IOWYC Chapter 116

Chapter 116

“Lloyd…”

At the uneasy tone of my voice, Lloyd quickly interrupted, his face stiff.

“Did I… rush things?”

“…”

“I just got so excited when you said you’d come to Silverstel with me…”

“That’s not the problem—”

Before I could finish, he hurried to speak again.

“I’m not asking for an answer right now. I’ll wait — however long it takes. I’ll stay by your side until you’re ready.”

He gave a faint, bitter smile.

“Just… tell me when your heart is ready.”

With that, Lloyd quietly put the small box back into his pocket and forced a soft smile.

He didn’t even seem to consider that I might refuse him.

My expression darkened.

‘There’s no point in angering him now.’

Not until Jared’s plan to help us escape is complete…

Swallowing my words, I lowered my gaze to the table.

Every day, I had tea time with Denian once in the afternoon.

And every time, he had so much to say. His small lips moved busily as he told his little stories.

“So, Esmelda went cluck-cluck-cluck! and then Max went phrrr! and got so surprised!”

Esmelda was one of the hens kept in Vent Castle, and Max was a horse in the stable — both names Denian had given them himself.

“I think Max doesn’t like Esmelda. Yesterday he went thump-thump! backwards and almost stepped on her!”

He explained everything with such passion that I couldn’t help smiling faintly, brushing aside the soft hair that had fallen over his forehead.

In this castle, where there were no children his age, Denian made friends with the animals — chickens, horses, ducks.

If he were any other child, he’d have playmates in the village, or at least other young servants if we were still at Valdormer.

Even though he was more mature than most children his age, I still felt heavy-hearted knowing he was growing up without the right environment.

‘At least, once we move to Silverstel, he’ll meet children his age.’

And even if we escaped from there later, he could live a normal life — like other children — in a small town somewhere safe.

While I was lost in thought, stroking his hair, my eyes caught the faint shimmer of his silver strands.

Then I remembered — it was time again.

The cycle when Denian’s hair needed to be dyed silver.

Moments later, there was a knock at the door.

“Yuliana.”

As if reading my thoughts, Lloyd had come to see Denian.

I didn’t look at him. Still brushing Denian’s hair, I replied quietly, “I know.”

Lloyd walked to the mirror and gently called, “Denian.”

Denian looked at me briefly before trotting over to him, already used to the routine.

Watching his small back, my chest ached.

Every three months, Lloyd used his ability to infuse cold energy and turn Denian’s hair silver — to hide the black.

And this was the only time I got to see my son’s natural hair color.

Denian sat in front of Lloyd without hesitation, letting him touch his hair.

As Lloyd placed a hand on his head and released a faint trace of frost, Denian’s hair briefly turned back to its original black color.

He watched the reflection in the mirror calmly — he’d done this since he was a baby, and didn’t seem to find it strange anymore.

That calm acceptance made my heart even heavier.

He stared quietly at his dark hair for a long time.

‘Maybe that’s why he felt so close to Kallian… their hair was the same color.’

When the silver hue had returned completely, I exhaled softly. My chest felt tight.

“I’ll bring a fresh pot of tea,” I said.

I could’ve called a maid, but I didn’t want Lloyd or Denian to notice the sadness on my face, so I used it as an excuse to leave.

Lloyd nodded wordlessly.

Denian stayed in front of the mirror for a while, still staring at his reflection.

Lloyd quietly bent his knees and sat beside him, meeting his eyes.

“Denian, can I ask you something?”

Lost in thought, Denian blinked and looked up.

“For me?”

Lloyd smiled gently and brushed his silver hair.

After a small pause, he asked carefully,

“What would you think if… I became your father?”

Denian’s red eyes trembled.

There had been a time, when he had just learned to speak, that he’d called Lloyd “Dad.”

He still remembered his mother’s face at that moment — the look of deep sadness and pain.

Even as a child, Denian had understood then that calling Lloyd “Dad” made his mother sad.

And now, he was old enough to know that Lloyd wasn’t really his father.

After thinking for a while, he slowly shook his head.

“Denian… doesn’t need a dad.”

“Why?” Lloyd asked softly.

Because saying that word made Mommy sad…

But Denian didn’t say that out loud. He just pressed his lips together tightly.

Lloyd didn’t push him further.

He only gave a faint, bitter smile and stroked the boy’s hair again.

When I returned with the tea tray, Lloyd stood up carefully as I entered.

Moonlight dimly illuminated the office.

Kallian sat there, running a hand across his face in frustration, feeling like he was missing something important.

The daughter of Heister.

The woman who had married him in a political alliance and lived in this mansion for half a year — Yuliana.

He couldn’t get her out of his mind.

His fingers traced her elegant signature on the ledger, his eyes dark and unreadable.

No portraits, no keepsakes — not even a single sketch of her remained.

Just a name.

‘She was supposed to be nothing more than a political bride. So why can’t I stop thinking about her?’

Was it because of those missing ten years?

Or was it because of that woman — the one who saved him — who might somehow be the same person?

He was lost in thought when a knock came at the door.

Thinking it was Layla, he said absently, “Come in.”

The door opened, and bright light from the hallway spilled into the dark office.

As he glanced over the papers, suddenly —

A hand slipped from behind him and brushed across his chest.

Startled, Kallian caught the wrist instantly.

Then he realized something was wrong.

“It’s late,” a sultry voice whispered.

The voice wasn’t Layla’s.

A woman in only a thin slip climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

But strangely, her face was hidden by shadows — he could only see her lips and chin.

The boldness of her actions made every muscle in his body tense.

She smiled seductively, pressing her warm body closer.

A familiar, intoxicating scent surrounded him as she whispered against his ear,

“Hold me, Kallian…”

Her hands deftly unfastened his belt.

He didn’t move — couldn’t move.

Or maybe, his body didn’t want to move. It responded as if it remembered her — trembling, heated, yearning.

The woman’s slip rolled up as she slowly lowered herself onto him.

The pressure, the heat — it was overwhelming. Kallian gripped the arms of his chair, struggling to control his breath.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her voice soft and pleading.

“Kallian…”

The way she said his name lit something inside him.

Unable to resist any longer, he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, veins standing out on the backs of his hands.

His head spun. The world seemed to tilt and fall away.

He buried his face against her neck, breathing harshly.

The woman caressed his hair tenderly, like comforting a child, and whispered,

“I love you…”

At those words, a flash of electricity ran through his mind — and then,

“Haah!”

Kallian’s eyes flew open.

The office was dark and silent.

He looked around wildly.

No one was there.

‘Was that… a dream?’

He exhaled shakily and rubbed his face.

And then — just like in the dream — a knock sounded at the door.

The same situation. The same timing.

He swallowed hard.

“…Come in.”

And the person who entered was none other than Layla.