🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 11
“…Is that so?”
A low voice scraped against the floor. His tone was calm, but at the end of his words lingered a faint trace of barely contained anger.
CRACK!
A loud sound rang out. The edge of the wooden table that Rahan had been gripping shattered, splintering as fragments of wood broke away. Tiny shards scattered down to the floor.
Isel flinched and looked at Rahan. Even Rahan, the one who had broken the table, let out a small, absent “Ah.”
“It seems the table was old and broke easily.”
If Seres had heard that, he would have exploded in fury. The furniture he had placed in the studio was all custom-made from Laquin hardwood—known for its exceptional durability.
Unfortunately, Isel did not know that.
“Are you alright?”
Isel’s voice was filled with alarm as she widened her eyes.
If it broke that easily, he must have gotten a cut or a bruise on his hand…
When concern appeared in Isel’s eyes, Rahan stared at her blankly for a moment. Then he slowly spoke.
“I’m fi—”
He was about to say he was fine, but stopped himself. His hand, which had endured countless harsh battles, was only slightly scraped and otherwise perfectly unharmed.
Rahan looked back and forth between his completely fine hand and Isel before correcting himself.
“I might… be a little hurt.”
He frowned slightly and slowly clenched and unclenched his fist, as if he had injured his muscles.
Isel, without thinking, reached out.
“Let me see your hand.”
Her two hands gently wrapped around his. She applied light pressure with her thumbs, carefully massaging his firm grip.
When muscles were strained, it was best to loosen them slowly like this.
Her older brother often injured his hand muscles during intense training, so Isel had gotten used to treating him. Because of that, her touch on Rahan’s hand was natural.
But unlike Isel, Rahan had frozen completely—as if he had turned into stone.
He couldn’t even breathe properly as he watched her small hands gently rub his.
After Isel carefully loosened his palm, she finally lifted her head.
And their eyes met in midair.
Rahan’s slightly widened pupils were fixed on her. At the same time, his mind went completely blank.
“!”
Isel quickly pulled her hands back and leaned against the chair.
She had unconsciously treated him the same way she treated her brother.
Her cheeks flushed red. A tingling sensation spread where her hands had touched him, like blood rushing back through blocked circulation.
“S-sorry!”
As Isel hurriedly apologized, Rahan blinked—and then smiled faintly.
Isel clasped her hands together, trying to calm her racing heart. Her fingers unconsciously fiddled with the ring on her pinky.
Rahan suddenly spoke.
“I have a question.”
“Y-yes?”
“It might be a personal question. May I ask it?”
“…Yes.”
The corners of his lips, which had held a faint smile, slowly lowered.
“…Is it an unwanted marriage?”
A calm voice reached her ears.
Something heavy she had forgotten suddenly asserted its presence again, pressing down on her chest.
Isel slowly lowered her gaze. The warmth in her cheeks vanished in an instant.
Her small lips parted with a weak voice.
“I… want to keep sculpting.”
“…”
“If I get married… I don’t think I’ll be able to do it…”
Her voice trailed off. But it was easy to guess what she could not say.
Rahan’s gaze settled deeply on Isel’s eyes.
Isel, unable to speak for a while, clenched her fists tightly.
“But I know I shouldn’t be selfish.”
Her voice trembled faintly at the end.
Silence filled the space between them.
“Isel.”
She lifted her head.
“I want to help you.”
“…Huh?”
“May I help you?”
His eyes shimmered with an unreadable light.
Isel stared at him blankly, almost nodding without thinking.
But she pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head.
“Just listening to me today was already enough.”
It had been a long time since she had spoken words she had kept buried inside.
Nothing had been resolved, but she felt her churning stomach finally calm.
Rahan silently watched her for a long time.
***
Seres couldn’t even go far. He paced in circles outside the studio.
Of course, he didn’t forget to mutter curses and insults at Rahan the entire time.
After a while, his legs hurt, so he finally sat down on a flowerbed fence near the studio.
People passing by glanced at him and quickly moved away, as if avoiding trouble.
They probably thought he was a madwoman muttering nonsense in the street.
Humiliated, Seres lowered his head.
If I hadn’t run away from the family!
That damned landlord bastard!
But soon he shook his head.
Because leaving the Talia Marquis family was precisely what allowed him to live freely as an artist.
Money and power traded for this life—it was precious.
“What the hell is going on?”
As he sat and thought, confusion only grew.
Rahan had always been known for being indifferent to others. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t bat an eye even if people died beside him.
In fact, if something annoyed him or seemed useless, he would eliminate it without hesitation.
But that hadn’t always been the case.
Seres recalled their first meeting—ten years ago, on the day of the Imperial Academy entrance ceremony.
Pale, flawless skin. Neatly kept black hair. Under his tidy bangs were eyes that back then were not gold, but a vivid crimson.
Even then, he had been striking, but not yet the personality monster he was rumored to be.
Rahan began to change two years after entering the academy.
He would escape the dorm whenever he could, wandering outside as if searching for something.
Seres had thought maybe even that cold guy had something he cared about.
He frowned.
Wait… what was it again? It was after summer break…
As he tried to recall, his eyes suddenly widened.
“…!”
Fragments of memories flashed through his mind. He suddenly stood up and stared toward the studio.
***
Isel glanced at the sky outside.
The sun was about to set.
“I think… I should go home now.”
“…Since it’s late, I’ll escort you.”
“But my teacher is still—”
At Isel’s words, Rahan smiled slightly.
“Would you wait here for a moment?”
Confused, Isel nodded.
Rahan left the studio.
Shortly after, Seres burst back in through the door.
“Master!”
“Isel!”
“Did everything go well?”
“Huh? Well, that’s—”
Seres hesitated.
But Rahan, who had followed behind him, spoke instead.
“It seems your business is finished.”
Seres glared at him sharply.
There had been no business at all.
He had simply been waiting anxiously outside the studio—and now this man was lying without even changing his expression.
Before Seres could retort, Isel spoke.
“Master, I think the table needs to be replaced.”
“What?”
Seres turned toward the table.
The Laquin wood table—expensive and newly purchased—had its edge completely destroyed.
His mouth fell open.
“What on earth…”
“It seems it was old. It broke when touched.”
Isel looked sincerely worried that her teacher might get hurt too.
Seres almost laughed from disbelief.
There was only one person in the room who could break Laquin wood with bare hands.
Rahan El Kanox.
Seres glared daggers at him, but Rahan ignored it completely.
Isel put on her hood to leave.
Seres quickly grabbed her.
“Isel, weren’t you going to tell me something?”
Isel blinked.
“…Oh.”
She looked at the basket on the table.
Her green eyes trembled slightly.
She opened her mouth a few times, then closed it.
“…It’s nothing. I’ll… come back next time, Master.”
“…I-I see.”
Seres watched helplessly as she left the studio with Rahan.
Is it… really going to be okay?
***
A slightly cool wind slipped through Isel’s hood.
She turned her head and looked at the man walking beside her.
She was small, but Rahan was extremely tall—she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
A strange man.
Unusually kind… and not unfamiliar.
Ever since that incident in the past, Isel had developed an extreme fear of being touched by men.
Even the slightest contact made her flinch, her mind going dark.
But this man was different.
Whenever he was near, the walls she had built around herself seemed to melt away.
She didn’t understand why.
She stared at his face.
Sharp nose. Slightly thin lips. A clean jawline.
As she looked, Rahan turned his head toward her.
His golden eyes, tinged slightly red by the sunset, filled her vision.
Isel’s eyes widened.
“…Huh?”
From somewhere deep in her memory—dust-covered, long-forgotten—someone’s face began to surface.
“Isel?”
Rahan’s voice pulled her back.
“Ah… it’s nothing.”
She quickly looked away, her heart fluttering.
Before she knew it, they had reached the main road where carriages passed.
A luxurious carriage approached them—pulled by two black horses.
Though clearly noble in style, it bore no crest.
The driver stepped down and bowed respectfully.
He opened the carriage door.
Rahan extended his hand toward Isel.
“If we leave now, we’ll arrive before sunset.”
Isel looked at him in confusion.
It was as if he already knew where she lived.
And the carriage, arriving uncalled-for… and a driver dressed like a noble servant.
Isel felt increasingly bewildered.
