Chapter 22
“My Life, Mortgaged” –
“A letter has arrived for you, madam.”
Irina, who had been idly spending her time in the garden, was handed a small envelope by Casey.
It was a few days after the accident.
Someone had ridden up earlier on horseback — he must have been the one who delivered it.
“For me?”
After the incident, a letter had come from Bevin.
Perhaps afraid Irina wouldn’t agree to meet her, Bevin had decided to send a letter first.
The stationery was made of soft paper as smooth as shaved down cotton, with a pink flower petal that looked just like Bevin’s own gentle hue.
The petal was attached a little awkwardly — probably because Bevin had pressed and dried it herself.
It looked exactly that way.
The letter was long — three full pages — and nearly eighty percent of it was filled with apologies.
“It’s fine,” Irina murmured.
Though her careless actions had caused Howard to get hurt.
These days, Irina joined the physician every evening to help treat Howard’s arm.
Howard always tried to drive her away, saying it would only make things worse,
but Irina stayed anyway — determined to help,
and now, as she reread Bevin’s letter, she decided she should invite her over sometime.
“Casey, could you get me some stationery?”
“Yes, of course. Would you like the ones we have at the manor, or shall I order a custom set?”
“Hm. Let’s use the ones we already have this time. If it’s Bevin, she might even feel guilty about that.”
“I’ll have it ready right away, then.”
“Mm. Please — now.”
“Yes, just a moment!”
Not too close.
But not too distant either.
Finding the right distance between people was surprisingly difficult.
She had never met anyone while already preparing for an eventual farewell.
As she sat deep in thought, Casey returned with paper, envelopes, and a pen — along with sealing wax and a small candle for the finishing touch.
The paper was thick and good quality, though simple and plain compared to Bevin’s delicate stationery.
Irina unfolded a blank sheet and stared at it for a while before dipping her pen in ink.
“Hmm… ‘Dear…’? Should I start like that?”
She chewed lightly on the wooden pen tip, then began to write, one careful word at a time.
The message, in truth, was simple — I’m fine. Don’t worry. Let’s meet next time.
But as she tried to put it all into words, the content stretched out longer than expected.
She thought maybe Bevin, who struggled with conversation, might be touched to receive a long letter.
“I think I’m doing a bit too well,” she muttered.
“Pardon?” Casey tilted her head.
“Oh, nothing.”
Irina finished filling the page and finally set down her pen.
The once-white paper was now covered neatly in black ink.
She blew gently across the page, waiting for the words to dry.
“Casey, the envelope.”
“Here it is!”
“Hmm, good.”
Irina carefully folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope Casey handed her.
Then, with the candle lit, she melted the sealing wax and let it drip onto the flap.
Finally, she pressed the Lingaster family seal firmly into the warm wax.
“Please send it for me, Casey.”
By tomorrow, Bevin would receive her letter.
It had been a long time since Irina had done something so quaint and girlish — something she hadn’t done since her academy days.
And it made her feel oddly happy.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Hey—how’s married life treating you, my friend?”
Damian showed up at Howard’s door, leaning casually against the frame with a grin.
Half out of friendship, half out of business.
“It’s going well enough.”
Howard motioned with his chin for Damian to sit, rising from his seat.
Damian strolled in with his usual easy gait.
“Oh-ho, that’s a vague answer. I dropped by for lunch—and to deliver some news.”
He waved a folded white paper.
It was information about Arendor.
Since the people Howard had sent and Damian’s own informants operated differently, their cooperation made things more efficient.
It was, in part, Damian’s way of repaying the debt he owed Howard from years ago at the border.
Howard accepted the envelope and unfolded it.
“I’m nearly out of reach over there now,” Damian sighed. “Even getting a newspaper printed has become a struggle.”
Howard’s eyes drifted down the page.
“You said you never planned on going back, anyway.”
“That’s true. I’ve no desire to dive back into a sea of blood. I’m tired of it. It’s chaos over there.”
Damian shuddered in distaste.
Howard chuckled faintly.
It was amusing to hear someone who had once been at the very center of it all now talk as if it were someone else’s mess.
“So now you’ll be the one supporting me,” Damian said, feigning tears.
“Not a chance.”
“Harsh! Then maybe I’ll ask your lady—no, the Duchess—to spare me a crust of bread!”
He even hummed a cheerful little tune as he said it.
“Try it,” Howard growled, uncharacteristically jealous.
“So you are treating me today? Thanks, my friend—I’ll be sure to forget the favor quickly.”
Damian laughed, keeping up his easy banter as they walked outside together.
“You’re really cutting ties with Arendor completely?”
Howard asked as they descended the steps.
Damian pretended to ponder deeply.
“Well… maybe. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Then you won’t be needing this anymore.”
Howard’s tone was flat, without an ounce of sentiment.
Damian clutched his chest dramatically.
“Wow. Cold-hearted bastard. Is that the depth of our friendship?”
“That’s about right.”
“Unbelievable. I bet your duchess doesn’t know what you’re really like. She wouldn’t have married you if she did!”
He looked every bit the handsome, healthy man—but behaved like a flapping chicken.
Howard knew half of it was an act, but still found the change from the man he once knew difficult to get used to.
When Howard didn’t react, Damian switched topics.
“Oh right—heard there was a little incident while I was gathering intel?”
He asked as they made their way toward the dining hall.
“A minor one.”
Since that day, the security around Arena had doubled.
Guards were stationed on every floor.
He wouldn’t bring Irina somewhere dangerous again, of course.
He thought of her fretting each evening as she watched the doctor tend to his injured arm.
She would wince as if she were the one being treated.
Probably tonight, too, she’d be waiting.
Howard’s lips unconsciously curved upward.
Damian gave him a knowing look.
‘Head over heels,’ his eyes said.
“Not a single accident for years, and then this out of nowhere. Surprising.”
“…Yeah,” Howard murmured.
✦ ✦ ✦
As the sun set and dusk settled over the land—
“Why is he taking so long?”
Irina muttered to herself.
An invitation had arrived for her earlier that day.
She’d meant to ask him about it, and also check on his injury while she was at it.
That was the plan, at least.
But the sofa was so soft…
Soon, her eyelids drooped and she began to nod off.
“My lady, perhaps you should go to bed,” Casey said with concern.
“Mmm… I’ll wait a little longer.”
“You really should sleep in your room.”
“Mm-hm. Don’t worry. You can go ahead without me tonight.”
But before long, Irina couldn’t fight it any longer—she drifted into deep sleep right there.
“…”
She wasn’t even on the sofa he’d told her she could nap on.
Irina had been using Howard’s study as if it were her own room lately.
As far as he remembered, she had never been able to sleep anywhere remotely uncomfortable.
Yet here she was—sleeping soundly, not in a carriage this time, but on a couch.
Howard gently brushed her shoulder.
Softly enough not to startle her, but noticeably enough that she might stir.
She didn’t.
“…”
After waiting for a while with no response, Howard sighed and finally bent down to lift her into his arms.
She wasn’t pretending to be asleep this time—she was truly out cold.
So deeply that if he wasn’t careful, her body went completely limp.
“Good grief.”
He gathered her securely in his arms, her face nestled into the crook of his neck.
She breathed evenly against his skin, and that steady warmth made it difficult to focus.
It was… almost painful.
At last, he reached her room, opened the door, and laid her down on the bed.
He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, brushed her hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, and straightened his back.
Then he left immediately.
Back in his own room, Howard sank into the bath, soaking for a long time to cool his head.
He hadn’t meant to get so involved—he’d told himself to keep a distance.
But after the recent accident, everything had changed.
She must have been frightened, though she hid it well.
He could see through her composure, and that made his chest ache even more.
He was relieved he’d gotten her out safely.
He told himself that was enough—that as long as she was safe, he’d be satisfied.
But he hadn’t paid close enough attention. He’d been careless.
As he changed clothes, his face still showed no sign of relaxing.
Irina, meanwhile, slept deeply without a single nightmare—like someone who had fainted from exhaustion.
Howard, on the other hand, lay awake through the long night.
The moon hung high.
The night carried two very different temperatures.
