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Chapter 9
“May I ask how Ruby has been all this time?”
The first thing he asked about was Ruby.
As expected, Royden seemed far more curious about Ruby than the person before him.
Of course. To Royden, the current “Melia” was a complete stranger.
“The young lady…”
Was that why?
“She was very lonely.”
A surge of resentment toward Royden suddenly flooded Melia’s heart.
The bitterness multiplied, and harsh words slipped out.
In the past, Melia would have softened her words and spoken indirectly.
But now, she did not want to.
Because—
“The previous nanny told her that if she wanted Your Grace’s love, she had to become the perfect young lady.”
She no longer needed to do that anymore.
“The young lady lost her freedom and was forced to pursue perfection at such a young age.”
Your choices could not make the child happy.
“She believed Your Grace disliked her.”
You abandoned the child here under the noble excuse of keeping her safe.
“There was no one by her side.”
So—
“There was no one to tell her how lovable and precious she truly was.”
A bitter taste spread through Melia’s mouth.
‘This isn’t right….’
She had not spoken to feel this way.
‘I’m not happy at all.’
Melia soon realized the source of this unpleasant feeling.
“I see. If what you say is true… then perhaps I truly have no right.”
It was Royden’s sorrowful expression.
Melia quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
‘Disgusting.’
She felt sick at how pathetic she herself looked.
Ironically, at that very moment, Melia finally understood the emotion that had been churning inside her chest all along.
It was neither joy nor anger.
Pity.
She was terrified by the contradiction of feeling pity for him.
‘I always believed this.’
Royden was the man who killed her.
She should hate him. Despise him.
‘Because that’s what’s right.’
That was the normal way a person should think.
‘That’s how I kept hypnotizing myself.’
Without realizing it, she had created an obsession for herself.
But—
‘I had that dream.’
She remembered someone once saying that dreams sometimes revealed what a person secretly desired.
And she had seen it.
Royden holding her dead body, pouring out his grief.
‘Could it be…?’
Had she secretly wanted Royden to mourn her death?
Had she perhaps wished that dream were real?
At that moment, one of the brightly burning candles suddenly went out.
The flame that had resembled a golden butterfly became an afterimage drifting around Melia.
[Vanessa.]
The butterfly dug into the deepest part of Melia’s heart.
[You already know, don’t you?]
Ah.
‘No.’
Melia was forced to face the truth she least wanted to acknowledge.
‘I still….’
She did not want Royden to be hurt.
She did not want him to suffer.
And the contradiction that made her pity him was—
‘Love.’
No… perhaps something even deeper.
‘Love and hatred intertwined.’
She had come to hold such complicated feelings for him.
* * *
At dawn, with cold air filling the world, Melia secretly sought out the head maid.
The reason was simple.
The head maid was the only person in the duke’s estate who might know where Melia wished to go.
A finely carved gravestone.
A statue of an angel resting above it.
“I’m here.”
Melia quietly sat down and pulled away the vines covering the grave.
“Big sister.”
The hidden name appeared once more.
<Anemone Defnit>
It was the place where her older sister rested.
—The grave of the late Count Defnit?
Melia stared at the grave as she recalled the head maid’s answer.
—That place has been abandoned for a long time along with the burned estate. The current Count Defnit gave up the territory and moved elsewhere. No one visits anymore.
Quietly, Melia hung a cross necklace over the angel statue.
“I came too late, didn’t I, Sister?”
She should have come the moment she awakened.
If she had any shame, she should have done that.
No—more than that—
“Do I even deserve to see you?”
If only she had trusted Royden’s words that day.
If she had trusted him just a little more, would Anemone still be alive?
“I’m sorry….”
Her nose stung painfully.
She kept imagining Anemone wandering alone in the flames.
She could have stopped it.
It was a future that could have been changed.
“It’s all my fault.”
If only she had told her sister the truth, Anemone would not be here now.
And yet… even so…
“I’m so tired.”
She desperately wanted someone to comfort her, but the only person she could think of was her sister.
“Sister, what should I do?”
She had realized she still loved Royden.
And at the same time, hating him hurt unbearably.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to face Royden from now on.”
Before she knew it, tears streamed down both cheeks.
Her heart felt unbearably heavy.
As if guilt itself were crushing her body.
Melia finally broke down sobbing right there.
Tap.
Then it started raining.
At that point, she thought perhaps it was for the best.
At least until someone draped a cloak over her shoulders.
“……”
As if possessed, Melia slowly looked beside her.
A man she had never seen before was staring at her.
Soft wheat-colored hair tied neatly back.
Lips pressed together as though suppressing anger.
And wheat-colored eyes filled with faint fury.
“Wh-Who are…?”
At her question, the man answered simply:
“Eshion.”
‘I’ve never heard that name before… Could he be someone connected to Anemone?’
Melia opened her mouth to ask who he was.
“Why are you crying?”
But Eshion interrupted her first.
“Could it be because of this person?”
“What are you talking about…?”
To the flustered Melia, Eshion spoke coldly.
“They are not someone worth crying over.”
Thud.
Melia’s face instantly turned pale.
It felt as if her heart had dropped straight to the floor.
Who was this man?
How could he speak of Anemone like that?
For a moment Melia hesitated at Eshion’s cold tone.
Then anger rose within her.
“Don’t insult the lady of this land.”
“……”
“She gave up the magic she loved for the sake of the territory.”
Back at the academy, Anemone had loved magic more than anyone and devoted herself completely to improving her abilities.
She had even entered the Magic Tower and researched every kind of magic in existence.
“Don’t you feel sorry for her at all?”
She had abandoned her dreams to care for the people of the territory.
Even if her abilities had been lacking, she always tried her best.
Anemone pushed herself so hard she could barely sleep more than three hours a day.
“She simply was not the kind of lord the people needed.”
Eshion answered calmly.
“And her death was the price of her incompetence.”
Pain stabbed through Melia’s chest.
Perhaps she had always known.
That while Anemone’s death was the worst tragedy imaginable to her, to someone else it may have represented hope for a better life.
‘But still.’
Melia’s breathing quickened.
“She was kind to me. Am I not even allowed to grieve her death?”
If only she—
“If… if I had told her the truth, maybe things could have changed.”
If she had warned Anemone about the furious townspeople after saving her from the fire…
If she had helped her sister…
“Maybe… she would still be alive.”
Strength left Melia’s legs, and she collapsed to the ground.
Eshion lowered his gaze to meet her.
“What truth are you talking about?”
Was it her imagination?
For a brief moment, Eshion’s wheat-colored eyes seemed to gleam.
No—more accurately…
‘Gold.’
“Th-That’s….”
Something felt strange.
The moment she looked into those golden eyes—
Thud.
Her body moved instinctively.
“It’s… a very long story.”
Before she knew it, Melia had begun confessing her past.
Royden trying to kill her.
The death of her sister, Anemone.
‘I altered some parts and spoke as though it were someone else’s story, but….’
Was this what it felt like to confess one’s sins before a god?
Without even realizing the rain had stopped, she continued speaking.
‘Have I finally gone mad and lost my sanity too?’
No, that could not be it.
Even now, merely hearing the name “Royden” made her shoulders flinch.
Then—
“Huh?”
A strange sound came from Eshion.
He looked utterly dumbfounded.
His wheat-colored eyes had returned, though now they seemed slightly irritated.
Finally, Melia asked:
“What is it…?”
“No, it just sounds strange.”
After a brief silence, Eshion answered.
“It’s contradictory. Why would a husband hire someone else to kill his wife?”
If he truly wanted her dead—
“He could have killed her himself that very day.”
He shrugged.
“Honestly… who leaves revenge in someone else’s hands?”
If it were him, he would want to kill the person personally to satisfy himself.
“If it were me, rather than assassination, I would have disguised it as complications after childbirth.”
That would have been far safer than an assassination that might be discovered at any moment.
