Chapter 22
Just because you’d lost everything in utter devastation and died once didn’t mean all hope and dreams vanished.
On the contrary, human desires burned so fiercely that in this life returned to you, you vowed to make it happen no matter what. Everyone would think regression was a chance, after all.
Pheon did, too—of course he did, born a fatherless bastard and filthy mongrel from the start, wishing all the more shamelessly.
The most basic, simplest wish of all: to live happily with the person he loved.
This time, the burning desire to gaze straight at the one he truly loved, resolve every tragedy he already knew, and give her an end of natural death rather than one cut short—it sprouted defiantly through the stump of anything that tried to sever it.
Born blood couldn’t be helped.
Or maybe it was the Emperor’s brainwashing indoctrination. Either way, he’d come into the world a grubby bastard and grown into a magnificently thick-skinned son of a bitch.
That son of a bitch, seeing Kaella stare at him without so much as a twitch, grinned and ate the peach he’d offered her instead. It was a bastard’s grin, fresh and dashing enough to squeeze his heart—forgetting even the fate called death.
“Oppa?”
How deeply it must have hurt her; the walls and pretenses she’d piled high crumbled away as Kaella’s eyes flew wide. Her delicate eye rims still glistened with moisture.
Pheon couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Now, at last, he could look his fill, and it eased the tightness in his chest.
At the same time, the thought struck him that he could never look away again. Even before dying, he’d practiced forcing himself to stay detached, but now even that was impossible.
“Me?”
Her pink lips, a smudge of cream beneath her perfectly straight nose, parted slightly.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a son of a bitch?”
Pheon answered offhandedly.
“No way.”
The most absolute existence in his world declared it. No way. Her clear eyes opened wide, piercing straight through him.
“Why not?”
He smiled faintly as he asked in return—a man too noble, too upright to claim such bastardy.
“Well… because no way?”
Kaella tilted her head, then chose not to dwell on that smile. Idly, she stirred the bowl with her wooden spoon, where peaches had piled up unnoticed.
“I know what your dream is, Oppa.”
To live happily with Beatrice-unnie and the Empress. She knew it well. No one could stop Pheon charging toward that dream.
No one could stop him or break him, so he’d shattered instead. He probably had. Kaella, confined at the time, knew nothing after Beatrice gifted her that poison.
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
Kaella—the Kaella not looking at him—scooped up a small piece of peach and ate it. Pheon drank in the sight of her round face, her plump forehead, her thick eyebrows, and the lashes beneath, one by one.
Every spot his gaze touched felt like it was catching fire, Kaella thought.
Why was he staring like that? Before she’d died, he’d barely glanced at her as if she were some insect, but now he bored holes into her—it felt so strange. Did he suspect something about her?
Ah. Was he already thinking she was the Emperor’s spy? That could be. Her appetite drained away in an instant, and Kaella set down her spoon. Just like that, it was gone again.
“With Beatrice-unnie… and Her Imperial Majesty the Empress, living happily together, right? I know. I really hope it happens that way.”
So please, just don’t make her death painful. Don’t confine her—just kill her cleanly right there.
Nothing was as nauseatingly horrific as a death that crept in slowly. Her slender hand clenched tight around the bowl, turning white.
“I hope so, too. I have no intention of getting in the way.”
Like prey begging a predator to kill it cleanly, she pleaded. Pheon, who had been watching her steadily, answered a beat late.
“That’s not my dream, Kaella.”
Only then did Kaella lift her head to look at Pheon. Their eyes met, and he grinned.
“Then what is it?”
What was his dream? From the moment they headed to Lüsenford, its master held her life in his grip—so Kaella had to know. For the sake of an easy, peaceful death.
“Shouldn’t you be asking what I did when Beatrice came looking for me, not that?”
“You handled it yourself, Oppa.”
“Ah, right. I said, ’Not interested.’”
Not interested. Or deliberately choosing not to be.
Asking out of curiosity always ended with Kaella feeling hurt and wounded. Or now she knew well she didn’t even have the right to be curious. But knowing that—would it make her understand?
The one thing Kaella was curious about was why Pheon wasn’t scolding her for fighting with Beatrice.
She’d braced herself, expecting him to snap the moment he saw her face, but he hadn’t uttered a harsh word—just calmly peeled peaches for her.
This wasn’t like him at all. He’d always been so indifferent, ignoring whatever she did and tending only to his own tasks.
She sneaked another glance up at him. Pheon’s dark hair was slightly mussed; he looked down at his sticky, juice-sweetened fingers, then met her eyes.
Unnoticed, the bowl brimmed with finely sliced peaches, and the plate beside it overflowed with generous chunks. The air between them was thick with sweet peach scent.
“More?”
“Not busy?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
He chuckled shortly and snatched another plump peach, slicing into it. His large hand, veins attractively corded, wielded the fruit knife with expert ease. A man used to wielding a sword must handle a small blade just as well.
Unlike what she knew of him, Pheon was utterly relaxed. It was startling—did she ever imagine him like this? He looked so leisurely, so pleased. Just like before she’d died, when Beatrice had come calling. Or even more so.
‘There’s no way being with me is fun for him.’
Kaella stared at Pheon as if he were some oddity. He was always so busy, he never had time to idle with her. There was no reason for him to make time for her.
A hand that should have been handling documents or gripping a sword instead grasped soft peach, sliced it deftly, then brought knife and fruit to his mouth.
His slightly full lips curved open. As the peach vanished between his clean, firm teeth, Kaella suddenly realized his violet eyes were staring straight through her.
Her small shoulders flinched in surprise, trembling finely like a bird’s wings fluttering.
“Good?”
Pheon nodded toward the bowl she clutched tight. Blueberries and strawberries were buried under cream and piled peaches, barely visible.
“No.”
Now covered in cream, it had lost all appeal. No—her appetite might have just vanished entirely. She’d been confident she could empty the whole bowl when she arrived, after all.
“You barely ate any. Don’t like the cream?”
How did he know?
“Yeah.”
“Then just eat fruit. Here, have this one.”
He held out another freshly sliced piece. Her wonder at why he was acting this way lasted only a moment. Kaella remembered this was the garden behind the Empress’s palace, where they’d played as children.
They’d called it a picnic, packing baskets with treats to eat, spreading blankets to read or play. Mostly Beatrice and Pheon playing together while Kaella trailed after them, though.
Still, it was a place full of memories. Pheon was the one who’d always held her hand, waited for her, offered her more jelly or pudding.
That must be why. It felt so distant now, those faded old days. Days when she liked that oppa who brought her a milk glass, gave her one more strawberry.
Thinking of those times—which she’d forget completely once married—Kaella took the peach he offered and ate it. Tender flesh and his firm, juice-slick finger brushed her lips, then withdrew.
‘Is this why I came back to life?’
A brief indulgence, God saying she was too pitiful—take this meaningless kindness, even if just a little.
Kaella chewed the peach, letting the futile thoughts drift away. Pheon wouldn’t read any meaning into it anyway. She raised her eyes.
Sure enough, he brought that finger— the one her lips had touched—to his own fine mouth. The tip of his tongue darted out, licking the sticky sweetness clean.
Those beautiful violet eyes watched her. Steady as they had been in Lüsenford. Utterly unreadable, merciless.
“Good?”
He asked gently, just like when they were kids, but she couldn’t taste the peach anymore. Kaella ducked her head first, breaking eye contact. Only she was at a loss under that merciless gaze. Pathetic.
“I have something for you. Wait a sec.”
Splashing water as he washed his hands. Kaella kept her eyes fixed on her dress hem, silently chewing and swallowing her peach. She felt Pheon unfold a handkerchief in front of her and dry his rinsed hands.
“Not sure if you’ll like it.”
He drew something from his inner pocket. A small box.
What was that? With tears finally gone from her eyes, Kaella watched quietly as he opened it.
Silence settled between them for a moment. Pheon, cautiously gauging her blank stare, finally broke it.
“Not to your taste?”
“No, it’s pretty. Why?”
A round-cut diamond rose high, flanked by small amethysts—a simple, classic ring. The diamond was quite large; it must be valuable.
“It’s pretty.”
Pheon nodded impassively and cleared the fruit bowl from Kaella’s hand, which was still staring.
“It’s yours.”
“Huh?”
“I said I had something for you. It’s yours.”
He took her left hand—pale white from gripping the bowl so hard it might shatter—and slipped the ring on himself. He knew she wouldn’t take it if he just offered.
“Mine?”
Pheon chuckled at Kaella’s wide eyes, repeatedly confirming.
“Yours. …It’s Mother’s ring. His Imperial Majesty gave it to me.”
His mouth soured as he said it honestly. He didn’t want to give Kaella some ring the Emperor had picked out carelessly. Mother probably felt the same.
“I’ll give you one I prepared later.”
“No, no. This is more than enough. It’s so pretty.”
Kaella, blinking as she peered at the ring, looked up at him awkwardly.
“…But it feels too much for me.”
Far more precious than the one she’d received before dying. And the Empress’s ring, no less—surely invaluable to Pheon, too.
A plain ring without gems would have been fine. No—truthfully, ‘it didn’t matter.’ What meaning did a ring hold when she’d die soon? If anything, it burdened her.
“You keep it, Oppa. I’m fine.”
Pheon stared at her in disbelief as she tried to remove it. Kaella’s heart clenched tight.
Had she messed up again? Upset him somehow?
But she’d been so careful, acknowledged it was beyond her station first. Trying to slip it off gently so as not to scratch it and hand it back quickly—Pheon grabbed both her hands entirely to stop her.
“I get that you don’t want to marry me.”
His low voice cracked like a beast’s growl.
“But we can’t cancel the marriage, Kaella.”
Those merciless eyes stayed fixed on her. The violet gaze wavered. Well, of course an unwanted marriage would pain Pheon, too, not just her.
“I’m sorry, but you have to marry me. No—don’t look away. Look at me properly.”
Fearing someone might see—or that Pheon’s piercing stare would devour her—Kaella glanced needlessly around the empty surroundings, but Pheon tugged her held hand and spoke firmly.
Only when her blue eyes turned back to him did he loosen his grip slightly.
Not enough for her to pull free, though. Truth be told, she had no intention of trying. When would she next have her hand held by him? Before dying, she had to experience what she could.
“This ring is yours until you die. No one will take it—not that you should give it up if they try. Not even to me. Got it?”
Stubborn in her quiet way, Kaella hunched her shoulders and stared at him wordlessly. Her gaze brimmed with refusal. She had no intention of obeying.
Pheon sighed, but he had no confidence—or desire—to win against Kaella. So what if she didn’t answer? If she meekly gave the ring to someone, he’d just take it back.
“Don’t take it off.”
Pushing the ring back down—it had already slipped off one knuckle—he said it like a vow. Their touching hands were cool and dry, no trace of moisture.
Kaella suddenly wondered. There was an artificial stream nearby, but farther on. Pheon hadn’t brought a separate water bowl—where had the clean water to wash his hands come from?
“Kaella.”
How did he know she was lost in other thoughts? Pheon pulled her close once more. He seemed strangely urgent.
Kaella burst out laughing. Her eyes crinkling, she laughed brightly—enough to leave the one facing her stunned.
“Yeah. Got it.”
From the moment they’d arrived here, Pheon had been toying with her. Rather than anger, it felt wondrous.
Even as the Duke’s Daughter of Ostein, she was alive to see this man act this way—it was wondrous. That scrap of attention, however it came, was sweeter than peaches, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste in the end.
No matter how she thought of it, Kaella truly was a hopeless mad girl. At just those words, at that long-unseen smile, her heart reacted before her head.
Starved for food, yes—but even more starved for affection.
Since she’d die anyway, enjoying it a little wasn’t so bad—she laughed at herself for calculating so quickly. Hearing even this counted as ‘happy’ felt so wretchedly pitiful.
“I won’t.”
Pheon’s merciless gaze never left the repeatedly, emptily smiling Kaella.
