RTGD 21

Chapter 21

“Is this really all your luggage?”

“Haha, yes. It’s a bit sparse, isn’t it?”

After finishing their conversation, Killian gestured as he headed toward the carriage.

He was holding a brown travel bag in his gloved hand, worn to hide his scar. It was Litricia’s.

“This isn’t just sparse—it’s practically empty.”

There was only one bag, and although it was fairly large, it didn’t seem to weigh anything at all.

Killian had been in a decent mood until just a moment ago, but that quickly changed.

What kind of life must she have lived, he wondered, that she could leave such a grand mansion with just this?

The thought was unpleasant.

And the fact that it was obvious her life hadn’t been easy only made him feel worse.

Finally, he remembered—

Even in her past life, Litricia had arrived at the northern duchy with nothing but a single suitcase in the dead of winter.

And back then, he’d looked at her and felt nothing.

That realization thoroughly disgusted him.

He didn’t even know why this was affecting him so much now…

“But I packed everything I need.”

While Killian tried to calm the turmoil he didn’t fully understand, Litricia firmly expressed her stance without hesitation.

She meant it.

Even if it didn’t look like much, she had carefully packed two sets of sleepwear, outdoor clothes, indoor clothes, and even her favorite hairpin.

There was nothing else she needed to bring. After all, nothing in this mansion truly belonged to her.

Everything she’d eaten, worn, and used was merely borrowed.

Even the owner of the house had always made that clear—from the very beginning, it was Count Esta himself who said it.

“Don’t fool yourself. Nothing I give you is truly yours.”

Like the creaking of an old pipe organ, the voice of a younger Count Esta echoed in her ears, thick with grime and scorn.

‘I left money on the table for the clothes. He won’t mind me taking this much.’

Litricia turned her gaze from her window, framed in rose vines like prison bars.

“P-please give it to me. I’ll carry it myself.”

Killian shook the bag with a grim expression, prompting Litricia to stand on tiptoe and try to take it from him.

But he casually lifted it higher, out of her reach.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t packed at all.

Still, compared to the gift boxes Killian had sent her just that very morning—boxes several times larger than her bag—it was a bit embarrassing.

“It’s fine. I think you should worry more about what’s behind you than the bag, my lady.”

“Behind me?”

Litricia turned her head while still reaching for the bag—only to stumble backward.

She hadn’t noticed, but Allen was holding onto her skirt, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“My lady, are you really leaving like this? That’s too cruel. You didn’t even say you were going today…”

“Ah… I’m sorry, Allen. It was decided so suddenly I didn’t have time to tell you.”

Litricia gently patted the girl’s still-childlike head and then gently removed her hand from her skirt.

“Thank you for being so kind to me, Allen. Take care, okay?”

“My lady… Can’t I come with you?”

“What are you talking about? You don’t know anyone in the north—how would you live there?”

“I do know someone. You’re there.”

Sweet as she was, Allen looked devastated, sniffing as her nose turned red and tears welled up.

It was heartbreaking, but Litricia couldn’t take her along.

If Litricia died, Allen would be left alone in the cold north with no family.

She didn’t want a child to experience such loneliness just because she gave in to sentiment.

“You said you wanted to work in the embroidery room, right? I think once I’m gone, they’ll reassign you there. The pay is better and the work is easier.”

“My lady…”

Though she pouted and looked ready to protest, Allen knew Litricia was immovable once she made up her mind.

She couldn’t stop the sorrowful droop of her eyebrows, but she said no more.

With Allen’s farewell wrapped up, Litricia finally took a breath—and noticed Phiril.

Dressed like a gentleman for once, Phiril was holding two bags that were clearly packed for travel.

He was the mansion’s resident physician, practically part of the household, yet he clearly looked ready to leave.

Litricia looked at Killian for an explanation.

“Didn’t I tell you I received a dowry?”

The Esta family was one of the wealthiest in the empire, second to none.

A dowry normally consisted of money, land, or mines—assets you could easily appraise.

But instead of all that, Killian had only asked for a person.

Litricia was stunned by his unconventional choice.

“Did you… I mean, Killian,”

She nearly said “Your Highness” out of habit but caught herself in time.

“You received something else too, right?”

She couldn’t believe he’d accepted just Phiril, so she asked. Killian’s lips quirked into a smile.

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

A sigh of relief slipped from her lips.

She wasn’t in any position to worry about others, but for some reason, the idea of Killian getting the worse end of the deal unsettled her.

“What else did you receive?”

“Well. I’ll tell you once we arrive in the north.”

With everything except Litricia’s bag loaded onto the wagon, Killian turned around.

Phiril had already climbed into the smaller carriage prepared beside the luggage cart.

Litricia hesitated and stepped back.

The trip from the capital to the north would take at least three or four days by carriage.

Even with medicine, she couldn’t last that long—she knew that well.

“Um, Kil… lian.”

Her voice faltered on the unfamiliar name.

“…?”

“Actually, I… have trouble riding in carriages.”

Gasp. She’d never told anyone that before, and her breath caught as soon as the words left her lips.

What would she even say if he asked why?

Her hands tensed from the anxiety—but she didn’t need to explain.

Coincidentally, or perhaps miraculously, their mode of travel wasn’t a carriage.

“If that’s the case, no need to worry. His Majesty happened to send us this as a wedding gift.”

In Killian’s hand was a golden transport scroll.

These scrolls were incredibly expensive—more than the price of a mansion in the capital.

And this one was the highest grade, capable of long-distance travel, available only to the imperial family.

Litricia tilted her head in confusion.

‘Even at the banquet… Maybe His Majesty doesn’t actually dislike Killian as the rumors say?’

“Litricia, give me your hand.”

“Oh, right.”

Gathering her wandering thoughts, Litricia placed her hand in Killian’s.

“Our lord and lady! I’ll catch up soon, so don’t be too lonely without Pell!”

Since Mark had gone ahead to the north days ago, Pell saw them off with a loud farewell.

There was only one scroll, so the rest of the group had to travel overland.

After watching the knights mount their horses, Litricia glanced back at the mansion.

Standing alone before the grand house was Allen.

There were no other servants. Isis didn’t come out. No one else came to see her off.

The tightly shut doors behind Allen made it clear—Litricia had always been a stranger here.

“Let’s go, my lady. Let’s go home.”

Killian’s words made her snap her head around.

“Home…?”

Home. Litricia repeated the word like a child learning it for the first time.

And strangely, her bitter mouth suddenly felt touched by a gentle breeze.

She liked the feeling. So she mouthed the word once more.

Killian gave her time, squeezing her hand gently in his.

The scroll, now torn open, shimmered with golden light.

“Yes. Let’s go home. To our home.”

With his calm, steady voice confirming it, Litricia’s feet finally moved.

In the background, Allen ran after the luggage cart like a prisoner taken away.

And a curtain in Isis’s room seemed to be hastily drawn back—but it was too late.

Litricia was already surrounded by the golden light of the scroll.

“Yes, let’s go. To our… home.”