Chapter 83

83

Even as he carried me down the stairs, I didn’t feel the slightest wobble. It felt almost like a cradle, warm and comforting. ……It’s strange, really. To be feeling this way about Theodore, of all people.

“…I know it must be uncomfortable, but please bear with me for a little longer. We’ll arrive soon.”

“….”

But I never said it was uncomfortable.

I didn’t even show any signs of it.

Thinking about it, our conversations have always been like this. He always jumps to conclusions before I can even speak, and he never listens to my objections. No matter what I say, he never believes me. It’s hard to tell if it’s his personality or his prejudice against me.

Maybe it’s both. He can be generous to those within his circle, but he can also be quite dogmatic.

After a moment of hesitation, I spoke.

“…It’s not uncomfortable.”

“….”

What I feel is not discomfort, but something else. Theodore, who had paused, looked at me with wide eyes. His eyelashes trembled, and a storm seemed to rage in his blue eyes.

“…Do you… find it uncomfortable?”

His voice was choked, as if he was about to cry. I couldn’t understand why he was reacting this way. After a moment, I replied.

“It’s not discomfort, but….”

“….”

“This you… is so unfamiliar. So very.”

“….”

Theodore gazed at me with a complex expression, remaining silent. The heavy silence dragged on. Just as the calm before a storm began to feel awkward, Theodore, who had adjusted his hold on me, started walking again.

“Someday… will you be able to get used to this me?”

He asked about the future, but when exactly is this “someday”? A few days? A few months? A few years? ……I don’t think we’ll continue to be together.

I’ve been thinking about this ever since I gained the power of Somnia. What I will do with the rest of my life using this power.

And when everything is over….

……But now is not the time to tell him this.

“It would be hard to get used to this unfamiliar you in just a few days.”

“….”

“To be honest, I sometimes flinch. ……Even though you’re being so kind to me now, I worry that you might suddenly become cold again.”

He stopped walking again, his gaze trembling as he looked at me.

“Every time, my heart still races. ……I’m still… afraid of you.”

Sometimes, unexpectedly.

Through the current you, I see glimpses of the past. The cold, piercing gaze, the icy voice, the sharp words.

When those old memories of the countless wounds you inflicted on me resurface, my heart starts to race helplessly. The fear and anxiety from those times don’t fade away; they linger as if they will last forever.

How ironic. Joy and happiness are fleeting, but pain and suffering last a long time.

“…The hurt I’ve felt from you… stays with me.”

“….”

“And sometimes, without even realizing it, it surfaces.”

I wondered if he would acknowledge the hurt he caused me.

From his recent behavior, he seemed to feel sorry for me.

But feeling sorry and admitting fault are different things. He might still think that hating me was justified.

He hated the Everett family. Given how the Everetts had ruthlessly oppressed the Valentinos, his hatred was justified. ……So from his perspective, hating the daughter of the Duke of Everett was only natural.

But he didn’t know. About me… the life I’ve lived, the feelings I’ve had.

If he had listened to my story from the beginning, even just once, if he had faced me instead of turning away….

So much would have been different….

‘Now… it’s too late.’

Time that can’t be turned back, wounds that can’t be healed, a relationship that can’t be mended.

I don’t know if I can forgive you.

I don’t know if the resentment in my heart can ever completely disappear.

Isn’t that how it is? Deep wounds don’t heal cleanly; they always leave scars.

And I don’t want to live with those scars. By your side, feeling the occasional pain, I don’t want to….

So we can’t talk about the future.

Because our future isn’t something we can share.

“…When you have a moment, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“…What is it about?”

“I’ll tell you then.”

“…Understood.”

The conversation ended there.

Until we reached Avery Hall, neither of us spoke first.

* * *

It felt as if something sharp was scratching my heart.

Theodore finally understood what it felt like to be in so much pain that it was hard to breathe.

…In the past, he never imagined that someone could hurt him this much.

He swallowed his self-pity and continued walking expressionlessly.

Lily, nestled in his arms, fidgeted with her hands but remained silent.

Her expression was calm, and her heartbeat was steady. The serenity in her downcast eyes made Theodore even more anxious.

He suddenly remembered a time when she had looked at him with such earnestness. The longing and affection in her eyes, like a summer forest.

He kept searching for traces of those emotions, which he could no longer see.

‘Your Grace… I… need to talk to you…’

‘I’m busy. We’ll talk later.’

‘I heard many knights were injured in the recent battle. Is there… anything I can do…?’

‘You? It would be better if you just stayed out of sight and out of the way.’

‘…Today, actually…’

‘I don’t have time. We’ll talk later.’

‘Today is… your birthday, isn’t it…?’

‘…I don’t want your congratulations.’

‘Still… happy birthday.’

At that moment, he threw the gift she had cautiously offered into the fireplace.

Right in front of her.

It was a warning. A message that he wouldn’t tolerate such tricks.

…But was it really a trick?

Why did he think it was a trick back then? Now, he realized that the gift must have been sincere.

He had misunderstood too much. He wanted to blame himself. All because he had misunderstood her.

He wanted to say that and beg for forgiveness. If only he could see the affection in her green eyes one more time….

Then this pain and anxiety would vanish in an instant.

But how could he dare? Was it even a luxury to hope for forgiveness? After all, he had misunderstood her for such an absurd reason.

‘I’m sure. This letter was forged by my father. And the client… was some noblewoman. She didn’t want to reveal her name and offered a huge sum of money, enough for our family to live on for at least 20 years. But…’

‘…’

‘Not long after receiving the money… my father was murdered. Stabbed by a robber on the street.’

‘…’

‘Everyone said it was just bad luck, an accident. But our family knew. My father’s death was a warning. He was silenced, and our family was forbidden from speaking about the job.’

Carmen’s daughter revealed everything.

About 1 year and 6 months ago, the letter that Mrs. Seymour found in Lily’s bedroom and brought to him was a forgery.

The letter contained secrets that Lily and Owen had exchanged.

…Don’t worry, brother. I’ll do as you wish. Theodore Valentino is easy to manipulate. He already has feelings for me.

….

I never forget. My roots are with the Everetts. I will never betray them, so don’t worry.

The letter detailed Lily’s plans to help the Everetts completely control the Valentinos.

All the misunderstandings started with that letter. Why didn’t he doubt that it was your work at the time? He couldn’t understand his past self.

Perhaps, he had believed what he wanted to believe.

…He just needed a reason to reject Lily. He didn’t want his heart to waver at a time when he needed to focus on reviving the family.

‘…It was rationalization.’

There was a misunderstanding.

But he had been given many chances to clear it up.

She, the one involved, had wanted to tell him everything.

…How desperate must she have been?

How much must she have resented him?

Why did I do that?

What I did was just rationalization. The misunderstanding was just an excuse.

A painful feeling rose from deep within him, making it hard to breathe.

Just as they reached Avery Hall, Lily looked at him with wide eyes.

Theodore didn’t immediately understand why.

Only when she hesitantly reached out and wiped his cheek did he realize why.

…Unbelievably, tears were streaming down his face.

* * *

‘Is he crying? Really…?’

He couldn’t believe it and checked several times. He thought he might be seeing things. But no matter how many times he looked, the tears streaming down his cheeks were real.

“Why….”

He wanted to ask why he was suddenly crying, but his voice wouldn’t come out. He was too shocked. Just walking along, and then this…?

“…Ah…”

He let out a soft sound and blinked rapidly, looking very flustered.

I was equally confused but reached out to wipe his tears. He couldn’t do it himself while holding me.

“…I’m sorry. I’m causing you trouble…”

For some reason, he seemed even more upset when I wiped his tears. He looked like he was about to cry even more, so I quickly changed the subject.

“We’re at Avery Hall, so you can put me down now.”

“…Yes, of course.”

He answered calmly but looked dazed. I stepped back, feeling a strong urge to distance myself from him.

“What did you bring me here for? And why was Mrs. Seymour dragged along?”

“…Let’s go inside and I’ll explain.”

He said, regaining some composure. I approached the door of the hall, maintaining a cautious distance from him.

Two servants opened the door from either side. The hinges creaked as the door opened, revealing the scene inside.

The first thing I saw was Mrs. Seymour, sitting in a daze with her hair disheveled.

Near her stood someone who turned to look at me.

A woman I had never seen before.

She bowed deeply to me.

“I greet the Duchess of Valentino. My name is Rita Norman.”

‘Norman…?’

I had heard the name before.

I think Harriet, the master of the ‘Forest Wind’ guild, mentioned it during our last journey.

‘Norman… Norman, yes, I remember….’

A forgotten memory flashed in my mind.

‘Alphonse Norman, the forger, died about 1 year and 6 months ago, and his daughter has been investigating the case recently. We received a request from her guild. But… where did she get such a large sum of money…?’

My mind raced.

The dead forger, his daughter, and Mrs. Seymour.

The reason Theodore brought me here.

“…Lily.”

At the sound of his voice, I slowly turned around. A chill ran down my spine, and a foreboding feeling washed over me. My heart raced as Theodore pulled something from his pocket.

…It was a letter. An old, worn letter.

He handed it to me and said,

“…I think you should read this letter yourself.”