Misfortune 89

Chapter 89

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Unlike her own dark hands, Delnia’s pale white hands were so thin that her bones stood out, and Margaret's heart ached once again. The bandages wrapped around her wrist were the same.

Margaret clenched her teeth to hold back tears and lifted her head. Delnia was struggling to smile at her.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not Margaret’s fault.”

"Delnia…………….”

Margaret’s eyes welled up again.

Delnia’s voice was as gentle as ever. But there was no vitality or energy in it. It was as if she were a flower that had nothing left but to wither away.

Yet she was still smiling at Margaret.

Determined not to let her feelings go to waste, Margaret forced herself to hold back her tears and tried to lift the corners of her mouth in a smile.

“I mean it.”

At that moment, Delnia added again, as if to emphasize. Not as words of comfort, but as if to say that it was the whole truth.

In fact, Delnia truly believed it.

She had naturally guessed that Margaret was the one who had informed Roan about Marcel’s visit.

But she had never once blamed Margaret.

What she had done was merely sparking a flame on a pile of wood that was already ready to catch fire. Even that spark wasn’t something Margaret had created.

This was entirely Roan and Delnia's issue.

Because Roan didn’t trust her at all.

If she had been completely honest, would he have doubted her?

‘No.’

Of course, if she had spoken up beforehand, perhaps this extreme situation could have been avoided.

But in the end, that was all there was to it; the fundamental problem hadn’t changed at all.

Perhaps he would still have tried to verify Marian’s condition himself because he couldn’t trust her words. Maybe he would have even offered to accompany her, still unable to believe her.

Even without experiencing it, Delnia knew. It was she who had made him that way.

More precisely, the mistake of abandoning Roan and fleeing that day.

So she had to get used to it. To a future where she would never gain even a shred of his trust. To days of constant suspicion and oppression.

‘This will continue forever…’

If that was the punishment she had been given, she was willing to accept it calmly. If the knife she had plunged into the back of the boy who had trusted her was now turned against her, she was willing to be cut down without flinching.

Yes. She must have resolved herself to that.

“Margaret. I have a question I’d like to ask.”

Margaret widened her eyes and looked at Delnia at the somewhat sudden question.

“How much time has passed since then?”

“Um……………. About a week, I think.”

At Margaret’s answer, Delnia took a deep breath.

Just a week.

Despite everything she had gone through, only that much time had passed.

For a moment, she felt overwhelmed, as if everything had gone dark before her eyes.

She knew it too. Just because she had braced herself didn't mean the pain would go away. The pain was still the same pain.

Still, she had believed she could endure it. She had believed she could overcome it.

‘Did I overestimate myself?’

She didn’t wish for him to be lenient. She simply wanted to endure any harshness herself.

But her heart, as always, betrayed her.

Resentment rose like black smoke. The smoke, having lost its way out, remained trapped inside her, leaving behind black soot.

She now hated her own weakness. She resented herself for being unable to remain indifferent.

"Why? What's wrong?"

At that moment, Margaret's concerned question diluted the intense emotion that had been darkening Delnia’s heart.

“No. It’s nothing.”

Delnia replied blandly, then forced a faint smile to reassure Margaret. But whether it looked like a genuine smile remained unclear.

***

Roan returned home after the surroundings had already been engulfed in pitch-black darkness.

Having completely stepped away from work for several days, he needed some time to catch up. Having been cooped up in his room all that time, his body had grown slack, and he needed to push it to its limits at least once.

“You’re here, Colonel.”

Since the other servants had already gone to bed, Milan was the only one to greet him.

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

“It’s fine. Go rest.”

Roan dismissed him as usual and continued on his way.

However, Milan did not step back immediately as usual, but kept his eyes on him until he had completely disappeared beyond the bedroom door.

'I must have looked utterly pitiful.'

Though he was dressed in his uniform and acting like a normal person, as if he had never raved like a mad dog, the shock that had been imprinted on him seemed impossible to erase.

After all, if he couldn't even understand himself, how much more so must others feel?

Roan gently touched the corner of his mouth, which had curled up awkwardly, and brushed away the bitter aftertaste on his fingertips as he slowly looked around the room.

Even though the fireplace had been lit and the lamps had been on before he arrived, the air felt cold. It was a space devoid of the warmth of living beings.

His gaze, which had been wandering aimlessly, fell upon the bed, neatly made without a single wrinkle.

The woman had left around noon yesterday. Since he had instructed the coachman, she should arrive at her destination by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

“….”

Even though the bright light was dispelling the night, his vision was somehow blurry. He pressed his fingertips firmly against his eyelids.

But no matter how much he strained his eyes, nothing changed. He already knew the outcome.

It had probably started yesterday morning. More precisely, it began when the messenger who had come to find him reported the news with a serious expression.

“Colonel. Lady Marian’s condition is not good. According to the nuns, it would not be surprising if she were to pass away at any moment.”

From that moment on, his vision began to blur rapidly. Things that had been out of his grasp became so blurry that he couldn't even see them anymore.

It wasn't because the news was the opposite of what he had expected. He no longer worried about Marian's health.

It was simply because of that woman.

"I won't run away……………….."

Really, you…

No, he couldn’t fully trust her yet. She might be planning to flee using her sick family as an excuse.

A person cornered can become as despicable and ruthless as anyone else. That woman was no exception.

But continuing to sow seeds of doubt in that way was pointless. His mouth was already moving on its own, regardless of his thoughts.

"Send her to the Beauvais Convent immediately."

He wanted to rush out of his seat and run away himself rather than issue the order.

But he managed to regain his composure by recalling the past few days when he had already gone mad.

But that was as far as he could go. He couldn't bring himself to turn away from the window.

It was, in fact, a ridiculous situation. The road leading to the monastery was in the opposite direction from the Naval headquarters. There was no way he could see anything by standing there.

Yet, the thought that she might be walking somewhere along that path made it impossible for him to look away.

He paced back and forth by the window like a man on punishment. Even after receiving news that she had departed, he remained the same.

In the end, he returned home without touching the remaining work, and it was only when he faced the empty room that he finally realized she had left.

And at that very moment, the irregular thudding of his heart throughout the day finally calmed down. No, it felt as though his heart had vanished entirely.

Then, an absurd sense of emptiness swept over him, as if not only his heart but all his other organs had vanished.

He realized for the first time that the emptiness in his stomach, as if it were completely hollow, resembled hunger. It felt as though everything that made him who he was had disappeared, leaving only his skin behind.

‘I must be losing my mind.’

Roan roughly ran his fingers through his hair and muttered self-deprecatingly.

It was absurd that he was acting this way just because that little woman was gone.

“How long had I been so attached?”

They had been locked in the bedroom for just over a week.

In fact, after sending someone to the Beauvais Convent, he hadn’t touched her at all. He had untied her wrists long ago.

He had carefully erased all the marks he had left on her body with his own hands and had even dressed her in his own shirt, which she had never been allowed to touch.

Even then, the woman could not regain her senses. It was the same afterward.

She was no longer feverish like before. She was simply in a very deep sleep.

"Roan…………”

The faint whisper of his name in her dream confirmed it.

That was all, yet he was overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness, as if he could no longer touch her even with a fingertip. He couldn't even lie down beside the woman he had once possessed with abandon.

***