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Chapter 44
The distance so close that even breaths could be felt was strangely unreal.
Lahan also seemed surprised, slightly widening his eyes as he looked at Isel.
The scent of wildflowers, dried crisp under the sun, lingered at the tip of her nose—and in the next moment, warmth touched Isel’s cheek.
She felt a firm hand carefully brushing against her cheek. The touch, as gentle as a feather settling down, was tender beyond words—almost reverent.
Isel held her breath, locking eyes with Lahan. His golden eyes, shaded slightly, seemed to shimmer with a hazy light.
Lahan’s gaze traced over her eyes, nose, and lips.
Her breath stopped. Only the heavy thudding of her heartbeat filled her ears. Time seemed to slow, as if everything were melting away.
Then Lahan’s eyes softened as he looked at her.
“Thank you, Isel.”
At the same moment, the warmth that had been touching her cheek slowly disappeared.
As Lahan-filled vision cleared, Isel finally came back to her senses. She hurriedly gasped for air and stepped back.
What just happened?
For a brief moment—just a moment—it felt like he was about to kiss her…
Her heart fluttered like a startled bird. She didn’t even know what expression she was making as she barely managed to respond.
“…Yes.”
Trying to steady her trembling fingertips for no reason, Isel began fastening the buttons of Lahan’s shirt again, one by one. Watching her fidgeting fingers, Lahan spoke.
“You seem quite skilled at handling bandages.”
The tension that had filled the room began to ease slightly.
Grateful for a change in topic, Isel replied brightly.
“Yes. When I sculpt, I often end up injuring my arms or hands.”
“……”
When no reply came, Isel, who had finished buttoning his shirt, looked at him curiously.
Lahan’s expression was not particularly good as he remained silent.
“Your Grace?”
Lahan gently took hold of her fingertips and said,
“I hope you will never get hurt.”
“……”
His voice was sweet—like sugar melting into water.
With his brows slightly relaxed and his warm gaze fixed on her, Lahan looked unfairly perfect.
Just as Isel had worried about him, he was also worried about her.
The bird in her chest flapped even more frantically, as if it might take flight.
Isel couldn’t respond.
It was Lahan who spoke again, softly stroking her knuckles.
“About yesterday’s answer… was it sincere?”
A memory she had tried so hard to bury suddenly surfaced in her mind.
“U-um… that is…”
She hesitated, her eyes darting around.
Her cheeks had already turned red without her realizing it, and she looked extremely flustered.
Lahan did not press her, simply waiting in silence.
Isel took a small breath and finally spoke.
“For now… I think I need to talk with my family.”
Marriage was not simply between a man and a woman—it was the union of two families.
In the Empire of Ekar, which valued family harmony, marriage was a highly significant matter.
She could already imagine her father and older brother fiercely opposing it, and she let out a small sigh.
She looked straight at Lahan.
“But… what I said about accepting Your Grace’s proposal… was sincere.”
Her voice trembled slightly, but it was clear and steady.
Lahan gazed at her quietly. His slow-blinking eyes looked as if he did not wish to wake from a happy dream.
“I will respect whatever you decide. I can wait as long as it takes.”
His voice carried unmistakable sincerity.
Isel felt a tight warmth in her chest and bit her lip slightly.
How could someone be so kind, so gentle, so considerate?
She nodded repeatedly.
She promised Lahan she would return soon after speaking with her family, then said her goodbyes and left.
Even after she fully stepped out of the room, Lahan’s lingering gaze followed her like a shadow, making it hard for her to move away.
Outside, Harris and a servant were waiting for her.
Harris approached with a slightly anxious expression.
“My lady, was everything alright?”
“Hmm? Y-yes.”
Isel touched her cheek absentmindedly and nodded. Fortunately, the earlier warmth had faded.
The servant bowed and led them away.
As they walked down the corridor, something suddenly caught Isel’s eye.
Something she had not noticed earlier because she had been too focused on Lahan.
Inside an elegant wall cabinet made of Lakin wood were numerous sculptures of various sizes.
Isel blinked.
“Those are…”
As if drawn in, she stepped closer.
The servant, confused, followed her gaze and nodded.
“These are the sculptures recently collected by His Grace the Duke.”
“…By the Duke?”
“Yes. I heard he purchased them at high prices at auctions, and he takes great care in preserving them. This cabinet was also specially commissioned by His Grace…”
Realizing he was speaking too much, the servant quickly shut his mouth.
But Isel was already absorbed in the sculptures.
All of them were hers.
From the small animal series she had once made to the falcon sculpture she had worked on two months ago.
The neatly arranged pieces behind glass felt both familiar and strangely distant.
She had put her heart into each one… but—
Then she remembered something Lahan had once said.
“I like your work.”
Back then, she had thought her master must have shown them to him. She had never imagined he had personally bought and collected them.
After standing there for a long moment, Isel finally moved on under the servant’s watchful gaze.
The knights and servants escorted her with unusual respect, as though she were a noble guest.
It felt strangely unreal.
Isel returned to the carriage with Harris.
After a moment of thought, she looked up and said,
“Let’s stop by the art studio on the way.”
Harris nodded.
It would be better to spend some time outside before returning home anyway.
After getting off the carriage, Isel and Harris entered the city.
The streets were more crowded than usual, even though it was neither a weekend nor a festival day.
Harris carefully shielded her from bumping into others.
When they reached the central square, the crowd became even denser.
A large notice was posted on a wall, and everyone seemed to be gathered around it.
As Isel tried to pass by casually, a phrase caught her ear.
“…A sculptor committed fraud?”
She and Harris turned simultaneously toward the voice.
A group of people was engaged in heated discussion.
“Maybe they’ve already fled in fear?”
“To think they used the name of the goddess Enix for fraud…”
Isel felt something unsettling.
She walked toward the wall where the notice was posted.
“Miss!”
Harris quickly followed.
Flanking the large notice were holy knights in armor and white cloaks, holding spears.
Isel immediately recognized it.
A decree from the Enix Grand Temple.
At the top was the golden emblem of the falcon, symbol of the goddess Enix. Below it were the seals of the Emperor and the High Priest.
She read the neatly written text.
Her eyes widened.
“…Miss?”
Harris called her, but she did not respond.
Her gaze was fixed on one line.
[Such fraudulent acts are a clear insult to the temple and the goddess… Therefore, in the name of the eighty-first servant of the goddess, High Priest Riante Anis, a warrant is issued for the arrest of Sculptor El.]
No matter how many times she read it, it made no sense.
It felt unreal—like a dream.
When she had visited Duke Lashen’s estate, she had been surprised that many people knew her work.
Being praised for her art had felt flattering and even warm.
But now…
According to the decree, she had become a fraud who deceived people in the name of the goddess.
She had never claimed such a blessing existed. In fact, she hadn’t even known such rumors were spreading.
A surge of injustice rose in her chest, then quickly turned into fear.
The temple and the imperial court were now hunting her.
That simple, terrifying fact pressed down on her shoulders.
Her heart began to pound violently.
The holy knights beside the decree cast suspicious glances at her.
Isel quickly turned her face away.
Her thoughts moved sluggishly, like a tired snail.
First, she needed to talk to her master.
She pushed through the crowd.
But then she stopped again.
She remembered the last time she had gone to collect payment for her sculptures—the priest and knights who had looked at her master with pressure in their eyes.
Then…
Her head went cold.
It was all because of her.
Isel’s face turned pale.
Harris grabbed her shoulders.
“Miss! Are you alright?”
Her gaze drifted in confusion.
Going to the studio now would be meaningless.
“…Let’s go home, Harris.”
Harris hesitated, then nodded.
“Understood.”
He did not question her further on the carriage ride.
Isel tried to recall who knew she was Sculptor El.
Her master… and—
Lahan.
Lahan had known from the moment they met that she was a sculptor.
Did he also know about this decree?
Isel tightly clasped her hands together.
