That evening, Juliet’s fever began to rise.
The doctor could only prescribe her the usual antipyretics and nothing else, while Driene despaired in her sister’s room. The maid, who came to tell him, said that the man, who seemed unlikely to shed a tear, held her sister and cried.
Enoch handed the piece of heart that Driene had left in his hand.
“Deliver this to the Crown Prince of Rosenta.”
The maid bowed her head briefly and accepted it. Enoch waited for her to leave and then began to rummage through the nightstand. Inside the box he had placed were sleepwort, herbs, and thin strips of paper.
He opened the box, took out a paper stick, and ran his thumb over the end. A small spark quickly ignited at the spot where his skin had touched.
Pale white smoke slowly rose from the burning paper. Watching it, Enoch thought of his brother, who looked just like his father.
If Kinas saw him now, he would have doused him with cold water.
Kinas hated it when he burned herbs. The reason was that they were highly addictive and unhealthy.
“Try to quit. When you were in the North, that was the only comfort you had, but it’s different now. What are you going to do if you end up with tuberculosis?”
He used to nag him like that when the rebellion was over and they were living a life free from threats.
When Enoch had ignored him, Kinas splashed wine on his face.
“If you want to die so early, why not just hang yourself?”
Though it was a bit harsh, it was a clear concern, but Enoch did not listen to that either.
After all, he would never catch tuberculosis or die from some addiction. It was due to the strange resilience flowing through his veins.
Even if he hangs himself or cuts his arms, his life won’t end. It was a fact he had realized through various experiences.
There was only one place where he could die like everyone else. In the northern region, located at the very edge of the Empire. The land of snow and frost, Agante.
Agante, situated at the northernmost tip of Nasant, was a place where all magic was rendered useless.
Only in that place could his body become like everyone else’s. Enoch could slump down with a knife in his side or close his eyes against the cold.
The dead Emperor had thrown him there, and Kinas had pulled him out.
As long as Kinas was on the throne, no one would throw him back there.
But it’s just a few dried herbs.
With that thought in mind, he burned various herbs. Kinas did not give up and bothered him, but amusingly, the reason Enoch eventually stopped all of it was because of someone else.
Juliet.
Because of that small, delicate, pale person.
When he first saw her in the Rosenta palace, which Kinas had dragged him to against his will, Enoch felt ashamed of the smoke that clung to his body.
She looked sensitive and fragile, with a face that showed she knew nothing of dirt or filth.
He didn’t want to reveal the things he had learned on the battlefield to someone who had never even picked a flower with her own hands.
That day, to wash away his shame, he poured water over the herbs he had been collecting.
After many events transpired, leading to Juliet becoming the biggest stain in his life, Enoch had not touched the herbs again.
Now that he had returned to them, it was perhaps because he was a weak human being.
After carving his heart, Enoch dug up the past he had buried to escape the pain. Of course, he had excuses. He wanted to maintain a mental state that wouldn’t be shameful in front of others.
After several trial and error attempts, when he mixed the herbs at the right ratio he remembered and lit the fire, he felt a sense of happiness, or something like it. When the smoke filled the room, everything seemed to become a bit clearer.
However, Driene told him he wasn’t in his right mind.
With a face strikingly similar to her sister’s, the man shot back at him sharply.
“Look in the mirror and get your mind together.”
Then he turned his back and left, with a demeanor as cold as the wind blowing outside.
Even after Driene had disappeared, Enoch sat there for a moment, unsure of what the man was really thinking.
Usually, he would have mulled over the meaning of his words.
However, this time was different. Instead of thinking more, he took out the herbs and lit them. It was a bit reckless, but there wasn’t really any problem with loosening up a little. The work had been divided among the advisors to be completed by the end of the month, and for the other small matters, Kinas had sent someone to act as his representative.
That person wasn’t sent for that purpose, but that was their concern.
And Juliet was…
In any case, he had no plans to visit her. Enoch naturally pushed the pale, cold face that rose in his mind aside.
Although she had whimsically sought him out recently, Juliet had the beloved older brother she longed for. So she would forget about him soon enough.
With that thought in mind, only one task remained.
Waiting for the overly kind prince to come to his senses.
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
Fortunately, Driene didn’t keep him waiting long.
Three days later, Enoch heard that Juliet’s fever had subsided somewhat, and the next day, Driene came to find him.
The man who had lost weight over the last few days seemed to have made up his mind. His green eyes were heavy but indifferent.
“May I revisit the topic we discussed previously?”
Driene asked, sitting in the same spot he had occupied before. Enoch understood the words clearly. He hadn’t burned anything because he had expected him to come.
“Yes.”
His response was resolute, similar to before, but this time there was no mocking reply.
Instead, Driene slightly lifted his chin.
“First, I have something to say. I will not feel any regret toward you.”
Regardless of the fact that I don’t particularly like you, I don’t want to lie.
Such a characteristically blunt remark. Enoch thought as he watched the Rosenta crown prince make the same expression Juliet often wore.
The siblings were like blades in that regard.
Driene continued speaking.
“Additionally, I will take the compensation for this matter on myself. I swear on the blood I’ve inherited and the throne I will sit upon. My sister will not be involved in this. If there is penance to be paid, or if there is something to fight against, it will all be my responsibility. Not my sister’s, but mine.”
After saying that, Driene locked eyes with him. Enoch met his sharp green gaze with slightly clouded vision.
Driene asked, “Is there any part of this statement you disagree with?”
Of course, there was none. Driene’s words were exactly what he had been hoping to hear.
Enoch blinked several times, his eyes having dried out lately.
“No.”
“Good. Then, before we begin the proper conversation, I have something I want to ask.”
“Please, go ahead.”
Up until that moment, he had intended to answer whatever Driene asked earnestly. He thought it would be a few questions about future plans at most.
However, the words that came from Driene’s mouth were of a kind Enoch hadn’t anticipated.
The man asked, “Why my sister?”
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
In fact, this question had been lingering in his mind for a long time.
Why, why. From the moment Juliet first fell ill to when she had to be sent across the border, Driene had never been able to let go of that question. Why her? Why her sister?
At one time, it was a source of his anger, resentment, and a motive for revenge.
But now, it was just a question.
Driene stared at the man sitting in the same position as before, still maintaining his composed demeanor with a complex look in his eyes. He appeared slightly weary, unable to hide the trembling at his fingertips.
It was probably due to withdrawal symptoms.
He looked incredibly innocent, yet the Grand Duke had once been a passionate smoker. It was already well known that he never let go of his herbs.
When Driene first encountered this fact in the distant past, he wasn’t particularly surprised.
Those who had witnessed death since childhood were generally damaged in some way. It wasn’t uncommon for them to fill that void with self-destructive addictions.
What surprised Driene more was the Grand Duke’s attitude after marrying his sister.
Perhaps sensing that Driene might pick at him for that, the Grand Duke abruptly stopped burning herbs.
Yet, lately, he seemed to be emitting the scent of those herbs again.
After catching a whiff of smoke from him, Driene asked the maid he had given to his sister if the Grand Duke had handled herbs before.
The response he received was that the scent had not been present in the past.
Hearing that, Driene thought he should give a warning before returning to Rosenta.
However, ever since death had been mentioned, he found himself asking the same question repeatedly.
