85. Back to the Manor

The old carriage smelled of rusted iron.

“But why are you taking a carriage? You could just hitch a ride on a freight cart carrying liquor. It might take a bit longer, but that money would get you there,” he suggested.

He was subtly mocking my appearance. He probably thought I was a country girl who had come to the city with big dreams but without any money.

And he wasn’t wrong. I had arrogantly believed that I was the only one who could save him.

Caught up in a foolish dream, I almost ruined everything.

“Is it because of the smell of the liquor? Even if it makes you nauseous, you could save some money by enduring it,” he said, glancing at me. He was holding the door as if to ask if I wanted to ask the merchant about the freight cart.

“No. I just want to get back quickly,” I replied and climbed into the carriage.

He closed the door for me and jumped onto the coachman’s seat. With a pull on the reins, the old carriage set off with a loud noise.

My head throbbed. I tried to rest my head against the window frame and get some sleep, but the carriage of the depot was different from that of the noble’s.

The cheap carriage was open at the front, allowing the running dust to come straight in. When I opened my mouth, a gritty layer of dust settled on my tongue.

The swirling sand made it hard to keep my eyes open. I blinked rapidly. My vision, which had been hazy, cleared up again.

I could see the shaking seat and the bobbing back of the coachman. The seat of the coach was high, and from my position, I could see the worn black boots right in front of me.

The open front made it uncomfortable, but it also made conversation easy. He seemed curious about the story of a woman traveling by carriage so early in the morning and struck up a conversation.

“Why did you come to the capital? Did you come to see a lover you were separated from?”

A lover… I slowly chewed over his words.

I didn’t know what to say, so I mumbled a vague response.

“No, not a lover. I went to visit someone I know.”

“And they sent you back at such an early hour?” he asked.

“Yes, things got a bit complicated,” I replied, trying to end the conversation.

He glanced back at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. The ride continued in silence, except for the creaking of the carriage and the sound of the horse’s hooves on the path.

As the scenery passed by in a blur, I couldn’t help but reflect on the events that led me here. My mind was a whirl of thoughts, regrets, and plans for what to do next.

He clicked his tongue sympathetically.

“No, I came up to the house… but it wasn’t the house I expected.”

“What do you mean, it wasn’t the house?”

His tone was full of curiosity.

“It was filled with strangers.”

Scenes from the day I went to the Prince’s residence flashed through my mind.

The attitudes of the head butler and the maid, the unexpected relationship between Isella and Deon.

“Ah, so they moved without telling you,” he clucked his tongue again, offering clumsy consolation.

“That’s how the capital is. It looks glamorous because it’s a wealthy city with the royal family, but it’s actually cold and ruthless. People who move here from other regions change their personalities too. If they stayed long, they probably changed as well.”

“…I see.”

His simple words, spoken without knowing the full story, resonated deeply with me. Ironically, Deon seemed warmer in the north.

Perhaps in warm weather, people don’t feel the need to share their warmth. Was his embrace in the cold north really just about preserving body heat?

“Did you see the commotion today? Supporters of Prince Deon’s faction rose up. The trial started suddenly too. I’ve seen trials get postponed, but starting early is a first.”

He eagerly chatted about the events of the morning. The news had spread quickly, reaching even the ears of the coachmen.

“Yes, I heard.”

I had seen it too clearly. I witnessed his victory and my own reputation plummet.

“It’s fortunate you’re leaving the capital now. A commoner without a place to stay would get caught in the crossfire of such events. The nobles are all on edge. To avoid trouble, it’s best to stay far away.”

His vibrant voice rang in my ears.

I didn’t reply. I turned my gaze from him to the window, where stones flew and dust rose.

Seeing my lack of response, the coachman glanced back at me but then fell silent.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to pretend to sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, the courtroom scene vividly reappeared. Isella’s voice echoed calmly through the hall, and Deon’s eyes watched the situation leisurely, wrapped in useless ropes that couldn’t hold him.

After the trial, when Deon was freed, whose hand did he touch first?

Did he embrace her small frame?

The glaring sunlight scratched across my face.

I began to understand why Surren always waved her hand when I tried to open the window. Even sitting still, stones flew into the open carriage. One stone scraped harshly against my cheek.

The coachman drove on for a long time, entering the Farrington area as promised and going about ten minutes further before stopping the carriage.

He parked the carriage in the middle of the road and opened the door for me.

I instinctively reached out my hand towards him, but it hung in the air, untouched. The coachman didn’t offer his hand to help me down, a kindness I had taken for granted. Feeling awkward, I withdrew my hand and grasped the door instead. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to think much of it. He clearly didn’t suspect that I might be of noble birth.

“At least there’s only one road, so you won’t get lost,” he said, looking up at the sky. His eyes reflected the darkening sky, indicating his concern about the encroaching night. Even in a quiet countryside village, thieves and vagabonds targeting women were always a possibility.

There was only one road. If I walked, I would eventually reach the end.

I stared vacantly down the endless road. But as he said, it was just one road. There was only one direction to walk.

All the luggage I had brought with me was disposed of. Being empty-handed, I didn’t need to drag any burdens along. I just needed to keep moving my feet.

“It’s fortunate you don’t have any luggage. If you keep going, you should arrive before the next day dawns,” he remarked, seemingly relieved at my light travel load.

“Take care,” he said, turning his back. Without hesitation, he drove the carriage away.

Dust billowed up. I watched the carriage slowly disappear into the distance before turning my head.

I took a step forward. My feet sank into the gravel road.

I recalled the sensation of the carriage jolting as it traveled to the capital. The way the luggage tilted wildly when the carriage hit a bump, only to be steadied once we reached the lawn at the mansion. To reach Gelkern, I had to walk until the gravel disappeared.

As I walked slowly, I sorted through the words I had heard in the courtroom.

‘I will become a sword.’ That’s what it meant. I understood why Isella had been so calm and why Deon had loudly declared from his cell that it was none of my business.

They had hidden their intentions to catch Prince Azanti off guard. It was never something I should have interfered with.

Viter and Edan hadn’t fled but were carrying out his orders, and Isella and the Count’s family had been acting like they were betraying him, waiting for the command to strike. They had spread rumors about breaking off the engagement to distract attention while mobilizing their troops to stop Azanti.

It was all a planned scheme, known to all his close allies.

Everyone except me.

I quickened my pace, but my skirt kept catching under my feet, causing me to stumble. Eventually, the hem tore with a ripping sound.

I collapsed to the ground, feeling a surge of frustration.

The cold air pierced through me. My red hair whipped around, and the chill grazed my neck. I hunched my shoulders.

The cold reality was even harsher than the biting air.

I had been betrayed.

Or could I even call it betrayal? I was the one who had foolishly believed we were on the same side.

Even if I wasn’t much help… couldn’t they have at least told me? If I had come to the prison with such anxiety, couldn’t they have let me know? They could have stopped me from making a fool of myself.

Despair wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud.

* * *

Night fell quickly. I finally understood why the coachman had looked at me with such concern before he left.

The distance wasn’t great, but the uneven ground full of stones made me stumble repeatedly. The path was so rocky that even a carriage wheel would get worn down after a single trip. Despite the short distance, the effort required made my legs ache and my steps slow.

It wasn’t until the twilight had turned the sky a deep red that I saw the familiar grass of the estate. The grass, bathed in the crimson glow of the sunset, looked blood-red.

I hesitated before stepping onto it. I still had a long way to walk to reach the mansion, but the thought of treading on that blood-red grass made me uneasy. It felt as if the grass was soaked in blood.

After a long moment of hesitation, I finally stepped onto the grass. The soft sensation was a stark contrast to the jagged rocks I had been walking on. My feet, abused by the rough terrain, screamed in pain at the sudden softness. My ankles throbbed.

I walked towards the mansion well into the night. I could feel my feet swelling with each step.

Each time my foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up my calves. I tried to walk on the balls of my feet to relieve the pressure, but it was a futile effort.

With every step, it felt as if my toenails were going to be ripped off. The excruciating pain spread through my entire foot, and the tips of my toes began to go numb.

I had walked long distances in the northern mountains before, but this felt different. In the north, the deep snow had cushioned my steps, sparing my feet from such agony.

The hard ground here seemed to pull me down mercilessly. My knees buckled, and my back ached.

I nearly fell but managed to catch myself, barely maintaining my balance as I forced my feet to move forward again.

I knew why my allowance had been so minimal—it was a clear message of my status as a discarded consort, meant to discourage me from returning to the capital. But at the very least, he should have explained the situation and sent more money. Without enough funds, I couldn’t even buy decent shoes.

This pain was a direct consequence of his actions.