DD 15

Chapter 15

Her brother called out to her. Isillia turned her head. Her father did not look at her. She walked, following her brother who was walking ahead. When they had widened the distance just enough so the child could still see her, Arwin spoke.

“Father found out.”

“I know.”

“…He won’t care about the rumors. But the children will hear about it. No matter how much you try to hide it—”

No. His words echoed. The only sound in the quiet place was the rustling of grass. Maybe that’s why his voice felt so loud… The occasional sound of the child’s voice broke her thoughts. She knew what Arwin wanted to say. But—

“House Agnes may only be an earl’s family compared to the Grand Duke of Endrianz, but it won’t be a major issue.”

“……”

“The Grand Duke will agree to it readily. There won’t be any complications. High society gets bored easily—when something new happens, they’ll move on quickly, so don’t worry—”

“No.”

“Isillia.”

“I don’t want to.”

His green eyes trembled. Transparent green eyes like their father’s twisted toward her. Isillia turned away. In the distance she saw the child and her father. What was Father—Earl Agnes—thinking right now?

“I know what you’re trying to say.”

“……”

“So I’m saying no.”

“Isillia. If you give the word, we’re ready to sever ties with House Endrianz at any time.”

“I said I don’t want to.”

“Then get a divorce.”

“No.”

What sort of expression did he have right now? She didn’t check. Instead, her gaze drifted over his hair and toward the sky. It had felt like morning when they arrived—bright sunlight—but the sky was already dyed red with evening. Had time passed this quickly?

“The Grand Duke loves that woman.”

“…You saw it?”

Perhaps frustrated by her stubborn refusal to respond, his voice rose. At his irritated tone, she turned her head to face him. His green eyes widened. He clicked his tongue awkwardly, and she spoke.

“You’ve seen it.”

“…Yeah. I saw.”

Silence settled as she closed her mouth. Arwin roughly ruffled his hair. His gold hair, tinged red by the sunset, reminded her—both she and Arwin had inherited Father’s hair. He had inherited their father’s eye color as well, while she had their mother’s.

“Isillia, do you remember what I told you before you married the Grand Duke?”

“You told me to think about it a little more.”

“Yes. That’s right. So you remember.”

She turned her head when she saw the child approaching. Arwin must have noticed too, because he sighed. When Johann reached them, this awkward conversation would end. Sharing the same thought, Arwin spoke again while watching Johann’s approach. His voice, anger subsided, sounded careful.

“There was something else I wanted to say. But I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“……”

“Father told you to stop by the manor. If nothing comes up, come tomorrow.”

He left after saying what he wanted. Isillia bowed. She caught Johann as he ran to her and pressed her cheek against his cold little face. Watching her brother’s back as he walked toward their father, she spoke.

“Take care.”

He did not reply.

[There was something else I wanted to say.]

She already knew what her brother had wanted to tell his sixteen-year-old sister. She realized it too late. So yes—she understood what he wanted to say. Even though it was already too late.

“…Mama?”

Blue eyes like Ruian’s looked up at her. Isillia smiled. Holding Johann in her arms in the carriage headed back to Endrianz, she fell into thought. The lively childish voice swirled in her mind.

[Brother, Arwin-brother.]
[I think I met my destined person!]
[Hmm? Brother?]

They stood together in the wide garden—her and Arwin, when they were young. After returning from the Grand Duke’s party, she talked about him constantly. When Arwin returned late from the knight order, she spent her time thinking about what he had done, what he had said, how he reacted. Whenever Arwin returned, she chattered nonstop. Her eighteen-year-old brother never pushed away his foolish, excited little sister.

[There was something else I wanted to say.]

She felt sick. Her head hurt as she remembered what Arwin had wanted to ask her. She had endlessly babbled about Ruian, declaring that she loved him. But did she ever truly see him? She expressed her feelings, but never looked at him properly. She forced her own image of him onto him—projected her emotions onto a shell.

Sixteen-year-old Isillia had someone in her heart for the first time. Swept away by the unfamiliar emotion, she had thrown herself into it blindly. She remembered Arwin’s awkward smile—watching her fall terrifyingly fast. She had surrendered her whole heart to her first love.

[My lady.]

She did not regret confessing. She regretted never truly seeing him. She thought she had changed… but she was still a girl. Still a woman who loved selfishly and one-sidedly. And yet—

“……”

Despite her overwhelming and burdensome affection… he responded. He faced her, accepted her. The hard voice softened, and sometimes he even smiled. His face was warm like spring sunlight.

[Do you like him that much?]

The Grand Duke of Brangio asked her. His clear golden eyes were looking at Ruian. Even as he spoke to her, his gaze stayed on him. There had been something almost amused in his face—what had made him smile like that? What had he seen?

[It’s herbal tea. They say it calms your mind.]

She remembered Ruian, flustered. He was younger then, looking down with his hand tangled in his blue hair, sighing. He had looked down at her—confused or annoyed.

[…thank you.]

Through messy blue hair, the blush at the tip of his ear peeked through. She brushed it aside as nothing, too happy that he accepted her gift. His stiff tone had always been like that, so she thought nothing of it.

[It’s a handkerchief.]

Ruian laughed when he saw the clumsy embroidery of his name. His clear ridicule hurt her pride, so she snatched it back and put it in her drawer. Later, when their rooms were separated, she sorted her belongings. When she opened the drawer—the handkerchief was gone.

“……”

Her heart hurt. As if something heavy was pressing down on her chest. She tried to shake it off, but the weight stayed. Isillia opened her eyes and looked around. She was at House Agnes. The day after leaving the palace, she had stopped here to stay one night. The young prince had followed her. Her father had received them with a stiff face. She laughed remembering that expression—her father, clumsy with affection, never gave awkward comfort. That was who he was. Isillia smiled weakly—the sound of it barely audible.

Her childhood room was perfectly preserved, despite its owner having long since left. Leaving the room filled with that nostalgic scent, she walked toward another room nearby. Through the slightly open door she heard laughter—a child’s clear giggle. Then Sion’s voice followed.

“No, it’ll be finished soon.”

“Don’t worry, El.”

Her hand reached toward the doorknob but stopped. The young prince was talking with El. She considered going in, but turned away. She remembered how the prince paced outside her room last night, not leaving until her fever went down. His face had been full of worry, afraid of losing his childhood friend. She smiled. When she was a child and bedridden with a terrible fever, Jordan had worn that same expression—the boy who always teased her suddenly looking clumsy and cute. She never saw him like that again. The crown prince grew into someone bothersome to deal with.

“……”

She went downstairs. A familiar butler approached and offered to prepare a carriage. She shook her head. With only a few knights accompanying her, she stepped outside. After walking a bit, she reached a busy street. Ignoring the knights’ wary glances, she smiled at a vendor who welcomed her warmly and ordered what she needed. The shopkeeper handed over a package wrapped carefully. The scent was sweet. She refused the knights who offered to carry it and walked on.

Past the manor and up the hill, the knights followed nervously. The hill belonged to House Agnes. Her mother had loved this place. It was not steep—just enough effort to reach the top. From here, the market was visible at a glance.

[Your mother was more beautiful than anyone.]

[……]

[Not because she was my wife, but because it was true. Suitors lined up for her hand.]