CHAPTER 57…………….
“It’s fine.”
Kaiyen led Etisha out of the cabin. His black horse was tied to a tree branch.
“There’s no need for you to explain. This isn’t my concern.”
“…What?”
“Handle yourself properly, Lady Etisha.”
Kaiyen helped Etisha onto the horse. He then mounted as well, guiding her to wrap her arms around his waist.
His chest, already heaving with unrest, seemed to twist and pound even more violently when Etisha’s hands touched his waist.
“Ah… yes, Your Grace…”
“…”
“I understand. I’ll take care of myself… so that you don’t have to worry, Your Grace…”
Before Etisha’s words had even fully reached him, Kaiyen urged the horse forward. His grip on the reins was impossibly tight.
“…”
The black steed raced toward Wintel Castle at astonishing speed. The cutting wind lashed against them, tugging at Etisha’s hair and skirts.
Only four days remained until their wedding.
Kaiyen dropped Etisha off at Wintel Castle and left immediately, saying he had other matters to attend to in his office.
Watching his retreating back, Etisha let out a faint sigh.
Why did I do that?
She was consumed with regret.
To have asked Kaiyen to kiss her, to even beg him to hold her—why on earth had she said such things!
Even if I was half-asleep… ah, what am I supposed to do now…
She pressed her hand over her mouth. The castle maids rushed over, fussing over her, but Etisha was in no state to respond.
“My lady! Where have you been?”
“You didn’t return until so late—we were so worried!”
Etisha shook her head quickly to reassure them, especially Marin, who stood at the front.
“I must have worried you. I only stepped out for some fresh air.”
“Thank goodness you returned safely… You should have seen His Grace when he heard you were missing—he galloped out in such a rush!”
“Yes, I’ve never seen him act like that before.”
Etisha let out another sigh and answered softly.
“…Yes. His Grace is truly kind.”
And yet that kind man had told her to handle herself properly.
A dull ache throbbed in her head. Pressing her temple with the same hand that had covered her mouth, she murmured to Marin and the others:
“Haah… but I’d like to walk a little longer. I’ll stroll around the estate before returning—so you all go back inside.”
The maids reluctantly obeyed, though Marin lingered with concern until the end.
“My lady Etisha… please come back safely.”
“Yes, Marin. I will.”
Once she was alone, Etisha slowly turned her steps.
She walked and walked along the castle walls, yet her mind remained tangled.
There’s no helping it now… I can only do as the duke said—take care of myself.
She slowed her steps. The towering wall loomed before her.
Just like her heart—it felt blocked, cornered.
I’ll keep my distance from him.
If being near Kaiyen only made her feelings grow, then perhaps staying away would be the solution.
I’ll avoid him from now on. Then I won’t make such mistakes again.
Yes, if she stayed away, her feelings wouldn’t deepen further.
Yes… that’s the only way…
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Etisha hadn’t yet fully realized just how much she already liked Kaiyen. Had she been fully aware, she would have wept bitterly in despair. But not now.
Now, Etisha simply…
She didn’t sob. Only a little…
Ah…
Her blue eyes brimmed faintly, shimmering with moisture. That was all—the ache of a heart just slightly wounded.
Why am I like this? Why are tears suddenly coming out?
She brushed them away with her sleeve, leaving faint stains on the white fabric.
And then, someone suddenly grabbed her arm from behind.
“You… crying?”
It was Larienne. No one knew when she had appeared, her blue eyes wide in disbelief as she searched Etisha’s face.
“…Ha.”
Etisha swallowed down her emptiness and muttered:
“Go away. I’m not in the mood to talk to you, sister.”
Why now, of all times—why did she have to run into Larienne? She had heard Larienne had locked herself away in the guest room for days. What a cruel coincidence.
“I said go. I don’t want to see your face.”
She hated showing her crying face to her.
Etisha tried to shake Larienne off, but before she could, Larienne spoke up with bewildering words.
“You’re crying… because of me?”
“…What?”
“It’s because of me, isn’t it? Right? Even before—you cried because of me.”
Etisha stared blankly. What was she even saying? Did Larienne still believe Etisha spent every moment thinking only of her?
Etisha lifted her hand to push her away, but Larienne unexpectedly let go first.
“Tisha…”
Her expression was twisted, complicated, strange.
And the words spilling from her lips were even more chaotic.
“I thought about it. I kept thinking about it.”
“…”
“The music box you mentioned… but I can’t remember it. It’s so strange, I can’t recall at all. I know you sang to me, but the music box itself… nothing.”
Larienne bit her lip in frustration, her face tense.
“I kept thinking and thinking. But instead of that… all that came to mind were other things. Like… stealing your birthday present… or taking your room because it was bigger… or breaking that vase and blaming you… and… and… staining your mother’s portrait with ink…”
She rambled incoherently, listing misdeeds one after another, her gaze fixed on Etisha’s face the entire time—as if to see whether she was crying.
“Sister.”
Etisha, who had been listening quietly, cut her off.
“So what are you trying to say? Why are you doing this?”
“I just… I wanted to say…”
“I told you—I don’t want you here. Do whatever you want, expose my illness if that’s what you’re planning. Isn’t that your specialty? Why come to me like this?”
Larienne bowed her head deeply, her red hair shaking in the wind.
“I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Etisha blinked twice, thinking she’d misheard.
“I’m sorry. Tisha, I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
“…”
“I’m sorry I broke the music box. Sorry I stole your birthday gift. Sorry I took your room. Sorry I framed you for breaking the vase, sorry I defiled your mother’s portrait. And, and…”
“…”
“Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything!”
Larienne shouted the words like a scream, then grabbed Etisha’s cheeks tightly in both hands.
“So don’t cry!”
“…?”
“I’m the one who did wrong—so why are you the one crying? Huh? Why you?!”
“What…?”
“If anyone should be crying, it should be me! So hit me instead. Go on—hit me as much as you want, until you’re satisfied. Then I’ll be the one crying. Okay?”
She rubbed Etisha’s eyes with her thumbs.
Etisha, startled, had already stopped crying. Her cheeks only hurt from being squeezed so hard.
“You… want me to hit you…?”
Etisha whispered, bewildered. None of this made sense. Why suddenly apologize, and why ask to be hit?
“Yes, hit me. I know you can. What, can’t do it now?”
“…”
“You don’t even want to? Even that?”
“…”
“Well, you’ve never really hit anyone, have you? You’d only hurt your own hand. …Then should I hit myself instead? Or bash my head against the wall? Would that do?”
Etisha remained silent.
Larienne released her cheeks and rolled up her own sleeves.
Then—actually, truly—she slapped herself.
Smack!
Not once. Twice. Three times. Four times…
Her cheeks swelled bright red, the same color as her hair. Yet she only looked faintly annoyed, not pained.
“Damn it… why aren’t tears coming out? What’s wrong with me?”
She muttered to herself and struck the other side of her face.
“When you hit me, the tears came right away. Strange…”
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Etisha could only gape in shock, too stunned to even try to stop her. Truthfully, she didn’t even feel like stopping her. Larienne had done countless insane things before, and Etisha had always been the one to suffer. She no longer wished to care or be dragged into her madness.
“Huff… huff…”
At last, Larienne stopped, exhausted.
No matter how many times she struck herself, no tears came—only frustration.
“This won’t work, Tisha. Bashing my head will be faster.”
She strode toward the castle wall and slammed her head against it.
Thud!
“Ugh… Why… why aren’t tears coming?”
“…”
“Damn it! Why can’t I just cry?!”
The scandal of high society. Its spoiled delinquent. Larienne Heinz.
She was, without question, unhinged.
So obsessed with her beloved younger sister Etisha that she hurt her, tormented her, and tried to lock her away. She couldn’t even recognize it as wrong.
Because Larienne had always been indulged by her mother, Lady Dorothea, and her stepfather, Baron Heinz.
Because high society had always found her antics charming, no matter what she did.
Her affection for Etisha overflowed, but she had never learned how to love properly. So it twisted into possession, jealousy, oppression.
“…Are you finished now?”
Etisha looked at her from a distance.
Larienne’s face was swollen on both sides, lips split and bleeding, her hair a tangled mess, her face streaked with the dirt of the castle wall. She was a pitiful, grotesque sight.
