Episode 17
To Lydia, it sounded like a rather bitter statement: “This will be the last thing in my life worth the trouble of going through with marriage.”
It was as if she could hear the harsh tone in her ears like a hallucination. Lydia couldn’t help but let out a small, untimely smile.
“Why are you laughing?”
Ilian, who keenly noticed that Lydia was smiling while thinking about something else, tilted his head and whispered close to her ear.
This time, her ear really did tickle.
“Don’t come so close. It tickles.”
As Lydia pushed him away with a gentle nudge of her elbow, a fresh smile lingered on her lips, tickling Ilian’s heart as well.
Lydia’s honest and lively personality, which responded explosively to the slightest touch, had always caught Ilian’s attention.
Now, she had nearly taken hold of his gaze completely.
“Why?”
“No reason. You’re just really pretty.”
When he stepped back slightly and said that while looking at her, Lydia blinked, then gave him a bright smile.
“You sound like you’re saying it reluctantly, but thank you anyway.”
“You never let anything go.”
“Well, that’s how it sounded to me.”
Ilian looked down to see Lydia leaning on him far more comfortably than before.
Since the incident yesterday, it was undeniable that the invisible wall between them had crumbled, and a much more relaxed atmosphere had settled in.
The moment Ilian realized that, he took a few steps back.
The smile on his lips vanished as well. Anxiety and unease swirled within him.
<This is all your fault. Isn’t it funny that you’re mourning a child who wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for you?>
He knew Madeline Ines, who had lost her position in the marquisate after Ethan’s death, had said those words out of spite. Even so, her accusation had lodged itself deeply in Ilian’s heart.
Though it was clearly her fault at the core, her claim that Ethan wouldn’t have died if not for Ilian wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Marquis?”
Sensing something strange, Lydia turned slightly. Ilian quietly gazed into Lydia’s eyes, which held a transparent and unmistakable affection.
Even as he sensed that drawing closer to her would only lead to regret, he still couldn’t stop himself.
And if he did approach—wouldn’t it be this woman, not himself, who would pay the price? Just like Ethan had.
When Lydia’s fingers gently brushed the corner of his eye, Ilian realized he had unknowingly closed his eyes.
In his slowly clearing vision, Lydia was tilting her head as she examined him.
“Your body feels a little warm. Are you okay?”
“I’m just tired.”
Even yesterday, he had seemed a little off—something felt ominous.
On the surface, the curse appeared to be receding little by little thanks to Lydia’s power. But this foreboding feeling urged him to take a closer look.
“Marquis, after this is over…”
She felt that he needed to check not just his hand and arm by rolling up his shirt, but the overall shape of the curse again, just like when they had first met.
But his words were interrupted by the sudden arrival of the butler.
“Master, I have something to report.”
It must have been something important enough to interrupt what looked like a couple immersed in newlywed bliss.
The butler’s face remained troubled as he whispered into Marquis Esteban’s ear. It seemed like he was also being mindful of Lydia, making it impossible not to pay attention.
“What is it?”
“It’s nothing serious.”
But judging by his expression, it certainly didn’t seem like “nothing.”
Just as Lydia was about to step forward to get involved, Ilian stopped her.
“You’ll trip again. Just change into something comfortable. I’ll take care of this quickly and tell you about it when I get back.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me?”
Even Lydia, who had just been about to say she wanted to examine his condition carefully, forgot for a moment. Ilian spoke as though their conversation had never been interrupted.
Though it was obvious he had to go attend to the urgent matter, his insistence on confirming whether Lydia had said what she needed to made her heart flutter again.
“…Alright.”
Only after confirming that she had understood him, Ilian give a slight nod and head out.
Lydia silently watched his retreating back.
***
The moment Ilian closed the door behind him, his face contorted without hesitation.
With long strides, he headed toward the drawing room on the first floor, speaking irritably to the butler beside him.
“So, I said I wouldn’t receive any guests, and she barged in anyway?”
“Princess Yulina was very insistent. It was difficult to stop her.”
The butler, Frederick, wore a visibly troubled expression. Ilian sighed.
He had known she was strong-willed, but the youngest princess of the royal family seemed incapable of understanding rejection.
“I’ve been lenient only for Alec’s sake…”
Ilian recalled the current crown prince and his close friend, Alec—the royal family’s only real hope.
He only tolerated Princess Yulina because she was Alec’s younger sister.
Midway down the stairs, Ilian stopped and leaned against the railing, rubbing his temples. His head throbbed—not figuratively, but quite literally.
‘I told him not to let her grow up spoiled, didn’t I…?’
Despite having a cold father and a mother who saw children as political tools, Alec had grown into a proper crown prince.
Perhaps because of that, he hoped his sisters would at least understand familial affection and took good care of them.
As a result, one sister grew up just as sharp and upright as Alec himself, but the other turned out immature and reckless.
“Marquis!”
Right on cue, the problematic Princess Yulina approached with a piercingly high-pitched voice, dressed to the nines.
Shouting almost like a scream, the blonde princess ran into Marquis Esteban’s arms without the slightest hesitation.
“Lian oppa! How could you get married without me?”
“You left the drawing room, I see.”
“How could I stay in there? You’re getting married—to someone else, not me!”
It was a subtle rebuke for her lack of patience in not waiting until he arrived.
But Yulina didn’t even seem to recognize it as such. Instead, she clung to him and began wailing in the middle of the hallway.
“…Princess.”
He couldn’t just let her collapse onto the floor, so he helped her up—but that was the extent of it.
“Please compose yourself.”
“You said you’d call me Lina. You said it was okay.”
“We are not on those terms anymore.”
Unlike in the past, when she didn’t mind being rejected, Yulina now found his refusal to use her nickname unbearable.
“Why are you speaking so coldly? I told you—I don’t expect an answer right away, but I’ll wait forever. So how could you do this to me?”
“I told you waiting would be meaningless. I have no intention of marrying you.”
Ilian Esteban was utterly exhausted.
His personal bond extended only as far as the crown prince.
He had never even allowed her to use his name, yet this princess, who always came uninvited whenever he met with Alec, had never been within his interest.
“But everyone said it! Everyone said we were a perfect match. That we’d be the perfect couple. And since I was little, it’s only ever been you, Lian oppa.”
To the young Yulina, Ilian Esteban had been dazzling—someone she had to possess the moment she saw him.
And she still felt that way. Such a perfect man deserved to be with someone like her—praised as the most elegant and beautiful.
There was no woman in the kingdom who could surpass her status, so it was only natural to believe that Ilian Esteban, the most distinguished man, would become hers.
Not some nameless commoner woman of unknown origin.
“I don’t know what your ladies-in-waiting have been telling you, but I have never once considered you as my wife.”
Yulina stopped crying and stepped back in shock at Ilian’s cold tone, which was almost icy.
But today, Ilian made up his mind to be even more decisive, ignoring Alec’s feelings for once.
“So please leave now. You are not a welcome guest here, Princess.”
“How can you say that to me? How can you be so…”
Even if he had been indifferent before, he had never spoken so coldly.
Why was he now delivering words that wounded her heart so mercilessly?
Trying not to show her tears in front of him, Yulina looked up and wiped her eyes—only to see the hem of a dress.
A woman, standing there as if this were her own home, wearing a plain dress that looked dull in Yulina’s eyes.
There was no doubt—she must be Ilian’s fiancée.
Yulina’s tear-stained expression twisted as her gaze slowly shifted to the figure behind Ilian.
Noticing her gaze, Ilian turned around—and there stood Lydia, gripping the banister at the top of the stairs.
• ❁ • ❁ • ❁ •By Esraa• ❁ • ❁ • ❁ •
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