Chapter 11
From the very beginning, Eliana had never believed her father’s claim that a marriage proposal had come for her.
She had convinced herself that the duke had originally wanted Cecilia, and that her father had simply pushed Eliana forward as a substitute. She’d even believed that if she managed to escape, the duke would naturally turn around and insist on marrying Cecilia instead.
In fact, a small part of her had even thought…
Maybe he’ll be grateful to me.
Yet, contrary to everything she had expected, Tristan had appeared carrying a crumpled marriage contract in his hand.
For the first time, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps… her father’s words had actually been true.
But why?
Why me?
Still unable to understand, Eliana stared intently at the silent Tristan.
If he had wanted her from the very beginning—not Cecilia—then that was even stranger.
Of course, a duke needed a duchess. Someone to bear an heir and stand as the mistress of the household.
But if that were the only reason, she was utterly unqualified.
She wasn’t merely lacking the qualities of a duchess.
She wasn’t even fit to be called an ordinary noble lady.
No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t find a single reasonable explanation.
Finally, she spoke with forced determination.
“Thank you for saving me, Duke Carlisle. I truly am grateful. But… I can’t sign that contract. It doesn’t have to be me, does it?”
“The contract has your name written on it.”
Tristan replied without leaving the slightest opening.
“I’m curious how you arrived at the conclusion that it doesn’t matter who it is.”
His flawless logic only left Eliana more bewildered.
“I mean… there’s no reason for it to be me! Choose Cecilia instead. Or any other noble lady. Please… just let me go.”
Her final words were almost a plea.
“Couldn’t you simply tell my father you couldn’t find me and return home? Please… I’m begging you.”
Her voice trembled as if she were choking back tears.
But Tristan’s expression remained as motionless as a finely carved statue.
After silently watching her for a long moment, he rose from his chair and slowly approached.
“Eliana Crowde.”
The moment he called her name in that deep, quiet voice, her shoulders instinctively shrank.
“It seems you’ve misunderstood something.”
He continued coldly.
“First of all, even if I lied to Marquis Crowde and let you go, you’re greatly mistaken if you think you’d actually accomplish anything.”
His voice remained perfectly calm.
“How many checkpoints and castles would you have to pass before leaving the marquisate?”
“You know better than anyone how vast your father’s territory is.”
“Without proof of your identity, you wouldn’t even make it out of Azulen.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Her father’s domain stretched across an enormous area. Every major town had officials stationed there or local militias guarding the gates.
Anyone whose identity couldn’t be verified wasn’t allowed to pass.
Eliana anxiously bit her lip while fidgeting with her fingernails.
“And even if, by some miracle, you escaped Crowde territory…”
He looked at her with emotionless eyes.
“What then?”
“Besides a pouch full of gold coins, what do you actually possess?”
“What can you do?”
“Do you have a single skill that would help you survive?”
His relentless words struck one after another.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she couldn’t refute a single thing.
She had barely ever stepped outside the Crowde estate.
She knew perfectly well that there was nowhere she could go.
That was why she had relied on Bron.
And even that desperate hope had ended in a nightmare.
“And one more thing.”
Standing beside her bed, Tristan looked down at her.
“Why do you think there’s no reason it has to be you?”
His sharp crimson gaze pierced straight through her.
His dry, blood-red eyes shimmered strangely as they locked onto hers.
Then—
He suddenly moved closer.
Before she could even react, Tristan sat down on the edge of her bed, causing the mattress to tilt beneath his weight.
Startled, Eliana instinctively leaned back.
Without another word, Tristan rolled up the sleeve on his left arm.
Along the inside of his wrist was a scar—as though something had scraped deeply across it.
“At the lake.”
His voice was quiet.
“Don’t you remember?”
The lake…
He meant that lake.
As Eliana recalled the day she had pulled him from the water, she desperately tried to avoid looking at him.
The distance between them was simply too close.
But those eyes—dark red like dried beast’s blood—held hers captive.
“You reached out your hand to me that day, Eliana.”
“I-I did… but what does that have to do with—”
Her words trailed off.
Then realization suddenly dawned.
“…Don’t tell me… because I saved your life…?”
“‘Saved my life,’ huh.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“I suppose you could call it that.”
He slowly traced the scar on his wrist with his long fingers.
“This wound came from that day.”
His gaze never left hers.
“And from that day until now…”
“I’ve only ever needed you.”
The unexpected confession left Eliana completely speechless.
She blinked blankly, so stunned that she wasn’t even aware of what expression she was making.
“If anyone else would have been enough…”
Tristan spoke calmly.
“…do you really think I would have chased you all the way here?”
Despite the heat rapidly spreading across her face, he continued without hesitation.
“No one else will do.”
“It has to be you.”
“Anyone other than you—”
“S-Stop! Please stop talking!”
With a face burning scarlet, Eliana lunged forward and clamped both hands over Tristan’s mouth.
He frowned slightly before looking at her as though she were the strange one.
She simply couldn’t understand him.
How could he say such unbearably embarrassing things with a perfectly blank face?
“I-I understand what you’re trying to say…”
Her voice shook.
“Just… give me some time.”
She desperately wanted this impossible conversation to end.
But Tristan narrowed his eyes.
“You understand?”
“Do you?”
His reddish eyes slowly studied her face.
“W-Well… you said we aren’t leaving until tomorrow anyway…”
Unable to meet his gaze, she mumbled the excuse.
She could still feel him watching her intently.
Finally, she heard him murmur under his breath.
“…You’re less stubborn than I expected.”
“I never said I’d go with you! My head is just a complete mess right now—”
“Then.”
He turned toward the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Only hearing what he wanted to hear, Tristan left without another word.
Completely dumbfounded, Eliana gave up trying to argue any further and pulled the blanket all the way up to her chin.
She glared fiercely at his retreating back.
Suddenly, he stopped walking.
Did he notice?
Panicking, she yanked the blanket over her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
Does he have eyes on the back of his head or something?
Just then, his quiet voice reached her.
“If going back home only means standing at the edge of that same cliff once again…”
He paused.
“…wouldn’t it be better to come with me?”
Eliana remained silent.
The door quietly closed behind him.
Once again, the room fell into stillness.
Her heart ached as countless emotions tangled together inside her.
Sitting alone with those feelings, Eliana slowly brought the long, exhausting day to an end.
The following morning, she slowly opened her eyes to the sound of commotion outside the window.
Still feeling as though she were trapped in a dream, she sat up absentmindedly before noticing something resting on the table.
A simple crimson dress.
It wasn’t extravagantly decorated, but the fabric was exceptionally fine, soft beneath her fingertips.
Having spent her life wearing coarse clothes made from the cheap cloth reserved for servants, Eliana couldn’t help gently running her hand over the smooth material again and again.
Knock. Knock.
“My lady, I’ve brought water for washing. May I come in?”
It was the innkeeper—the same woman who had brought her delicious food the previous day.
She skillfully placed the basin on its stand before setting a clean towel and hairbrush on the vanity.
Eliana bowed her head in gratitude.
But instead of accepting her thanks, the innkeeper became visibly flustered.
“U-Um… I was terribly disrespectful yesterday, wasn’t I? If I’d known you were the daughter of Marquis Crowde, I never would have behaved so rudely. Please forgive me, my lady.”
She repeatedly lowered her head in apology.
Eliana hurriedly waved her hands.
“No, not at all! You weren’t rude in the slightest. Really, so please—”
“I never imagined Lady Cecilia would come to such a humble place.”
The innkeeper laughed awkwardly while scratching the back of her head.
“I’d heard her hair was bright red, but yours isn’t at all. Ha ha…”
“Huh? Ah…”
Eliana could only force an awkward smile.
It wasn’t surprising.
Most people didn’t even know the Crowde family had an adopted daughter.
Naturally, they assumed she was Cecilia.
Unable to correct the misunderstanding, Eliana felt strangely dejected.
She politely declined the innkeeper’s offer to help her dress and sent her on her way.
She had never been waited on before.
So she quietly washed her face, brushed her own hair, and changed into the crimson dress waiting on the table.
This dress must have been prepared for Cecilia too…
The thought left a bitter smile on her lips.
The dress felt as though it belonged to someone else.
Just then—
Knock. Knock.
“May I come in?”
It was a bright, cheerful male voice.
Completely different from Tristan’s deep, heavy tone.
Somewhat wary, Eliana gave permission.
The door opened, and a handsome blond young man entered with a radiant smile.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“I hope you slept well.”
“Are you feeling any discomfort? I did treat your injuries with the utmost care, after all.”
“My injuries?”
She blinked in surprise.
“Ah… are you the mage?”
The blond man’s smile widened with obvious satisfaction.
“Ahem.”
He gave a playful cough before placing a hand over his chest.
“My name is Loras Rehart.”
“You could say I’m Duke Carlisle’s right-hand man.”
“But please…”
He smiled warmly.
“Just call me Loras.”
