Chapter 88
Kalian’s face hardened terribly at the story Tristan had just told him.
It was about how the third prince of the Taran Kingdom, who had been out of contact, had finally returned as a corpse.
He had been waiting with the thought that there was no hope, but when the result was thrust before his eyes, he realized that a sliver of hope had remained after all.
Suicide by jumping off a cliff…
“He would never do something like that. Even in the worst situations, he’s the type to find a way somehow. This doesn’t make any sense…”
Tristan chewed relentlessly on the tender flesh inside his mouth.
His face was filled with anguish. It was a natural reaction for someone who had lost the person they served.
But the corners of his eyes, which in his younger days as a mercenary had been mocked along with Kalian’s for being crybabies, were dry now.
It must be because he knew. That tears solved nothing.
He could save them up and cry after everything was over; it wouldn’t be too late then.
“It’s definitely Rasill’s doing, but the method is a bit off.”
At Kalian’s words, Tristan nodded with a distorted face.
It was Rasill who had Grace with him. There was no reason for someone like him to handle the third prince so hastily, in such a violent way.
Would there be anyone in the Taran Kingdom who truly believed the third prince’s death was suicide? Probably not.
The current situation was as good as Rasill shouting that he was the one who killed the third prince.
Was it a mistake? Or part of a plan? There was nothing he could be sure of.
But if it was a mistake, that was a big problem in itself.
Rasill would try to create issues externally to quell internal suspicions. That would mean the war was being pulled forward.
Kalian closed his eyes tightly and opened them again.
The moment he had hoped wouldn’t come had finally arrived.
* * *
In a room steeped in summer-like heat, Rasill was looking down at Grace with displeasure.
She was lounging lazily on the sofa in front of the fireplace as usual, sprawling out without a care.
Even that sight irritated him, so Rasill furrowed his brow and raised his voice abruptly.
“Is this the only method you had?”
He was talking about the handling of the third prince.
“This method?”
Grace asked back as if wondering what the problem was. Rasill was dumbfounded by her shameless response.
Of course, Grace had done exactly as Rasill wanted.
When he requested the disposal of the third prince, Grace had completely erased him from this world.
It was what he had hoped for, but the process showed no consideration for Rasill’s position.
It was too sudden a death. Suicide by jumping off a cliff—who wouldn’t find that suspicious?
Given the third prince’s personality, he wasn’t the type to do something like that normally, making the situation even more dubious in others’ eyes. And naturally, the one under the most suspicion was Rasill.
“Now I’m the one getting suspected.”
There must have been a better way. Especially with the power of Grace, whom he had helped find.
She wasn’t so stupid that she couldn’t calculate what method would be best.
And yet, she handled it like this?
“Why, should I kill off all the ones suspecting you too?”
But there was no sign of remorse in Grace’s remark. Rasill gritted his teeth.
He furrowed his brow and stared at her.
He couldn’t understand why she had been acting so recklessly since the Alcyon incident.
“Why are you doing this?”
“What?”
“I’m asking why your temper is twisted, making you act like this.”
At that, Grace let out a snort of laughter and stared back at Rasill.
“I did everything you asked, and now you’re saying weird things? Rasill, instead of worrying about my mood, just do your own job properly. Stop whining.”
As Rasill left Grace’s room, he glared at the closed door.
He had thought it was creaking lately, but it seemed this relationship was already cracked.
Still, he had to use her as long as he could.
“Tch.”
With a sharp click of his tongue, Rasill moved on. It was time to throw another prey in front of the suspicious eyes directed at him.
* * *
Kalian set down on the desk the letter from the sentry who had come from the Halyang region, which would be the starting point of the war. It reported that the number of troops in the Taran Kingdom’s territory had increased significantly. As he had thought the process of handling the third prince was odd, it seemed there had indeed been a problem.
The corners of Kalian’s firmly closed lips hardened. The shadow of war, which he had felt slowly creeping up behind him, was now a dark cloud covering his entire head. Once the rain started, there would be nowhere to escape.
Kalian immediately called for Vigo.
“Have the knights preparing for deployment write their wills.”
“Yes, understood.”
Vigo nodded briefly with a calm face. His steps as he left the study after paying his respects were also ordinary.
It wasn’t surprising. Knights always wrote their wills right before going to the battlefield. It was in preparation for not returning.
Kalian was no exception. Before going to war, he always wrote a will. And its contents had been the same since childhood until now. It was all worries for Angela.
Pleas for her to take care, entreaties for her health, confessions that he would miss her terribly—they were written with desperation.
If by some chance Kalian didn’t return alive and Angela read it, she would realize his love in a place without him.
Kalian’s will was always a love letter to the one he cherished.
Now that he and Angela had confirmed their feelings for each other, it was even more so. Every word he wrote was poignant. He filled it densely with contents that would keep her living after he was gone.
Kalian placed the neatly folded letter into an envelope. This would be stored with the other knights’ wills and used if something happened to Kalian.
He was hoping such a thing wouldn’t occur when—
Knock knock.
With a short knock, the study door opened immediately. There was only one person in this mansion who could enter Kalian’s space so freely.
“Angela.”
Confirming it was Angela entering through the door, Kalian cleared a path through the study still cluttered with documents and prepared a place for her to sit. It was the sofa where Angela had sat before.
“Come sit here. What’s the matter?”
Since Angela didn’t usually come to the study for trivial things, Kalian asked with a puzzled expression.
Angela walked to the sofa with steps slower than usual and sat down. She parted her lips and then closed them. Feeling like she was choosing her words carefully, Kalian waited patiently.
Soon, instead of speaking, Angela pulled out a letter envelope from her bosom. She placed it in Kalian’s hand and only then opened her mouth to his questioning face.
“Since everyone writes one before going to the battlefield.”
Realizing what was in his hand, Kalian’s face twisted indescribably.
Just moments ago, he had written what he called a love letter. Yet his reaction was contradictory. He knew, but he had never imagined receiving something like this from Angela, and it felt as though his heart was being crushed.
“It’s not like I wrote anything grand, but I prepared it anyway. If, by some chance, something happens to me, I’d like you to read it, Kalian.”
Ah… Just as Kalian’s will held meaning only for Angela, the will he now held in his hands from her seemed to carry significance only for him.
Without reading a single word, Kalian could guess what was written inside. It wouldn’t be much different from the heartfelt sincerity he had poured out for her.
“Wait a moment.”
Kalian returned to his desk, picked up the letter envelope resting there, and approached Angela again. He placed it in her hands, just as she had done for him.
“Then please keep mine, Angela. It’s meaningless for anyone else to read it anyway.”
Did Angela understand what he meant? She clasped the letter he handed her tightly, as if it were precious, and tucked it into her bosom.
It felt as though they were holding each other’s lives in their hands. And in that moment, Kalian realized something.
What was the point of exchanging these? He had written his will hoping Angela could live well in a world without him, but receiving hers in return made it feel futile.
She wouldn’t be able to live on. How could one live whole when half of them was torn away? It was impossible.
So they had to survive. Somehow.
“Do you remember what I said last time?”
“If it feels dangerous, run away quickly. Even if I’m hurt right in front of you, ignore it. If there’s a safe place, take it first.”
It was a cowardly request to survive. A selfish plea to think only of herself, no matter the danger. A knight shouldn’t say such things. A knight should stand taller in the face of danger.
But Angela wasn’t a knight. She was someone who could think only of her own life. So please, Kalian begged her once more, do it.
Angela nodded. She promised she would. But in her casual nod, Kalian saw the lie. No matter what else, she was someone who could never turn away from his danger.
Yet Kalian pretended not to notice. He smiled kindly, as if fooled by her lie.
* * *
Today, too, Dominic was wandering through a dream. His daughter was still just a little child. Her tiny hands clutched her stomach. Wondering if she was in pain, Dominic approached.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”
The child shook her head vigorously. Yet she kept clutching her stomach, curling her small frame even tighter. Dominic, at a loss, felt only turmoil.
“Are you in pain? I won’t get angry like last time, so tell me, okay?”
Fearing she might hide and conceal things again, as she had when he got angry over the scratch on her hand, Dominic spoke as gently as he could muster.
Finally, the child’s eyes peeked up at him. As if checking whether he was truly not angry, her gaze darted over him. Dominic tried to mimic a kind expression. It was one he had never shown Angela, so he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.
Still, the child seemed convinced. Hesitantly, she came closer and whispered in his ear.
“I’m hungry.”
Those words didn’t sound like she had simply missed a meal. They rang clear in his ears with a deeper meaning. She had been starving all along. There was nothing in that small body of hers.
Dominic looked around desperately. If this was a dream, surely something he wanted could appear, but there was nothing to feed her. She was desperately hungry, and he had nothing to give.
In the end, Dominic pulled the child, who kept murmuring about her hunger as if her voice had finally broken free, into his arms.
If he could, he’d tear off his own flesh for her to eat. If he could fill her stomach with his blood and flesh…
“It’s okay. If you hold on just a little longer, you’ll be able to eat.”
Why did his voice sound so pitiful? In that moment, a memory from the past flashed through Dominic’s mind. There had been a maid whose face he could barely recall.
With a tearful expression, she had come to him, clearly telling him that the child wasn’t even eating properly. And back then, Dominic had responded like this:
“So what?”
Countless moments of turning away had led to this. The price of ignoring that moment was that Dominic could no longer properly see his daughter’s face. No matter how much he thrashed in longing every night, nothing was resolved. He only kept missing her.
“Eat my flesh. Drink my blood. My little girl.”
At Dominic’s words, the child flinched and looked up. Her blank gaze soon softened into a smile. Then she nestled into Dominic’s arms, her expression rich as if her empty stomach had been filled with something else.
Waking from the dream, Dominic headed to Angela’s room again today.
He hurried down the hallway and entered the all-too-familiar room.
In a space devoid of any trace of his daughter, he searched desperately for something, anything.
If only he could be consumed whole. If only he had been torn apart, bones and all, he wouldn’t feel this way.
The fact that she smiled as if the love she received was enough only deepened his sorrow.
Dominic pounded his chest in the room where his daughter had vanished.
He felt like he was going mad. No, perhaps he already was. All he could think about, day in and day out, was Angela.
