Chapter 18
Uninvited Truths
This time, it was truly absurd.
Did he mean to say he had come all this way because he wanted to see her cry? Because he thought she might regret being forced into a marriage she never wanted? Or was it concern he was trying to express? A brother who had been nothing but indifferent at home?
Annoyance flared, followed by sheer disbelief—but Sharie kept her voice even, biting down hard on the bitterness rising in her throat.
“I’ve been… doing better than you probably expected.”
“So it seems.”
Liber toyed with his teacup absentmindedly, his words more to himself than to her.
“Surprisingly, you really do look well.”
The ambiguous remark offered no room for a proper response, so Sharie stayed silent. Liber, too, fell quiet. Silence settled over the lush greenhouse garden like a fog.
“Liber!”
The silence broke with the furious bark of their grandfather’s voice as he stormed into the garden.
His face flushed red and blue with barely restrained rage, and his nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply. It was clear he was livid.
“We’re leaving. At once. I won’t stay another blasted second in this place!”
“What? Grandfather, what’s going on all of a sudden?”
His change in demeanor was far too drastic to ignore. Both Sharie and her younger brother stared, startled, but their grandfather—true to form—paid them no mind.
“No arguments. We’re getting in the carriage, now.”
“Wait—Grandfather, please!”
Liber glanced from their grandfather’s retreating back to Sharie, caught in hesitation. Then, after a moment, he stepped toward her.
“I’m going. You probably won’t believe me, but… I came because I was worried about you. That part is the truth.”
Now of all times?
A scathing retort rose in her throat but never made it past her lips. The image of a much younger Liber—beaming as he wore the flower crown she had made for him—held her back.
“…I’m glad you’re doing well.”
“……”
“Just one piece of advice.”
He leaned in closer, scanning the surroundings before whispering directly into her ear.
“This marriage won’t last long. You’d better be careful.”
His voice was soft, but for a rabbitkin like her, it was loud enough to hear clearly.
“See you soon.”
Strangely, that casual farewell only made the gnawing unease inside her worse.
Still clutching the warm teacup, Sharie turned her gaze beyond the glass walls of the greenhouse.
The snow was still falling.
—
The carriage rolled swiftly along the well-paved stone road.
Liber rested his chin on his hand, watching the scenery flash by before leaning his head against the windowpane.
His sister’s eyes, filled with distrust as he departed, lingered in his mind. The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.
*‘Given how I treated her, I suppose she’s right to look at me that way.’*
With a silent sigh, Liber turned to his grandfather.
“Seriously—what was that back there, Grandfather? I thought we were staying at least one night?”
It had taken half a day just to cross the border. The journey had been far from easy, and the snow was only worsening.
Now they were rushing back. At this rate, they wouldn’t arrive in Rahol for several more days.
“I thought we’d have a bit more time…”
Muttering in frustration, Liber glanced at his grandfather’s expression—and promptly shut his mouth.
His grandfather may have had a mercurial nature, but Liber had grown up as one of many siblings in a house where reading the room was essential for survival. If nothing else, he was sharp at gauging moods.
“If you don’t want to be thrown out of the carriage, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Liber.”
The old man was seething.
His gnarled hands gripped the head of his cane so tightly that the veins stood out, stark against papery skin.
“That man…!”
A grinding sound escaped between McAkin’s clenched teeth as he recalled the scene from earlier.
—
**“Did you enjoy the tour, Lord McAkin?”**
Up until that point, McAkin had been elated—practically giddy. Caissa had accepted every one of his demands with suspicious ease.
He had expected nothing more than a brief look at some fine rooms or a few pieces of art tucked around the fortress.
Instead, Caissa had shown him everything.
The food and firewood storage, the armory, the knights’ quarters, even the stables—every critical facility laid bare without hesitation.
For someone in McAkin’s position, this was an unexpected windfall. Information that could be of military value, if used properly.
His lips twitched in a triumphant smile, which he tried to suppress. Then, Caissa glanced at the pocket watch tucked into his coat.
**“Well then, shall we head back?”**
‘Already?’
McAkin hadn’t even gotten to the real point of his visit. Fortunately, Kaisha spoke first.
**“If you have something to say, now’s the time. I doubt you came all this way just to admire the scenery.”**
The easy smile on Kaisha’s face, paired with eyes that seemed to see right through him, left McAkin with a bitter aftertaste.
*‘Endure it.’*
Now was not the time to lose his temper. McAkin steadied himself.
**“Do you recall the terms of the treaty?”**
**“Of course.”**
At the time of the peace treaty, both clans had agreed to share the produce harvested from the plains equally.
In truth, the terms heavily favored the rabbitkin.
Thanks to their superior physical abilities, the snakekin were able to harvest far more, and thus, bore the brunt of the sharing burden.
Instead of contesting the unfairness, the snakekin had demanded mining rights.
*‘The Sephiros Plains have never yielded any ore. The crops are the real prize.’*
The rabbitkin, lacking mining expertise, had readily handed over the rights.
All they wanted was the fertile land and its bounty. They had nothing to lose.
Even McAkin had thought it a fine trade, especially since all he had to offer in exchange was a granddaughter he had considered a burden—an unremarkable girl he’d once planned to marry off to an old man.
It had amused him that the girl he’d always scorned had unexpectedly proven useful.
But that satisfaction didn’t last long.
**“I’ve heard news of a rare mineral being discovered in the Sephiros Plains.”**
Rare ore—mined from a place long assumed to be a mere breadbasket.
This changed everything.
Currently, the continent relied primarily on steel and bronze. If the ore was mithril or adamantium…
Had Caissa predicted this? Was that why he’d insisted on the mining rights?
*‘No. Pure luck. That must be it. But to hoard it all to himself? Insolent bastard…!’*
The thought of the snakekin monopolizing such precious resources was enough to keep McAkin awake at night.
**“The situation has changed drastically since the treaty was signed, Lord Caissa. I believe it’s time we renegotiated the mining rights.”**
This was the true reason McAkin had come.
He looked up at the man who stood at the center of it all, cane clenched tightly in hand.
*‘I’ll get him to change his mind—no matter what it takes.’*
He wasn’t foolish enough to expect immediate agreement. Caissa was, after all, the leader of a former enemy.
Expecting leniency or favor now would be laughable.
McAkin was already sifting through every possible strategy when—
**“Very well. Let’s renegotiate.”**
Caissa nodded without a second’s hesitation.
McAkin, lips slick with prepared flattery, was left speechless. The ease of it all was… unnerving.
*‘Why?’*
Surely Caissa wasn’t naïve enough to ignore the possibility of betrayal. Nor did he seem the sentimental type.
McAkin had met him once before, during the peace talks. Back then, the man had given him a powerful impression: a gleaming façade wrapped tightly around something dark and predatory, coiled and waiting to strike.
Even now, McAkin couldn’t shake the feeling that danger lurked behind that calm exterior.
**“There’s no need for suspicion.”**
Kaisha, reading his wariness, offered a disarming smile.
**“My wife is dear to me. That means her family is important as well. I couldn’t possibly weigh such things in terms of profit and loss.”**
McAkin was stunned into silence.
To give up half the mining rights… for *that* reason?
He hadn’t seen this coming.
*‘Don’t tell me… he truly cares for that girl?’*
The girl with no tail, weak in body and will—an embarrassment to the proud Rosevin line.
This man was… serious?
The marriage had begun as a farce. A political maneuver to end a war and secure peace.
There should never have been any affection involved.
And yet—
