186.

Fall.

Before the tears of the women who were paid to mourn the death of the princess had even dried, House Valdemar headed towards the central royal capital. The death of a woman who spent half her life at the top of a tower was not of much importance to those facing war. Solidifying alliances through marriage took precedence over everything else.

Johannes, seated with the duke in the four-wheeled carriage, was restless throughout. That even the head servant, sensitive to the slightest crease, failed to notice his anxious excitement was solely due to Johannes’ extraordinary self-control, which bordered on the miraculous – setting aside the duke who was indifferent even to his heir.

His mind was boiling. The sole cause and purpose of his existence as an object was about to leave him. He no longer even thought of Isolde’s impending marriage as a heartless transaction.

Had not his sister already prepared her own stance in the face of her determined future? She must have long harbored resentment and made her resolve. Unless it was a declaration of war she had been nurturing, how could he demean such a girl’s marriage by calling it a ‘transaction’ with such sympathetic expression? His sister had always been a beam of light passing through him, just as she had come. The shadow was entirely his share.

In the carriage racing like a warhorse along the road, which was no different from a muddy mess due to the chilly autumn rain and piles of rotten leaves, Johannes suddenly realized one more thing. The fact that he himself had never left Gustavus’ boundaries.

It was horrifying. When he had tried so desperately to escape, he had completely lost consciousness, but now in this situation, fitting for the curse’s purpose, far from fainting, his senses stood like a million needles. Ha. Leaning against the carriage wall without even a window to prepare for ambush, he flashed a pale smile. It was like a momentary convulsion.

It was after nearly a month of journey, which was no different from imprisonment on the road except when camping, that House Valdemar finally entered the kingdom. Duke Gustavus and his son disembarked in the central courtyard of the royal palace, welcomed by the royal family members.

Amidst the red petals fluttering with the ivory carved fountain as a backdrop, Johannes immediately threw his gaze towards the unfamiliar sky of a foreign land. He could not bear it otherwise. Because the cheers bursting like fireworks in all directions felt entirely like deception.

“Ahem.”

Somewhere, a woman cleared her throat. Johannes did not hear it. He was only secretly distracted by an anxious glance to his left. It was in front of the main entrance of the chapel overlooking the inner courtyard of the royal palace.

The garden full of autumn chrysanthemums was dazzlingly bright and cool. Even the wind passing through the long curved corridor surrounding the courtyard and brushing against the flower stalks in the flowerbed felt moist with abundance. From the climate alone, this foreign land was so different from the mainland where even a small spark could start a wildfire.

If Gustavus Fortress had the majesty of a knight bowing with his sword stuck at the end of a steep cliff, the central royal palace had the appearance of a nobleman raising his forehead high towards the sky. If Johannes had seen this scenery when he was still the eldest son of a knightly family to the bone, he would have chuckled that despite being the same military facility, the temperature difference was as stark as between the west wind and the south wind.

But now he had no leisure to compare.

“Ahem. Hem…”

A golden beam of light struck directly on the eyelids of Johannes, who stood straight beside the ceremonial palanquin inlaid with blue jade and finished with gold. A sensation close to pain arose. Johannes unconsciously lowered his eyes. Though his neat brow did not crease at all, his stomach violently refluxed. What could a mere machine feel? He was disgusted by all his senses.

His cheeks were not just hot, they felt like ice.

“Lord Johannes.”

Griselda, who had been trying to get Johannes’ attention with small coughs, finally whispered. Johannes only opened his eyes after being called twice more. His gaze, drawn as if pulled by the voice calling him, collided with the hem of the skirt on the palanquin to his right.

His gaze did not stop there but climbed up the skirt cascading like a white waterfall. It rose to just below the lightly closed lips. Isolde. The young lady he was to escort stood demurely, silently enduring his rudeness. She wore a golden crown on her straight forehead. Like a symbol that she would soon leave Valdemar and become a member of the royal family.

The girl facing the one grand event of her life did not even look directly at her brother standing before her. She stared blankly at one spot as if there was an invisible point fixed in the air. Only her slender shoulders seemed more rigid than usual in her white, delicate figure standing on the palanquin.

While being infinitely pressed down by that terribly high sky of the central region, she had resolved with those shoulders alone. That she would never show any pain. Only then did Johannes’ brow crumble ever so slightly.

Truly, she is about to leave.

“Lord Johannes.”

Griselda’s persistent voice was now quite anxious. Isolde parted the veil flowing down her whole body and raised the back of one hand. Her gaze was still fixed on the empty air without a word. But being not the type to completely hide her sensitive blue eyes, she urged her knight with at least a gesture. A blue light glanced up towards him.

Only then did Johannes reluctantly bow his head. He raised the back of his hand in a position easy for his sister to grasp. It was finally gently grasped. Isolde slowly descended from the palanquin.

The moment she carefully took Johannes’ arm.

Johannes almost swept her up and fled. However, Isolde, who was to advance towards another young man while receiving his guidance, was still an unbending needle. Though not without some signs of tension, that was all. Yes. You are that kind of child.

“I’m sorry…. Please, forgive me… Okay…?”

His sister did not know how to utter the cowardly apologies that had repeatedly driven Idris to despair. She was a flame that would cry and shout and demand why you don’t cherish me rather than asking to be cherished. Regardless of any disappointment or hatred that might follow.

But it had been long since Johannes felt ecstasy at her stubborn nature. He just found it difficult to bear the tsunami-like loneliness, and from behind the elbow held by her, he was burning with fever.

“Even at this moment, I feel like a madman babbling alone to the empty air where no one is…!”

That day, Johannes understood Kretzman frighteningly well. While his own senses, thoroughly denied as nonexistent, were achingly clear, it was rather the outside world that was an empty ruin, not himself.

The sincere awe, respect, jealousy, inferior whispers, and even unexpressed plots thrown at the grand name of nothingness were all empty wind and void. In the end, the only one truly shaking with emotions in response to an illusion was himself, and Johannes was another madman muttering to himself in a ruin.

Isolde. Isolde. Isolde.

The only girl with substance in this insubstantial world is now leaving him.

The siblings soon joined the long procession following the duke. Among the red Gustavus crowd like blood vessels, the girl alone was a white dot. Johannes did not know that the angelica petals decorating her veil were falling, plop, plop, leaving behind white traces like sorrowful footprints.

“…I never knew my fastidious sister had such low standards.”

It was while escorting Isolde through the crowd filling the royal chapel. Johannes did not know why he was smiling. He was just desperate to say one more word. Isolde, who had been walking with her eyes forward while holding his arm, suddenly turned to look at him. With a calm expression as if this much contact was ordinary. The white hem of her veil fluttered near Johannes’ jawline.

“There’s no shortage of men renowned for their martial prowess among the royal family. To think that out of all the worthy candidates, you chose that royal scrap…”

Johannes nodded towards the young man standing obliquely in front of the altar with the priest on the opposite side.

“I just can’t believe it, having watched you all this time.”

“You… you must be joking right now.”

Isolde whispered quickly. In a thoroughly dumbfounded tone.

“As if that was my choice?”

A retort like a convulsion from deep within her cooled core brushed his ear. It was the first emotional disturbance shown that day by his sister, who had maintained an aloof attitude throughout. Johannes’ skin where her breath touched broke out in slight goosebumps. It was ten steps to the altar where Isolde’s husband-to-be stood.

Still.

More. Just a little more. Without even having time to grasp what he wanted, thirst struck first. Though reason may be foolish, the body knows its own desires, so Johannes scratched at her insides with an amiable smile he put on with all his might.

“At least half of it was your choice, Isolde.”

He said. Though in a joking tone, it was the utmost sincerity he could muster. The slender fingertips resting on his arm instantly froze. Johannes was not unaware of what that reaction meant. He momentarily tightened his lips and suppressed his trembling insides.

“Was he not… already by your side?”

Johannes whispered softly, persistently, his gaze fixed straight ahead. What, Isolde asked coldly. Johannes’ forehead tilted slowly. Barely noticeable. The cold tip of Isolde’s golden crown briefly touched his temple. Johannes barely whispered, struggling to suppress the convulsions boiling up from his solar plexus.

“A man… more superior than him.”

“……”

“Someone you could grasp at any time.”

“……”

“A servant who would lick the floor at your slightest call.”

“……”

“Though you probably couldn’t know his true identity…”

Five steps forward. The breath supporting Isolde trembled slightly. Isolde showed no reaction. In the end, only Johannes’ feelings became more miserable with each step. Though he was already accustomed to her indifference, the magnitude of the pain remained so constant.

Johannes expected a lukewarm reply of ‘Who?’

Given the situation, he had no choice but to lower his gaze while being conscious of the solemn air in the chapel. After hesitating for a moment. Finally losing patience, he glanced at Isolde.

It was in fact a gaze that emerged outward due to the suffocating feeling that he could not collapse on his own without confirming your indifferent gaze one last time. He could see Isolde’s eyelashes shading below her smooth forehead. And her cheek.

…Ah.

That was when Johannes’ heart collapsed.

“What… nonsense.”

“……”

“Anyway, you’re saying he doesn’t meet your standards?”

“……”

“What a fitting… compliment for such an auspicious day.”

“……”

“Thank you.”

…By some miracle. He seemed to have answered like that. Isolde’s veil, trying to lighten the mood by forcing a joke, was dizzying to his eyes. He could not take his eyes off the side of his sister’s face, which had subtly bowed as if to hide her expression.

Her cheek.

A cheek flushed as miserably as his own.

His innards turned over at the long eyelashes that could not hide their trembling even after drawing a thin veil over the thin skin.

“You seem to think you’ll always be single, Johannes.”

“……”

“Just watch how I’ll treat your wife on your wedding day.”

Isolde, who had quickly grasped her husband’s hand while Johannes was in a daze, whispered as if in a final joke. It was a voice without even the slightest hint of a tremor, pretending to be nonchalant, but she did not look back at him even once.

No, she could not. She was unable to look back. Yes. The proof was in her back, shrunk as if frightened. You. Unable to even call out aloud, from the root of his tongue that had stiffened alive, down, down, his blood ran cold. Johannes’ shoulders, fists clenched, were shaking violently.

You….

Since when did you know?

He wanted to ask.