APR Ch# 9

Frey was carried by Robert into her room. Once the two of them left, all that remained were the daughter of an enemy and the man who had taken revenge on that enemy.

Having rushed to ride nonstop as soon as matters in the southern territory were wrapped up, Curtis felt a deep exhaustion wash over his entire body like a wave of powerlessness. When she offered him a seat on the couch, Roksana sat down across from him quietly, as if waiting for him to speak. After a long, suffocating silence, Curtis finally opened his mouth once a maid brought him a strong liquor.

“I heard the gist from Robert.”

“…”

Roksana gripped the hem of her skirt, waiting for his next words. Curtis, like a man dying of thirst, drank straight from the bottle. His Adam’s apple bobbed under his tilted neck.

“First.”

Setting the bottle down, Curtis’s face looked calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just been furious moments ago. Roksana’s gaze drifted to the dark circles under his eyes and the bluish stubble on his jaw.

He was like a wild hunter from the cruel wilderness—untamed and unrefined, hardly fitting the image of a young lord who owned a vast estate. Yet his sharply chiseled jawline, firmly pressed lips, straight nose like a mountain ridge, and almond-shaped eyes radiated a ruler’s dignity and authority.

Two years wasn’t a particularly long or short time, but much had changed. Still, the vivid memory of reuniting with the man who had left such a strong impression remained etched in her eyes.

Unconsciously, Roksana traced the face of the man before her for glimpses of the boy from the past—the mischievous eyes, the kind yet playful nature, the way he would push her away only to suddenly close the distance again, sending her heart into disarray.

“As promised, at dawn, I’ll send a doctor and medical supplies. Through a shortcut, not the old route blocked by the landslide.”

Having finished organizing his thoughts, Curtis got straight to the point. As his words continued, Roksana’s face brightened. So he still had kindness in him after all. But that relief was short-lived.

“Thank y—”

“But, Roksana. You can’t go back.”

Curtis coldly cut her off and bent forward, massaging both temples. Disheveled strands of hair fell across his forehead.

“What do you mean?”

Roksana drew in a sharp breath, as if she had been handed a death sentence. Aid was one thing; promises were another. She had been too naïve. She could no longer return to Angela Convent. She couldn’t keep her promise to return safely.

“Is this the price of your support?”

“Don’t be mistaken. Protecting the people of my domain is my duty as their lord.”

“Then!”

“You remember the promise we made two years ago.”

“…I remember.”

“In exchange for accepting the people of Faeui and those within the cathedral as free citizens, Roksana Dalton must live as if dead in the convent for the rest of her life.”

Curtis straightened his back and stared intently at Roksana instead of continuing. Under his expectant gaze, Roksana opened her mouth.

“The ones I saved this time were your people, my lord.”

“So?”

“So leave the people of Faeui out of this. They’re not from Faeui anymore—they’re yours now.”

“You’re still so noble and arrogant, Roksana. Despite having absolutely nothing.”

“I’m asking as one person to another. They’ve done nothing wrong. All they want is to work hard and live happily with their families. They’re sincere, humble people.”

Watching the woman straighten her previously hunched shoulders, Curtis felt that long-forgotten sensation stir in his chest again.

“Curtis, I wish you were a merman like I first thought.”

“Why?”

“So you’d take me away to an underwater castle. Somewhere far from here.”

“Even if you could never return to land?”

“Yes. I like you, Curtis. I think this is what love feels like.”

It was a strange sensation—like a soft blade lightly slicing through his heart. A sudden ambush that consumed him whole.

A feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. But he had felt it again the moment their eyes met—this woman, standing amid the acrid ashes, boldly begging for the lives of her people over her own.

Suddenly, the image of his younger self overlapped hers—powerless, holding his younger sister’s hand and using their servant as a human shield just to survive. He had been helpless, but Roksana was different.

In the moment he focused on that unfamiliar feeling, a desperate scream rang through his mind like a blow to the back of his head.

“Run, Curtis! Now!”

“You must survive. Take care of Frey.”

And like surfacing from the depths, his mind snapped into sharp clarity.

The woman before him was the daughter of his enemy. The only daughter of Marquis Dalton—the man whose corpse he should’ve tossed into the fields. Curtis could no longer bear the unfamiliar, strange sensation.

“You say you can’t go back? Fine. Then kill me. But this is between you and me. Don’t take those people hostage.”

A crack appeared in her previously firm face. Curtis, feeling a twisted satisfaction, suddenly rose from his seat. His face came so close that Roksana had no time to flinch as he grabbed her chin.

“Roksana.”

His warm breath brushed against her face. Her head was suddenly tilted back. She met his oddly gleaming gray eyes. She should push him away, but those unwavering eyes trapped her like prey in a snare.

Their noses touched, and his breath grazed her tense forehead, cheeks, and lips. His hand slid from her chin to behind her ear, gripping the back of her neck.

Then came the sting of pain, like fire.

“Ah!”

Roksana reflexively pushed him away, clutching her neck. She felt a deep bite mark. Curtis licked his lips like a beast marking its prey.

“W-what is this?”

“A collar. That face suits you much better than the one pretending to be noble.”

Curtis snorted and returned to his seat. Roksana rubbed her neck furiously, trying to erase the mark, but the more she rubbed, the more it stung.

Displeased, Curtis suddenly threw a question.

“Do you want to know why Frey is blind?”

Roksana froze at the abrupt question.

“She watched our parents die in front of her. The shock blinded her. Her sight still hasn’t returned. She was five then.”

“…”

“If I’d kept up with that damn chivalry, my blind sister would’ve ended up in a brothel full of perverts, and I’d be dead and buried on some battlefield.”

As his words continued, Roksana’s face grew paler. Curtis leaned back against the sofa, crossed his long legs, and rested clasped hands on his knee.

“I told you before, Roksana. You don’t have the right to die on your own terms.”

“…”

“And yet you dare ask to be killed? Who gave you that right?”

“Curtis…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll die when I want, how I want.”

Each of his words coiled around Roksana like a chain. The bite mark on her neck throbbed as if to confirm it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I just said it. You can’t go back to the convent. Become a maid in this castle. I’ll keep you close and make you suffer.”

Two years ago was still vivid in his mind. He thought once she was shut away in the convent, someday he’d hear she died and that would be enough. But like a thorn under his nail, her image would resurface at the most random moments—serene as she entered the convent gates. He couldn’t bear it and visited her once. She was startled when he touched her face, but when she told him why, he was both flustered and furious.

Even once—just once—he wanted to see this woman in a pitiful state. Then, maybe, he could finally erase the girl from his memory.

“You know, don’t you? You’re not allowed to be happy, Roksana.”

“I hope you’ll be happy.”

The whisper from before echoed over the present.

Curtis rose and left the audience chamber. Left alone, Roksana had no choice—then or now.

—

* * *

As promised, Curtis provided all the resources the convent needed. With skilled physicians, devoted nursing from the nuns, and rare medicines, the children began to recover.

The children who had once suffered with fevers so high they seemed near death gradually improved, and the skeptical townspeople also softened and became cooperative. As soon as the last child recovered, Roksana received an apology and retraction from the man who had spoken ill of the head nun.

“I misspoke. I’m truly sorry.”

He bowed repeatedly, clutching his hat. Roksana didn’t reply but looked to the head nun, who smiled and took the man’s hand.

“It’s all right. What parent would be in their right mind when their child is sick?”

“Thank you. Thank you so much…”

“You’ve been through a lot. Since the children haven’t eaten properly in a while, give them thin porridge and soft bread until their stomachs adjust.”

“Yes, thank you. Thank you, Sister.”

After the grateful townspeople returned home with their children, Roksana finally noticed the man watching her from afar. He was leaning against a bare fir tree, arms crossed.