Chapter : 74
“It’s really okay.”
Instead of replying, Curtis collapsed into a chair as if all his strength had drained away. The moment his bloodless face curved into a faint, grateful smile, the conflict that had sent him wavering finally settled into a single conclusion.
“Yeah. You look fine.”
Curtis smiled back gently and brushed Roxana’s cheek. Startled by the unexpected tenderness, Roxana widened her eyes and watched him carefully.
“Y-You’re not… angry? I tried to run away.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
Curtis nodded and added quietly,
“You may not believe it, but I’ve never truly been angry at you.”
His gray eyes were steady—almost exactly the same as when he had been a young boy. With her consciousness hazy, Roxana wondered if this was real or if she was still dreaming. A Curtis this kind and gentle had existed only in her memories or imagination. Maybe this was all a dream. That thought gave her courage.
“Then…?”
“I was angry at myself.”
“At yourself?”
“Yeah. I hated that I wavered because of you.”
“……”
It was an answer she had never expected. Curtis carefully pulled Roxana’s hand from beneath the blanket, laced their fingers together, and pressed the back of her hand against his cheek.
“Do you remember the day we reunited?”
Roxana nodded instead of answering.
“I intended to kill you that day.”
“Me…?”
She had expected it, yet hearing it spoken aloud tore at her chest. She tried to pull her hand away, but Curtis tightened his grip, pressing each finger firmly as he confessed.
“But I couldn’t. When I saw you again, you were still dazzling, sparkling like gold dust in a stream.”
“……Curtis.”
“You—the one who stayed composed even as your entire family was annihilated, negotiating over the lives of the people and soldiers who followed you.”
It was different from himself in the past, who had been too busy fleeing the castle with his younger sister, blinded by shock. Her resolve—to protect those beneath her even at the cost of her own life—stole his heart once more. It was a helpless pull. Like a moth drawn to flame, he followed it by instinct, even knowing that one day it would destroy him.
“I wanted to deny it, so I pushed you away, avoided you, and treated you cruelly. I thought that if you came to despise me and turned away, I could sever my feelings.”
But the more cruel he was to her, the more he himself was wounded. Each time he stabbed her with a double-edged blade, he was cut just as deeply. It felt like swallowing a mass of burning embers whole. While Roxana hovered between life and death, he endured the agony burning him from the inside out.
“Th-Then that means…?”
As Roxana listened in a daze to his confession, her eyes slowly reddened.
“I once said this to Frey. That true love is loving someone ‘despite everything.’”
In the end, Curtis knelt before his own love. A head that would not bow even before thousands of soldiers was willingly lowered close to the ground.
“You are the daughter of my enemy. And despite that, I love you, Roxana.”
The last bastion he had refused to acknowledge finally collapsed. As everything crumbled from his feet upward, Curtis smiled brightly.
“There has never been a moment when I didn’t love you. From childhood until now.”
If only loving someone weren’t a sin.
If only, like ordinary young lovers, they could simply love and be loved.
But between them lay a deep, wide river. Over the past ten-plus years, everything had changed, and countless lives had been lost—irreversibly.
Neither of them had wanted it. Neither had chosen it. No one had wished for it, yet the violent current had swept everything away.
Curtis decided he would no longer be carried by that current. At least this once, he would choose for himself. That was why he could finally tear away every mask that had hidden him and face Roxana barefaced.
“Curtis…”
Roxana parted her lips to speak, but her body grew heavy again and her eyelids drooped. A foreboding sense washed over her, as though this might be the last time. Gathering her remaining strength, she confessed,
“I love you too.”
Tears streamed down from her eyes, gathering at her chin before falling. She had said it countless times, yet she had always feared he wouldn’t believe her.
But his reply was unexpected.
“I know.”
“…What?”
At his calm acceptance, her violet eyes trembled. Curtis smiled faintly and whispered,
“You think you’re very good at lying.”
“……”
“But I can see it all.”
“Ah…”
Whenever she lied, even if only slightly, her fingertips trembled. It was a habit only he—who had known her since childhood—could recognize. He had known all along, yet forced himself to believe her confession was a lie. He looked away because he didn’t want to let go. He deceived both his own heart and hers.
If only he had been just a little more honest.
Their love had been trampled before it could fully bloom. Knowing it would melt away like snow the moment it was spoken aloud made it all the more painful. Curtis forced the corners of his mouth upward.
“Get some rest now.”
“Curtis…”
She wanted to say more, but his long, straight fingers gently closed her eyes. Clutching his hand, Roxana pleaded desperately,
“You won’t leave me, will you?”
“Roxana.”
“Promise me.”
“Do you want to escape? Then love me.”
From her trembling words, he could tell what memory she was recalling. Her desperate voice pierced his ears painfully. In a hoarse voice, Curtis gave his answer.
“I promise.”
“……”
“So sleep well. When you wake up, your body will feel much better.”
The hand covering her eyes withdrew, replaced by the warmth of his lips. Only after Roxana, having exhausted all her strength, slipped back into unconsciousness did his lips pull away.
Only then did Tessa, who had been standing silently behind him without a sound, speak.
“So you’ve decided?”
“Yes.”
Curtis placed Roxana’s hand back beneath the blanket, brushed her nose, forehead, and cheeks, then gathered her into his arms.
“Take Roxana and leave this place immediately. Get her to the Grand Duchy before the fighting starts again.”
Everything that followed proceeded swiftly and in secret. Curtis entrusted the guidance and escort to Greg. At the moment, Greg was the only one he could trust. Curtis made sure he took the border pass given by the Grand Duchess, along with the letter meant for her.
“…I don’t know why you ran away, but since you saved Roxana, I’ll let that go. I’m asking you.”
“No matter what happens, I’ll get her safely to the Grand Duchy. If we meet again, I’ll accept my punishment then.”
Meeting Curtis’s steady gaze, Greg placed Roxana—wrapped in a thick blanket—onto the saddle, then mounted behind her. Just before mounting another horse, Tessa hesitated and spoke.
“I just heard—Frey has been taken hostage. What about you…?”
“Thank you for everything, old woman.”
“Tessa—!”
Cutting her off, Curtis grabbed her waist and set her onto the saddle, then shouted toward Greg,
“Go!”
As dawn’s red light crested the horizon, two horses burst out of the castle through a secret gate. Curtis ran up the stairs, breathless, and climbed onto the ramparts.
“My lord?”
The sentry on duty startled and snapped into a stiff salute. When no response came, the soldier lowered his hand awkwardly—only to recoil the next instant, as if burned.
What he had seen was not his lord.
It was a man standing there, tears streaming down his vacant face.
Alarm bells rang in his mind. He erased what he had seen from his memory. Curtis remained alone on the ramparts for a long while before finally coming down.
“Your Grace.”
“Shiloh.”
With a face scrubbed clean of all emotion, Curtis issued his command.
“I will send a courier to the king.”
“Roxana.”
A voice she had longed for.
Roxana slowly opened her eyes. Bathed in bright light, the face she missed so dearly came into view. Unable to believe it, she could only gape.
“Roxana. You’re awake.”
“M-Mother?”
Her cracked voice trembled. Roxana looked down at her hands—they were small, like a young girl’s. Around her was the old villa of her maternal family. Simple, but cozy—the bedroom of her childhood.
“Did you have a nightmare?”
Her mother, young and beautiful just as in her memories, soothed her with a worried expression.
“You don’t look well. Are you feeling sick?”
“Mother…”
Tears burst forth at the touch stroking her hair. This warmth, this voice, this gaze—everything was her mother from her memories. Her mother from when Roxana was nine years old. Roxana suddenly sat up and buried her face in her chest.
“I missed you.”
“Roxana…”
“I really missed you… sob…”
It was an embrace she had forgotten. Warm, gentle, and kind.
“What kind of dream did you have?”
After patting her daughter’s back for a long while, her mother lifted Roxana’s face.
“You died. And Father locked me in the tower…”
“And then?”
“And then… the castle was invaded.”
“I see. And after that?”
“And after that…”
She tried to remember, but nothing came after. She had been sitting in a pool of blood, reunited with someone. After that…
“I don’t remember.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
It felt as though she had forgotten something important—something she needed to remember—but no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t come back. Seeing her daughter’s confused face, her mother smiled quietly and covered Roxana’s eyes with her palm.
“Mother?”
“Roxana. You have to go back.”
“What?”
At those thunderous words, Roxana shook her head.
“I don’t want to.”
“Roxana.”
“I don’t want to. I don’t want to be in pain anymore…”
Though she couldn’t clearly recall everything that had happened, the pain and sorrow that had swept over her returned vividly.
“I was in so much pain. It hurt so much. I don’t want to go back.”
Bursting into tears, Roxana begged,
“I don’t want to. Mother. Please.”
“Roxana.”
The voice changed. It was the head nun’s voice. Frozen as if doused with cold water, Roxana felt the hand covering her eyes slowly lower.
“Sister Superior?”
“Do you remember what I told you?”
Roxana slowly nodded.
“When you feel like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, remember that there is someone below, looking up at you.”
With a whoosh, like blowing out a candle, her vision went dark—then shifted. Roxana found herself standing on a cliff, held in the head nun’s arms. Facing the dizzyingly deep abyss, her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. She instinctively stepped back, but the head nun pointed downward.
“Look. Who is down there?”
“Down there?”
There should have been no one. Casting a puzzled glance at the nun, Roxana focused on where her finger pointed. At the dark depths, someone came into view.
“A man… I think. Why is he there?”
“It’s someone you know.”
“Someone I know?”
Roxana’s eyes widened as she repeated the nun’s words.
“Curtis…?”
“You have to wake up, Roxana.”
Smiling softly, the head nun pushed Roxana off the cliff.
In that instant, Roxana woke from a deep sleep.
“You’re finally awake!”
Her consciousness surged back as if hauled up from the depths of the sea. A familiar white mask greeted her.
