Chapter 244

Chapter 244

Deatrice, as if out of habit, reached out to stroke his hair but then stopped herself and pushed him away.

“Even at the beginning of our marriage, we were at each other’s throats. We didn’t hesitate to hurl poisonous words at each other. Back then, I could bear it because my feelings for you weren’t as strong as they are now. But not anymore. I can’t endure that anymore. Now I know.”

She closed her eyes tightly as she spoke.

Lucius stared at her, speechless, taking in her words.

She was right. Back then, he had masked his true feelings with a smile, while spewing hurtful words at her. In those moments, she was nothing more than a toy to him, a target for his frustrations.

“Endure it.”

And those words were all too similar to what he had said back then.

“Even if our marriage, ordained by the Emperor, becomes my way of exacting revenge on you… wouldn’t you still have to endure it?”

Just like before, he was trying to offload all the burden onto her. The realization hit him like lightning, leaving him stunned.

Of course, the way he felt about her now was worlds apart from how he felt back then, but to her, it might not seem any different. It could still feel like he was trying to control her, just as he had in the past.

A sharp pain tore through his chest as he realized how his past mistakes had ruined their future.

She spoke with a chilling calmness.

“And there’s no reason why I should have to endure it. Just like you said, none of this is my fault. It’s my father’s.”

Lucius let out a short, bitter laugh as he raised his head. While he was overwhelmed with regret for his past actions, her words filled him with a deep resentment.

“You’re really a coward, aren’t you?”

He muttered, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

She claimed she didn’t need to endure because it wasn’t her fault, yet she left out of guilt. The contradiction was maddening. He could understand why she was saying these things, but it didn’t stop the irritation that arose every time her words conveniently changed to suit her.

A sense of deprivation crept up from his fingertips, sapping the strength from his body. Once again, that familiar, oppressive helplessness loomed over him. Calling her a coward was, in a way, a form of surrender.

But those words seemed to hit her harder than anything else. Her composure shattered, and she grimaced before whispering,

“I’m sorry.”

She took a few steps back, bumping into the table behind her.

“You’re right. I’m a coward.”

“…”

“I was terrified of how you would look at me. You’re right—I should have endured it. But I couldn’t. I hurt you again. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Lucius.”

Deatrice knelt down.

Tears streamed down her face as she continued to apologize, her voice laden with remorse. It was clear that her apologies were not just for leaving him but also for the sins of the Duke. Even a fool could see that.

Lucius watched his shattered lover and felt the weight of the guilt she bore. That weight pressed on his heart, as if it might burst. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her to stop.

But how could he save her from the guilt that consumed her?

The one who had buried her in that guilt was not Lucius but the Duke. Lucius thought of the man who had caused all this and was now living his life without a care. Slowly, he moved to kneel before Deatrice.

“What if I kill your father?”

Would that ease your guilt?

Lucius asked, the meaning behind his words clear.

If I commit a sin against you as well, if the weight of the guilt between us evens out, will you return to me then?

Deatrice seemed to understand the hidden meaning in his words. Her face grew pale as she suddenly froze. Lucius gently wiped the tears from her cheeks, his hand moving slowly across her wet skin.

The sensation of her tear-streaked face against his large, warm hand was strange. Lucius carefully wiped the tears clinging to her eyelashes, then leaned in to press a kiss to her stiff lips.

It was a kiss more akin to a vow than an expression of pure love, a kiss filled with solemn determination, like a knight swearing allegiance to the statue of Dias, the goddess of victory.

  *

Oh beautiful creation,

Caught by the swelling river and swaying green algae, your pale ankle is ensnared.

I know you, who wandered countless nights in a barren dream.

Even as you moisten Dias’s cheek and lips with your passion,

You could not mend your broken wings.

With glory cradled in radiant splendor,

Pierce the holy lamb’s heart.

Then the essence of the secret will pour over your head.

And so, your comfort, soaked in gentleness, also meets its end in the moss-covered cave swept by the western wind.

“In the narrow, long absence and futility, you committed an unforgivable sin, without knowing what was broken, without understanding what was severed….”

Kneeling before the narrow altar, Deatrice recited a passage from the sacred text, but her voice faltered, and she lowered her hands.

It wasn’t long after Lucius left that Deatrice learned he had declared war on the Duke. Lucius began systematically dismantling the Duke’s power, as if he had been preparing for this moment for a long time.

Day after day, Deatrice heard of the fall of her relatives. Yet, there was no public sympathy for them. Even people in far-off Galaba, who had no connection to the situation, said Lucius’s revenge was justified. They spoke of the atrocities committed by the Duke, questioning how anyone could do such things, and declared that the Duke deserved to face Lucius’s wrath.

Deatrice couldn’t entirely disagree. But there was an uneasy feeling gnawing at her heart.

“What if I kill your father?”

Lucius’s parting words, and the memory of his kiss, lingered like a dark, binding contract.

Because of that kiss, Lucius’s words didn’t feel like a declaration of vengeance but rather an invitation: I’ll kill your father, so return to me.

But if Lucius truly killed the Duke, how could Deatrice ever return to him? That would be an act against all that was human and moral. Their relationship had already broken, like a rotten branch. Whether it was placed in water or replanted in the ground, its end could only be ruin.