1.
For Kaella, Lyussenford was the place where a life punctuated by endless melancholy and tears had finally collapsed in agony. Upon arriving here, she had thought only of death. That was why, the moment the opportunity arose to purge the Lyussenford nobles, she had choked down the Perenko she so detested.
In a place where the food was horrific, the weather cold and gloomy, and the people cruel, laughter did not exist. She had to search her memory, wondering when the last time she had laughed was.
“If there is anything that is uncomfortable, or if there is something you feel is ‘not right,’ you must tell me. I am dull, so I will not know unless you tell me, Bi.”
Clasping her hands together, Kaella carefully observed Peon as he spoke.
The sight of her being so cautious tugged at his heart; at the same time, the way she fiddled with her fingers while looking up at him was agonizingly fragile. Her cheeks showed a faint, ghostly flush, and the slender fingers she twisted were deathly pale. Even if the hands peeking out from the thick furs he had wrapped her in were delicate, they were already chilled to the bone.
“It was not… uncomfortable.”
At the hesitant, broken answer, Peon nodded with a genuine smile.
“Is that so?”
“And there was, um, nothing that felt wrong, either.”
“I see. Anything else?”
He asked gently, extending his gloved hand to take hold of her fidgeting fingers. In an instant, her blue eyes, now much wider, searched his face.
He wished those cold, clear eyes—unmarred by any dark shadows—could stay fixed on him like this. But no, that was a filthy greed. There had been a time when those eyes had constantly followed him, yet he had kicked away that golden opportunity himself. A fool simply beats his own chest and tucks those small, cold hands back into the furs to bundle her up.
“You are cold.”
When he tucked them away, she stayed still and docile, just as she had when she was young. Peon could not help but laugh.
“Let’s go. Keep talking as we walk.”
He took his steps very slowly. Kaella was bundled in a heavy velvet dress, and with her short stature and tentative stride, he often moved away from her—sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. He had always moved away.
*Brother, walk with me!*
There were times when he found that tearful voice clinging to his heels, accompanied by small, hurried footsteps, to be truly annoying; at other times, in his spite, he found it amusing. Whichever it was, Peon, then a young boy, did not know what was truly precious to him.
“There isn’t really… anything to tell you….”
As she walked quietly, deep in thought, Kaella tilted her head, her brows narrowing.
“There is nothing. Nothing happened.”
“There is no way nothing happened when so many people came. Who greeted you first?”
This man had not been one to observe her in such detail before. Kaella did not hide her confusion, looking up at him blankly. No matter how she looked at him, only the gaze of someone waiting for a report returned.
Could it be he needed to calculate something politically? Ah, yes. That must be it.
“The gatekeeper’s wife stepped forward to greet me first.”
Her tone was calm and composed, devoid of emotion, yet Peon did not neglect a single word.
“That means you did not command the Bi to greet her.”
“Yes.”
“And once she stepped forward, what else did she do?”
His tone carried a firm conviction that the gatekeeper’s wife surely hadn’t stopped at just a greeting. He had encountered the wives of men in high positions enough times to know better.
“Please tell me exactly as it happened.”
It seemed he had already guessed. After a brief hesitation, Kaella simply spoke honestly. What benefit would it bring to hide it? Even if she spoke and a bad outcome befell her, it would just be what was meant to happen. It was better to speak frankly and feel at ease.
“I thought the other ladies would be able to introduce themselves directly just as she did, so I intended to act as the one to introduce them to me. I stopped her and had everyone take turns introducing themselves.”
It wasn’t a wife affectionately telling her husband about her day; it was nothing short of a report to a superior. Because her tone was stiff, ill-suited to her soft, beautiful voice, it felt even more like a ledger of events.
“They introduced themselves one by one, and I received their greetings. We had refreshments… and I told them I was grateful they had come.”
She wasn’t actually grateful, but it was the role of the Grand Duchess to say the customary things. In truth, it was a nuisance, but she did it anyway. She did not want to give the floor again to rude people who loved to assert themselves, like Yolnes Pare.
“Is that so?”
Peon smiled even more deeply, as if the very fact that she had said something was monumental. The corners of his mouth rose, and his beautiful violet eyes filled with warmth. Why was he laughing? Was what she said funny?
In Lyussenford, where every word she uttered resulted in him releasing a sigh of amusement—accompanied by sarcastic remarks like, ‘Ah, Her Highness the Grand Duchess thinks so’—and the sound of others snickering, Kaella had gradually lost the ability to speak. Everything she said was a target for ridicule. Not knowing why they were laughing, she hadn’t known what to do. Sometimes, she would be horrified by the impulse to stab a pen into those mocking faces.
That was why Kaella feared people who laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. That was why she deliberately spoke even more stiffly. Yet, here was Peon, laughing.
“Yes.”
Having replied with a sunken, cracking voice, Kaella closed her mouth again. Here, neither food nor speech was free. As she stopped speaking, only silence flowed between them. Kaella walked in silence, already accustomed to the stillness. She felt Peon’s gaze on her, but she did not want to speak.
“What else did you say?”
However, he insisted. One could not dare not answer a question posed by the Grand Duke. Now that she thought about it, perhaps he had made up his mind to keep asking questions to mock her? It would be better to be ignored; being mocked was hard for the pride of Lady Ostain to endure.
“Bi?”
Kaella, who had been biting her lip, opened her mouth again.
“It was just a formal remark. I do not know the reason why you are curious about it.”
Her voice, stiff and emotionless, erected a perfect shield that repelled Peon without mercy.
The lofty Lady Ostain was quite radiant even with a faint smile, but when she kept her mouth shut, she exuded an atmosphere that made it difficult for anyone to approach her lightly. People who did not know her said she was cold. In truth, it was just narrow-minded people disparaging her because Kaella didn’t smile for them.
Peon knew well how warm and kind her heart was. Throughout their marriage, even when she was ignored, she never once showed anger, always maintained courtesy, and smiled, even if forced. It was impossible for anyone without tremendous courage to do such a thing.
“The women from outside heard everything the Bi said, so it would be unfair if I, your husband, were the only one who didn’t hear it.”
He must think she would play the spy for Krain because she was the Emperor’s niece. If that were the case, he could just verify it with others, so why was he asking her directly? Kaella, who was biting the inside of her lip in frustration, had her brain process and interpret what Peon said a little late.
“…Yes?”
Kaella’s brain decisively sent a cold-blooded judgment to her ears: *You heard it wrong.* In fact, some of the knights and maids, whose brains had reached similar conclusions, looked at the Grand Duke with bewildered expressions before slowly beginning to retreat. *We heard that wrong, right?*
“Do you not wish to tell me?”
Was he mocking her? Kaella examined Peon’s face as he asked the question seriously. On his face, which was still handsome enough to make her resent how pale and lifeless she was, there was no hint of a joke. His voice and gaze were as consistently serious as always. Try as she might, she could not find any will or expectation of, ‘I am looking forward to what you say, and I will mock you the moment you do.’
*Come to think of it, he wasn’t the type to mock what I said.*
He was the only person who didn’t laugh even when Kaella spoke. The problem was that he didn’t laugh enough and usually didn’t even listen, but still. There was no one in Lyussenford with whom she could have a proper conversation.
Because of that, Kaella, shocked by the unprecedented request to ‘tell me more because I am curious’ and busy doubting him, forgot to answer.
Her eyes, rounded in surprise, remained frozen as she stared straight at him. Peon looked down at Kaella, who was craning her neck to look up at him, and nodded.
“I see. Understood. I will try harder.”
“Yes?”
“I said I would try harder to be a husband who is closer than the women from outside.”
The attitude with which he said he would try harder was very much like a sincere knight. But was that something one had to try hard at? In the midst of that, for some reason, the term ‘women from outside’ did not sound pleasant at all.
“They are not women from outside, they are the noblewomen of Lyussenford, Your Highness. There were also the wives of the knights who serve you.”
“To me, every woman except the Bi is a woman from outside.”
At that point, Cecil, the oldest of the maids, and Sir Renard, who was very perceptive among the knights, began to usher the people around them away simultaneously.
*Step back. Quickly.*
*Why?*
Sir Renard realized once again why Sir Wilberg had no lover. Unless Sir Renard was the person involved, realizing such things didn’t feel clear or refreshing at all; it was just annoying. What a frustrating and obtuse human being.
It was fortunate that Sir Wilberg was more intimidated by the new maid, Cecil, than he was by his friend Renard, so he slowed his pace under her gaze. Now, the Grand Duke and Duchess and their attendants were more than three steps apart.
“I believe a husband and wife should be closer than they are. What do you think, Bi?”
If Kaella said no, Peon intended to change his mind immediately. The convictions he had risked his life to protect were nothing but the stubbornness of a base, wretched, and foolish man. Thus, he no longer had any such convictions. His standards simply changed based on what Kaella, whom he could not stop admiring every time he looked at her, said.
*How on earth were you able to keep such firm courage to the very end?* No matter how much he thought about it, he, with his petty and shameless self, found it hard to understand. Kaella was a creature of the heavens, whom the lowly Peon, crawling on the ground, had to look up at forever. She was a presence from whom he could not tear his gaze.
As the Emperor said, like the so-called ‘half-breed’ he was, he had chosen to commit every evil act possible, only to be the last to recognize a presence that was pretty, poignant, and kind.
“That… that is true. We should be closer… than others.”
Kaella wondered why on earth Peon was saying such things, but since it was true, she nodded. In any case, this marriage was a political one, and they were political partners. She thought, *So many things change because Father is alive,* but Kaella didn’t place meaning on every single word like this. It went in one ear and out the other, evaporating from her mind.
Nothing remained in her heart. Because there wasn’t even a space in her heart to cherish any words. Her weary, indifferent eyes looked slightly downward.
*He’ll stop sooner or later.*
In any case, like before she died, the days she would meet Peon would become as rare as they were then. Peon was not Kaella’s husband; he was Beatrice’s man. Honestly, wasn’t Kaella included in the so-called ‘women from outside’? As Kaella was walking quietly, lost in such thoughts, Peon called her to a stop.
“Bi? Where are you going?”
She looked up and found that Peon had turned in the opposite direction from her and stopped.
“To my room.”
She wondered why he was asking the obvious. Should she not be holed up in the Grand Duchess’s bedroom? But Peon looked at her as if examining her for a moment. Her complexion seemed to have darkened slightly. He spoke to the confused Kaella after a small pause.
“Of course, that is the direction of your bedroom, but are you not using my bedroom now?”
To be exact, Kaella had never slept in the Grand Duchess’s bedroom. As soon as she arrived in Lyussenford, she had collapsed, and the Grand Duke had carried her himself and laid her in his room. From then until now, the Grand Duke’s bedroom was where Kaella had been staying.
“You have not recovered enough to return to that room already.”
Peon’s voice was slightly unsteady. He stood as rigid as stone and, without realizing it, spoke as if pleading to Kaella, who had already walked five or six steps toward the Grand Duchess’s bedroom—a room she wasn’t used to.
“Moreover, it is a room that the sinner decorated. The preparations will not be sufficient, and since it has not been used for a while, it will be terribly cold for you to stay in.”
He could not place this woman, who was so precariously fragile she looked as if she might scatter into the air, in the Grand Duchess’s room, which the exiled Chief Maid Doris Windgood had decorated with—to put it mildly—frugal, and to put it harshly, miserly taste. In a room decorated by a stubborn person who believed a fashion that was twenty years out of date was the latest trend, Kaella would suffocate and disappear.
No, that was an excuse. A filthy excuse. The conqueror of the North, the ruler of winter who was said to fear nothing and fight against evil dragons, desperately turned a blind eye to an anxiety that felt colder than the Lyussenford winter.
This was just him being worried that Kaella would ruin her health if she went to that room. Yes. That was it; it was absolutely not because he was worried that she knew about that room.
“Come here.”
He reached out his hand. He held out his hand for his wife, who had never once refused it, to take it.
“Come.”
Then, Peon realized a contradiction he had been ignoring.
Kaella had never refused his hand.
Before she had regressed.