TCTR 44

Chapter 44

I sat in a daze, staring blankly up at Ashedwa.

He wasn’t looking at me.

“Ah, dear.”

Instead, he glanced out the window and tilted his head with a slight smile.

“I’ll need to step out for a moment. You’ll be alright on your own, won’t you?”

He posed it like a question, but he was already rising to his feet.

“Are you making that face because you’re curious where I’m going? If so, shall we go together? Though, of course, in your current state, that seems impossible.”

I couldn’t deny it. What could I possibly do with a body that couldn’t even sit upright on its own?

When I nodded as if to say, “Go on, then,” he patted me gently, calling me obedient, and turned to leave.

There was something unsettling about it—it felt no different than how one would treat a tamed beast. Truly.

Only then did silence return to the room, broken only by the irregular sound of my own breathing.

“I’m fine.”

I took a deep breath and checked my condition.

Aside from my dislocated left wrist, there was no major issue.

“I really… I really am fine.”

I ground my teeth as I forced the twisted bone back into place.

“Why does it hurt so damn much.”

I mumbled to myself in the empty, hollow space where no one was listening.

I couldn’t even swing a leg off the bed.

As my body trembled from aftershocks, I could do nothing but pull the blanket up to my chin and lie there.

I hated the endless chills washing over me.

I’d wait—just until I recovered a little.

Then… yes, then I’d talk to him again. Try to talk.

“…Will that even be possible?”

An emotion I couldn’t define surged up from deep inside me.

“Ashedwa.”

The man I once knew—was no longer in this world.

The way he looked at me now, as if all the tender moments we’d shared meant nothing—it chilled me.

That image was etched deep in my mind.

Ashedwa returned soon after.

He lifted my body, too weak and gasping to hold itself up.

I asked him, my voice cracking over and over, about everything that had happened—but he said nothing.

All he did was repeat the same phrase:

“Don’t concern yourself with such things, Inerea. It’s meaningless.”

When he brought over a bowl of porridge and held it out to me, I turned my head sharply in refusal. With a quiet sigh, he removed his supporting hand from behind my back.

“You’re not planning to starve to death, are you? Then why won’t you listen, hmm?”

Without his support, my body slumped down.

I collapsed onto a soft white blanket—too fine for this rundown cabin.

From the warmth of the bedding, my dizzy head and aching limbs twisted with discomfort.

“I asked you to stay pretty, but now you’re throwing a tantrum to be doted on?”

He muttered as he set the bowl down on the table.

“I think caring for you while you’re sick is already a sign of affection. Or am I mistaken?”

“….”

“If you don’t like this situation, just endure it a little longer. It won’t take much time.”

Take time for what?

Was someone coming to take us away? That seemed absurd, especially in the middle of a snowy mountain.

I swallowed a bitter taste.

It had been a long time since I’d felt so powerless.

If only the seizures would stop… I could at least do something.

But this illness couldn’t be cured with just endurance.

I needed medicine.

I lay back in bed, refusing the porridge.

I couldn’t bear to face Ashedwa any longer.

By the time the number of untouched bowls had exceeded five, he sighed and rose from his seat.

He placed a finger lightly on my lips, tapping them. Before I could react, he spooned porridge into my mouth.

“If you fall ill, that’ll be troublesome for you. It’s amusing to pamper you, sure—but I can’t do that forever.”

The porridge slid down my throat.

I hadn’t meant to eat out of defiance, but once food was in my mouth, my stomach welcomed it.

“….”

Even in this situation, I was hungry. My own body disgusted me.

When porridge spilled from the corner of my lips, he gently wiped it with a handkerchief and didn’t stop feeding me until I’d finished the entire bowl.

Only then did he set the spoon down and clean his hands.

“I’m preparing something for you.”

His voice dropped over my head as he cleared the bowl.

“So behave yourself, Inerea.”

Inerea.

Ina.

The nickname he had given me spun endlessly in my head.

It was always strange when someone called my name. But hearing it from his lips now felt stranger than ever.

“Are you planning to punish me?”

The thought naturally followed.

When I asked—struggling to wipe my mouth—Ashedwa tilted his head with an ambiguous smile.

There were many crimes.

Though not by choice, I had used a forbidden book. And worse—I had cast magic on the Crown Prince.

“Haha! I didn’t expect you to bring up something so boring.”

He placed the empty bowl on the table.

Then he patted me like one would a pet and leaned in close.

“I told you—I find you rather endearing.”

His piercing blue eyes, too vivid to face directly, held me with a dull gaze.

“Would someone like me punish you?”

I had no answer.

I lowered my head in silence—not reassured, not fearful, just hollow.

Click.

The sound of the old cabin’s door shutting was drowned in the roar of the snowstorm.

Ashedwa walked a few steps through the snow, leaving deep footprints behind. His eyes, colder than the winter wind, glanced back over his shoulder.

His long golden lashes fluttered faintly.

“My lord, are you just going to leave the duchess like that?”

A man in black uniform approached quietly.

“Liwell. Where’s the carriage?”

“It’s ready.”

Liwell, Ashedwa’s knight, shivered dramatically in the cold.

Between his soft golden lashes, eyes the color of a summer sky—clearer than a lake under the sun—gleamed with frost.

“Call Pell and Bessen.”

“They’re already waiting. I hope they haven’t frozen to death.”

Scratching his head, Liwell pointed beneath a tree with his chin.

“And we should find someone who knows about Inerea Mertiel’s past.”

“Yes, I’ll look into it as soon as possible.”

Ashedwa chuckled at his knight’s obedient attitude, despite the shivering.

“My lord, wouldn’t it be better to just take the duchess with us? It’d be a hassle, sure, but if we bring a magician, the descent would be easy.”

At those words, a thin smile crept across Ashedwa’s face—like that of a finely crafted wax doll.

Liwell murmured in a lowered voice.

“So it’s not that you can’t take her… You’re choosing not to.”

Ashedwa said nothing.

“But leaving a sick lady in an unheated room? Isn’t that a bit much?”

“And now you play the gentleman? What—feeling guilty?”

Ashedwa smirked, cutting him off.

Long lashes cast delicate shadows on his pale skin.

“Well, if she dies… I’ll reconsider then.”

He thought of Inerea Mertiel.

That beautiful, fierce power gained through the forbidden book.

“She started standing out after the Duke and Duchess died, didn’t she?”

A deeper smile touched Ashedwa’s lips.

“Did she kill her parents that night and gain power from it, making her feel invincible?”

He muttered quietly.

“Though truthfully, I don’t care either way.”

He remembered that night vividly.

At first, he thought she had a story. Her sorrowful eyes suited her small, rain-drenched figure.

But reality?

The way she reacted to the forbidden book. How she descended the stairs after killing her parents. How she claimed their place without hesitation.

She likely gained her power by killing them with the forbidden book.

“A power earned by killing one’s own parents… If we’d met under different circumstances, we might’ve been a perfect match.”

“If that’s her personality, I’d say she matches the Emperor more than you… Ah, my apologies. Forget I said anything. So the whole ‘Imperial Hero’ thing was just a facade, huh?”

“Of course.”

“You’re the same, my lord. I’m tired of people like that… So what will you do with the duchess now?”

At that, the man everyone admired—Ashedwa—turned to his subordinate with a dazzling smile.

“Just at the right time, the perfect chess piece rolled into place. What could be better?”

“So then…”

Ashedwa exhaled a white breath and laughed softly.

“I’ll use her to kill the Emperor.”

He said it as casually as deciding tomorrow’s brunch menu.

“With that level of power, she’s perfect.”

The Emperor’s death.

It was a wish Ashedwa had longed for over many years.

“My father clearly has no intention of handing me the throne. So I’ll take it myself.”

Liwell nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She’d used a forbidden book—perfect grounds for framing her. There couldn’t be a better scapegoat to take the fall for Ashedwa.

“And now that ‘that child’ has started to move…”

Ashedwa’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

“I can’t delay any longer.”

He patted Liwell on the shoulder.

“Get ‘it’ ready.”

“I’ll prepare it as quickly as possible.”

Then Liwell paused and asked,

“Ah—so once everything’s over… what happens to the duchess?”

At that, Ashedwa tilted his head slightly, as if puzzled, before responding in an utterly natural voice.

“She’ll die.”

There was no emotion in his tone.

“That’s the cleanest and best ending.”