chapter 11
Dantes tried to appear unhurried, but he barely touched half of his lunch. Cesario and Marco could clearly see how restless and uneasy he was, though it seemed to go unnoticed by others.
“Has Roberto Brida finished his meal?”
Dantes asked while dabbing at his lips with a napkin. The question was tossed out as if casually checking on the situation, but in truth his thoughts were consumed entirely by it.
“Yes. He finished both breakfast and lunch.”
“I see. Good.”
Dantes couldn’t hide the satisfied curl of his lips. Sir Port, the knight, was still walking on eggshells around him. Only a few hours had passed since he’d been severely scolded that morning. He had taken several temporary measures since then, but he could no longer tell if they had been too much, or too little. He couldn’t even gauge Dantes’s mood properly—he was just anxious.
“I’d better go check on the rest myself. There’s plenty of work to be done, so I’ll have to make it quick.”
Dantes stood up, pretending to hurry off for some other matter. To Marco and Cesario, the excuse was absurd.
“Look at him—acting all shameless again.” Cesario muttered under his breath.
Marco smirked. “Didn’t you know? He’s the most shameless of all of us.”
Ignoring his friends’ teasing, Dantes took a deep breath as Port led the way. With each step he organized the words he wanted to say in his heart.
This was different from yesterday, when he had stumbled through the pitch darkness, unable to see an inch ahead. It was also different from the past, when he couldn’t even lay eyes on Roberto Brida.
Now, with every step, Dantes’s heart swelled as though it might burst. What should he say to him first? His stabbed right arm throbbed faintly—he had almost lost him. If that blade had sunk deep into his slender neck instead…
Dantes closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. The bounty he had set for Roberto Brida demanded capture alive. He was not to be killed, nor even gravely wounded. And yet, to Dantes’s recollection, very few had ever even managed to wound Roberto. It was said no one in the Delion Empire possessed the skill to truly harm him. Strangely, that gave Dantes a sense of relief.
Of course, he had overlooked the possibility that Roberto might take his own life.
“But he’s alive. He’ll still be alive.”
What came next depended on Roberto Brida’s answer. Yet, Dantes already knew—no matter what the answer was, he could never kill him. Even if Roberto cursed him, struck him, screamed at him, or betrayed him again—such a terrible act was beyond him.
As he descended the stairs, Dantes felt his heart grow heavier. What would it feel like to look into his eyes again? What words would come first?
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. As soon as he stepped off the last stair, he closed his eyes, then opened them.
Roberto was asleep, sitting against the wall, covered with a blanket.
The shabby navy tunic he wore made his face look even paler. He seemed so different from how he’d looked in the dawn moonlight. His dirt had been washed away, his hair tied neatly, and that alone transformed him.
Now, the faint rose scent—barely noticeable at dawn—lingered again. His scent. A fragrance Dantes had missed. He drew in a deep breath.
Marco, noticing, began ushering people out.
“All right, everyone. Go upstairs for now. Cesario and I will keep watch here.”
“B-but…”
Port fidgeted, as if desperate for Dantes’s evaluation before leaving. Cesario cut him off firmly.
“His Majesty will interrogate the prisoner personally. Unless summoned, no one is to come down here.”
“Yes, understood. Call on me anytime you need something—I’ll be waiting.”
“Go on, go. Quickly, shoo.”
Marco practically herded Port and the guards away like cattle. The commotion stirred Roberto, who slowly lifted his eyelids. His sky-blue eyes fixed clearly on Dantes and his companions. Yet, he only gazed at them silently.
When no one spoke, Marco was the first to break the silence.
“Aren’t you at least going to say hello? It’s been a long time, Roberto.”
“That’s not the kind of relationship we have. Let’s give them some privacy.” Cesario wanted to wrap things up quickly, but Marco wouldn’t let go.
“If not a bland greeting, then maybe a salty one? Want me to bring some salt?”
“Save the jokes and move. We have a lot to do.”
“You’re no fun.”
Grumbling, Marco turned away. Truthfully, he also wanted to talk at length with Roberto. So did Cesario. But none of them were as desperate as Dantes, who had chased after him more feverishly than anyone. They could wait.
They too wanted to know—why he had disappeared, why he had run so far. But the first to hear the answer should be Dantes, who had burned with the most anger.
As he followed Marco, Cesario said to Dantes, “Don’t spend too much time. We’ve got plenty to handle before Gunter returns.”
“I know. Now go.”
Dantes didn’t even glance his way, eyes locked entirely on Roberto. Roberto didn’t look away either. His gaze was not dull but piercing—those clear blue eyes like the open sky held Dantes fast.
When Cesario and Marco’s footsteps faded completely, Dantes parted his lips first. What should he say? He had thought of dozens, hundreds of questions over the years. Even on the way down the stairs just now, several had come to mind. Yet now, he found it difficult to utter the very first word.
His lips moved silently before he finally managed:
“Have you… nothing to say to me?”
A pathetic question. Dantes regretted it immediately. He had been trained from birth in the imperial court to speak with dignity and poise. But in front of this man, all that failed him.
Roberto lowered his gaze, as if lost in thought.
He was always like this. A man of few words, rarely voicing his opinions. It was foolish to expect a swift reply to such a sudden question. Still, Dantes couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. He wanted at least a justification, or even a simple apology.
The silence weighed on him unbearably. No one ever dared delay answering the emperor. And here was the one person whose voice he longed for most—keeping silent. Even a single word, even just “Ah,” would have been better than this.
Dantes forced a harsher tone.
“Roberto Brida. I searched for you for years. The finest knights of this empire, bounty hunters from all corners—they all scoured every land. Some lost their lives, others were maimed. And still—you have nothing to say?”
“……”
An even poorer choice of words. Dantes knew it the moment he spoke.
But Roselina—called here by the name “Roberto”—still remained silent. Hearing that name suffocated her chest. She had nothing to say, not even with ten mouths. If she were to account for the innocent lives lost because of her, she might as well take her own life here and now.
What had kept her alive were her father and brother, who she visited twice a year. Though they had moved repeatedly because of her, they had survived. At first, they had even been pursued in her place. But thanks to Dantes’s command forbidding harm to the Brida family, they had lived safely, though never able to settle anywhere.
Without them, Roselina could have vanished completely. She had the skill. But she couldn’t.
Her father and brother were there at the beginning of it all, and they were there at the end. She did not blame them. When she last met them, she had given them a considerable sum of money. Perhaps she had already sensed then that this chase was nearing its end.
Her brother’s health had improved, and he had begun earning by teaching the village children to read. They would not starve. That was enough. She had fulfilled her duty to them.
The problem now was Dantes. How could she repay him for the countless wounds and years she had forced upon him under the excuse of protecting her family?
Roselina looked at him quietly. What should she say first to Dantes Belkin, the man she had cut the deepest?
Her lips moved, just as his had earlier. And from the many words she had buried inside, she chose the most courteous. If she had still been a knight, if she had remained at his side as a friend, it would have been the first thing she said.
“Though belated…”
“……”
“Congratulations on your coronation, Your Majesty.”
Her voice drifted softly across the air. Neither too loud nor too quiet. Stronger than in her youth, yet carrying a faint rustle, as if fragile. Dantes’s brow furrowed instantly at those polished words.
“Congratulations on my coronation? That’s the first thing you have to say to me? That’s really it?”
His left hand seized the iron bars with a violent clang. He clenched them hard, struggling to restrain his fury. If he gave in to it, he would be inside that cell already.
But he held back. And Roselina, unflinching, met his eyes.
“Yes. If I were ever to see Your Majesty before I died…”
“……”
“…that is the one thing I wished to say.”
Her calm voice poured cold water over his heated anger.
Before death, if she could meet him—this was the one thing she wished to say.
Dantes let out a bitter laugh, dragging a hand down his face. After a long, incredulous chuckle, he looked at Roberto again.
“If you truly wanted to say that, you should have stayed by my side.”
“……”
“Then I would have heard it from you before anyone else. But it’s been six years since you left. And I’ve sat on the throne all that time.”
At the cold fury in his eyes, Roselina lowered her gaze.
“Tell me, Roberto.”
“……”
“Why did you leave me?”
The question pierced her like a blade. She had known he would ask. She had known she must answer. Yet it was a question she might never truly be able to answer. Roselina bit down hard on her lower lip.
