Right after uttering those words, Idren realized how pathetic he sounded.

All this time, he had been living relying on the kindness Ophelia had left behind. Yet, despite that, he said something that seemed to blame her.

There was nothing wrong with Ophelia’s words.

As always, she was clean and clear. With reason and honesty, she dug into his softest parts. Her knife-like words were precise, with explanations as an added bonus.

“I don’t know what that day meant to you, but I truly had no intentions.”

…As if he didn’t already know that fact.

But unlike the rational Ophelia, his mouth wouldn’t listen to his head. Idren soon found himself saying something stupid.

“If only you had just passed me by, if you had laughed at me like others, I wouldn’t have…”

Ah, what pathetic words.

Unable to finish his sentence, he closed his mouth. He thought it would be better if his tongue turned to stone at this point.

That wasn’t his true feelings. Idren had never thought it would have been better if he had never met Ophelia.

Even if he was hurt because of her like now, that fact remained unchanged.

Yet, the reason these untruths kept coming out of his mouth was probably because the woman trampling him before his eyes was too much.

At the same time, Idren realized how petty he was being.

Trying to let the other person know he was hurt by blaming them. Even a ten-year-old child wouldn’t do such a thing.

His face burned with shame at his own embarrassing behavior. Idren turned his eyes, looking for a place to rest his gaze.

It was then that his vision suddenly blurred.

Something fell from his eyes with a plop. Surprised, Idren froze. No way… was he crying right now?

He hastily lowered his head and blinked. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t one to cry, it was the first time he had shed tears so unexpectedly.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one taken aback. As he hurriedly wiped his wet eyes, Ophelia asked. Her hand was stretched out almost to the tip of his nose.

“…Are you crying?”

And the woman withdrew her hand before he could say anything.

The white hand that had been flickering before his eyes quickly retreated. It seemed that even stretching out her hand hadn’t been intentional.

Pulling her arm all the way back, Ophelia pressed her body against the backrest. She turned her head towards the window and said coldly.

“Wipe your tears.”

Idren turned away from the woman who was acting like a strict instructor even at this moment and wiped his eyes. It wasn’t that he had done well, but he wondered if she needed to be so cold.

Then again, wasn’t Ophelia always like this?

Taking a deep breath to calm his heated reason, Idren thought to himself, as if engraving it in his mind. Ophelia was always like this. She was a woman who seemed to be made of north wind and snow.

Knowing that she was just acting as she always did, Idren tried to quell his emotions.

Even if he became miserable because of her, Ophelia would only find it unsightly.

Idren didn’t want to show her a sight that wouldn’t even be worth watching.

The image of the man wiping his face with his large hands was clearly reflected in the carriage window. Ophelia unconsciously touched her chest. However, there was no way a dress with no warming effect would have pockets to hold handkerchiefs.

Realizing she had nothing to give to the other person, she frowned and glared out the window. She was flustered by the sudden turn of events.

She thought she was used to seeing people cry, but when water fell from those large golden eyes, she didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen his tears. Idren had cried in front of her a few times before.

But the moment she saw the man dropping tears with a somewhat dazed expression, Ophelia couldn’t help but overlap the image of a child from over a decade ago. It felt like she had made a young boy cry, not an adult equal to her.

She unconsciously reached out her hand, then hastily withdrew it. She had just realized that all this trouble had started with a meaningless kindness. She didn’t want to repeat the same mistake.

That man is not a child.

Consciously looking at the twilight spread beyond the window, Ophelia repeated to herself.

Idren Sigrasal was a man of the same age as her, with more possessions than her. He had grown up sufficiently, and the evidence of that growth was visible all over his body.

Nevertheless, Ophelia couldn’t shake off the uneasiness. It felt as if she had unjustly oppressed someone weaker than herself.

She glanced at Idren’s face reflected in the window.

He seemed to have finished wiping his tears and was now looking straight ahead. It was a point oddly askew from her face.

Ophelia turned her head a little more, avoiding the redness that had spread on his face. Without looking at her, the man spoke.

“…I misspoke.”

It was an extremely adult male thing to say. Ophelia was slightly relieved that he wasn’t acting childishly.

Like most ordinary people, she didn’t want to feel guilt or indebtedness for unintended actions.

Especially in a situation where she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what she had done wrong.

When he acted like an adult, they needed to sort out the situation and come to an agreement. Ophelia, who had been sneaking glances at him, opened her mouth.

“Um,”

But Idren cut her off before she could say anything.

“Don’t say anything.”

And the man took a deep breath. Ophelia couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad. All she could see through the window was the back of his neck, flushed red.

She wished he would just get angry.

Ophelia thought, still not taking her eyes off the window.

Even if it was a reflexive thought, it was sincere. An angry person was much better than a sad one. It was because she knew how to fight fire with fire, but not how to comfort.

Despite telling her not to say anything, Idren didn’t move his own mouth either. Silence descended upon the carriage. Thanks to this, Ophelia experienced the sensation of silence being stifling for the first time in quite a while.

Fortunately, the carriage stopped before she could suffocate in the silence.

When the knight knocked on the carriage door from outside to announce their arrival, Ophelia glanced at Idren’s face. She wondered if there might be traces of tears left.

But the man seemed to have deft hands, as he had tidied up his face very well.

He got out of the carriage with a composed expression and extended his hand to her.

Ophelia unknowingly furrowed her brow at his confusing attitude. However, Idren didn’t ask her to unfurrow her brow.

As he guided her onto the path paved with round, flat stones, the man said,

“This is the castle of Taeran, the lord of southern Aglante. We will stay here for about three days to reorganize our ranks and revise our route.”

His tone was as composed as if nothing had happened in the carriage.

But Ophelia could read the dampness underlying it. Idren’s voice had a faint trace of the cracking peculiar to someone who had just stopped crying.

She felt even more uneasy. She responded while keeping her gaze on the ground. I understand.

“It would be better to say in advance if there’s anything you want. There might be things that are difficult to procure while on the move.”

“That too, I understand.”

“There will be a banquet in the evening. If you don’t want to attend, you don’t have to.”

While Ophelia was briefly considering whether that meant she should tactfully decline, he added,

“I know you weren’t on good terms with the southern lord.”

“…Me?”

“I heard that not long after you were married, you slapped Taeran’s cheek.”

So Ophelia tried to recall her memories. Nothing particular came to mind.

To begin with, the name Taeran itself wasn’t very familiar.

It was strange, considering that as the southern lord of Aglante, he should have been close to Leden and thus likely to have been close to her in the past. Ophelia slightly furrowed her brow.

Idren let out a small sigh without even looking at her. It seemed he thought she couldn’t remember something she should, just like when he had asked about the marriage vows.

“After you had a problem with him, Taeran was exiled and executed.”

“…Why?”

At that, Idren stopped on the stone path.

He turned to look at her as if asking if she really didn’t know. Ophelia looked into his golden eyes, which now had no trace of moisture left.

Looking down at her with half his face tinged by the twilight, he sighed once more.

“The southern lord had much, and you were not without reputation, were you?”

“…”

“He was killed because we couldn’t leave any embers. Do you understand?”

And Idren started walking again before she could say anything. As her hand was still held by him, Ophelia had no choice but to walk along.

As they approached the golden castle gate where the lord stood, he whispered in a low voice.

“If you feel like slapping Taeran’s cheek, skip the banquet. I don’t want to kill another lord for taking your side.”