CATIP 07

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CHAPTER :07

Such was the irony of life.

When a true noble did the same thing, it was seen as elegant and charming; but when a half-noble like me did it, it became nothing more than the vulgar behavior of a lowborn stray.

It was not as though I had chosen to be born this way, yet the shackles of my birth weighed twice as heavily on me than on anyone else.

Even so, sensing a strange dissonance, I could not simply brush off my maid’s words.

Drowning in a river that could sweep me away at any moment, I, too, possessed a desperate longing to cling to even the thinnest branch.

And so, that night.

After our business was finished, I reached out and stayed him as he coldly rose.

– …Your Highness.

– Hmm?

– Could we… speak for a moment?

Though brief, these were words I had chosen after endless hesitation and agony.

At my words, he stopped what he was doing.

Seeing him react to me, I had felt a strange surge of courage.

– I worry I might be keeping you from your busy schedule with my trifling request, but a fine wine was recently presented to the Duchess’s Palace. I thought it would be nice to share it with Your Highness, so I felt compelled to ask.

At my quiet words, he let out a soft, dry chuckle.

Then, pulling on his shirt, he coldly repeated my words.

– ‘Compelled,’ is it?

– If I have offended you…

At his murmur, I could not find the words to continue.

Because I could not bring myself to say what I should have said naturally—that he was free to refuse and leave.

Because that was not what I truly wanted.

Because I knew all too well that if he coldly pushed away my outstretched hand and left, I would be deeply hurt.

Perhaps, without realizing it, I had begun to yearn for more of this time spent with him.

The warmth of a human touch reaching out to me.

The relief and security I felt within his warm embrace.

Because all of it was something I was experiencing for the very first time in my life.

It was a peace so precious and tear-inducing precisely because it was my first time knowing it.

I did not know how to cherish that precious sanctuary. I did not know how to make it grow.

– Your words… certainly give me much to think about.

The tiny spark of courage I had gathered was instantly shattered by his cold voice.

Beneath the faintly flickering candlelight, his pitch-black shadow loomed fiercely.

At his almost dangerous presence, I had instinctively clutched my chest.

My lips trembled as I struggled to squeeze out a question.

– May I… dare ask what you mean by that?

– I simply cannot tell whether those are the words you speak to a husband, or to someone who has just served as an outlet for your desires.

Those words, which felt almost savage, echoed in my ears for a long time.

Frozen pale, I stared up at him.

I did not know why, but it was clear that he was furious.

– It seems the Duchess is laboring under some misconception. Had you simply asked me to stay, I would have stayed.

His voice sounded as if he had given up on something, or as if he were swallowing down a burning rage…

I could only stare at him, shrouded in the darkness, for a long while.

It sounded as though he had been willing to stay, but my words had angered him.

Which part of my words had angered him so?

I wondered if using the word “compelled” was really such a grave mistake.

I turned the thoughts over and over in my head, searching for an answer that would never come, only to realize too late: words depend not on the intent of the speaker, but on the heart of the listener.

– It seems… I have overstepped my bounds.

My lips parted, and I humbled myself deeply, as I always did.

My customary apology followed.

– I beg for Your Highness’s generous understanding.

*Tsk.* I heard him click his tongue softly.

The shadow cast behind me seemed to turn even darker.

That I had made another mistake, and that an apology was not the answer.

I realized this too late.

Yet, what the problem had been, and why he had been so angry…

…remains a mystery to me, even now, when much time has passed.

– You truly are… a strange woman.

Before I knew it, his shadow had drawn close to me.

His hand suddenly reached out and touched my chin. His calloused fingertips were cold.

– You are indeed so very proud.

It was a chillingly sarcastic remark.

I blinked once. His face, as I met his gaze, seemed twisted in some way.

Why did the words the King once spoke to me flash through my mind, even though I was looking at an entirely different face?

‘But you. You know your place so well that there is no room left for pity. If you would only weep and beg, I might at least find you pitiful.’

– One might even believe you were born of the Queen herself.

Though I loved my mother more than anyone in the world, she was also the one who had shackled me with the burden of my birth.

Because I had spent countless days wishing my life had begun from the Queen instead.

To me, those spat-out words were violently cruel.

He was already dressed in his nightclothes.

Always beautiful, his elegance only made him look all the more ruthless.

His blinding presence carved a deep, unforgettable scar into my memories of that day.

– …Is that a compliment?

As I looked up at him, my lips, my voice, and my fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

That was the utmost emotion I, a fool who did not even know how to get angry, could express.

He merely let his cold hand slide. Moving up from my chin, his hand cupped my cheek.

There were eyes looking down, holding me firmly in their grasp.

I froze pale under the icy gaze staring down at me.

– Duchess.

– …Yes.

– You truly never let me close.

– Pardon?

– No, forget it. It was my fault for hoping and expecting on my own, only to end up disappointed.

A bitter smile spread across his face as he uttered those enigmatic words.

A soft sigh echoed.

It was absurd.

Even now, I still cannot understand his words, yet I cannot bring myself to forget even the shadow of the candle that flickered at his faint breath.

– Perhaps you and I will always be like this.

His hand, which had been touching me, pulled away as if it were destiny.

He turned his back. This time, I reached out toward the shadow of the man who was suddenly leaving.

My hand, drifting helplessly through the air, barely managed to catch the edge of his robe.

– Wait…

– I truly still do not know. How you and I ever came to be bound by fate.

A trembling voice came from beyond his dark back.

Hearing the regret and disappointment in his voice, I wanted to argue back.

It was you who said you wanted me, you who tied together our fates which otherwise would have merely brushed past and shattered into nothingness.

– What meaning there could possibly be in a bond forged like this.

– Your Highness.

– Enough.

Pouring down a cold rain of words, he heartlessly shook me off.

The wound left by that rain, which had relentlessly drenched me, bled a vivid crimson.

– You do not have to do anything, Duchess. But do not expect anything from me, either. Just as you have done until now. That way, nothing will have to change.

His retreating back looked as high and distant as the remote sky, utterly unreachable.

I could not even think of pulling back my hand, which hung limply in the air.

– Still, I hope you will fulfill your duties in your position. I intend to do the same.

With that, he simply left, abandoning me as I stood frozen.

Drifting apart, widening, and becoming distant once more.

The subtle distance I had felt turned into a bottomless abyss, its depths impossible to measure.

Endless time simply flowed on.

Duke and Duchess. Vassal lord and bastard princess. The master of a nation and the illegitimate child of the King who ruled the continent. Husband and wife. Man and woman.

The world where I dared not hope for anything remained exactly as he said.

Only the unchanging, and in some ways meaningless and superficial, facts…

…stood firmly between him and me, both of us having swallowed our disappointment and resignation.

It was on one of those days, as the time that swept past us like flowing water turned into years.

Something arrived that even I—who had only ever learned to give up and let go throughout my short life—could not easily resign myself to.

– Your Grace?

– Yes, what is it?

– This… what is this?

The maid’s finger trembled violently as she pointed to the back of my neck, a spot usually hidden by my loose hair.

Her reaction was not one caused by a simple scratch from a necklace chafing the skin.

That was why I, who would usually dismiss it as nothing out of habit, felt compelled to look in the mirror to check the back of my neck.

Reflected in the polished mirror was the intricate, pitch-black crest of a god.