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Chapter 21
He thought it was a refusal.
He assumed she had left the place because she found it difficult to say outright that she did not want to meet him again.
It was disappointing, but he considered it his own fault for failing to draw enough of her interest.
Having promised Ella to keep silent, Sioden did not speak of what had happened that night to anyone. Even when his worried aide, who had been frantic over his sudden disappearance, asked where he had been, he said nothing. He did not want rumors that might displease the woman to spread.
The next day, as he prepared to attend the banquet he had originally said he would only appear at on the first day, Ben spoke to him.
“If there is someone you are looking for, please tell me.”
Sioden glanced at his now gray-haired aide through the mirror. Perhaps because he had known him since childhood, Ben still seemed to think of him as a twelve-year-old boy.
Sioden adjusted his attire once more, checking his appearance carefully. Satisfied that nothing was crooked or excessive, he replied,
“There is no one.”
Ben’s wrinkled lips twitched. It almost sounded like he was about to say “Your Grace…” in a drawn-out tone.
As if remembering how he used to lecture him endlessly ten years ago, Ben clearly wanted to do the same now. Yet Sioden pretended not to notice and continued looking into the mirror.
He had already said it himself.
“If you wish for me to meet and part with Ella and Den only as such, I will comply.”
Then how could he ask his aide to identify her based on appearance? He could not afford to reverse his words after a single day and become a petty man.
He knew the world he belonged to was one where even if heaven and earth turned upside down overnight, people were expected to live as if nothing had changed. Even the dead Rex, Kafren Lowen, and even the Emperor beyond the throne all lived that way—smiling as if yesterday’s chaos had always been normal.
Nothing defined the aristocratic world more than its obsessive attachment to normality.
But the woman he had met the previous night seemed like she lived a different kind of life. Because of that, Sioden also wanted to maintain his own sense of integrity in front of her.
In truth, he was someone who had no choice but to care about how others perceived him.
Ben looked at him as if he were about to explode.
“It won’t hurt to at least find out who she is.”
“It’s fine not to know.”
There was no chance of anything like what Ben was imagining happening. Ella clearly wished to keep her distance from Sioden Lowen.
And he had no intention of forcing anything that went against her will.
His only curiosity was simple, almost trivial:
Whether she had properly treated her injured foot. Whether she had changed into more comfortable shoes.
That was all.
Sioden gave himself one last glance and turned away. Ben followed him out and spoke again.
“Then at least tell me her identity…”
“Bloodlines don’t guarantee nobility of character. Why bother?”
He did not need to look far for proof; his own family was enough.
Whether Ella belonged to a noble house or not made no difference to him.
At least, that was what he thought—until, a few hours later, a disheveled woman appeared and revealed her father’s name.
“My name is Ella Lowen.”
“….”
“My father is Kafren Lowen.”
The first time he heard it, Sioden did not fully understand what it meant.
Every word in the sentence was clear, unmistakable—but it did not register.
As if his ability to comprehend had momentarily stopped, he stared blankly at Ella.
Even in the darkness, her eyes had stood out. In daylight, they were even more striking.
He slowly took in her face: clear, translucent light green eyes; pale lashes like spun platinum; white cheeks; a mouth set as if in sadness.
That was the face of the woman—Ella, or rather, Eella Lowen—who asked him:
“Please forget what happened yesterday.”
She turned away.
Sioden stood motionless, watching her slender figure wrapped in a white shawl disappear into the distance, still unable to process what had just occurred.
Then a cold drop of rain struck his cheek.
The chill jolted him awake.
“Please wait!”
Sioden hurried after her, even though he had no idea what he would say once he caught up.
But something inside him insisted this might be their last meeting—and it could not end like this.
As if mocking that uncertain feeling, the rain suddenly began to pour heavily.
Still, Sioden did not hesitate.
People rushed past him, blocking his path, complaining about the weather. By the time he navigated through them, Ella was gone.
Ben and a knight soon found him.
“Your Grace! Why are you out in this rain…!”
Sioden followed them back inside. Ben handed him a towel. Dazed, he wiped the rain from his face. His soaked clothes clung coldly to his body.
Only then did he notice something in his hand.
The blue jewel he had given her had been returned.
Ella of the Lowen family was famous.
After Kafren Lowen lost his second wife, he raised his only daughter with extreme devotion.
Her two older brothers adored her as well. Even Iswen Lowen, and even the notoriously violent and unruly Damian Lowen, acted like model brothers in front of her. It was well known even in the North.
Yet the Lowen family was also infamous for their cruelty, and some called this contradiction a paradox.
It was easy for parents to love their children, or for blood to favor blood—but it was rare for people who sold others’ children and kin without hesitation to treat their own daughter as something worth more than gold.
“Perhaps they fear their sins will come back to their daughter,” someone once said of Kafren Lowen’s hypocrisy.
Sioden had never paid attention to such words.
Ella was a woman he had never met. In a world already overflowing with unpleasant people, he had no desire to harbor hatred for strangers.
Some of those harmed by Kafren Lowen even twisted their resentment into wishing misfortune upon his daughter.
Sioden had also thought such wishes were meaningless.
As long as Kafren Lowen remained powerful, nothing would happen to his daughter. If a child’s suffering becomes the parent’s pain, then the parent would do everything to prevent it.
And if Kafren did not protect her, then her suffering would not become his—so there was no reason to wish ill upon her at all.
That was all he had ever thought of Ella Lowen.
Until the woman he had tried to approach in disguise turned out to be her.
“My name is Ella Lowen.”
Her voice lingered in his mind all night.
There had been no future he had imagined that included this reality. He had assumed it would not matter if she were the daughter of a knight—but he had never imagined she would be the daughter of his enemy.
Of all fathers in the world, there was only one Kafren Lowen. Of all beloved daughters, there was only one Ella Lowen.
Meeting her had been unfortunate.
That was how Sioden concluded it that night. It contradicted his thoughts from the previous day, when meeting her had seemed like luck—but his world was one where everything could turn upside down overnight.
Ella’s request had been reasonable:
“Please forget what happened yesterday.”
Even without trying to respect her wish, he would have had to do so anyway.
And yet, Sioden found himself recalling her green eyes and faint smile again and again. They were not easy to forget.
But when dawn came, reason buried all impulse.
Seeing the sunrise, Sioden decided without hesitation to return.
He had failed to find anything worthwhile in the capital. Everything Evelyn had once loved did not suit him.
There was no point in expecting anything better in the future.
He should not cling to hope, but focus on reality.
After making his decision, Sioden informed those around him.
At that time, he did not yet know he would be stopped by an unexpected presence.
