Chapter 35
To Kaella, Lüsenford was a place where a life filled with endless gloom and tears had ultimately plummeted into an end shrouded in agony.
The moment she arrived here, all she could think about was death. So when the chance arose for the Lüsenford nobles to be wiped out, she forced down the Ferenco she had so despised.
It was a place where the food was revolting, the weather was cold and bleak, and the people were cruel—there was no such thing as laughter. She had to rack her brains to remember the last time she had laughed.
“If anything feels uncomfortable, or if something makes you think ‘this isn’t right,’ you must tell me without fail. I’m obtuse, so I won’t know unless you say it.”
Kaella, her hands clasped together, glanced cautiously at Pheon as he spoke those words.
The way she was so obviously watching his reaction was heartbreaking, and at the same time, the sight of her fidgeting with her hands and looking up at him was utterly endearing.
A faint flush colored her cheeks, and her slender fingers, which she kept toying with, were deathly pale. She was bundled up tightly in fur, but the hands peeking out from it were adorable—though they must already be frozen stiff.
“It wasn’t… uncomfortable.”
Pheon nodded with a genuine smile at her hesitant, halting response.
“I see.”
“And nothing… made me think ‘this isn’t right,’ either.”
“I see. What else?”
He asked softly as he reached out with his gloved hand and took hold of her two hands that kept fidgeting. In an instant, her brilliantly clear blue eyes, now much larger, looked up at him.
He wished those eyes, so purely blue without a hint of a dark rim, would stay fixed on him like this forever. No, that was a filthy greed.
There had once been a time when those eyes had held him steadfastly and followed him, but he had kicked away that golden opportunity himself. All a foolish man like him could do now was beat his silly, stupid chest and tuck her small hands back into the fur to keep them warm.
“It’s cold.”
Once he did, she stayed still and obedient, just as he had placed them. It was so much like Kaella when she was little that Pheon couldn’t help but smile.
“Let’s go. Keep telling me as we walk.”
He took very slow steps. Kaella was already weighed down by her heavy velvet dress and tight wrappings, and she was short with a narrow stride besides. So he often ended up—intentionally or not—pulling ahead of her. He always pulled ahead.
Oppa, come with me!
There were times when the small footsteps chasing after him and the tearful voice clinging to the back of his head felt truly annoying, and times when he spitefully found it enjoyable. Either way, the young boy Pheon back then didn’t know what was truly precious to him.
“There isn’t… much… to tell you…”
Kaella, who had been racking her brains while walking slowly, furrowed her brow and lifted her head.
“Nothing. Nothing happened.”
“With so many people coming, how could nothing have happened? Who greeted you first?”
This man wasn’t the type to ask about every little thing so amiably and probe so closely. Kaella didn’t hide her puzzled expression as she sullenly looked up at him. Even when she stared like that, all that came back was a gaze patiently waiting.
Was it perhaps because there was some political calculation he needed to make? Ah, right. That must be it.
“The gatekeeper’s wife stepped forward first to greet me.”
Her calm, composed tone held no emotion whatsoever, but Pheon didn’t take a single word lightly.
“So it wasn’t because you told them to greet you.”
“Yes.”
“And what else did she do after stepping forward?”
There was a strong conviction in his tone that the gatekeeper’s wife surely hadn’t just greeted her and left it at that. Well, Pheon must have encountered the wife of someone in such an important position as gatekeeper a few times himself.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
He must already have some idea. After a slight hesitation, Kaella decided to just be honest.
Hiding it wouldn’t benefit her anyway. And even if being upfront led to something bad happening to her, it would just be what was meant to happen anyway.
There was no need to make a fuss, so it was better to speak frankly and clear her chest.
“The other ladies could have introduced themselves just fine on their own, but she tried to take on the role of introducing them to me. So I stopped her and had them all go in order, introducing themselves directly.”
It wasn’t like a wife chattily telling her husband about her day—this was more like a report to a superior. Her delicate voice, unsuited to such stiff phrasing, only made it feel more like a formal report.
“So they went one by one, introduced themselves, and I received their greetings. We had refreshments… and they said they were grateful that I had come.”
She wasn’t particularly grateful, but exchanging such conventional words was the duchess’s role. It was a hassle, truthfully, but she did it anyway.
After they had all taken turns greeting her one by one, if the resulting silence needed breaking, she thought she should be the one to break it. She didn’t want to give people like Yolnes Pare, who loved to butt in rudely, another chance to speak.
“I see.”
But Pheon smiled even deeper, as if the mere fact that she had spoken was important. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit more, and his beautiful violet eyes brimmed with amusement. Why was he smiling? Was what she said funny?
In Lüsenford, every word she uttered would draw snickers and sighs like deflating balloons, followed by mocking remarks like, ‘Ah, so that’s what Her Grace thinks,’ as they stifled their laughter among themselves. Kaella had gradually lost her words there.
Everything she said became fodder for ridicule. Not knowing why they laughed left her at a loss. Sometimes, she’d be startled by her own horrifying impulse to stab a pen into their laughing faces.
That was why Kaella feared people who laughed when she spoke, even when there was no reason to. So she spoke even more stiffly on purpose, but now Pheon was smiling.
“Yes.”
With a subdued, cracked voice, Kaella gave only that reply and shut her mouth again. Here, neither eating nor speaking was truly free.
As she fell silent, a quiet stretched between them. Kaella, already accustomed to such silences no matter the kind, simply walked on without a word. She felt Pheon’s gaze on her, but she didn’t want to speak.
“What else did they say?”
But he managed to draw words from her in the end. She couldn’t very well ignore a question from the grand duke.
Now that she thought about it, was he deliberately making her talk just to tease her? Being ignored was one thing, but being toyed with and dismissed was harder for the pride of the Ostein duke’s daughter to bear.
“Your Grace?”
Kaella, who had been biting her lower lip, opened her mouth again.
“It was just formalities. I don’t understand why you’re curious about that.”
Her voice had grown even stiffer, devoid of emotion, forming a perfect shield that ruthlessly repelled Pheon.
The proud Ostein duke’s daughter blossomed into vibrant warmth with just a slight smile, but when her lips were sealed, she exuded an aura that made it hard to approach carelessly.
She seemed so precious and elegant that anyone not of sufficiently high standing would hesitate to even speak to her. People who didn’t know her called her cold. In truth, it was just petty, narrow-minded fools disparaging her for not smiling at them.
Pheon knew well how warm-hearted and kind she truly was.
Throughout their marriage, even when ignored by her husband, she never once lost her temper, always maintaining propriety toward him and forcing a smile. It was something impossible without tremendous courage.
“The other women all heard what you said, so wouldn’t it be unfair if I, your husband, was the only one left out?”
She probably thought that since he was the emperor’s nephew, he must be a spy planted in Kline.
Then why not just ask the others? Why ask her directly? Kaella, walking along while biting the inside of her lip in frustration, had her brain process Pheon’s words a beat late.
“…Pardon?”
Kaella’s mind firmly informed her ears, ‘You misheard that,’ with cold certainty.
In fact, several knights and maids with similar snap judgments stared at the grand duke in bewilderment before starting to escape into denial. We misheard, right? Yeah?
“Don’t you want to tell me?”
Was he teasing her? Kaella scrutinized Pheon’s serious face. Her own was pale and lifeless, but his handsome features looked as striking as ever today, with no trace of joking.
His voice and gaze were consistently earnest, as always. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find any hint of intent or expectation like ‘I’m eagerly awaiting what you’ll say so I can mock it right away.’
‘Well, he wasn’t the type to laugh at what I said.’
He was the only one who never laughed when Kaella spoke. The problem was that he didn’t smile enough and rarely listened properly, but still. So in Lüsenford, there was no one she could truly converse with.
That was why, stunned and suspicious of the unprecedented request to ‘tell me more because I’m curious,’ Kaella forgot to reply.
Her wide, startled eyes froze as she stared at him. Pheon, leaning his neck back slightly to meet her upward gaze, looked down at her quietly before nodding.
“I see. Understood. I’ll do better.”
“Pardon?”
“I said I’ll strive to be a husband closer than those other women.”
His posture as he vowed to strive was utterly like that of a diligent knight. But was that even something to strive for? And somehow, the phrase ‘other women’ grated unpleasantly.
“They weren’t other women—they were Lüsenford noblewomen, Your Grace. There were even wives of the knights who serve you.”
“To me, all women except you are other women.”
At that point, Cecil—the eldest maid serving the duchess—and Knight Renar, the quickest on the uptake among the knights attending the grand duke—simultaneously began clearing away the surrounding people.
‘Fall back. Now.’
‘Why?’
Knight Renar once again realized why Knight Wilberg, staring at him blankly, had no lover.
Since Knight Renar wasn’t the person in question, realizing it didn’t bring any clarity or relief—instead, it just annoyed him. What an obtuse, blockheaded fool.
At least Knight Wilberg, who was more intimidated by the new maid Cecil than by his friend Renar, slowed his steps at her glance. Now, the grand ducal couple and their attendants were at least three paces apart.
“I think our marital bond should be closer than that with them. What do you think, Your Grace?”
If Kaella said no, Pheon was prepared to change his mind immediately. The convictions and resolve he had once staked his life to defend were nothing but the stubbornness of a petty, vile, foolish man.
That was why he no longer had beliefs or resolve. They simply shifted according to whatever Kaella—the Kaella he couldn’t help but admire every time he saw her—said.
How on earth could you hold onto such steadfast courage until the very end? No matter how much he thought about it, the petty and brazen Pheon found it hard to comprehend.
Kaella was a creature of the sky that the lowly Pheon, crawling on the ground, always had to look up to. She was a being he couldn’t tear his eyes from, following her with his gaze until the impulse arose to reach out and seize her.
As the emperor said, true to his ‘mongrel’ nature, he had picked every wicked deed under the sun and only recognized the beautiful, tender, kind being last of all.
“Well… yes, that’s right. We should be… closer than others.”
Kaella wondered why on earth Pheon was saying such things, but since it was true, she nodded. It was true. After all, this was a political marriage, so they were political partners.
Moreover, with the Ostein ducal house backing Kaella, the union of their territories had to remain solid. So much had changed now that Father was alive, she thought, but she didn’t attach meaning to every little word.
It went in one ear and out the other, evaporating from her mind.
Nothing lingered in her heart. There was no room in it to hold any words dear. Her weary, indifferent eyes slanted downward.
‘He’ll drop it soon enough.’
In any case, meetings with Pheon would become as rare as before her death. She already knew plenty about their married life in general.
Pheon wasn’t Kaella’s husband—he was Beatrice’s man. Honestly, wasn’t Kaella one of those so-called ‘other women’? As she walked quietly lost in such thoughts, Pheon called her to a halt.
“Your Grace? Where are you going?”
When she looked up, she saw that Pheon had turned in the opposite direction from her and then stopped.
“To my room.”
Why ask something so obvious? Naturally, she was supposed to hole up in the duchess’s bedchamber.
But Pheon gazed at her as if appraising her for a moment. Her complexion seemed a bit darker. To Kaella, who looked at him uncomprehendingly, he spoke after a brief pause.
“Of course, that’s the direction of your bedchamber, but aren’t you using my bedchamber right now?”
To be precise, Kaella had never slept in the duchess’s bedchamber. The moment she arrived in Lüsenford and collapsed, the grand duke had carried her himself to his bedchamber. From then until now, the grand duke’s bedchamber had been where she stayed the whole time.
“You haven’t recovered enough yet to return to that room.”
Pheon’s voice wavered slightly. He stood rigid as stone, speaking to Kaella—who had already taken five or six steps toward the duchess’s bedchamber, one she wasn’t familiar with and hadn’t used—in a voice almost like pleading.
“Besides, it’s the room decorated by a criminal. It won’t be fully prepared, and since it hasn’t been used for a while, it’ll be bitterly cold for you to stay in.”
He couldn’t leave such a fragile woman, who seemed like she might scatter into the air, in the duchess’s room decorated in the tastes of the exiled head maid Doris Windgood—simple at best, or downright miserly at worst.
In a room styled by someone stubbornly convinced that fashions twenty years out of date were the latest trend, Kaella would suffocate and vanish.
No, that was an excuse. A filthy one. The northern hegemon, the winter lord said to battle the evil dragon without fear, desperately averted the chill of anxiety colder than Lüsenford’s frost.
This was—this was just worry that she might harm her health if she went to that room. That was all he was doing, stopping her. Yes. That was it. It absolutely wasn’t because she knew that room.
“Come here.”
He extended his hand. To the wife who had never once refused his hand, he offered it, urging her to take it.
“Hurry.”
Then Pheon realized one contradiction he had been ignoring.
Kaella had never refused his hand.
Before the regression.
