73. The River of No Return

2023.12.12.

“Bring every available member from the Imperial Knights. The more, the better. Narrow it down to those who can depart immediately! We’re leaving right now!”

“Your Highness, where exactly are we going so suddenly?”

Marquis Companni asked in surprise, thrown off by the sudden commotion.

Bollonico swiftly ordered his attendants to prepare his most ornate and beautiful attire, then turned toward Marquis Companni with a sharp, amused smile.

“To have some fun.”

【I thought you were plotting something truly entertaining. But mere poisoning? How dull. I expected you to play with him in a far more amusing way before killing him.】

【Hire Hatarun. He told me the man who killed my sister was Clade Euphris. I can never forgive him. I want to turn him into a miserable, ridiculous clown, drag him onto a stage, and kill him in the cruelest, most pitiful way possible.】

【Wouldn’t it be quite entertaining if the rumor spread that the ninth official bride of the disgraced Prince Clade Euphris ran away from the Black Mansion because she was in love with Crown Prince Bollonico? Just as Your Highness once captured Ariesta, the Duchess, who had been his first fiancée. What if this time, the rumor was that his actual wife, already married, abandoned him for Crown Prince Bollonico? Ruin his honor completely, make him a laughingstock, then dispose of him quietly, without a trace. Wouldn’t that be far more fun?】

The fluttering letter, with its neat handwriting, left Marquis Companni dazed.

“How did the disgraced princess consort know about the ‘bird’ to send this?”

“What does it matter?”

Malice hung heavily from Bollonico’s smiling face.

【It begins… with a knight on a white horse coming to rescue the princess trapped in the Black Mansion. What do you think?】

***

The Black Mansion, Clade’s study.

The scratching of the quill moved steadily, then faltered, faltered again, straightened, paused briefly, and then slowly resumed.

Between the elegant curves of ink on the white paper, memories from the previous night vividly resurfaced.

– Tap.

Clade finally stopped what he was doing and set the quill down on the desk.

His long fingers, resting on the hard surface of the table, twitched softly as if recalling the night before.

‘How could I do such a thing… and still act as if nothing happened?’

Instead of focusing on the complicated documents, he stared blankly into space, tormented by memories from the night.

The trembling body he had watched so intently, as if trying to memorize every detail.

The ribs rising and falling with each labored breath.

The soft gasps slipping between her lips as she drifted into unconscious sleep.

The way she opened her dark, grape-like eyes upon briefly waking, grasped his arm with her small hand, and whispered, “Clade…”—a quiet, pleading murmur from damp lips.

The soft, sweet taste inside her mouth.

The sensation of drinking but never quenching thirst, swallowing but never feeling full.

The moment their body heat intertwined, his hair standing on end, as if he wanted to push his very soul into her and lock it away, never to be taken back.

Whether it was a cry of pleasure or pain, he couldn’t tell. When he asked if she was okay, she’d bite her lower lip tightly and quietly nod with her small chin.

The feeling that if he held her and opened her lips to swallow her warm breath, she wouldn’t be able to breathe herself—yet couldn’t endure holding back.

Her small harp, producing different sounds wherever his feverish fingers touched.

Her lips, whispering “good, good” even as tears streamed down her face. Lips. Lips. Lips…

Clade pressed his temples and closed his eyes.

Everything felt like a dream.

For the past few months, he had known nothing of what a “wedded night” truly was.

It had been far more intense, hotter, and stickier than he had imagined.

Intimate, sweet, and soul-consuming—pulling his spirit in and out repeatedly, leaving him utterly breathless.

A night where his chest filled entirely with light, only to be instantly swallowed by darkness.

In the past ten years—no, in his entire life—Clade had never experienced a night so peaceful, so fulfilling, so exhilarating.

Trapped in a sticky, sweet snare, drinking until drunk, only to die with a burst stomach like a helpless creature.

Helplessly drawn in, his mind dominated, as if someone were gripping his tongue and forcing him to say things he never should.

He felt his heart churn violently, aching with curiosity about the countless nights he couldn’t remember—the air he missed, the expressions he never saw, the words and sounds he never heard.

After experiencing such a night, hearing her say “don’t cross the line” the next day… he wanted to ask her how she possibly felt.

…No, he didn’t want to ask.

Before and after that night, everything was completely different.

Her behavior—boldly claiming to be his wife, moving through this house as if it were truly hers, interacting with the servants—now seemed perfectly natural and justified.

Though it was a white, empty day without her beside him, his soul still wandered between the white nights and black days he had first experienced inside his wife’s bedroom.

His throat felt dry again.

How could he have lived through dozens of such nights and not remembered?

How could she remain so composed?

It made no sense.

It was impossible.

Memory wasn’t just in the mind.

It was etched into his two eyes that had seen her disheveled form.

Into his nose that tilted slightly, inhaling her musky breath.

Into his mouth that had taken in her petal-like, damp lips, chewing and swallowing them.

Into every sensation—hot, soaked, embracing each other, invading, sucking, biting, drinking—that had been tattooed across his entire body.

Clade Euphris had crossed the river of no return.

Late at night.

The intense sensation, replacing pain, tied a leash around his soul and roared into his ear: You can never go back to who you were.

“You’re completely out of your mind.”

During the two days Clade was absent,

Eddie Rev, who had come all the way to the mansion’s entrance only to be turned away and forced to return to the Marquisate, barged into the study at just the right moment.

Seeing the mansion’s unusually cheerful atmosphere, and Clade’s own vacant expression—so unlike the man who usually locked himself in his study as if chased by something—Eddie narrowed his eyes.

“What grand scheme could you possibly be plotting to keep me locked out for two whole days?”

“What is it?”

Clade finally ran a hand through his disheveled hair and faced Eddie with a stiff expression.

“Your personal physician, Hire Hatarun. He’s gone missing—or rather, he fled.”

Eddie waved a letter he had received from Gustav, the butler who had followed him in.

“He even handed over all responsibilities in meticulous detail to the assistant he left behind. Only left a note saying he was sorry. With the master of this mansion only just beginning to stabilize, for his closest physician to run away will surely stir unrest again. I plan to tell the other servants he’s gone on a trip abroad.”

“People running away from this mansion isn’t exactly rare.”

“Next time, it might be your wife fleeing.”

“What?”

Clade casually spoke, then abruptly slammed the quill back down in irritation.

His displeased expression turned sharply toward Eddie.

The butler Gustav, glancing back and forth between Eddie’s furious face and Clade’s, cautiously slipped out of the study.

Only after the door clicked shut did Eddie turn his sharp gaze fully toward Clade.

“Did you ask your wife what Bollonico said when he visited her during your poisoning incident at the palace?”

“I was unconscious then. Do you think I had the presence of mind to ask such things?”

“Oh? Then after you returned? After nearly dying and coming back to the mansion? Up until recently, your wife has been visiting the Marquisate’s cemetery as often as if she’d hidden a jar of honey there. Doesn’t a wife usually worry more about her living husband than her dead sister?”

“Eddie Rev. Can’t you see my face?”

Clade lifted his face. It was now flawless—perfect, beautiful, without a single speck of imperfection.

“I can see it just fine. Your precious face.”

“The physician who fled admitted it himself. He said my recovery was largely due to Yuan’s efforts. What exactly is so unsatisfactory? Do you want me to be dead at her side so you can finally be at peace, even if I’m alive and perfectly capable of working?”

“Recently, Regina Pelliese—the current Count Pelliese’s daughter—left her name in the guestbook. Coincidentally, she visited my family’s cemetery to meet your wife, despite having no connection to our lineage.”

“What are you trying to say? They’re cousins who grew up together. There’s nothing wrong with that. Should I forbid her from seeing family? Should I interrogate her like a jailer questioning an escaped prisoner just for meeting her relatives?”

Clade’s voice grew louder as he spoke quietly at first, then irritably ruffled his golden hair.

“She was sold into marriage without warning. Even a distant relative, not a drop of blood shared with me, would feel more like real family and offer more comfort than a stranger.”

“You… Are you really Clade Euphris?”

Eddie Rev held his head in disbelief.

Count Pelliese, a man loyal to Crown Prince Bollonico—and his daughter traveling a long distance to meet Yuan, all the way to another family’s cemetery.

Normally, if one wished to visit a married relative, one would formally request an invitation to the household.

Unless something suspicious was afoot, this manner of meeting was deeply troubling.

“Are you really the Clade Euphris I once knew? Is this truly not strange to you? Really?”

“Well, everyone thinks and lives like this.”

Clade stopped messing with his hair, gave a cold laugh, and crossed his arms.

“Everyone lives like this. Harassing someone’s wife for meeting family at a cemetery? That’s something a jailer does to a runaway prisoner, not a husband. Do you really want me to act like that? What good would it do me to torment that tiny woman?”

“Your personal physician fled! Less than a week after you nearly died from poisoning! Your wife secretly met a cousin who’s widely rumored to have an affair with Bollonico! And that cousin’s father is Bollonico’s lapdog! How can you stay calm?”

“If someone really wanted to kill me with poison, they’d have had plenty of chances by now. That physician probably fled because he feared being falsely accused. It’s obvious.”

“You’re impossible to reason with. You’ve been thoroughly enchanted!”

“I’m the same.”

Eddie openly sneered, raising his middle finger.

Not satisfied, he let out a short shout, then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Shortly after, his father, Marquis Mosan Rev, entered the study cautiously, footsteps heavy, leaving his furious son behind.

“Did you two quarrel?”

“What did you need?”

The Marquis, clearly troubled by his son’s angry departure, glanced back several times before sighing and pulling out a ring case from his coat.

The ring case, wrapped in deep red velvet, bore signs of age but radiated luxury.

“I was shocked when I received your letter this morning.”

The Marquis’s estate had been in minor chaos since Clade’s letter arrived the moment he woke.

Clade had suddenly demanded the immediate return of his mother, late Empress Eleonore’s ring.

“The item you entrusted to me, believing my estate safer than the Black Mansion…”

“…I’m thinking of holding a wedding.”

Marquis Mosan Rev’s eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth hanging open.

“Quietly, without the Imperial Court knowing. Is it possible?”

He stared blankly at Clade, who kept opening and closing the ring case with anxious hands, as if his jaw might drop to the floor.