Chapter 7
The rattling carriage came to a stop, and Cotton and Rictan stepped down. Before they knew it, the sun had begun to dip, casting a warm orange glow across the sky. The streets, bathed in sunset hues, were still bustling with life.
Taking in that liveliness with her eyes, ears, and skin, Cotton looked up beside her with quiet anticipation. Rictan, having just finished speaking with the coachman, seemed to sense her gaze and turned to her. Unlike Cotton, whose cheeks were faintly flushed with excitement, his expression showed little interest.
“So. What did you come here to do?”
Rictan slightly lowered the hood he had pulled over himself and frowned as he glanced at the towering clock tower. He had already mentioned during the carriage ride that they would need to return soon—it didn’t seem like he was unwilling to spend time together, but rather that he truly had a schedule to keep.
“We’ve come here before, trying to recover my memories. And even after that, too. It might help.”
Though reassured, Cotton still felt a slight nervousness as she took the lead. As if she had already planned where to go, she walked forward without hesitation. She had worried that Rictan might ignore her, but whenever she glanced back, he was following a few steps behind.
It had been a while since her last visit, so Cotton occasionally paused, looking around in confusion. Still, she soon moved naturally from one place to another, as though guided by instinct.
“Do you remember this house? Someone used to feed the stray cats here, so if you came at the right time, they’d be everywhere. They were all so gentle—if you approached, they’d flop over and beg for attention.”
Cotton stroked a cat.
“And if you go further in, it turns into a complete maze, right? I always wanted to explore it at least once… but we probably don’t have time now, do we?”
She stopped by the alley said to resemble a maze.
“And here—your clothes got dirty here once. A child spilled milk while carrying it. I can still remember how much you hated the damp feeling.”
She smiled brightly, delighted by the familiar sights.
Cotton’s spirits lifted. Walking through a street filled with memories alongside her husband—it wasn’t exactly affectionate, as they still walked apart like strangers, but the mere fact that Rictan hadn’t left felt like consideration to her.
Maybe he understood what I wanted, she thought inwardly.
Then suddenly, her face lit up as she turned her gaze into the distance. A delicious aroma wafted from a shop several blocks away. Quickening her pace, she headed straight toward it.
“Could you wrap one to go, please?”
“Yes! One to go!”
After placing the order and paying, the shop owner cheerfully wrapped the bread. Cotton blew gently on the steaming loaf, then broke it in half and held a piece out to Rictan, who stood there blankly.
Caught off guard, he accepted it, frowning as if to ask why she was giving it to him.
“This bread is really good.”
“So?”
“You said so yourself. That the owner’s belief that warm bread is best is so strong that they bake more often than other places—and that’s why this shop’s bread tastes the best… I kept thinking about it even at the imperial palace. Let’s eat before we go.”
There was no need for excuses, yet Cotton continued explaining herself. She took a bite of the freshly baked bread. Without the wrapping, it would have been too hot to hold, but inside her mouth, it melted with a rich, savory warmth.
At the imperial palace, she often couldn’t eat much and would leave food behind—but now, she swallowed bite after bite with ease. Before she realized it, even the large half she held had nearly disappeared.
As she chewed diligently with her small mouth, Cotton glanced at her husband.
“Your cheeks are stuffed full. What are you, a squirrel? It looks like you’re storing food for winter.”
He had said that before, laughing. When she had stuffed her mouth with the soft, sweet bread—so different from what she ate on the island—his lips had curled into a wide grin. Unlike his usual cold expression, his laughter had been unexpectedly bright, almost boyish. His unrestrained smile had been so beautiful that she had stared at him blankly.
“What exactly did you come out here for? Just to eat that bread?”
Her small expectation shattered instantly. Rictan’s cold, mocking tone was filled with disbelief.
“I thought you might’ve come up with some way to recover your memories.”
Cotton stood still, unable even to finish chewing the bread in her mouth as she listened to his sharp words.
“Did you not properly understand what you’re supposed to be doing? Is that why you’re wasting time like this? I didn’t think losing your memory made you this foolish.”
“…That’s not it. I am trying.”
Forcing the soft bread down her throat as if swallowing gravel, she managed to respond in a barely audible voice.
“Trying? It just looks like you came out to play. Calling it effort must make you feel better.”
As if it wasn’t worth speaking any further, Rictan tossed the bread in his hand to the ground.
“Stop doing useless things and focus on recovering your memories.”
Spitting out the words with emphasis, he walked away, growing more distant with each step.
Cotton couldn’t even think to follow. She simply stared blankly at the bread lying on the ground. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up. The untouched bread, having hit the cold ground, was already losing its warmth.
“Useless things…”
She murmured hollowly, as if something inside her chest had been emptied.
The places they had visited today were ones she had once walked through with Rictan in the past. They were places where they had shared conversations and built happy memories together. Though she had returned to them in hopes of recovering her memories—places connected to Renedía—they had also come to hold deep meaning for Cotton herself.
To him, however, those memories seemed to be nothing but useless.
Rictan’s mood was foul enough that even the carriage’s ordinary rattling grated on his nerves. Ever since they returned from the outing and boarded the carriage, Renedía had not said a single word.
She wouldn’t stop talking on the way here…
Renedía’s voice was gentle and refined, without any harsh edges. Calm and even in tone, speaking with her felt peaceful. Even when she talked a lot, she was never noisy—yet for some reason, Rictan felt increasingly irritated, his brows knitting together.
Renedía hadn’t changed at all—enough to be irritating. She always maintained proper posture, and even now, she sat upright, gazing out the window. She still had that small habit of tucking one side of her dull hair behind her ear and neatly brushing it back over her shoulder, saying she disliked it being tousled.
Many had said it before—what would a child know of love? That it was a fleeting, immature emotion. That she merely mistook liking someone who took her side for love, and that she should come to understand her place.
He wanted to ask those people:
When everyone else tells you that you have no place in the world, and only one person reaches out to hold your hand…
How could you not love that person?
To Rictan, Renedía had been exactly that.
When he first found her on the island, she had been dressed in worn-out clothes covered in dirt, her hair tangled and unkempt. Compared to her past self, it was an unimaginably filthy appearance. And yet, the moment he saw her, his frozen heart trembled.
Though the youthful face from ten years ago had faded slightly, the shape of her wide, upturned eyes, the way her hair fell, and the gentle aura he had loved so much—all remained the same.
He had half given up. After ten years without finding even a single strand of her hair, he had vaguely assumed she was dead.
…Perhaps it would have been better if she had been.
Rictan’s dark blue eyes sank even deeper.
When he confirmed that it was truly Renedía, relief had surged through him. She didn’t seem gravely injured, which reassured him, and above all, the overwhelming emotion that she was alive swept over him.
“Who… are you?”
But she didn’t remember him.
He wanted to know why she had lost her memory, and he felt hurt and resentful that she didn’t recognize him—but he forced those feelings down. For now, he was simply grateful that she was alive.
Suppressing the burning turmoil within him, he brought her back to Asvern. He helped her try to recover her memories. Even when there was no progress, he didn’t give up. Believing that she would one day remember him, he stayed by her side unwaveringly and eventually married her.
And then, on the very day of their wedding, he learned something from a report.
“…It appears she had formed a household and lived together with someone…”
Something inside his chest creaked.
“The missing Lady Alphret? It wasn’t a disappearance—it was a planned escape.”
“They say she left Asvern because she couldn’t overcome the difference in status with the man she loved.”
“Exactly! She had a fiancé, but that was just a façade to hide her real lover.”
“No, she simply changed her heart and ran away to be with the one she loved.”
While searching for the missing Renedía, he had heard countless rumors like these. He had dismissed them as malicious gossip—after all, people with loose tongues enjoyed exaggerating and twisting stories.
But now, every piece of evidence pointed to those rumors being true. The doubts he had ignored began to twist and entangle.
Kuswell Island was over half a month away by ship from Asvern. How could a noble lady who had never even been to a port manage to get there?
How could he explain the servant’s testimony that, on the dawn of her disappearance, she had been seen heading into the back forest with a man?
Was Renedía truly… missing?
The questions that had quietly gnawed at him finally surfaced and formed a single conclusion.
Renedía abandoned me.
If she had intended to run away, she should have at least disappeared to the ends of the earth so he would believe she was dead—gone somewhere he could never find.
“I found out the truth…”
A pain like his heart was being torn apart engulfed Rictan. From his fingertips, the blood seemed to run cold, while a rage that felt ready to explode swept over it, tinged with sorrow. The memories of whispered love and the endless years spent searching for her tangled together, turning dark with betrayal.
He didn’t want to see her face. He couldn’t bear to. Disgusting, filthy emotions consumed him, making it impossible to face her.
And yet, the more he tried to avoid and push her away, the more vividly he imagined it—her smiling happily with the man she had run away with.
Married, was she?
It didn’t matter anymore who she had married. Whether she had lost her memory before or after—it didn’t matter. Renedía had abandoned him to live with someone else.
But now, she’s in my grasp.
She had married him in Asvern and now held the position of Empress—she could no longer run away. There was plenty of time. If he spared no effort in helping her recover her memories, she would eventually remember.
And then she would be horrified. When she realized that the man beside her was the fiancé she had betrayed and left ten years ago, she would despair and want to run.
He wanted her to be unhappy. He wanted her to suffer from guilt, to be tormented by remorse, to cry every day.
Remember.
Rictan prayed to a god he didn’t even believe in.
Remember me.
