Chapter 54
“…Anyway, I mean that if anything happens, you shouldn’t hold it in and should tell me.”
The woman sitting on the bed stayed silent for a long time.
Lincia kept her head down and quietly stared at her hands.
Her lips parted, and a small sigh escaped.
“Do you want to be kind to me because you think I’m pitiful?”
Harvich’s eyes trembled at the sound of her restrained voice.
Before he knew it, Lincia had lifted her head and was crying.
She didn’t sob or wail, only let silent tears fall.
It would have been easier to see her cry aloud, but the way her tears dropped one by one without sound made her look unbearably sad.
“Did you find out that if I were abandoned in the Grand Duchy, I might die?
Or did you hear that a commoner hit me, and that made you feel sorry for me, so you wanted to be nice?”
Harvich opened his mouth, then shut it tightly again.
“You used to only want to pity me.
Why did you change your mind?”
Harvich remembered what he had said not long ago.
“I only wish to pity you.”
Even with ten mouths, he had no excuse.
It felt as if he had swallowed a stone, and his chest tightened painfully.
Instead of answering, Harvich tightened his grip on her hand.
He was afraid that if he let go, she would slip away between his fingers again.
He couldn’t turn back time or take back his words.
If he was going to end up admitting his love anyway, he should have been a little gentler from the start.
“Let go.”
Lincia shook off his hand and stood abruptly.
“Where are you going like that…?”
Harvich worried for her, who was still crying.
Her cheeks were cold, maybe because she’d just come in from the chilly hallway.
She was frail, and after pouring out her emotions, she would surely collapse from exhaustion.
“Don’t talk to me.”
Lincia went to the studio and sat in front of the canvas.
The blank paper was still pure white.
Silently, she picked up a brush.
Blue spread across the surface.
It was a bright, clear blue at first, but as the color built layer by layer, it grew darker and heavier.
For a long time, Lincia painted in silence.
The paint, thick and wet, began to drip from the canvas and soak the easel.
“Get out.”
“…”
“Get out, please. I want to be alone.”
It was hard for Harvich to leave her there crying.
He hesitated, then spoke softly.
“Will you be all right alone?”
Lincia’s hand froze.
Scratch— the brush scraped against the palette sharply.
“Now you care? You can see me now?”
“…”
“That’s strange. I’ve always been alone.”
…And I’ve managed just fine on my own.
She muttered under her breath and kept moving her brush.
When Harvich saw her hand rubbing against the paper, he couldn’t bear it and grabbed her hand.
But once he held her, he couldn’t force her to stop.
Her grip on the brush was so tight that if he tried to pull it away, she might hurt herself.
The feeling of her drawing strong lines while his hand held hers was strange.
The bristles split, the wooden core scraping across the canvas, tearing the paper.
“Let go.”
“I said let go!”
Lincia swung her arm back.
Harvich stepped back quickly, afraid she might hurt herself.
But he still didn’t release her hand.
Lincia tore her gaze from the canvas and, her tear-stained face trembling, asked,
“What do you even want from me?
You don’t listen when I talk, and when I ask you something, you never answer.”
“…Is there something you want to hear from me?”
Her eyes widened, violet irises blurred with tears.
The longer she cried, the more his chest ached.
It felt like a stone was pressing heavier and heavier on his heart.
Harvich wanted to comfort her.
“Why are you angry?”
“…”
“You have to tell me so I can fix it.”
Lincia dropped her brush with a sharp sound.
Only then did Harvich release her hand.
The canvas was completely covered in blue.
Not a spot of white remained.
Her hands were stained blue, and so were his.
“You were the one giving orders, so why are you asking me to talk?”
“…”
“I don’t want to. I don’t want to tell you anything.”
Harvich silently looked at her pale face splattered with blue paint.
“I asked you first.
Why are you doing this to me?”
“You are my—”
“If you’re about to call me your wife, stop. It means nothing.”
Lincia cut him off coldly and turned her head.
She lifted her brush again.
Harvich couldn’t say a word.
He realized too late that mere words like “wife” or “marriage” couldn’t explain what he felt.
They weren’t enough.
After a pause, he spoke slowly.
“I don’t like seeing you cry.”
“…”
“When I imagine you crying where I’m not, it twists my insides.”
He had never said such things aloud before.
He had always believed he didn’t deserve to be happy, but now his thoughts took shape in words.
Lincia’s tears finally stopped.
Harvich gently wiped the color from her cheek with a soft cloth.
Her skin was tender from too much crying, and his heart ached.
“But when I imagine another man at the end of your smiling gaze, this place burns.”
He guided her hand to his chest.
Blue paint smudged his white uniform.
“I was taught that this is love.”
“…”
“How does it look to you?”
Lincia shoved him away.
Harvich stepped back quietly but didn’t look away.
“Is this not enough to call love?”
Lincia clasped the hand that had touched his chest with her other hand.
“It can’t be love.”
Her voice was firm.
Harvich bit the inside of his cheek.
“…Why do you think that?”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have forgotten that night.”
At the mention of that night, Harvich’s face went still.
“You’re a good man. That’s why you pity me, living like this, unprotected, unsure if I’ll live or die.”
“…”
“You’re feeling sympathy, not love.”
Harvich’s cheek trembled as he struggled to keep his expression steady.
What kind of face am I making right now?
He didn’t know.
It felt like hot oil was poured over his skin, and he couldn’t open his mouth or eyes.
“Go look in the mirror.”
“…”
“See if that’s the face of a man in love.”
Leaving him behind, Lincia walked out of the studio.
Harvich couldn’t bring himself to stop her.
Left alone, he turned toward a mirror standing in the corner.
The room was dim as the sun went down.
In the reflection stood a man with silver hair, red eyes, and an emotionless face.
It was hard to believe that this was the same man who had just confessed love—his calm gaze, tight lips, and stiff jaw made him look almost angry.
