Misfortune 125

Chapter 125

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"But before that, I have one suggestion to make."

"What is it?"

Cuern turned to Roan irritably, asking as he blabbered on. He was still unable to calm his excitement, panting heavily and breathing hard.

However, Cuern’s face, which had been scowling arrogantly, began to relax more and more as Roan's story progressed.

"You...?"

By the time Roan finally finished speaking, Cuern was no longer angry. He merely wore an expression of utter disbelief.

"You wouldn't be thinking of dying, would you?"

Cuern pressed in a low, subdued voice. His eyes flashed sharply, as if gauging Roan's true intentions.

Before him, Roan remained utterly unflappable, his expression unchanged as he answered calmly.

"I have never once entered battle with the complacent mindset that I would return alive."

Of course, it was a blatant lie. Every time he was driven into a desperate situation, he had endured with the resolve to die but not die.

At this utterly conventional answer, Cuern scowled. It wasn't because he had seen through the lie.

"You know perfectly well that's not what I meant."

Even at Cuern's rebuke, Roan remained unshaken.

Truthfully, he had every reason to be confident. While not sincere, his proposal wasn't entirely false either.

"If it's a life destined to be wasted anyway, I'm simply suggesting you use it more efficiently."

Cuern was rendered speechless by the casual manner in which Roan bargained, staking his own life as if it were nothing.

"If I return alive, you can always send me back to prison later."

"...."

Cuern let out a sigh bordering on exasperation. He seemed utterly flabbergasted.

But Roan knew. He knew Cuern couldn't possibly refuse his offer.

Everyone called him a coward, but Cuern was, after all, a soldier. Prioritizing his own survival didn't mean he would disregard the Navy's honor.

In fact, this was a choice that allowed him to preserve himself while upholding the Navy's honor.

"So, are you joining the expedition?"

As expected, Cuern, having made his decision, asked in a deep, resonant voice.

Roan immediately reverted to his role as a loyal, steadfast subordinate and answered.

"I'll finish packing and depart for Orbon immediately."

His voice, speaking of packing rather than preparation, held a solemn yet resolute determination.

Cuern said nothing more. But Roan already knew that silence meant consent.

***

Snow had finally fallen on Blois. It was the first snowfall they had seen this winter.

For Delnia, who had lived in the mountains, snow was a sign that true winter had arrived. But the perspective of the people of Blois, who lived by the warm southern sea, was quite different.

"They say when it snows, winter is over. What an amusing notion."

Margaret hummed the words in an amused voice, as if singing.

The people of Blois took snowfall as proof that warmer days were now just around the corner. Since it rarely snowed in their region, the first snowfall was likely to be the last.

"It was refreshing to hear someone from a place where heavy snow often falls in winter think that way."

"Me too. Back home, flurries like this that barely even stick wouldn't even be considered snow."

Margaret, who like Delnia came from a place with distinct seasons, shrugged her shoulders.

But regardless, this was Blois, and according to those who had lived here their entire lives, today would be the coldest day of this winter.

"Hearing that makes it feel like winter really will end soon. Spring must be just around the corner now……."

Margaret's voice was gloomy as she muttered to herself. With all the turmoil of war and such, the inevitable arrival of spring had naturally faded from people's minds.

Especially in Blois, the naval command headquarters, rumors about Admiral Lasser and Colonel Barthez kept the place buzzing day after day.

Why hadn't Admiral Lasser been appointed Commander-in-Chief? Why had Colonel Barthez suddenly colluded with the Imperial Court, damaging his own reputation? Speculation about their motives reached even outsiders like Delnia and Margaret.

But the two deliberately avoided such topics. As per their unspoken rule.

"So we're still meeting Uncle Tom tomorrow as planned?"

Margaret deliberately brightened her voice to change the subject. Delnia willingly nodded.

"Yes, that's right."

Tom was a merchant who crisscrossed the southern and eastern regions. He often visited the remote town of Belfort to sell exotic goods, so he was acquainted with Delnia.

Then, not long ago, they happened to meet again at the port of Blois.

“Why, isn't this Miss Belfort?”

Tom, who had approached her first with friendly familiarity, knew her circumstances yet maintained his gentlemanly demeanor.

Thanks to that, they ended up talking more than expected. Learning Delnia was contemplating relocation, he offered to recommend places.

Tom had a wandering spirit, unable to settle anywhere for long, drifting wherever his feet took him. Because of this, Delnia gained many useful insights. So many, in fact, that they needed to find another place to continue the conversation.

"But Margaret, are you sure you'll be okay?"

Suddenly, Delnia voiced her concern.

"I'll say it again—you don't have to follow me if you don't want to. Do whatever you wish, Margaret."

Delnia knew Margaret loved Blois dearly. Compared to the capital, Blois was like a second home to her.

Yet Margaret seemed determined to follow Delnia anywhere she went. Just as she had followed her willingly when she had stormed out of the residence.

'She must still feel indebted about that incident.'

Though she had never voiced it, Delnia knew Margaret occasionally glanced at her left wrist.

She had conveyed many times, in roundabout ways, that it wasn't Margaret's fault, that she needn't feel sorry anymore. But it hadn't really worked. It seemed nothing would change unless Margaret herself came to accept it.

So she tried to wait patiently, but moving one's home wasn't a trivial matter.

"No. I really want to go with you. Blois could become dangerous too."

Even so, Margaret seemed to dismiss it as unnecessary worry and reaffirmed her resolve.

"But………………."

"I said it's fine. Even Lucas recommended I come with you because it's dangerous here. Well, if that ends up straining our relationship, then I guess it was meant to be that way from the start."

Margaret ended the unnecessary argument by bringing up Lucas's name. Then, before Delnia could add anything more, she tidied up the space.

"Well, I think I'll head inside for today."

Faced with Margaret's strong resolve to end the conversation, Delnia sighed softly and followed her to her feet.

"Sleep well, Delnia."

"You too, Margaret. Sweet dreams."

After exchanging nighttime greetings, Delnia returned alone to her room and approached the window with its narrow terrace to close the curtains.

Outside, snow was still falling. Most of it melted instantly into transparent droplets, only a tiny fraction settling lightly on the ground like powdered sugar.

Delnia gazed briefly at the sparsely whitened nighttime snow scene. She carefully drew the thick curtains to keep out the draft, then headed toward the wardrobe. From deep within it, she retrieved a small cloth bag she had hidden.

Returning to the bed, she sat down lightly and carefully turned the bag inside out. Several coins and a small pouch fell onto the soft quilt. It was the lump sum she had saved up until now.

Delnia first sorted the coins to determine how much she had on hand.

Since fleeing the mansion, she had covered all her living expenses herself.

Milan had once come to see her regarding this matter. But Delnia had not only refused to listen to him, she hadn't even let him into the house, firmly conveying her refusal.

"I need to look into more work."

Delnia muttered to herself after roughly finishing her calculations.

She still sold lace and occasionally took jobs from Lena, so she didn't face major difficulties living day-to-day. But it was woefully insufficient for relocation. Margaret also often brought home sewing work, but it wasn't enough to make a significant contribution.

Her troubled gaze suddenly fell on a small pouch tucked away in a corner. She knew what lay inside without opening it.

Exactly 11 crowns, 5 silver, and 7 copper.

Money earned by selling the last remnants of her noble heritage, and the reward Roan had bestowed.

Delnia stared blankly at the pouch before reaching out. The weight in her palm felt familiar.

She had barely touched this money. All she'd ever spent was a little copper when she ran out of stationery.

With various forms of assistance giving her breathing room, she hadn't needed to dip into it. But if she'd wanted to, she could have spent it freely.

So why had she kept it all this time?