Chapter 80
“Why aren’t you coming inside?”
Yvonne approached Angela, whom she had spotted strolling through the chilly garden of the Bilton estate, and spoke to her.
Upon hearing that Angela had arrived, Yvonne had rushed out in a hurry, refusing even the company of a maid, so her hair was slightly disheveled.
“Just a moment.”
Noticing this, Angela removed the strand of hair clinging to her lips and neatly tucked it behind her ear. Yvonne smiled awkwardly, as if in shock.
“Shall we walk? I came because I have something to ask, but my thoughts aren’t quite organized yet.”
“Sure.”
Seeing her nod, Angela took the first step forward. Yvonne followed behind.
As Yvonne gazed at the back of the figure walking ahead, she worried why she was dressed so thinly. She wondered if she should hurry back right now to fetch a thicker coat.
“Yvonne.”
Angela suddenly stopped and turned to look at Yvonne.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Have you ever had a dream?”
It was a question where Yvonne couldn’t tell what kind of answer was expected, so she couldn’t readily speak. A dream? Doesn’t everyone dream if they’re human?
“Uh, well….”
When Yvonne struggled to continue, Angela seemed to think her question was somehow off, furrowing her brow slightly before suggesting they walk a bit more and starting to move again.
At the same time, Yvonne’s worries resumed. If the walk dragged on, the clothes… the coat….
The steps that continued for a short while longer came to an end when Angela abruptly turned around.
“I….”
This time, the words continued without calling Yvonne’s name.
“Have you ever had a dream… where you might come to hate me… something like that?”
Yvonne couldn’t continue for a different reason now. She couldn’t dare bring the answer rising to her throat out in front of Angela.
She wanted to swallow it down and fill her mouth with the lie that she’d never had such a thing. That way, the gaze Angela was directing at her now wouldn’t change.
“What… was the dream about?”
However, without realizing it, her silence seemed to have given an answer, as Angela’s question had already advanced to the next stage.
“Did I… torment Beatrice?”
Yvonne wanted to shake her head even now. She wanted to clear out that mind which naturally assumed that anything that could make her hate Angela would be related to Beatrice.
As Angela wished, she wanted to put her in her belly for a moment and then take her out. It felt like all the issues between them would be resolved that way.
But such a thing wouldn’t happen, their reality was here, and Yvonne had to give some kind of answer to the eyes directed at her.
“I’m… sorry.”
The answer she spat out as if vomiting it up seemed quite different from what Angela had expected. As soon as she heard it, Angela frowned.
“When? When did you have such a dream?”
It was while Yvonne was struggling to find a better response. Angela asked urgently, her eyes still creased.
“It was probably… starting from the day before I decided I had to marry the master.”
She spoke vaguely, but since that dream had prompted her resolve to become the duchess, the memory was precise. However, the next question made Yvonne hesitate.
“Until when did you have it?”
Yvonne searched her memory for a moment.
There was a specific point that came to mind. It was when she started not being able to sleep at all, let alone dream.
“When you, my lady… left home because of my lie and were kidnapped, that’s when I think I stopped having them. I couldn’t sleep well, you see.”
“Ah….”
Putting all of Yvonne’s words together, Angela thought that perhaps the emotions Yvonne had been raging with hatred toward her might not have been entirely her own. Just like how Anette’s emotions right now weren’t solely Anette’s.
Angela….
Yvonne….
They held feelings toward each other that couldn’t be defined by a single thing. They hated but loved, loved but loathed. And yet, in the end, they loved.
‘Yvonne…, don’t do this much to me.’
Yes, Yvonne wouldn’t have gone that far. She was Angela, and she was Yvonne. They were people who knew each other’s wounds better than anyone.
‘Yvonne, when Beatrice is born, I’ll protect her. I’ll make sure Mother doesn’t torment her—I’ll guard her tightly. Don’t worry.’
Promise, and the child’s voice came, extending a finger. It was a voice flowing in from the past.
It was while Angela was listening to that sound. Something dropped onto her shoulder with a thud.
Turning her head to check, it was the coat Yvonne had been wearing. As she looked at her with puzzled eyes, Yvonne, now revealing her thin dress after shedding one layer, opened her lips.
“The weather is cold. What if you catch a cold dressed so lightly?”
This body, which didn’t feel the cold at all, couldn’t catch a cold. If anyone was cold, it was Yvonne.
So she should have returned it, telling her to take care of herself… but she didn’t want to give it back. She wanted to keep it as her own. Once again, greed had taken hold.
* * *
“Should I force her to stay awake, even if it’s against her will….”
Knowing Anette would hate it, Angela had returned to the empress’s palace and was lost in worry. From what she had gathered after hearing Yvonne’s words, the first thing was to prevent Anette from having that dream at all.
But how…?
She couldn’t stand by the empress’s bedside and scold her not to sleep every time she dozed off. No suitable method came to mind.
She had brought stimulants for now. But how to secretly give them to Anette? That seemed even harder than guarding her bedside.
If Anette was outright refusing Angela’s visit like this, it only made matters worse.
“I’m sorry, Lady Bilton.”
Jane, the maid, spoke with a troubled expression to Angela, who stood waiting for an audience in front of the empress’s chambers.
What should we do, Lady Bilton? Her Majesty says she won’t see you. She seems to be in a poor mood today as well. Could you come back another time? Though I’m not sure if she’ll agree to meet you even then.
All those words were packed into that brief apology. But if Angela turned back now, Anette’s night would surely be plagued by nightmares once again. And their relationship would remain as strained as ever.
“Could you tell her I’ll wait?”
After much deliberation, Angela decided to be stubborn. Jane’s face flickered with surprise for a moment, but she soon nodded, saying she would convey the message to Her Majesty, and disappeared into the room.
Angela stood there, staring at the firmly closed door. While waiting for Anette’s permission, she began to rack her brain, thinking about how to administer the stimulant to her—how to even approach the task.
She had arrived when the sun was high in the sky, but now it was sinking toward dusk. Anette’s door still hadn’t opened to Angela.
In the meantime, Jane and Natalina had taken turns coming out to persuade her that it might be better to return another day. Even Tristan had approached briefly, urging her to give up for now, but Angela shook her head.
She knew that waiting until tomorrow or the day after wouldn’t improve the situation. Time wasn’t medicine—it was poison. She wanted to free Anette from Grace’s grip as soon as possible, even if just by a day. She didn’t want to let her encroach on Anette’s domain any further.
“What are you doing here?”
As she stood there, stubbornly holding her ground, a voice she never imagined hearing in the empress’s palace rang out. Angela spun around.
“…!”
The sudden movement made her stumble for a moment. Kalian caught her arm, steadying her.
“You…”
Angela looked up at Kalian awkwardly, her eyes asking how he’d come to be here. Then, a sudden suspicion flashed through her mind about who might have tipped him off.
“Tristan?”
Kalian’s eyes, gazing down at her, were fierce. Without answering her question, he abruptly began pulling her along.
Angela, her wrist firmly grasped, shifted her weight backward to resist being dragged.
“Kalian!”
Her voice was stern as she called out. Yet Kalian, still holding onto her, kept moving forward until—
“Ow…”
Angela let out a feigned groan of pain, and he stopped dead in his tracks. His gaze dropped immediately to her wrist.
Where does it hurt? His eyes seemed to ask, brimming with worry that poured out visibly. She could feel his whole body tense with anxiety, as if he feared he might have hurt her.
“Even if I bleed, I heal on my own, you monster. What’s there to worry about?”
Only then did Kalian realize she’d been pretending to be in pain. He let out a sigh, soft as a breeze—not one of reproach for her deception, but of relief that she wasn’t actually hurt.
Angela, feeling the love in even a single breath of his, opened her mouth to speak.
“I told you, didn’t I? Her Majesty is being manipulated by Grace. I’m waiting because I need to fix this.”
“For hours? Standing here until your body stiffens?”
Kalian spoke through gritted teeth, and Angela flinched.
But when she thought about it, Kalian—back when he was a young soldier for the Bilton dukedom, standing guard—had once endured over half a day in the freezing cold without moving an inch.
Back then, when Angela had scolded him, he’d brushed it off, saying, “It’s just what everyone does.” Yet now, with their positions reversed, he was acting like this?
Feeling a sense of injustice, Angela spoke up.
“I waited because it was worth waiting for. It wasn’t even that hard.”
How could she slip the stimulant into Anette’s teacup? Should she just pry Anette’s mouth open and force it in?
Sure, that might land her in jail for the time being, but once Anette came to her senses, she’d probably get her out. Imagining dozens of such scenarios kept her so occupied that she hadn’t even noticed how tiring it was.
If people hadn’t come by periodically to remind her of the passing time, she might have been shocked when Kalian appeared, thinking, “Has it already been this long?”
But Kalian only looked as if he’d lose it if he didn’t remove Angela from this scene immediately.
“Really, eight out of ten of your thoughts are about worrying over me.”
Angela said with a huff, half-sighing. Kalian’s face twisted in disbelief.
Staring at him blankly, unable to comprehend the shift, Angela watched as Kalian opened his mouth, exasperated.
“Right now, every single thought from one to ten is about worrying over you, Angela. How long has it been like that, and you’re saying this now?”
Just moments ago, Angela had been the one feeling wronged, but now Kalian looked like the aggrieved one. Knowing how much he cared for her, how keenly he was attuned to her, Angela had no more words to say.
“If Her Majesty is being toyed with by Grace, standing here blindly waiting won’t do any good.”
Kalian spoke with a cold decisiveness that bordered on harsh, pulling Angela toward the exit of the empress’s palace again. This time, he gripped her hand tightly instead of her wrist.
He walked on in silence until they reached the carriage that would take them back. Only then did he release her hand and speak again.
“I’ll request an audience with Her Majesty tomorrow. I’ll do it as the commander of the imperial knights, so she won’t be able to refuse.”
It was a method Angela hadn’t even considered. Staring at him with her mouth agape, she saw Kalian extend his hand. It was a gesture to help her into the carriage.
“It’s always about you, Angela, including me. Everything I am exists to be used for you—please remember that, always, no matter where we are.”
His calm voice pierced her eardrums. It wasn’t sharp, yet it stung, leaving a tender ache. Caught off guard, Angela stood frozen, and Kalian extended his hand closer, urging her to take it.
Cautiously, Angela reached out and grasped his large hand. With his support, she climbed into the carriage. She settled into her seat and waited, and soon Kalian boarded as well, taking the spot beside her.
They were together. Sitting side by side. Heading toward the same destination. They would step down together at their journey’s end.
Kalian had always proclaimed, insisted, that he was by her side, but had there ever been a day when that truth felt as profound as it did now?
Realizing she didn’t have to endure alone, feeling it in her bones with every moment, Angela suddenly reached out toward the man who made her understand this. She wrapped him in a full embrace.
Kalian might not know the meaning behind this hug. Yet there was no hesitation in the arms that came to hold her in return.
As Angela stroked his dark hair, she thought to herself that her sun was, indeed, black.
