You Said You Wanted Us to Break Up - Chapter 114

When I returned home, Iswen was waiting for me at the entrance of the mansion.

Iswen, who had been standing as still as a statue, approached the moment the carriage stopped. His golden gaze briefly brushed over the crest engraved on the exterior of the carriage.

Since riding a horse in a dress was uncomfortable, I had borrowed a carriage, which bore an engraving of a crest other than Raslet’s.

It was a crest I wasn’t very familiar with, but considering who the original owner of the manor was, it was easy to guess which family it belonged to.

It was the maiden family of the late Lady Raslet.

I greeted Iswen, who was staring at me with a slightly sullen expression.

“I’m back.”

The man’s mouth, which usually formed a downward curve due to tension rather than a straight line, twitched slightly as if trying to turn upward. That awkward expression was Iswen’s unique way of smiling.

Turning to follow me as I headed toward the house, Iswen spoke.

“I heard you visited the manor where Raslet is staying.”

“I had something to say to him.”

Iswen’s brow narrowed slightly.

Walking half a step behind me, he offered a piece of advice.

“With men, it is better to summon them than to go to them if you need something. They are the type of folk who think they are all that the moment you seem even slightly desperate.”

It was a rather harsh assessment, regardless of what he had in mind, but Iswen had nothing to worry about.

What remained between Sioden and me was not the start of new feelings but merely the clearing away of things we had yet to resolve.

Stepping onto the stone foundation of the mansion, I replied.

“We met by chance. It turns out the Rowen estate and the manor he is staying at are connected by the forest.”

Iswen cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Those clothes aren’t from a recent style.”

“They said they belonged to the late Lady Raslet.”

Once I replied, a point of curiosity struck me. I turned to look at Iswen, who was following me, tapping the end of his cane against the stone foundation.

“How did you know it was an old style?”

Even I hadn’t realized the dress was that old until I asked Sioden. It had been maintained so well that it was hard to gauge its age; besides, fashion is such that while something from a few years ago feels outdated, pieces from a generation or more prior often don’t seem quite as aged.

Iswen answered as he stepped fully onto the landing.

“Mother used to dress like that often. Though her style was slightly more modern than this…”

Before finishing his sentence, he corrected himself.

“Your mother, I mean.”

“You don’t have to distinguish it like that.”

A flicker of realization—as if he’d made a slip—passed over his blunt face.

“I didn’t do it on purpose; I just thought you might get confused—”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

I explained further so he wouldn’t misunderstand me.

“I’m saying you don’t need to change how you refer to her just for my sake.”

Unlike me, who couldn’t even properly remember my mother’s face, Iswen was the one who remembered the most about her.

Perhaps she felt more like a ‘mother’ to him than she ever did to me.

Given that, I didn’t want to act as if I were staking a claim by insisting she was only ‘my mother.’

“After all, you are my brother, aren’t you?”

That alone made him more than enough of a son to her.

Iswen froze stiffly at my words. Seeing him look so visibly startled—like someone who had received something they never dared to hope for—made me feel a bit embarrassed.

To hide my flushing face, I hurried my pace forward.

“Anyway, I’m tired, so I’m going in.”

I had walked quite a distance away when Iswen spoke from behind my back.

“Next time, don’t go yourself. Bring Raslet here instead.”

His voice drifted from quite a distance, suggesting he was still standing rooted in that spot.

—

For a while after meeting Sioden, I found myself thinking of him despite myself.

It wasn’t that I had lingering feelings for him.

However, the man who had smiled smoothly at me on the first day of the Harvest Festival felt like a completely different person from the man who looked as if he had swallowed shards of broken glass at a simple wish for him to “be well.”

They were so different that I found myself thinking it was almost irrational for the current Sioden to be quite so miserable.

Of course, I have no intention of interfering in his life.

We once shared each other’s unhappiness, and by deciding to end our swamp-like marriage, we agreed to share nothing more.

There is a difference between simply being strangers and becoming strangers after vowing to stay together until death parts you.

While the former holds the potential for eternal trust and love someday, the latter is a relationship that can never be restored—even if only the two of you were left in the world.

Thus, even if one party emerged from the mire of marriage utterly mangled, it means I must not be the one to reach out a hand.

Perhaps it was because I had spent several times a day ruminating on those three years of marriage that those around me quickly noticed my preoccupation.

Even Demian, who usually lacked such intuition, went as far as to ask:

“Is something bothering you lately?”

Demian, who had entered my study as soon as my lesson with Ian ended, asked the question. I glanced up at him and shook my head.

“No.”

Seeming skeptical of my answer, Demian remained quiet for a moment before suddenly speaking up.

“Let’s go to the boutique.”

“So suddenly?”

“Yeah. Thinking about it, it’s been quite a while since you returned to the capital, and we haven’t gone on a single outing. We can get a few new riding habits made and see what’s in style….”

Listing off things one could do at a boutique, Demian gave a wide grin.

“Brother can’t come. He’s busy.”

Aside from the fact that Iswen would have likely smacked him on the back if he’d heard it, Demian’s suggestion wasn’t bad.

I had been wanting to get a few new riding habits anyway, and I thought it might be nice to see the streets of the capital before leaving for Resebel.

Come to think of it, I’ll have to leave for Resebel soon.

I had a feeling that neither Demian nor Iswen would be particularly pleased when I told them I was going.

They wouldn’t oppose my decision, since it was my choice, but still…

It’s a bit strange to realize that an assumption I couldn’t have imagined before has now become a natural premise.

After savoring that change for a moment, I asked Demian:

“Will you be all right?”

“With what?”

“Southern society… they whisper the moment someone is even slightly different from them.”

Demian was currently wearing an eye patch. People would likely comment more on the fact that he was missing an eye than on all the havoc he had wreaked in the past.

Such is human nature—people can turn a blind eye to internal flaws, but they cannot tolerate a change in outward appearance.

Demian was quiet for a moment as if contemplating my words, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, what can I do?”

“……”

“I’m going to live like this for the rest of my life. They’re the ones who will have to adapt, not me.”

His words left me feeling a bit dazed.

But thinking about it, it was a statement so right that it felt as if there could be no other answer.

When I didn’t respond, Demian seemed to get worried and started rambling.

“Ah, I suppose it could be a nuisance for you. In that case…”

Before he could start believing something that wasn’t true at all, I shook my head.

“No, it’s not like that.”

Just because Demian was missing an eye didn’t mean I had ever felt reluctant to be seen with him.

I looked away from the golden eyes that were staring at me—just as Iswen had done the day I returned from Sioden’s house—and rose from my seat.

“Let’s go, then. To get those riding habits made.”

—

A village where the people of Kaulm, who had fled into exile more than twenty years ago before their kingdom fell, lived together.

Located within the military grounds beyond the outer castle walls, it was a place that rarely had contact with the people of Raslet Castle, but today, a heavy tension hung in the air.

“We are from the Castle.”

The cause was an investigation team dispatched directly from Raslet Castle.

“This is the search warrant.”

Handing a document stamped with the seal of the Head of the House to the village chief, a brown-haired young man ordered the knights he had brought along to search every corner.

Their pretext was searching for traces of a fugitive.

Once the frantic search had passed and the men withdrew after whispering among themselves, an old woman named Nella, who had been quietly watching the scene, entered her house.

It was a small house that looked no different from any other on the outside, but it contained a hidden attic—a classic feature of Kaulm-style architecture.

Nella climbed up to the attic and cautiously opened the door.

“Princess, they have left.”

A young woman who had been looking out the attic window turned around. Transparent light-green eyes, an exact resemblance to her mother’s, turned toward Nella.

They were eyes that proved, beyond a doubt, that she carried the blood of the last Princess of Kaulm.

As she watched the woman approach her, Nella was momentarily overcome with emotion.

Before Kaulm fell, Nella had been the princess’s wet nurse. She had cared for the Princess since the moment of her birth; though she hadn’t given birth to her, the Princess was like her own daughter.

When that Princess vanished, never to return, Nella felt as though her life had turned into a tomb.

Until one day, the princess’s daughter appeared.

“Truly, truly… your eyes look just like the princess’s.”

Nella recalled the words she had blurted out instinctively upon realizing the woman carried Lerissa’s blood.

Merwen spoke to her:

“You don’t have to call me Princess.”

She asked in a voice as light and rhythmic as a song, “More importantly, has Mr. Ailac left the village completely?”

“Yes.”

After answering, Nella tilted her head slightly. “Is he someone you know?”

“Of course.”

Luke Ailac was someone she knew quite well. Having been by Sioden’s side for so long, he had naturally become a familiar face to her.

That man shared certain traits with her. He decorated his exterior to hide his interior, and since smiling was easier than frowning or revealing true emotions, he often kept the corners of his mouth turned up.

However, there was one decisive difference: the man lacked desperation.

This was a common trait among men who were intelligent but lacked imagination and empathy.

“What did Mr. Ailac ask?”

Nella organized the facts she had gathered while watching them and relayed the information with the utmost sincerity.

Merwen, who had been listening quietly, said,

“If he comes back to ask questions next time, please answer him as much as you know.”

“But if he is a dangerous person….”

Merwen shook her head.

“He isn’t dangerous.”

A threat to the flesh cannot be a true danger. People die eventually, after all. It is only a matter of whether it happens today or later.

As long as she achieved everything she aimed for, Merwen was prepared to die even as soon as tomorrow.

—

As long as she achieved everything she aimed for.

Thus, the thing she truly had to guard against was not a threat to her body, but the clouding of the will within her heart.

After finishing her brief thought, Merwen murmured, “I suspect that child might have changed his mind by now as well.”

The Head of the House had vacated the castle, yet his primary physician had not followed.

It was unlikely the doctor had stepped back of his own volition, which meant there were specific orders given to him.

After quietly organizing her thoughts for a moment, Merwen spoke.

“I’ll be leaving now.”

Nella looked at her with worried eyes. “Are you truly going to the South?”

Merwen nodded.

“There is someone I wish to meet.”

She placed a hand over one side of her chest. The diary of Lerissa, tucked inside her clothes, brushed against her fingertips.

Inside her mother’s diary—which she had finally gathered the courage to open after several years—lay the story of an old friend whom Lerissa had been forced to send far away when she was even younger than her daughter was now.

So much time had passed that the friend no longer existed in this world. However, the traces she left behind remained.

Merwen called to mind the face of a woman she already knew.

Bright blonde hair and light green eyes. A snow-white nape and gently sloping eyes.

The bride from the South, who, from the very first moment Merwen saw her, had reminded her of Lerissa.

In the past, Merwen hadn’t looked at her closely. She had dismissed her, thinking there was no need to build a personal connection with such an opponent.

But things were different now.

Since this was a trace of the woman Lerissa had held so dear, she was sufficiently valuable to Merwen as well.

Merwen gave a clear smile to the old woman watching her with concern.

“Do not worry. I’m sure it will be a pleasant meeting.”