You Said You Wanted Us to Break Up - Chapter 109

One day, his superior appeared at the door of the medical office and announced,

“We are going up to the capital.”

Luke, who had been organizing medical records—a task he had postponed due to other work—looked up. The man leaning against the doorway was staring at him with a calm face.

However, an expression is merely a shell that covers a person. Having seen many people whose exteriors and interiors differed, Luke knew that to grasp someone’s daily reality, he had to look at other details. For instance, the line of a jaw that could no longer hide weight loss.

As is the case with most people of striking looks, his superior, who originally had sharp features, was increasingly becoming the type of face preferred by painters. It meant the contours of his face had become so distinct that one could draw them without hesitation. Considering that most people who inspire artists tend to die young, this was by no means a good sign.

Luke spoke up.

“It is not a good season for travel.”

It was already the beginning of summer. By the time they reached the capital, it would be late summer, and by the time they returned to the North, it would be autumn or winter. They would be heading south during the hottest season and returning during the coldest.

His superior shook his head.

“It won’t take long.”

The omitted meaning behind those words was a command to say no more. Finally relenting, Luke said,

“I will wrap up the investigation for now.”

The task of tracking down Merwen Ethel’s body had not yet been concluded. While they were interrogating or executing remnants of Prince Asel’s faction whenever they were caught, there had been no major progress. Thus, Luke had planned to visit the military base outside the outer castle this weekend. There were people from Kaulm there as well, so he felt he might find something if he searched.

However, it was a different story if his superior planned to leave the castle. Since the physical condition of the head of the family was a top secret, whenever the head of any household moved, the attending physician followed.

Sioden seems determined to head to the capital despite the physical toll. Naturally, Luke assumed it would be the same this time and prepared to tidy up his unfinished work, but his superior shook his head.

“Only Rhys will accompany me. You stay at the castle.”

Luke narrowed his eyes slightly. But before he could express any doubt, his superior added an explanation.

“A letter arrived from the Rowens.”

Realizing the purpose of the trip to the capital, Luke clamped his mouth shut. The voice of a woman cutting through the cold, dark air echoed in his mind.

‘Why don’t you understand that I don’t want to go anywhere as your wife’

His superior was now trying to make it so that the woman who said those words could leave for anywhere with a joyful heart. And he wanted to leave Luke behind because he wished to avoid any potential “noise” or complications during that process.

It wasn’t that Luke didn’t understand that sentiment. However, danger exists everywhere—and right now, his superior likely had no will to avoid it.

Luke opened his lips again.

“Your Grace. We don’t know what might happen, so…”

“Enough.”

“…”

“I will return.”

There was nothing hidden beneath those words. Like the acceptance of a terminally ill patient who cannot escape death, the hollow declaration was, for that very reason, truthful. It showed not even a shred of will to avoid the misery of the impending future.

Eventually, Luke bowed his head.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

A reply from Sioden arrived immediately.

Just like Iswen’s, the letter was written in a standard, clean handwriting that didn’t even reveal a hint of his personality. Those raised to be successors from a young age usually wrote that way. Since the quality required of a head of house was not individuality, their handwriting was naturally corrected over time.

The letter contained a few brief pleasantries along with the answer I had been waiting for.

[- I will be there soon.]

Once he arrived in the capital, we would officially become strangers. It was a marriage that left no lingering regrets, yet the thought that one of the few words that had defined me was about to vanish felt strange. For years, I had lived as the daughter of Capren Rowen and the wife of Sioden Raslet.

Though from now on, I would be called the Countess of Resebel.

I was ruminating on this most welcome change in my life when I heard the voice of Demian, who was walking beside me holding the reins.

“Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do?”

Looking down, I saw Demian peering up at me with expectant eyes. It was a vantage point only possible when sitting atop a horse. He lowered his voice and whispered.

“Now is the chance, while Brother is away.”

Iswen had left the Rowen estate a few days ago.

“I am going out for a while,” he had said.

He hadn’t even told Demian where he was going. It wasn’t so much that he was hiding it because it was important; rather, it felt like a petty retaliation because he was annoyed that Demian had ignored his orders to stay quiet and blabbed everything to me.

Before leaving the estate, Iswen had glared at Demian, who was cautiously watching his mood, and spoke.

“I’ve appointed Demian as the acting head, so if there’s anything you need, tell him.”

Demian let out a small, awkward cough at the sharper-than-usual tone. Iswen turned his gaze back to me.

“It’s not that I’ve passed the duty to him because I don’t trust you.”

He cleared his throat like a man trying to ease the awkwardness.

“It means that if you start something big and it looks like it’ll become a problem, you should shift the responsibility onto him.”

I saw he was quite good at that last time, he had added, clearly referring to the time we were caught rummaging through the study.

I nodded, and with that, Iswen finished his instructions.

“I shall be back.”

As he turned his back immediately after those words, the tips of his ears were red. Once the door of the carriage—which Iswen had boarded with the assistance of a knight—closed, Demian immediately shrugged.

“It’s fine. Even if he always speaks in threats, Brother is the one who takes responsibility for all the big things in the end anyway.”

It was obvious from that moment that he was letting Iswen’s words go in one ear and out the other… and now, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. I shot a brief glance at the man who, despite being much older now, hadn’t changed much from when he was a boy.

“I’m busy.”

“…”

“I have a lot of homework, too.”

Since Ian had left with Iswen and couldn’t hold our lessons, he had assigned a mountain of homework instead. It wasn’t an impossible amount, but if I slacked off, I’d end up having to cram it all in during the final few days.

Demian, who had looked so expectant, lowered his head gloomily.

“Oh… okay…”

It was a bout of sulking that would surely vanish in less than half an hour. I stopped paying him any mind and spoke.

“I’d like to get off the horse now.”

Demian led me to where a small mounting block was located. After dismounting from the saddle, I scratched the bridge of the nose of the horse I had recently befriended instead of Goldie.

“Mari.”

Mari was a horse Demian’s knight had brought from the horse market. Since she had been trained to be gentle from the start, I was able to ride her immediately after a few days of adjustment.

Mari’s name was taken from “Marigold.” Her coat was so bright it was almost golden, resembling the color of the flower. I was patting the neck of the loveliest animal I had ever seen in my life when Demian spoke from beside me.

“I think we could go for an outdoor ride next time.”

An outdoor ride meant leaving the clearing where I had been taking lessons and running through the small forest beside it.

Until now, it had been forbidden due to the risks involved, so I turned to Demian with eyes wide in surprise. Demian, looking somewhat bashful for no reason, muttered,

“It’s dangerous, so you’d have to go with me, of course…”

Before he could even finish his sentence, I nodded.

“I’d like that.”

At those simple words, the man’s complexion brightened visibly. Demian occasionally acted in a way that made his thoughts transparent. While it made him seem a bit simple, it wasn’t a trait I disliked.

As he walked beside me while I led Mari by the reins toward the stables, he prattled on.

“As I mentioned before, you don’t have to use formal speech with me.”

Brother doesn’t care about that kind of thing either, so you should speak comfortably to him too.

At that, I briefly imagined myself speaking informally to Iswen. Demian claimed he wouldn’t care, but I was willing to bet—with Demian’s own stakes—that Iswen would widen his eyes just as he had before.

While I was recalling how much those usually cold eyes had wavered the first time I spoke to him informally, a certain question occurred to me.

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Hm? Ask away. Brother won’t even be surprised anymore regardless of what I tell you, anyway.”

It certainly seemed true that Iswen didn’t place high expectations on Demian.

I nodded in agreement and asked him,

“How did you hurt your eye?”

Demian, who had been grinning beside me, flinched.

I suddenly remembered asking him a similar question back at Raslet, but I hadn’t received an answer then either. Perhaps Demian still wanted to hide the reason he was injured. Since it was personal information, that was understandable.

If that were the case, I didn’t want to pry. I shifted the question slightly.

“When do they say it will heal?”

“Huh? Um…”

His hesitation was suspicious.

A sudden assumption flashed through my mind—one that would be considered the worst kind of loss for a Southern noble. I asked him, my voice trembling slightly without my realizing it.

“…Is the injury permanent?”

Demian didn’t answer. It was a silent affirmation.

If Demian’s eye wouldn’t heal, then what about Iswen’s leg? Come to think of it, hadn’t he been using that cane for quite a long time?

Surely not. Even as I thought that, I couldn’t help but ask.

“What about Eldest Brother’s leg?”

Once again, Demian did not reply.

“…Who did this?”

Neither an eye nor a leg is a part of the body that suffers permanent damage without intentionality. Something felt wrong. If someone had injured two high-ranking nobles, the capital should have been buzzing with rumors by now.

Even if I stayed home and never went out, I would have heard such rumors. Maintaining a large estate requires many people, and the speed at which word travels is proportional to the number of people coming and going.

Yet, I had never heard why Demian or Iswen were injured. It meant someone had intentionally hidden it. It was likely Iswen. And everything Iswen hid was connected to one person.

“It’s related to Father—no, Mother, isn’t it?”

Demian avoided my eyes and shook his head.

“No, it’s not.”

Not even a three-year-old would believe that. I spoke firmly to Demian, who was evading my gaze with his remaining eye.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”