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Chapter : 18
“I think Tris Aike would be the most suitable guardian for you.”
So Meryl sent a letter, but there had been no reply yet. Speaking of it, Meryl had said bitterly,
“It must be because of me.”
And she was right—it was because of Meryl. She had no idea how rude her letter had been. Her counterpart was Duke Aike, after all, a nobleman whose power and pride rivaled that of the king himself.
“But I won’t give up. For your sake, I’ll make sure Tris becomes your guardian.”
The duke’s son—there was no other man who could fight Took without giving an inch besides Tris. Emblin had heard the story of the duel between the two men as well. The shocking tale of how Tris had shattered Took’s arm. The moment she heard it, she felt envious of Idella once again. What would it feel like to receive such devoted protection? If Tris became her guardian, would he protect her like that too?
Still, a small hope was born.
Wintergarden.
Meryl spoke of Wintergarden so often that it felt as though Emblin had lived there for a long time already. And the Wintergarden she met in her dreams was freedom itself.
With a fluttering heart, she drew the Wintergarden she had seen in her dreams. Charcoal and the stone floor once again served as good tools for her. Emblin had always been desperately hungry for learning. But she had never been given the chance to be educated, nor even to go outside.
The letters and words she had taught herself, and the world she gazed upon through the tower window—those were everything.
Yet the thirst and longing rising in her chest never faded. At some point, she began memorizing every piece of news she heard from the outside world. Then she let her imagination take flight and drew it. She didn’t know what was right or wrong. As long as it filled the emptiness in her heart, anything was fine.
On days when the wind happened to carry voices from outside, she would sit by the window all day, listening intently to the world. What were they talking about? Why were they laughing? Why were they crying?
Soon, she would be able to see it for herself, right? If she went to Wintergarden, she would mingle with people and hear their voices. Would they like her? Would they dislike her because she was a princess? Then how could she make them like her?
Ah—she was so happy. Even worrying felt enjoyable. This was freedom. At last, dreaming of the freedom she would soon meet, a bright smile bloomed on Emblin’s face.
Then news arrived from Ingrad.
King Lothsen of Ingrad had died, and the eldest son, Gauge, had ascended the throne.
Upon hearing this, King Ackers and Meryl reacted in completely opposite ways.
King Ackers smiled triumphantly. It had ended so cleanly that there could be no better resolution. Meryl, on the other hand, looked as though she had lost everything. From that day on, whenever she looked at Emblin, she silently shed tears. At the same time, she began postponing the departure for Wintergarden again and again.
Love.
What was it, really…?
From that moment, Emblin’s emotions began to dull, like a dried-up desert. She had hoped, just briefly. She thought she had been loved, and her heart had felt so warm. And then—back to the beginning. Meryl regretted the decision she had made for Emblin.
Emblin turned and looked at Elga. Elga was carrying a tray into Meryl’s room. As always, she was devotedly caring for Meryl. Emblin let out a deep breath.
January… winter… Wintergarden…
Suddenly, a burning mass surged up her throat. Her longing heated her entire body as if it would burn her alive. She wanted to leave. Her whole body twisted. Even her hair seemed to tremble with the urge to scream. She wanted to live freely, even for a moment. She wanted to leave.
If Meryl couldn’t let her go, then she would have to do something herself. At this rate, she felt she would truly go mad.
On impulse, Emblin sat down at her desk. She pulled a sheet of parchment toward her and began to write a letter.
**“Dear Tris Aike.
I imagine this sudden letter may have startled you. I beg you—please read it to the end. Please lend an ear to what I am about to say, just once. Having seen your devoted affection for your younger sibling, I admired it, and for that reason I wish to make you a proposal.
I have nothing, and I know that being involved with me would mean losing more than gaining. Still, if you choose me as your wife, I will grant you Wintergarden and the rights to five villages. In return, I ask that you protect me as a human being. If you do not force upon me only the duties of a wife, then you may enjoy whatever you desire.
So, Tris Aike—please become my guardian. Please become the master of Wintergarden. I offer this as proof.”**
After writing the letter, trembling as if with a fever, she looked around for something she could give as proof. But there was nothing. No ring, no necklace, no bracelet—nothing at all. Emblin’s eyes wavered.
She had to send something to prove who she was. Otherwise, he would doubt her. And yet she had nothing to offer. Why did nothing ever work out? All she had was her body—
Ah, that’s right.
Her hair.
Elga had once told her that he had stroked her hair and put her to sleep. But suddenly, her lips twisted. He must have touched the hair of countless women—would he even remember that this was hers?
Her face twisted at the foolish thought that slipped into her mind. What was she even doing…? But there was nothing else. With no other choice, she tied the ends of a lock of hair and cut it, enclosing it in the letter.
Emblin jumped to her feet and opened the tightly shut door. She found a maid who was close to Elga and handed her the letter along with the money she had saved.
“You must deliver this in person. You can do that, right?”
The maid, eyes wide at the enormous sum of money, nodded. After closing the door, Emblin collapsed to the floor, covering her face with both hands.
She had spilled the water.
She had done something irreversible.
Taking a deep breath, she thought: I don’t want to go mad like Meryl. I have to move.
She got up and headed for Meryl’s bedroom. Opening the door without knocking, she saw Meryl lying there expressionless, and Elga begging her to eat even a single bite.
“Elga, please step out for a moment.”
Elga set down the spoon and did as she was told. Once the door closed, Emblin sat beside Meryl.
“There’s something I need to say, Mother.”
Meryl’s unfocused eyes turned toward her. In a trembling voice, Emblin spoke in one breath.
“Please send me to Wintergarden.”
The moment the words left her mouth, tears streamed from Meryl’s eyes. Pretending not to notice, Emblin continued.
“I want to live. I don’t want to die here. So please…”
She slid down onto the floor and knelt.
“Please, let me go.”
Meryl slowly closed her eyes. She knew—she knew she was draining the life from Emblin. As long as she remained, Emblin would never be free, not even for a moment. And yet love held her back. She had clearly said goodbye to Noren, but the moment she heard that the king of Ingrad had died, regret overwhelmed her.
What was love, really…?
Perhaps love only ends with death. Perhaps she had never possessed the courage to let Noren go while alive.
“Mother, I’m begging you like this.”
Her heart ached at Emblin’s words. But she also knew now—if she didn’t act immediately, her heart would dull again. And she hated herself for that. Hated herself to the point her teeth trembled.
Emblin didn’t back down. She kept her head bowed and continued to plead. Eighteen years old. Unconsciously, the scar on her forehead throbbed again. As long as she stayed in the tower, it would never stop hurting. Like a curse, it would force her to relive that moment again and again.
I just want to live. I just want to live freely, even for a moment.
Suddenly, Emblin’s gaze shifted to the window. The world beyond that window. If she couldn’t walk out, then she would fly.
Meryl realized what she was thinking. Without realizing it, she squeezed her eyes shut.
But still…
Then Emblin spoke, as if making a vow.
“If you won’t send me, then I’ll go on my own.”
That was when Meryl’s dry, brittle hand touched her head. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. Emblin no longer had tears left to shed.
Three days later, King Ackers stood in the training grounds with a savage expression.
Damn Meryl.
Thanks to her, every day felt like hell. She had made a promise before Cardinal Mille, yet kept postponing the timing. He should have set an exact deadline from the start. Trusting Meryl even for a moment had been a mistake.
It made him feel like a sinner before Yohas. Every time he saw Maser, his heart jolted. Nothing pleased him. Even the knights sweating profusely as they trained irritated him.
“Luka.”
The captain of the royal knights bowed his head.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“They seem far too well-fed. Train them properly. With this, how can they even call themselves the capital’s knight order?”
Though the words sounded simple, their meaning was heavy.
“Yes, sir.”
The moment King Ackers left the training grounds, the intensity of training changed. Brutal drills began, ones that felt like real combat. Already slowed by the winter cold, the knights began to suffer injuries one after another. Even so, the intensity of training did not lessen.
