TFM 240

Serves you right Ayla 😤

“Isn’t it pretty?”

She suddenly tilted her head toward him.

He quietly stared at the cluster of light spilling along the delicate contours of her face, then felt a dizzying warmth, like a low fever, spread through his veins and turned his gaze away.

For some reason, he felt as though he should not keep her in his sight any longer.

He removed the cloak draped over his shoulders, wrapped it around her body, and carefully lowered the window.

“Dinner time has passed. It would be best for you to go inside now.”

“Just a little longer…”

Curled up inside his cloak, the woman rested her chin on her knees and murmured.

“I want to watch the sun set until the very end.”

He looked down at her thin shoulders and the nape of her neck with sunken eyes, then soon leaned his back against the wall with a low sigh.

A faint smile brushed across her lips.

Feeling his chest tighten for no reason, he turned his gaze toward the setting sun.

As the whole world sank into red afterimages, the cool evening air seeping through the gap in the window slowly pushed away the warmth that had lingered inside the study.

For some reason, that quiet moment pierced deep into his chest.

At the chill running down his spine, he clenched his fist tightly.

A sharp sense of alarm rose within him at the banquet of sensations she offered him.

This moment would not last forever.

He would soon return to where he belonged, and never again would he give his attention to the beauty of a sunset.

Therefore, this unfamiliar heat coursing through his body had to be nothing more than a momentary delusion.

Watching the light fade beyond the darkened forest, he soon closed his eyes.

‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈ ⟡ ┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹

A faint noise seeped into his muddled mind.

Slowly lifting eyelids that felt stiff, as though glued shut, Varkas stared up at the ceiling surrounded by dark gray light and pressed a hand to his forehead.

Then he noticed the bandage wrapped around his hand, and his eyes narrowed.

How did this happen?

He was trying to trace through his fog-blurred memories when someone’s voice came from close by.

“Y-Your Grace! You’re awake.”

He blinked slowly, his eyes not quite focusing.

Only several seconds later did he recognize the man’s face. The gaunt-faced head butler threw down the wet towel he had been holding as if tossing it aside, then bent over beside the bed.

“How do you feel? Is there anywhere uncomfortable…”

The ringing voice echoed dully in his ears.

Varkas pressed his throbbing temple for a moment, then pushed himself upright.

“How long was I asleep?”

“You were unconscious for nearly two days. According to the healer, your condition was almost…”

The man, who had been stammering as he propped pillows behind Varkas’s back, suddenly trailed off.

Varkas lifted his unfocused eyes and looked at the man’s face. The man pressed his trembling lips tightly together, then soon spoke in a cracked voice.

“T-this is no time for this. Please wait a moment. I will call a high priest. You were unconscious for so long, so you will need recovery magic.”

Without even waiting for an answer, the man hurried out of the room.

Varkas listened blankly to the sound of those restless footsteps, then turned his head and looked out the window. He saw the pale sun spilling gray light as it sank beyond the black fields.

How long had he been staring at that sight with empty eyes?

Soon, amid a flurry of footsteps, a man in trailing priestly robes burst inside.

Varkas leaned back against the bedrest while the man examined his condition, then swept his fatigue-soaked gaze over the people who had, at some point, filled the room.

From the way every one of them looked as though they were attending a funeral, his condition must have been fairly serious.

How disgraceful.

How many times had it been now that he had lost consciousness and collapsed in such an unsightly manner? Thinking that in a daze, he recalled the memories from just before he had blacked out, and his brow twisted.

Seeing that expression, the priest spoke gravely.

“For the time being, you must do nothing and rest properly. Even if medicine is needed, you must force yourself to sleep.”

“…Did you not say I already slept for two full days?”

“That is not enough.”

The man spoke seriously.

“Your Grace’s current physical state is not very different from that of a prisoner who has been tortured for weeks without eating or sleeping. How could you have been left alone until your body reached this condition…”

The man pressed his fingers firmly between his eyes, then soon rose from beside the bed.

Then, toward the servants who stood with their heads bowed low like sinners, he spoke in a stiff tone.

“I will prescribe medicine, so make certain he takes it without fail. And for the time being, watch him carefully so that he is not allowed to handle any official affairs.”

“We will keep that in mind.”

A short while later, the priest left the room with his medical bag.

Varkas immediately dismissed the servants, then staggered out of bed and looked around the room.

It was his own bedroom, yet somehow it felt unfamiliar. Come to think of it, he could not even guess when he had last used this room.

Narrowing his eyes, he soon noticed the tapestry hanging on one side of the room and approached it.

A forest and field, woven from threads of many different shades, covered half of the broad fabric. He stared motionlessly for a long while at the picture, which still seemed unfinished, then abruptly walked over to the chest where his personal belongings were kept.

With his bandaged hand, he fumbled the lid open, revealing various travel supplies neatly arranged inside.

He rummaged through them at random and found the embroidered leather waterskin.

For a while, he stood without moving, looking down at it. Then he trudged toward the fireplace.

In the wavering firelight, the dark stain stood out clearly.

Varkas rubbed at it unconsciously with his thumb, then suddenly let out a hollow laugh and sank heavily into the chair.

He did not even know why he was laughing.

With his forehead pressed against the bloodstained embroidery, his shoulders trembling, he heard a knock at the door.

He did not answer.

But the visitor did not seem inclined to leave. A clear knock sounded again, followed by a cautious voice.

“Your Grace, forgive me for disturbing your rest. Her Highness the Princess has earnestly requested to see you…”

“Send her away.”

“However…”

“It will only take a moment.”

Behind the head butler’s troubled voice, a delicate voice rang out.

Varkas closed his eyes wearily.

When no reply came, the unwelcome visitor pressed on stubbornly.

“I won’t take up much of your time. Please, Varkas…”

She sounded as though she would remain there until the end if he did not grant permission.

In the end, he opened his firmly sealed lips.

“Come in.”

Soon, the door opened, followed by the sound of light footsteps.

Leaning back in the chair, he moved only his eyes to look at her.

Ayla crossed the room with her usual dignified, elegant gait and spoke with a gentle smile.

“How are you feeling? I heard your condition was not good…”

“Did you not say you would not take much of my time?”

He cut her off in a dry voice.

“Please state your business.”

The woman’s complexion turned pale as a sheet of paper.

Her neatly folded hands tightened around the hem of her skirt, and she continued with a stiff expression.

“Very well. Then I will speak only of the matter at hand.”

Then she walked to the window and looked out over the manor, where darkness had begun to settle.

“Using Gareth’s blunder as a pretext, the forces following the empress have begun moving all at once. A proposal has already been brought before the council demanding that his command over the Roem Knights be revoked, and movements to win over the conservative nobles have also been detected. Public sentiment is in the worst possible state as well.”

The woman, who had been calmly listing her brother’s mistakes, turned back to him with a bitter expression.

“To resolve this situation, we need the grand duke’s help.”

He gave no answer, only ran his fingertips over the dense traces of embroidery.

As the silence stretched on, the princess grew impatient and hurriedly continued.

“I am suggesting a political alliance, not an actual marriage. If Gareth loses power like this, the grand ducal house will suffer a serious blow as well. If the influence of the radicals centered around House Tarrein grows stronger, then House Sykan’s position as the leader of the conservative nobles will inevitably shrink. Surely you wish to prevent such a situation too.”

The woman paused briefly, then looked at him with tragic resolve in her eyes.

“The attacks against House Sykan have already begun. The empress will place the blame for Thalia’s death on the grand ducal house. If we are to stop the empress, we must join forces again.”

Varkas lifted his gaze from where it had been fixed on the leather pouch and looked at the woman’s face.

In that instant, the princess’s shoulders shrank back.

As she retreated a step, as though she had seen something frightening, he spoke indifferently.

“Have you said everything you came to say?”

Varkas propped his head on one hand, looking weary, then gestured with his chin.

“Then please leave.”

The woman’s face flushed dark with humiliation. She clenched her fists and stepped close before him.

“You broke off your engagement with me one-sidedly. Even after suffering such an insult, I… never once blamed or resented you.”

A faint sheen of tears formed over the woman’s eyes. As though desperately swallowing something down, she steadied her breath and asked with trembling lips,

“Have you ever, even once, felt sorry toward me?”

A bright, white stream of tears ran down her cheek.

Varkas watched it with expressionless eyes, then opened his mouth.

“No.”

The woman’s graceful face crumpled miserably in an instant.

Varkas watched the sight without the slightest stir of emotion, then added calmly,

“I have never particularly thought about you at all.”