You Said You Wanted Us to Break Up - Chapter 113

Beatrice was positive about my proposal, but she did not fully agree to it.

“Every deal requires time for review. I will contact you again, so you may withdraw for today.”

Since I didn’t expect her to agree instantly, it was exactly as I had anticipated.

As long as there were no major issues, Beatrice would likely accept my proposal. She might try to haggle a bit… but there was no use worrying about that now.

Rather, other matters were more urgent. Driving my horse through the lush summer trees, I thought about the immediate task at hand.

Once I returned to the mansion, I had to write a letter to Sioden requesting a meeting.

I hadn’t asked for his address, but that wasn’t a big problem. Everyone who needed to know would already know where Duke Raslet was staying.

The problem wasn’t the address, but how to start the conversation….

In the end, it amounted to me asking him for a favor to find out about my mother’s past, and I couldn’t think of a way to handle it without it being awkward.

How long had I been riding with such complicated thoughts? Suddenly, it felt as though I had ventured too deep. Before I knew it, the surroundings had changed into scenery I had never seen before.

While this wasn’t a forest inhabited by dangerous beasts, I had to stop here considering the journey back.

I pulled the reins to slow down and patted Mari’s neck when I sensed a presence ahead.

Is it a forest animal?

But in this forest, even deer are rarely seen. If such animals lived here, predators would naturally follow, which was why the population was intentionally controlled.

I took my hand off Mari’s neck and lifted my head to see what was in front of me, only to hear a familiar voice.

“Iella?”

“……Duke Raslet?”

It was neither a deer nor a four-legged beast chasing one; someone else was looking at me.

While I stood still in bewilderment—since he was the last person I expected to encounter here—Sioden dismounted and approached me.

The black horse he had been riding was well-trained, remaining still even after the rider let go of the reins.

Perhaps to avoid startling my horse, the man stopped at a certain distance. I asked him:

“What brings you here?”

“This forest is near my estate, so I came out for a stroll.”

After answering my question, Sioden stared at me. His slowly blinking blue eyes seemed to be asking why I was here.

“I am also… since the forest is near my estate….”

Even though it was the truth, my response felt like an excuse.

Suddenly, I remembered what Demian had told me when we first went out for a ride.

“This forest connects to the capital estates of the Southern nobles.”

“……”

“But those estates have been vacant for quite a while, so you won’t run into any owners.”

A hypothesis flashed through my mind.

“By any chance, is the estate connected to this forest yours?”

Standing below Maro, Sioden nodded.

“It is an estate I inherited from my mother. I am staying here for a short while.”

Come to think of it, Sioden’s mother, the late Lady Raslet, was from the Southern nobility.

Since she had left the capital entirely upon her marriage, the Southern estate she owned would have remained empty.

As I belatedly pieced the situation together in my head, I heard an apology.

“I am sorry if I startled you.”

“No, there is no need to be sorry.”

There is nothing wrong with an owner walking their own land.

If anything, it was more likely that I was the one committing a discourtesy. I had ventured deeper than I ever had with Demian, so I had likely crossed past the Rowen property lines.

Why did I have to come out so far today?

I scolded myself inwardly, knowing I was the only one to blame, when Sioden spoke.

“If I had known you had learned to ride, I would have procured a horse for you while we were in the North.”

Bringing up the past to change the subject was likely an attempt to ease the air, which had grown stiff with my embarrassment.

I replied to him before even that attempt could turn awkward.

“I learned after returning to the South, so it wouldn’t have mattered back then.”

“You ride so well that I thought you had been learning for a long time.”

“It’s because I do it every day.”

Since the first time I sat in a saddle, horseback riding has been the activity I’ve focused on most, second only to my lessons with Ian.

Sioden gave a slightly bitter smile at my words.

“……If I had known you would like riding, ah—this kind of talk must be uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right.”

I already know what it feels like to be unable to let go of lingering regrets. I’ve been there myself.

But regrets are utterly useless.

If lingering regrets had any positive value, people wouldn’t use the word ‘foolish’—which shares the same root in our tongue—to express such frustration.

I was thinking about how Sioden would eventually realize this on his own even if I didn’t tell him, when his voice reached me again from across the way.

“I’m glad to see you seem to be doing well.”

After saying that, Sioden immediately checked my expression as if he realized he might have overstepped.

I wondered for a moment why he was reacting that way to a simple greeting, but then I remembered the reason why he had no choice but to be so cautious.

‘I can’t tell you to be well.’

‘……’

‘So you, too—don’t tell me to go in peace.’

Back then, I felt like I couldn’t endure it unless I said those words.

Looking back now, it felt like reminiscing about my childhood. I understood why I did it, but it felt like an immature act, and I felt embarrassed.

Swallowing the emotions I didn’t need to show right now, I asked Sioden:

“……Have you been doing well?”

“Yes.”

The answer came back instantly, but those words were merely a polite lie.

Although Sioden appeared as neat and composed as ever, his face was clearly not that of someone who had been doing well. I knew this for a fact because I faced the face of someone who was truly doing well every morning in the mirror.

Furthermore, the moment you probe for the truth behind a “polite” lie, it becomes a discourtesy.

As I tightened my grip on the reins, once again at a loss for words, a question came from the other side.

“Did you not say there was something you wanted to discuss?”

“That’s right.”

I was about to say I would write a letter separately once I returned, but the moment I opened my mouth, Sioden spoke.

“If it is alright with you, would you like to stop by the estate and talk?”

—

Thinking it would be better to handle the matter now that we had crossed paths rather than writing an awkward letter, I followed him.

Someone was pacing near the back gate of the estate.

The knight approached us with long strides as soon as he spotted us.

“Your Grace, it could be dangerous, and you didn’t give us any word… My Lady?”

Sioden restrained the knight, who had recognized me and opened his eyes wide in surprise.

“Rhys.”

It was a familiar name and a face I knew well.

I dismounted and stared at the knight, whose face was as pale as if he had seen a ghost.

‘His Grace is very busy. Mostly because of Rowen, the madam’sfamily.’

Back when I had scraped together my dwindling courage to seek out Sioden, that knight had blocked my path and said those very words.

Having managed to compose himself, the knight hurriedly bowed his head.

“My apologies. Your title is……”

I answered before he could finish his sentence.

“Count.”

“……”

“Call me Count Resebel.”

The knight flinched, and his head lowered even further.

“I apologize for my rudeness.”

His attitude was incomparably more respectful than before, but it stirred no emotion in me.

I offered no response to his apology and simply followed the master of the house inside.

I wasn’t trying to drag up the past or get revenge by making him realize how much I had been hurt back then. However, I have the freedom not to like someone who hated me. I have the freedom to be as unkind as I wish, if I so desire.

It was a right guaranteed by the fact that I now had a place to return to.

I felt like I finally understood why Iswen chose to join a rebellion instead of conforming to our father. Perhaps he wanted to build a place for me to come home to. In fact, having a home alone had made me incomparably freer than before.

While I was lost in these thoughts, Sioden, who had led me into the mansion’s hall, spoke.

“You’ve exerted yourself, so you likely want to wash up. I will tell them to prepare bathwater.”

It was not something I felt the need to decline.

“Thank you.”

Sioden gave a small nod and called over a passing servant to assist me.

Before leaving for the bathroom with the servant, I asked him:

“Can you send someone to my house? I told them I was only going for a short ride, and they’ll worry if I don’t return on time.”

The man, who had been consistently calm since we met in the South, gave a light affirmation as if it were no trouble at all.

“I will send word to the Rowen estate.”

—

By the time I finished washing and stepped out of the bathroom, a change of clothes had been prepared for me.

It was a Southern-style dress. I was a bit curious how they had managed to prepare clothes so quickly, but with no one around to ask, I simply changed into them.

Once I was fully dressed and stepped out, the estate’s butler was waiting for me in the hallway.

“The Master is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

The drawing room I was led into possessed the typical opulence of a Southern mansion.

Glass lighting, gold and brass craftsmanship, furniture embroidered with colorful silk threads—and in the center of it all, a man in black and blue caught my eye.

It was a scenery familiar to me, yet seeing Sioden within it felt quite strange.

The man I knew was practically a part of Raslet Castle. No, perhaps I should say he was Raslet Castle itself, as a family cannot exist without its head.

Sioden offered me the seat opposite him.

Even after sitting down, I felt too awkward to jump straight to the main point, so I opened with a different topic.

“I didn’t know there were women’s clothes in this manor.”

Sioden glanced at my outfit and replied, “They belonged to my mother.”

“……When I return home, I’ll have them laundered and returned to you.”

Sioden’s mother had passed away a long time ago. The belongings of the deceased often hold more value than when they were alive, as they serve as a means to remember them.

Except for cases like mine, where I don’t even know my mother’s face, most people treasure such keepsakes.

I had heard in passing while living at Raslet Castle that Sioden had been a much kinder son to his mother than to his father.

However, Sioden’s reaction was far more indifferent than I expected.

“You don’t have to return them. Do as you wish.”

Having answered in an unbothered tone, he raised a brow slightly and looked at me.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk?”

“Ah, the truth is, I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask but you…….”

I gave him a rough explanation regarding the correlation between my mother and the last princess of Kaulm.

I summarized it as best I could to make it sound less strange: that my mother seemed to be from Kaul m, but since no records remained in the South, I had no way to confirm it.

Sioden, who had been listening quietly, answered without hesitation the moment I finished.

“When I return to Raslet, I will look into it, organize the information, and send you a letter.”

“You can refuse if it’s inconvenient.”

Of course, if he were to refuse, I would have no choice but to investigate privately, which would take twice as long, but that was something I could manage.

Unlike when I first thought of Sioden as a solution, my relationship with Iswen had grown much closer now.

The man let out a small laugh and shook his head.

“It isn’t inconvenient.”

Before I could offer any response to that, he added:

“I am glad that I can provide what you desire.”

—

The woman did not stay long.

“Then, I shall head home now.”

Home.

The word referring to a space he could never provide came from her lips.

Even though the pronunciation was soft and the tone lacked any sharp edges, it felt as if he had been stabbed somewhere deep in his gut.

Refining his expression so the pain wouldn’t show, Sioden went out to the entrance of the manor to see her off.

It was a distance he could maintain under the pretext of etiquette.

As Iella climbed into the carriage he had prepared, she said, “Forgive my intrusion today.”

“Not at all.”

To his own ears, his voice sounded as though nothing was happening inside him, yet Iella turned back at those words.

Her transparent green eyes looked down at him blankly.

After a brief silence, the woman’s voice fell again.

“Be well.”

It was a greeting he never imagined she would give him.

Sioden faltered. Standing stiff and frozen, he returned the greeting.

“Go…… in peace.”

The woman nodded.

Soon, the door closed, and the carriage rolled forward.

In a daze, he stepped into the mansion, and the moment he was about to climb to the second floor, his own face was reflected in the polished marble stairs.

Sioden stopped in his tracks instinctively and looked down.

Upon the smoothly chiseled stone, a pathetic man was visible.

A man whose face was so gaunt it could not be hidden by his impeccably groomed attire—a man who looked vacant, as if something inside him had broken.

Seeing that sight, Sioden realized why the woman had shown him such kindness.

“Be well.”

Those words were not a gesture of goodwill, but of pity.

It was because, in Iella’s eyes, he appeared so miserable that he was no longer even worth hating.

Unable to bear the sight of himself for evoking such a feeling from her, he raised his hand and covered his face.

Hiding his features beneath a hand where the knuckles and veins protruded, Sioden took a deep breath.

His slightly hunched shoulders trembled.

Before that vibration could turn into moisture, a sudden impulse seized him from within.

Rather than remaining in such a state, he would rather die.