RTGD 46

Chapter 46

“Are you giving this to me?”

Killian placed the paint jar he had brought from his office onto Litricia’s small, cupped palm.

“This is the paint you gave me as a gift before, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. I meant to give it to you earlier, but things were hectic and I forgot.”

“How is this…?”

Litricia blinked in confusion and examined the paint more closely.

Inside the translucent container was a vivid yellow, as bright as forsythia blossoms.

She remembered clearly how all the luggage they had transported from the capital had been thoroughly soaked in the recent downpour.

While the clothes and shoes had somewhat recovered after drying, the paints were a lost cause. Once water had seeped in, there was no salvaging them—they had to be thrown away.

She hadn’t shown it, but it had saddened her deeply. Yet here it was—the very same container of paint, not a drop of water inside, still as vibrant as ever.

Of course.

Despite his worsening anxiety due to the rain, Killian had doubled back, carefully wrapping the paint and tucking it deep inside a waterproof cloak. No water could have gotten in.

“I had meant to bring more, but as you saw, I wasn’t exactly in the best state that day. This was all I managed to grab.”

“…Why?”

But rather than smiling, Litricia’s expression turned cold.

‘Did I get it wrong?’

He chuckled bitterly at himself. What was he expecting, handing over a simple jar of paint like a child offering candy?

“I thought… this was the thing you liked most out of all the things I’ve given you. Was I wrong?”

“It is my favorite. But… you brought this in the middle of that storm? Just because of that?”

“Well, yes.”

Killian replied nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal, and glanced at her face.

Even the faint polite smile had vanished. Maybe he should have just not brought it at all.

What had possessed him to think she’d be happy with something like this?

“I admit, now that I’ve handed it over, it feels a bit silly. But I’ll prepare a better one for you soon…”

“How could this be nothing?”

“…?”

“You said you hate the rain. And yet you carried this through the rain. How could that be nothing?”

A surge of emotion made Litricia press her lips tightly together.

The paint jar felt heavy in her hands.

Killian spoke as though it was nothing, but to her, that thoughtless kindness weighed more than she could handle.

In fact, the days back at the count’s manor—neglected and scorned—almost seemed easier.

Since meeting Killian, these fleeting displays of affection, this unexpected kindness from the Grand Duke’s castle, terrified her.

She had resolved not to grow attached—this was only a temporary stop in her life.

And yet that resolution kept eroding, little by little.

From somewhere deep within, where that kindness had taken root, the future she had so carefully planned was beginning to twist again.

“Don’t do things like this anymore. You should take care of yourself first, Killian.”

“Hearing that, it almost sounds like you’re worried about me.”

“I am worried. How could I not be after receiving something like this?”

“You’re saying… you really are worried?”

Killian’s pupils dilated as if he’d just heard something that could turn the world upside down.

“Why would you be? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why doesn’t it make sense? Just like you worry about me, it’s only natural I’d worry about you too. The reason I even tried to meet the Count was because I was worried you’d be hurt by the rumors spreading in the capital.”

“Litricia. Wait.”

Killian gently interrupted her.

He needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

So Litricia had been worried about him.

He hadn’t been able to understand why she’d taken such pains over the recent incident, but now… just as Peter Godwin had said, it had all been out of concern for him.

“…Ha.”

The one person he’d hoped would smile didn’t, and instead, Killian found himself covering his mouth with one hand as a sound escaped.

The warmth of his fingers, scarred and rough, suggested that all the heat in his body had rushed to his face.

***

“…So I was thinking, for the next subjugation, it might be wise to establish a new supply line.”

“Alright. Proceed as you see fit. Next issue.”

“Ah… the next issue is…”

The retainers seated around the long table exchanged confused glances in the air.

They were struggling to adapt to the oddly unfamiliar atmosphere of today’s meeting.

Normally, meetings with Killian were never this easy.

No matter how much thought and effort they poured into a proposal, Killian’s thorough personality always managed to point out the flaws they had overlooked.

That was why words like “approved” or “okay” were rarely heard from him—more common were soul-crushing rejections like “denied” or “postponed.”

So what on earth was going on today?

Even as they handed over documents, the retainers kept sneaking glances at one another.

“Rejected.”

“F-finally! Rejected! Yes, understood. Rejected!”

When Killian finally uttered that familiar word, a visible wave of relief washed over the room.

To think they’d feel glad to hear “rejected”—what an ironic turn of events.

But then Killian added something that made jaws drop.

“Still, the proposal itself wasn’t bad. You must have put a lot of thought into it.”

“E-excuse me? Ah! T-thank… you…?”

He was being kind. The icy lord of the North.

As if that wasn’t shocking enough, when Killian let out a soft chuckle—“ha”—the retainers’ mouths fell open.

“Did… did he just laugh?”

“You saw it too?”

It wasn’t the cold, sharp smile he wore while cutting down enemy commanders, but a gentle, almost warm curve of the lips.

They rubbed their eyes in disbelief.

“Um… my lord? Is something good happening today?”

“Something good?”

Killian lightly touched his lips at the question.

So this is what it felt like to have wind in your lungs.

He shook his head at the strange, lighthearted feeling leaking through his teeth.

“There is.”

“If you don’t mind… may we ask what it is?”

The retainers leaned forward, their huge bodies—grown sturdy in the North—shuffling like rocking chairs.

No matter what people said outside, Killian was irreplaceable to them.

It was he who had transformed the barren, starving North into the thriving territory it was today.

They had witnessed firsthand how much effort and sacrifice he had poured into this land, and their loyalty ran as deep as Marshal Marcia’s.

Which is why they were so curious about what had managed to bring a smile to the face of a man who hadn’t laughed since childhood.

“It’s not really that interesting a story.”

“We’d still love to hear it.”

“Well, it’s just…”

Gulp.

Someone audibly swallowed.

“…My wife said she worries about me.”

“…!”

A beat of silence—and then visible exclamation marks popped onto the retainers’ faces. Killian frowned and quickly looked away.

“I told you it’s not a big deal. Let’s move on.”

“Ah, yes…! Then the next concern—ahem, I mean issue—is regarding the canal expansion…”

And so the meeting continued, but the retainers’ thoughts remained elsewhere.

Their minds were full of the new Grand Duchess.

The one with hair like cotton candy from the capital where seasons changed vividly.

The tiny, delicate lady who had supposedly fallen in love with their lord at first sight and broken off her engagement to come all this way.

Their faces lit up with fondness as they recalled her.

It seemed… spring had finally come to this winter castle.

“…What are those expressions? You all look ridiculously smug. It’s making me very uncomfortable.”

“My lord, do you happen to know what Her Grace likes?”

“And what would you do with that information?”

“We’d like to bring something when we go to pay our respects. Ho ho.”

Because Killian had been hiding Litricia away so thoroughly, the retainers had only managed to catch faint glimpses of her from afar.

So now that the chance had come, they were subtly probing for more.

Killian scanned the room—burly men with thick fur coats, each more bear-like than the next. He tilted his head and leaned his chin on his hand.

“No.”

“With a bit of careful squeezing, we might fit through the—”

“Rejected.”

Ah, yes. That’s our lord.

The retainers, resigned to their fate, all clamped their mouths shut.

And among them, the one with the most eccentric appearance silently tucked his long beard into his shirt and swallowed his tears.

‘You said once I looked strong and dependable… How could you, my lord!’