You Said You Wanted Us to Break Up - Chapter 100

The next day, as soon as morning broke, I concluded.

“I have to go to the family cemetery.”

Apple, who was braiding my hair in the way she did best, asked,

“The cemetery?”

“Yes, my mother’s tomb should be there.”

“Then we might be able to confirm her full name on the tombstone.”

I nodded in agreement with her speculation.

I suddenly remembered Demian saying he would be out in the field again today, but skipping the riding lesson for a day would be fine. Demian would likely be preoccupied with worrying about Iswen anyway. When I subtly sounded out the butler last night, he said Iswen was still inside his bedroom.

I wondered when the two of them had grown so close, but I figured something must have happened during the three years I was at Raslet and decided to move on.

Originally, my family, excluding me, generally got along well. When Father was alive, Iswen acted as his right-hand man, and didn’t Demian always address Iswen as “Brother,” even while being beaten by him under the guise of sparring?

The family cemetery was not far from Rowen in the capital. The cemeteries of powerful Southern families were typically located within the capital, which was governed by the Emperor. It was a role like a dead hostage surrendered to the Imperial family.

I instructed Apple, who had stepped out of the carriage with me.

“I’ll check this side. You go look over there.”

Cemeteries were usually organized by generation, but just in case, I planned to examine all the tombstones.

Apple replied,

“Yes.”

How much time passed after that?

As I was scanning the tombstones engraved with the family crest and the summarized years of the deceased’s life, I heard Apple calling me from a distance.

“My Lady.”

Just as I was about to turn around, the man’s frigid voice sounded.

“What you’re looking for isn’t here.”

“…Brother.”

I immediately regretted it after saying it unconsciously. I should have called him Duke Rowen.

Demian was simple and wouldn’t attach much meaning to the title, but Iswen was different. He would remember what I called him. He might even be sneering inwardly.

I hated the thought of that, so ever since I met him at Raslet, I had consistently addressed Iswen as Duke Rowen.

To avoid looking like I made a stupid mistake. To avoid looking like a dog returning after being kicked, still holding onto the hope of having a family with them.

I felt sickened by my mistake a moment ago. I fought the urge to bite my lower lip and asked Iswen,

“Do you know what I’m looking for?”

“Anyone with eyes would know.”

The man, who answered in a cold, seemingly mocking tone, leaned his upper body toward me. A shadow fell over me to the extent his body leaned.

As if his severe pain yesterday, which left him barely able to control his body, had been an illusion, the strong scent of perfume wafted from his perfectly groomed collar. It was the perfume he started wearing after he began torturing people on my father’s orders.

Iswen said coolly,

“If you were going to do this, you should have taken the portrait that day.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I involuntarily straightened my posture rigidly. Iswen twisted one side of his mouth as if he knew I would react that way.

“I gave you a chance.”

He straightened his upper body, which he had momentarily leaned down. His gloved hand, still clutching the cane, also withdrew slightly.

I mustn’t be intimidated here. I deliberately forced strength into my eyes and looked up at him.

“It was an opportunity I didn’t know about.”

Iswen tilted his head slightly, as if assessing my words. When he made that expression, he looked infinitely arrogant. So much so that I didn’t want to tolerate it.

“I want to know my mother’s full name.”

Unlike yesterday, the brow visible beneath his perfectly brushed-back silver hair furrowed slightly. I didn’t back down and told him, “And why Father married her.”

Iswen looked down at me with his golden eyes, identical to my father’s, and retorted,

“You’ve managed just fine all this time without knowing.”

“‘Managed fine’?”

I involuntarily raised my voice at the outrageous statement.

“I haven’t ‘managed fine’ for a single moment!”

In the past, I wouldn’t have dared to say such a thing to Iswen. He had the right to seize and shake everything I possessed.

But not anymore. I had a territory and a title now. Although it was the legacy of a father who deserved to die, it was nonetheless wealth that would serve perfectly as a means of retreat.

Iswen stared at me, his face showing clear displeasure.

“Even so, you have never been curious about your mother’s name until now.”

“Because no one ever taught me!”

Didn’t everyone treat me as if I were a person without eyes or ears?

Thinking back on the years I had to live as if I had never learned to speak, a surge of indignation welled up inside me. I pressed down on my stinging eyes and spilled out the words that had accumulated.

“Do you hate me that much?”

Yes, I had wanted to ask Iswen this for a long time.

Do you hate me that much? So much that whenever my heart seemed to soften even a little, you wanted to strike it with an axe and shatter all my expectations?

“I meant that since even your family couldn’t satisfy what you desired, you shouldn’t believe that outsiders would be any different.”

Was it so much that he would mock me, knowing what I wanted, and taunt me that I would never get it?

I hadn’t had the courage to ask Iswen this question until now, because the younger me was afraid of him confirming my words.

Although it was too embarrassing to speak out loud, making my face burn with shame, the past me had desperately wanted my family to like me, even just a little.

Iswen must have known that, too.

He said that even my family had never satisfied what I desired. That meant he was aware of what I longed for from my damn family. He knew, and yet he crushed it.

Now, I no longer need to swallow that humiliation.

Because even if Iswen confirmed my question about whether he hated me a hundred times, it wouldn’t hurt me at all.

Yet, Iswen remained silent for a moment, then said something completely unexpected.

“I have never hated you.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

Iswen didn’t argue, as if he had known all along that his words would be hard to believe.

I repeated the same words to him that I once said to Demian.

“You deliberately married me off to the head of a hostile family. And then, for three whole years, you disrupted that man’s household.”

I wasn’t trying to defend Sioden. I simply wanted to clarify where the responsibility lay.

It didn’t make sense for me to tell Sioden that the memories with him were so awful I couldn’t even wish him happiness, yet remain silent toward my family, who were the primary cause of those awful moments.

Iswen was silent again for a moment before answering.

“At the time, that was the best option.”

“The best option? You sold me to a hostile house and call that the best option?”

“The young Raslet was the only remaining marriage candidate who did not belong to the former Emperor’s faction.”

At his words, a memory surfaced.

‘We almost became family.’

Beatrice had told me as she walked with me through the Imperial Palace gardens.

‘It’s a good thing that didn’t happen. Don’t you agree?’

At the time, I had silently agreed with her. If I had actually married Aiden, my neck would have been cut along with his when the rebellion occurred.

I moved my throat, which felt painfully constricted, and spoke.

“…So, that means you knew the rebellion was going to happen beforehand.”

To be precise, it meant he tried to extricate me from the turmoil that rebellion would bring.

It was a background I had deliberately ignored, as I didn’t want to utter those words, no matter how much I thought about it.

“Even so, it still doesn’t explain things.”

“…”

“You were hiding behind me, committing all sorts of acts throughout my time at Raslet.”

At least up until that point, my father and Iswen were partners.

I didn’t know what circumstances caused Iswen to turn his back on Father. But the Iswen I had observed my entire life was a man who fit the description of the next Duke of Rowen perfectly—a man who was as cold-hearted, cruel, and, at times, incredibly despicable as my father.

Therefore, Iswen must have had a hand in all the unpleasant incidents that took place at Raslet.

Iswen was silent. Still slightly narrowing his brow, he looked down at me intently, then turned his back.

“Return to the mansion before it gets late.”

I followed the man, who was walking away with a slight lean due to his cane, and asked,

“Do you remember cursing my marriage?”

“…”

“Do you remember telling me I could never escape the family name my whole life, that I could never be loved by anyone, and that I shouldn’t expect it?”

Iswen stopped dead.

The man’s standing back, though slightly inclined, still looked solid and staunch—just like when he personally hammered nails into all my windows. Like a high wall that choked and cornered me.

Now, I am no longer afraid of that wall.

Because I know that a path exists behind me, and if the wall blocks my way forward, I can simply turn around and walk away.

So, what fills my eyes now must be only the anger and hatred accumulated in the past. We have traveled too far to face each other and understand.

He was only ever the wall that blocked me all my life, and I am finally about to retreat from that wall and depart to find a new world.

Yet, the words that rose to my throat were utterly unbearable, and I ended up shouting at his wall-like back.

“You tormented me like that my whole life, so what difference does it make if you pretend to be kind now!”