Previously
Evgenia finds comfort in Anne's loyalty before the scene shifts to the Temple, where High Priest Damian is tormented by hellish visions and exhaustion. Damian's aide, Antonio, worries about Damian's deteriorating state and the Temple's strained relationship with the Imperial family due to the Crown Prince's aggressive war.
I answered dismissively, though a slight twinge of guilt pricked at me.
Alexis twisted his lips bitterly, visibly taken aback.
He was genuinely hurt.
Hearing the raw anger in his words, I sighed.
Even with my plain explanation, Alexis’s scowl deepened, as if he were still offended.
“…”
This was bad. I prided myself on never losing a war of words, but the facts simply weren't on my side.
It felt unfair. I honestly thought either the Duke or Sionel would have told him.
‘Did they avoid telling Alexis because they were afraid he’d blab about it?’
The suspicious thought felt plausible enough, and I mulled it over.
Well, his instincts were sharper than his hulking build suggested.
I scratched my cheek awkwardly and offered an apology.
Honestly, I wondered if I really needed to placate him this much, but my hands were tied.
I wanted everything to go smoothly without unnecessary trouble before the wedding, and besides—
Knowing Alexis was marching off to war alongside the Crown Prince made it worse.
Sending him off harboring hurt feelings made me uneasy, almost like I was planting a death flag on him.
Hearing my apologetic tone, Alexis’s expression softened slightly.
I asked, putting on an innocent front, but Alexis quickly composed his face and spoke bluntly.
I understood immediately what he meant.
( ‘He must be wondering why I never let him call me “Sister”.’ )
If he had asked in fury, I might have had a retort ready.
Then again, since I wasn't the original Evgenia, that would have been impossible anyway.
To be frank, I didn't understand it either.
Why had Evgenia hated Alexis and her family so much?
I had even subtly asked Anne when the Duchess passed away, wondering if it had anything to do with Alexis's birth, but there was no connection there.
‘Despite his size, his grumbling isn't entirely grating.’ When he was younger, he must have been truly adorable.
Perhaps that thought triggered it, for a memory suddenly flashed in my mind—a little Alexis running toward me.
Even with her snapping tone, the boy still smiled, offering the wild flowers he had gathered.
In response, I—no, Evgenia—hurled the bouquet to the ground and crushed it underfoot.
Was that a true memory, or merely an illusion? My brow furrowed at the painful image.
The look on the boy’s face as he watched his gift being trampled had been heartbreaking. Without thinking, I spoke.
At that, Alexis’s face twisted, as though an old, deep wound had been torn wide open.
I felt sheepish, thinking I had only made things worse.
Still, I couldn't just leave it at that.
“…”
I braced myself for him to kick me out right then.
Surprisingly, he just stood there, his breath ragged, without ordering me to leave.
As I waited in the quiet, Alexis finally spoke up.
Oh.
The mention rendered me speechless, and Alexis’s already sharp eyes narrowed even further.
…Family.
That was the exact reason for my hesitation. Once married, I intended to sever my ties with the Basilian family completely.
I had barely apologized, and already Alexis was acting as if he held all the cards.
( ‘Unbelievable. Does he think I apologized for my own health?’ )
Besides—
I simply didn't have the heart to crush his spirits right before he headed into battle.
After being treated like a stranger for years, he was actually lamenting that he would miss my wedding.
And he still had the nerve to call me family.
…Or maybe I just wanted to give him that answer myself.
As Alexis’s grin spread wide, my chest tightened with a strange ache.
Flustered by the feeling, I blurted out,
I glared at him as he added, “Except with you, that is.”
At least he knew he was pushing his luck, chuckling bashfully.
Watching him act like this—immature, yet bound for the battlefield—I let out a soft sigh and added,
He broke off mid-sentence, staring wide-eyed at the handkerchief I held out to him.
Good thing I brought it. His defensive posture softened completely, his anger evaporating into thin air.
If he truly didn't care, he should have done a better job keeping that smile off his face.
Watching him fidget with the plain lavender handkerchief—bare of any family crest—made me feel strangely embarrassed.
Then, an important thought struck me.
I fixed him with a glare sharp enough to pierce straight through him.
“If you ever mention me to the Crown Prince again, you're dead. And don't you dare utter a single word about my marriage, either. Understood?”