Chapter 43
“About what I said today?”
Linea tilted her head in confusion.
“You said you’d only play around until today. Could you postpone that promise just once?”
“It’s not difficult… but may I ask why?”
“I happen to know the best tin whistle player in the Empire.”
Linea’s eyes widened.
“The best tin whistle player in the Empire…?”
“I’m not saying this out of personal bias—it’s a fact acknowledged by many. Their playing is incredibly delicate and pure. I really want to introduce them to you.”
“If they’re that amazing, wouldn’t they be busy and booked?”
“Well, yes, they are quite busy… But I think they’ll definitely play for you. There aren’t many people who love the tin whistle.”
Linea tilted her head again, still confused.
“Is that so? I really liked it—it’s clear and modest.”
“These days, flashier instruments are more popular. For example, the flute is commonly seen in orchestras. While the tin whistle originated in the Empire, it’s more beloved in foreign lands, especially in the highlands.”
Clara smiled after her brief explanation.
“I really hope you’ll listen to them. Did you know this is the first time Miss Linea has said she liked something?”
“…Really? I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m just happy.”
It was the first time someone had been so genuinely happy and supportive just because she liked something. Linea found the feeling both heartwarming and unfamiliar, so she lowered her head.
* * *
Two weeks later, after Clara contacted her saying she’d arranged the meeting, Linea visited the Listen family mansion.
“Welcome, Countess Shuhebbers. We’ve been expecting you.”
The butler of the Listen family, who usually greeted her warmly, looked a bit stiff. It felt odd, given how kind and gentle he usually was when she visited. Linea couldn’t help but ask:
“Is something the matter at home? If this isn’t a good time for guests—”
“Not at all. That’s not it…”
The butler hesitated, then extended an arm toward the corridor.
“Please come this way. I’ll show you in.”
Following the slightly nervous butler, Linea stepped inside. Everything seemed normal, though she noticed not a single servant cleaning as usual. Instead, the place was spotless—so immaculate it gleamed. Not that it was ever dirty before, but today it looked… obsessive.
<Linea, it’s that person.>
The spirits whispered cheerfully to her. It didn’t sound like they meant Clara. And if they were this excited, it couldn’t be Cadil either… While she was puzzling over it, the butler stopped in front of the drawing room and gently knocked.
“Countess Shuhebbers has arrived.”
“Please, bring her in.”
There was no tension in Clara’s voice. Linea began to relax—until the door opened.
Inside, sitting on the sofa, was Yuric.
He greeted her with a warm smile, but Linea couldn’t bring herself to return it.
Clara approached and gently took her hand, leading her to sit across from Yuric.
“Welcome. The weather’s getting chilly—were you cold on the way?”
“…No. More importantly, why is His Majesty here?”
“I told you I’d invite the Empire’s greatest tin whistle player.”
Linea blinked, not understanding right away, then slowly responded.
“You mean… His Majesty?”
“Yes,” Yuric answered instead of Clara.
Linea had expected an elderly musician with silver hair. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be Yuric.
So she sat there, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the situation. Yuric gazed at her with eyes full of something deep and heartfelt.
It was Clara, ever perceptive, who noticed it.
She cleared her throat lightly.
“Ah, I just remembered something urgent I need to take care of. But rather than make you both wait, how about starting the performance now?”
“Huh?”
Linea looked at her, flustered, but Yuric calmly nodded.
“That sounds good.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. I’ll return shortly.”
“Wait, Cla—”
Before Linea could stop her, Clara quickly slipped out of the room.
Missing her chance to object, Linea looked helplessly at the door before slowly turning back to Yuric, who was already taking out an instrument from a navy leather case.
“Shall we begin?”
“…”
“Would you prefer I wait a bit?”
Snapped out of her thoughts by his words, Linea hurriedly shook her head.
“No, please go ahead.”
“As you wish.”
Yuric brought the tin whistle to his lips.
The sunlit drawing room was soon filled with the tin whistle’s pure, sorrowful notes.
Linea was reminded of the Grace Garden she tended to every morning. When shrouded in mist, it felt like floating in a dream. The dewdrops that fell from leaves would surprise her as they touched her warm cheeks—but the chill was refreshing.
Now she understood why highland people loved this instrument. It held the clarity of birds soaring in the sky, the purity of dew flowing between blades of grass. It was simple, yet breathtaking.
Yuric’s performance vividly painted that scenery. To call him the best in the Empire wasn’t mere flattery—it wasn’t even worthy of being called praise. Even the concert she attended with Clara didn’t compare to this beauty.
When Yuric finished the long piece and lowered the instrument, Linea slowly began to applaud.
“That was… truly magnificent.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
The golden sunlight almost made Yuric’s red hair look like actual gold thread. His eyelashes lowered as he glanced at the whistle—and then he raised his eyes to look directly at Linea.
“When we were young, I said I’d play for you one day.”
“…”
“I’m sorry it took so long to fulfill that promise.”
‘I actually wanted to be a musician, not a crown prince… but no one would let me.’
‘……’
‘Why are you looking at me like that? I may not be good yet, but I’ll get better soon. Want to hear?’
‘Play for me once you’re good at it.’
Finally, that old memory surfaced. A childhood promise she had completely forgotten—one Yuric had remembered all this time.
“…Why did you choose that instrument?”
“Hmm. At first, I tried piano, violin, cello—many things.”
He replied casually while putting the whistle back in its case.
“I never asked you what your favorite instrument was. So I tried many and thought about what you might like… and ended up choosing this one.”
“…”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
As he smiled, that expression quickly faded. Yuric’s face turned serious as he reached out a hand toward her.
“Linea.”
Startled, she instinctively leaned back, avoiding his touch. Yuric withdrew his hand naturally.
“My apologies. But… why that expression? Did something troubling come to mind?”
“Huh? What expression…?”
“You looked like you were about to cry.”
Linea froze and touched her own face. Crying? Her?
After that performance and his words?
“I’m sorry. I just… didn’t expect you to remember such an old promise.”
“Because it was about you.”
His clear answer struck a deep chord.
You… you…
Why?
Why do you remember everything except for that one thing? The betrayal?
“…Your Majesty.”
“Speak freely.”
“My time with you was short. I don’t claim to know you well. I don’t even think everything that happened between us was meaningful to you.”
“That’s not true.”
Yuric firmly interrupted.
“I remember everything. I’ve never once forgotten anything about us.”
“Then why?!”
Linea raised her voice.
“Why do you not remember that? Was it meaningless to you? I still remember. I can’t move on. And yet you…!”
“…That?”
Yuric looked at her, clearly stunned.
“What… are you referring to?”
“…Figure it out for yourself. I can’t say it.”
Linea bit her lip, eyes turning away in pain. Yuric stared at her, baffled.
“Did I… hurt you somehow?”
“…”
“I must have. Of course. You suffered so much, and you returned home in such poor health. But what you’re referring to…”
At that moment, a knock came at the drawing room door.
Linea stood up and walked briskly to open it. Clara looked up at her in surprise, blinking.
“Miss Linea? I finished my errand and—”
“Yes, it’s finished. His Majesty should be on his way now.”
Yuric stood awkwardly and sighed quietly as Linea refused to look at him.
“…Right. I suppose I must return to the palace.”
“…”
“But this conversation isn’t over. If I remember everything… will you speak to me again?”
“Perhaps.”
Her voice was cold and her gaze avoided him completely. Yet Yuric didn’t give up.
“And today was only the first movement. There’s a second one.”
“…”
“I hope you’ll come to the palace to hear it. I’d like to visit again, but my schedule isn’t so flexible.”
“Then isn’t it better if I don’t visit at all? I don’t want to bother a busy emperor.”
“No—I want you to hear it. Even if we can’t talk again until I remember… please at least listen to the music.”
With that, Yuric picked up his instrument case and walked toward the open door. As he passed by Linea, he whispered softly:
“I’m sorry. I’m still lacking in many ways.”
Clara stood frozen, looking between Yuric’s retreating figure and Linea, who turned away biting her lip. She even forgot to bow.
Only after Yuric disappeared down the hall did Clara gently touch Linea’s shoulder.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“…Nothing happened.”
“That’s a lie. That’s not true. His Majesty—”
“No.”
Linea firmly cut her off, then shut her eyes tightly.
“No. It’s not like that.”
“Linea.”
“No.”
She was terrified of acknowledging Yuric’s feelings. She hated how she couldn’t let go of what happened between them. And now, she couldn’t bear to think about what Yuric felt.
She really didn’t want to. It felt like she might die if she did.
