Chapter 36
Demian wandered through the garden, vast and labyrinthine. If the Duke had acted as usual, he would have taken Rosalyn to the prince’s palace.
<Rose?>
Had he been wandering for ten minutes or so, Demian faintly heard the sound of someone crying.
‘Could it be Rose?’
Demian had never seen Rosalyn cry before. She was always surrounded by family, laughing brightly with cheeks pressed together.
Could even a child like her cry and shed tears?
Well, they say a mermaid’s tears become pearls—but the idea of Rosalyn crying seemed just as fanciful.
Yet the sobbing was delicate, fragile—like the cry of a young girl.
If it wasn’t Rosalyn, it would be as if his cousin had appeared as a ghost. But that was absurd.
Demian walked toward the sound. Turning a lush hedge, he saw someone crouched down.
Golden hair tumbled over their face.
It was Rosalyn.
‘Rose… Rosalyn is crying?’
Could this even make sense? Demian couldn’t believe it.
<Rose? Are you okay?>
He crouched beside her. Rosalyn’s shoulders trembled faintly.
Demian didn’t know how to comfort anyone. All he could do was sit quietly beside her.
<Rose…>
The previous emperor often rested his hand on the empress’s shoulder. Demian had never understood why, but he remembered thinking it looked quite nice.
He placed a hand on Rosalyn’s shoulder, and she lifted her head groggily.
Her eyes were puffy, the tip of her nose red. Her face was soaked with tears and sweat. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and temples.
<Demi.>
Her voice was hoarse. Demian’s chest tightened painfully. Silently, he brushed her hair aside.
<I think mother is going to die soon.>
Until that moment, he had never heard a voice so raw, so shattered. Rosalyn looked confused and exhausted. She continued speaking.
<Father doesn’t love mother.>
<What…?>
Wasn’t the Duke and Duchess famed for their harmonious marriage?
Though he often couldn’t travel to Sardena due to work, he still endured the effort for his wife’s sake.
If they hadn’t had a good relationship, surely his parents wouldn’t have tried so hard to befriend the Duchess.
<Rose, what… does that mean…?>
Demian couldn’t make sense of what Rosalyn was saying. Whoever had told her, he wanted to say it was nonsense.
But then Rosalyn’s next words left him speechless.
<Father never came to check on mother. I wanted to go with her, but I couldn’t. So I stayed by her side instead.>
Rosalyn herself was barely able to explain. Tears rolled down her eyes.
His mind went blank. And yet, he thought it was beautiful.
But the following words hit him like a splash of cold water.
<Demi, what does ‘used’ mean?>
<What?>
<Mother always cries and says things like that. She doesn’t even look at me…>
Only then did Demian understand everything. He thought of Alina, raised like a princess in Sardena.
Even someone lively and free-spirited, like a deer in a meadow, could crumble like this.
He reached out and wiped the tears from Rosalyn’s cheek. The tears were cold to his fingers.
‘So even the Duchess was just words.’
What were those words even for? But curiosity was nothing compared to the girl before him.
He felt strange. He had always imagined being alone for life. He didn’t want to explain the meaning of that word to Rosalyn. Instead, he gently licked the tears from his fingers. They were salty.
<She said she couldn’t forgive, so she’s dying. I feel the same. Demi, mother is strange. I… I don’t want to become like that.>
After saying this, Rosalyn broke into tears again. Shadows from the shrubs enveloped her. She was completely alone.
Demian felt pity for her, but also a strange sense of relief.
This girl, like a rose, was a little closer to him than the stars.
Close enough he could almost touch her.
Somewhere, he even felt joy. The loneliness he hadn’t realized he carried began to crumble.
Demian pulled Rosalyn into his arms. She nestled into him, the scent of rich roses surrounding them.
<Don’t worry, Rosalyn. I’ll make you the most valuable piece in the world.>
Rosalyn buried her face against his shoulder. He inhaled deeply.
Soon after, the Duchess passed away.
After that, Demian thought hard. Thanks to living so long as a tool, he soon devised a good plan.
He would become Crown Prince and then betroth Rosalyn.
He was certain he would become Crown Prince. Even if his parents were displeased with him, they would not abandon him as the firstborn.
‘Father has a severe firstborn complex.’
His father had never truly liked him, yet never considered having another heir.
This made Demian a highly valuable piece.
If he asked for Rosalyn as his fiancée, the Duke would surely see her as useful too.
Betrothing Rosalyn… In his mind, he pictured the previous emperor and empress as a happy couple.
Instead of the emperor, it would be him; instead of the empress, it would be Rosalyn.
He imagined himself as an adult, embracing her tightly, seeing her smile at him.
His heart raced, and his flushed cheeks tingled.
He quietly told Rosalyn this plan.
<But if that happens, I’m treating you like an object. Like my parents do.>
Demian paused.
<…Disgusting, isn’t it?>
Rosalyn widened her eyes at him. The strong rose scent pressed on his chest. Trembling, he waited for her response.
Finally, she smiled faintly and took his hand.
<Well, I think you’re a pretty good person.>
<Even if you’re marrying me?>
Rosalyn paused, then nonchalantly shrugged.
<It’s fine. You said you’d make me the most valuable chess piece.>
Her red eyes looked at him, full of complete trust.
<You won’t abandon me like my father did, right?>
So it’s fine. As Rosalyn said this, a breeze swept through the garden, tossing her golden hair.
Half-cupped, rose-like eyes. A scent that seemed to come from afar.
Her smile was as before, yet he read a hidden sadness. It twisted his insides.
<Right. So you can’t leave me either. We’ll always be together.>
Their fingers intertwined.
“Watching you, I realized I fell in love with you at first sight.”
“When I saw you crying…?”
“Is that strange?”
Demian’s eyes met mine. Their violet color reminded me of the sky just after sunset.
“A little…?”
Honestly, I tilted my head slightly, thinking. After a moment, he spoke again.
“Well, there were other reasons, but there’s no need to bring them up.”
Then he deliberately ruffled the hair near my forehead. “Deliberately?” I widened my eyes. He smiled faintly.
“Aren’t you tired? We still have a long way to go.”
He blew out the candle. The silent pressure to hurry was clear.
Soon, the room was shrouded in darkness.
‘The story about love at first sight seems a bit strange.’
Estelle didn’t know anything, so maybe he made up a story for her.
And to me, he spoke vaguely—perhaps fearing I’d realize he didn’t truly like me.
No matter how I pondered, there was nothing in my old memories to compare.
Soon, Demian exhaled slowly and lightly. Listening quietly, I closed my eyes and matched my breathing to his.
When I opened them again, it was already daylight. A cool breeze drifted through the open window.
A fragrant scent lingered. I turned my head to see Demian sitting at the table reading.
Two teacups and a teapot were set on the table. Our eyes met, and he smiled softly.
“The maid just brought the tea.”
I got up and touched the teapot. It was lukewarm.
So “just now” was a lie. I sat across from him.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were sleeping soundly. I couldn’t wake you.”
He poured tea into my cup. I glanced at the book he was reading.
It was a history of the Land of Death intertwined with the empire’s religion. Thinking of Estelle as a saint made me thirsty.
Had he learned about the saint from this book? I drank the lukewarm tea in one gulp.
I felt refreshed from sleep, but my heart remained heavy.
‘He says he fell in love with me at first sight.’
Unbelievable. I decided to be more cautious around Demian.
