, slightly stained with cream beneath her perfectly straight nose, parted faintly.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a son of a bitch?”
Pheon answered carelessly.
“There’s no way.”
The most absolute existence in his world declared it firmly.
There was no way.
Her clear eyes pierced straight through him.
“Why not?”
A man far too noble and upright to willingly behave like a bastard smiled faintly as he asked back.
“Well…because there’s just no way?”
Caella tilted her head slightly, then chose simply not to look at his smile anymore. Instead, she poked absently through the bowl now piled high with peaches using her wooden spoon.
“I know what your dream is.”
To live happily together with Beatrice and the Empress.
She knew that very well.
No one had ever been able to stop Pheon as he charged toward that dream. No one could stop him or break him, and so he himself had shattered instead.
At least…probably.
Caella, who had been imprisoned, knew nothing after the moment Beatrice gifted her poison.
“You know?”
“Mm.”
Without looking at him, Caella scooped up another piece of peach and ate it.
Pheon quietly took in every detail of her rounded head, her smooth forehead, her thick brows, and the lashes beneath them.
Caella felt as though every place his gaze touched was catching fire.
Why was he staring at her like that?
Before her death, he had barely looked at her at all—as if she were some kind of bug. Yet now he was gazing at her so intently that it felt strange.
Did he suspect her of something?
Ah.
Could it be he already thought she was the Emperor’s spy?
That was possible.
The thought drained all strength from her body, and she set down her spoon. Her appetite vanished again.
“Living happily…with Sister Beatrice…and Her Majesty the Empress. I know. I really hope it comes true.”
So please, just don’t kill her painfully.
Rather than imprisoning her, she wished he would simply kill her instantly on the spot.
Nothing was more horrifying than a slow death creeping closer little by little.
Her slender hands tightened around the bowl until they turned pale.
“I hope so too.”
“I don’t intend to interfere with that.”
Like prey begging desperately before a predator for a quick death.
Pheon, who had been quietly watching her, answered after a brief pause.
“That isn’t my dream, Caella.”
Only then did she lift her head to look at him.
When their eyes met, he grinned.
“Then what is?”
What was his dream?
From the moment she entered Lusenford, her life would be entirely in the hands of its ruler. Caella needed to know—for the sake of an easy, peaceful death.
“Shouldn’t you be asking what happened when Beatrice came to see me first?”
“I figured you handled it yourself.”
“Ah, right. I told her I wasn’t interested.”
Not interested.
Or perhaps deliberately refusing to be interested.
Whenever she became curious, she always ended up hurt in the end. And now she understood clearly that she didn’t even have the right to ask.
Though even if she knew, would she ever truly understand him?
What puzzled Caella most was why Pheon wasn’t scolding her for fighting with Beatrice.
She had expected him to criticize her the moment he saw her and had sharpened herself defensively in advance, but instead he merely sat there calmly slicing peaches for her without a single harsh word.
He wasn’t usually like this.
He had always been indifferent—someone who ignored whatever she did and focused only on his own work.
Slowly, she glanced up again.
A few strands of black hair had fallen loose around Pheon’s face. He looked down at his sticky hands coated in sweet juice before meeting her gaze.
At some point, the bowl between them had become overflowing with finely sliced peaches, and the serving dish beside it was piled high as well.
The sweet scent surrounded them completely.
“Want me to cut more?”
“Aren’t you busy?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
Chuckling softly, he grabbed another ripe peach and began slicing it.
His large hands, veins standing out beautifully beneath the skin, handled even the small fruit knife skillfully. Perhaps someone accustomed to wielding a sword naturally handled smaller blades well too.
Contrary to everything Caella remembered, Pheon seemed astonishingly relaxed.
So relaxed, so at ease, so genuinely content that it startled her.
He looked exactly like he had the day Beatrice came to visit before Caella died.
No—perhaps even happier now.
‘There’s no way he enjoys being with me.’
Caella stared at him as if he were some bizarre stranger.
He had always been too busy to spend idle time with her, and there had never been any reason for him to make time for her in the first place.
The hands that should have been handling documents or swords now held soft peaches, slicing them deftly before lifting a piece to his lips.
His slightly full lips curved beautifully as they parted.
As the peach disappeared between clean, strong teeth, Caella suddenly realized his violet eyes were fixed directly on her.
Only then did her small shoulders jolt in surprise, trembling like a startled bird.
“Is it good?”
Pheon gestured with his chin toward the bowl she was clutching tightly.
The blueberries and strawberries were barely visible beneath the cream and peaches piled over them.
“No.”
Now that it was drenched in cream, she’d lost her appetite.
No—perhaps she had simply lost it entirely.
When she first came here, she’d been certain she could finish an entire bowl by herself.
“You barely ate any. Don’t you like the cream?”
How had he known?
“…Mm.”
“Then just eat the fruit. Here, eat this one.”
He held out another slice of peach.
For a moment she wondered again why he was acting this way.
Then she remembered where they were—the back garden of the Empress’s palace where they had once played together as children.
The children had often brought baskets here for picnics, spreading blankets to eat, read books, or play games.
Most of the time, Beatrice and Pheon played together while Caella trailed after them.
Still, it was a place filled with memories.
Pheon had always been the one to hold young Caella’s hand when she followed after them, waiting for her patiently and offering her extra jelly or pudding.
Perhaps that was why he was acting like this now.
To her, those memories felt impossibly distant now, faded and colorless.
Back when she had loved the older brother who brought her milk and gave her extra strawberries.
Thinking of those days—which Pheon would surely forget once they married—Caella accepted the peach he offered.
As she bit into the soft flesh, his firm fingers, damp with juice, brushed against her lips before pulling away.
‘Is this why I came back to life?’
Was she brought back simply so she could enjoy fleeting kindness for a little while because she had been too pitiful?
Caella chewed the peach and let the pointless thought drift away.
Pheon surely attached no meaning to any of this.
She lifted her gaze.
He had brought the very fingers her lips had touched to his own beautiful mouth.
The tip of his tongue slipped out and slowly licked away the sticky juice.
His beautiful violet eyes never left her.
Just like in Lusenford, those eyes remained utterly unreadable.
Cold.
Emotionless.
“Is it good?”
He asked gently, just as he had when they were children.
But Caella no longer knew what the peach tasted like.
Unable to endure his indifferent gaze, she lowered her eyes first.
Pathetic.
She was the only one losing composure over those cold eyes.
“I have something to give you. Wait a moment.”
She heard water splashing softly.
Still staring only at the hem of her dress, Caella silently chewed and swallowed her peach.
Across from her, Pheon unfolded a handkerchief and dried the hands he had just washed.
“I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
He pulled something from inside his coat.
A small box.
What was that?
Her tears now fully dried, Caella quietly watched as he opened it.
Silence settled between them for a moment.
Pheon carefully observed her blank expression before finally breaking the silence.
“You don’t like it?”
“No… It’s pretty, but why?”
It was a simple, classic ring.
A large diamond sat proudly in the center, with small purple amethysts decorating either side.
The diamond was enormous—large enough that even Caella could tell it must be extremely expensive.
“It’s beautiful.”
Pheon nodded calmly and took the fruit bowl from her hands since she was still only staring at the ring.
“It’s yours.”
“…Huh?”
“I said I had something to give you. It’s yours.”
Since she looked unlikely to even pick it up herself, he took her pale left hand—the one gripping the bowl so tightly it seemed about to shatter—and slid the ring onto her finger personally.
“It’s…mine?”
Seeing her wide eyes repeatedly checking for confirmation, Pheon let out a soft laugh.
“It’s yours. …Apparently it belonged to my mother. His Majesty gave it to me.”
A bitter taste lingered in his mouth as he admitted it honestly.
He had never wanted to give Caella a ring carelessly tossed at him by the Emperor.
His mother likely would have felt the same.
“I’ll give you the one I prepared myself later.”
“No, no. This is already more than enough. It’s so beautiful.”
Blinking repeatedly as she examined the ring, Caella looked at him awkwardly.
“…But I think it’s too much for me.”
It was far more valuable than the ring she’d received before her death.
And it had belonged to the Empress.
Wouldn’t that make it deeply precious to Pheon too?
Truthfully, she would have been fine with an ordinary ring without gemstones.
No—more accurately, she simply didn’t care.
She was going to die soon anyway. What meaning did a ring have?
If anything, it only felt burdensome.
“You keep it. I’m really okay.”
As she hurried to remove the ring, Pheon stared at her in disbelief.
Caella felt her heart clench painfully.
Had she made another mistake?
Had she upset him again?
But she had spoken carefully and modestly, making sure to recognize her place first.
Worried she might scratch the ring, she tried removing it gently and quickly to return it, but Pheon grabbed both her hands entirely to stop her.
“I know very well that you don’t want to marry me.”
His low voice roughened like a beast’s growl.
“But the marriage cannot be called off, Caella.”
His cold eyes never left hers.
The violet within them trembled slightly.
Then again, this unwanted marriage was difficult not only for Caella, but for Pheon too.
Naturally, he must be suffering as well.
“I’m sorry, but you have to marry me. No—don’t look away. Look at me properly.”
Afraid someone might see them—or perhaps afraid she might be swallowed whole by Pheon’s intense gaze—Caella glanced nervously around the empty surroundings.
But Pheon firmly pulled on the hands he held.
Only after her blue eyes returned to him did he loosen his grip slightly.
Even then, not enough for her to escape.
Though in truth, she had no intention of pulling away.
When else would she ever get to hold hands with him again?
If she was going to die anyway, she might as well do everything she wanted first.
“This ring is yours until the day you die.”
“No one will take it away from you. And even if someone tries, don’t give it to them.”
“Not even to me. Understood?”
Caella, secretly stubborn by nature, merely hunched her shoulders and stared at him silently.
Her gaze was filled with refusal.
In the end, she had no intention of obeying.
A sigh nearly escaped him, but Pheon had neither the confidence nor the desire to win against Caella.
Whether she answered or not didn’t matter.
If someone ever took the ring from her peacefully, then he would simply come take it back himself.
“Don’t take it off.”
As he pushed the ring—already halfway off her finger—back into place, Pheon spoke almost like a vow.
The hands touching hers were cool and completely dry.
Suddenly, Caella became curious.
There was a small artificial stream nearby, but it required walking farther away. Yet Pheon hadn’t brought any water basin with him either.
Then where had he gotten the clean water to wash his hands?
“Caella.”
How did he always notice whenever her thoughts wandered?
Pheon tugged her toward him once more.
For some reason, he looked desperately impatient.
Caella suddenly burst into laughter.
Her eyes curved beautifully as light laughter spilled from her lips.
It was such a radiant smile that anyone facing her would lose themselves completely.
“…Mm. Okay.”
From the moment they arrived here, Pheon had been toying with her.
Rather than angering her, it felt strange.
Because her status as Princess Ostein still existed, she was able to witness this side of him.
Even this shallow attention he offered tasted sweeter than peaches.
And in the end, that only made everything more bitter.
No matter how she thought about it, Caella really was a hopelessly insane woman.
At a few simple words from him, at the sight of a smile she hadn’t seen in so long, her heart reacted before her mind ever could.
She had starved not only for food—
but also for affection.
Since she was going to die anyway, perhaps enjoying this brief happiness wasn’t so terrible.
The fact that she could calmly calculate something like that made her laugh at herself.
And the fact that hearing words like these counted as a “happy moment” in her life was so pitiful it became laughable too.
“I’ll do that.”
Pheon’s cold, unreadable gaze never once left Caella as she continued smiling emptily.
