TPOP 107

Chapter 107

***

The Spring of Valestega was ruled by Karman's colonial forces. In other words, it was his land.

Already weeks ago, security at the Dortes colony was doubled. Diana would eventually return to his domain to see the Spring of Valestega.

Was she going there ahead of time to wait?

Based on the information gathered so far, Diana was undoubtedly the sacrifice offered to the Spring of Valestega by the Dortes royal family once per generation. 

Yet, among the spirit masters recorded in history, none had ever wielded their power outside the spring like she did.

The spirits love Diana exceptionally. Was she perhaps no ordinary sacrifice? If so, in what way?

The investigation of the former site of the Dortes royal family, now a colony, and the royal archives was complete. Only one thing remained to be uncovered.

There was one who, by the Emperor's command, captured fleeing Dortes as slaves. He was the Imperial Army's Commander-in-Chief during the attack on the royal castle. Diana was surely captured by his hand and branded on her chest. As a witness to the royal house's final moments, he might know something.

Felix personally dealt with that man roughly seven years ago. The commander-in-chief, who had served the late emperor his entire life, had been demoted to a remote post and hadn't set foot in the capital for a long time.

Three days ago, Felix summoned him. He should arrive around today.

Waiting for the knight, Felix turned to another canvas.

It was a painting he had created just before learning of Diana's legacy. He had freely added light to Diana's pupils, meticulously depicting even his own silhouette reflected in them.

After days consumed by plans to conquer Ormance, he returned to this painting. It drew him back. In one corner of the studio, he felt as if Diana were staring at him intently.

Every time his eyes met the woman in the painting, a thrill ran through him, making his skin prickle. She was still within his grasp. Recognizing this fact brought a thirst more unbearable than before.

"I want to see her."

He wanted to see the real thing, not an illusion. The warm body he had held for the last time the night the Emperor breathed his last, the comforting scent of her skin, remained vivid. Recalling the fulfillment of that night, the fog in his mind lifted, however faintly.

Felix, wiping Diana's eyes, licked his lips as if to soothe his hunger.

Diana would return to him someday.

So, should he wait until then?

The answer was already decided.

"No."

He couldn't wait.

Weeks of turmoil and anguish gradually led to a conclusion.

Felix never finished a single painting of her. He was slowly accepting the fact that he might never complete one.

The portrait of the maid remained forever unfinished, and perhaps that incomplete image was the last glimpse of Diana he would ever see. Instead, Felix discovered a world he had never been able to create, even with his once-intact hands.

Before long, his studio was covered in paintings verging on abstraction. Names of emotions he had known only in dictionary definitions were captured on each canvas.

Felix surveyed the canvases surrounding him with burning eyes. Within the dizzying whirlpools of paint, each bore a name.

Pride, fear, anxiety, restlessness, thirst and desire, longing and possessiveness, joy and despair.

All emotions sparked by one woman.

His dead mother had said,

"It means you find the other person lovely, my child. That's what love is."

Love. Felix repeated the word, sticky and clinging to his tongue. Staring at the painting before him, he thought he understood it vaguely.

If love, that amorphous thing, could be likened to anything, it would be the pale green iris reflecting his silhouette.

It might be the fragile knuckles desperately clutched on a crumbling cliff, or the wheat-colored hair he wanted to confirm while rummaging through an unidentified corpse.

It could be the fountain of pleasure he drank from thirstily, buried between soft thighs by the sunset riverbank, or the tear-soaked voice that called his name just once.

It might be her laughter as she joyfully splashed the water's surface by the river, her tiny bare feet stepping on the bumpy dirt path, her small, precious body that fit snugly in his arms, or something like her gentle body heat. If he were to find the thing in his world closest to the dictionary definition of 'love,' it would be that.

Then his love must undoubtedly bear Diana's face.

Only that remained where the structure that had been Felix shattered and collapsed. It was like an incubation. The birth of a new emotion, one that had never existed before.

But it was too late. Among countless canvases, not a single one was complete. In Felix's world, 'unfinished works' held no value whatsoever. They were things that died without gaining new meaning.

"You're a terrible human being."

Therefore, the unfinished portrait was nothing more than a belated portrait of love.

Felix laughed hollowly. Each time his shoulders shook, excruciating pain surged through his right hand, tightly bound in thick bandages. Yet he kept laughing breathlessly for a long while before finally drawing a deep, ragged breath. His bluish eyes glowed menacingly in the darkness, like a wild beast hiding its body.

He still didn't know.

He wasn't even sure if the name he'd given this emotion was right or wrong.

It would become clear once he saw Diana alive and moving again. The woman before Felix's eyes now was merely a figment of his imagination.

Reflections in the pupils only happen when the other person is looking at you. Diana had never once seen him.

“......”

So nothing had truly begun yet. He could create it again.

Rebuild it. Just as he had thirteen years ago. He could do it. Madness flashed in Felix's eyes as he stared piercingly at the woman's portrait.

From outside the door came Duke Christen’s startled voice.

"Lord Lestie? Why is he here? Surely he was serving at the southernmost border garrison... Could it be Your Highness summoned him?!"

The former Imperial Commander-in-Chief must have brought a clue.

Felix unconsciously groped the table with his right hand. A searing pain struck his vision, and objects on the table rolled to the floor.

Felix dropped his convulsing right hand and grasped the black cloth with his left. The beautiful woman, whom only he wished to know, vanished behind the curtain. Covering the remaining canvas with cloth, his world plunged into darkness.

A dreadful feeling washed over him, as if he had forgotten how to see the world. Felix forced himself to shake off the woman's lingering image and turned toward the doorway.

***

It was a warm midday.

In a simple bedroom, bright sunlight streamed peacefully. Someone told an old story in a tender voice.

"Your father is Grand Duke Gelett, the last knight of the Dortes royal family and the Queen's consort. Hailed as Dortes' finest swordsman, he was betrothed to the Queen from a young age."

It was a story she had lived without knowing, having no one to tell her. The voice tickling her ears felt as itchy as a fairy's wings.

"They say the Duke was fifteen and the Queen seventeen when they held their wedding. I heard they consummated the marriage before the Queen reached adulthood, as an heir was urgently needed. Because of that, the Queen even sought earnest advice from Her Majesty. ‘She herself was still a child, barely out of her teens, and had no idea how to handle a boy even younger than herself.’ To borrow Her Majesty’s words, that’s how it was.”

The owner of that gentle voice paused slightly at that point. After a moment of hesitation, as if troubled, he added.

"Hmm... I know this is overly personal and might make you uncomfortable, Diana, but please understand. Without such private talk, there's no way to prove the reason behind Ormance’s goodwill towards you. Besides, Her Majesty is a mischievous one—why else would she choose this particular topic? Just think how much trouble she intends to cause her son."

The quilt covering her lower body felt incredibly cozy. While its texture wasn't exactly soft, it carried the scent of simple, heartfelt care.

"To continue... it's said that even after ten years of marriage, the couple had no heir. The Queen confided her worries about this matter to Her Majesty the Queen Mother many times. But finally, in the eleventh year, there was good news. After delivering that message, however, contact ceased. For over nine years. After that... well, you know the rest."

The other person responded to the tale of Dortes being trampled by the empire's knights with silence. It was a thoughtful consideration.

"In short, it means your parents and my mother, Her Majesty the Queen of Ormance, were close friends. If you need further proof, tell me. I'll send a messenger to Her Majesty. She speaks of her old friend in private almost daily, so she'll have many stories to share with you, Diana."