Chapter 35
Within those pale, clear eyes, Cyrone saw his own reflection entwined. The thought that anyone else might reside there besides himself was simply unthinkable.
Cyrone gently brushed Elia’s trembling eyelashes, then furrowed his brow. His face showed unmistakable frustration and anxiety, emotions he could no longer hide.
“I called you here because I wanted to personally fit your wedding dress.”
Lowering his gaze toward Elia’s face, Cyrone bit his lip. His beautiful features twisted coldly, as if the very thought made him uneasy.
Elia quietly looked up at Cyrone, whose sharp gaze was like shards of broken glass.
“No matter how much I think about it, it feels like such a waste.”
Cyrone slowly paced around Elia, lost in thought, then suddenly stopped.
“Elli, shall we get married?”
His expression was painfully clear and pure. With eyes as clean and bright as ever, Cyrone asked like he was confessing his heart, like a lover whispering of love.
“…What did you just say?”
Elia, struggling to hide her expression, broke down at that one sentence. Her calm, composed face suddenly drained of color, turning pale as death.
It was as if she’d been struck hard on the head. Cyrone’s innocent words made her world spin. He seemed to know exactly how to be cruel.
Her delicate fingers trembled, unable to withstand the insult. Cyrone looked at her with a strange expression.
“Your Highness, it seems I amuse you greatly. Seeing you’re going to keep this up to the end.”
Despite Elia’s shaky voice, Cyrone merely let out a low laugh. The slight curve of his lips made him dazzling and enchanting beyond reason.
Even in moments like this, Cyrone was effortlessly elegant and beautiful. It made Elia feel a helpless emptiness. He was like an unbreakable fortress, no matter what he did.
The cold, chilling moonlight filled the space between them. Cyrone’s smile vanished as his expression hardened.
“I’m always sincere, Elia.”
His voice was dry and emotionless. Cyrone stepped close to Elia. Instinctively, she took a step back, but there was nowhere left to retreat.
“I want a child that looks like you.”
Cyrone tenderly stroked Elia’s cheek. When she tried to turn away, he forcibly brought her face back to his. His touch was impatient and commanding, refusing to tolerate even the briefest distance.
Their eyes locked, leaving no room to escape. For a moment, Cyrone’s gaze darkened as he looked down at Elia.
“I simply can’t stand the thought of your child resembling some other bastard.”
A twisted smirk curled his lips. His cold eyes pierced Elia’s throat like a tightening grip.
“How about it? It’s really what you wanted the most, isn’t it?”
It was a look that made one want to forget everything.
* * *
The night felt as if even time itself had stopped. Elia thought these unbearable moments might never end.
“Have you ever been truly sincere with me, even once?”
Finally lowering her gaze, Elia asked again, her eyes vacant as they stared at the floor.
“…Sincere.”
Cyrone’s gaze froze, unsure how to respond to Elia’s unexpected question. He remained silent for quite a while, either unable to understand or unwilling to answer.
“Well, I suppose I never were.”
Elia let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. The conflict between the Reiffers family and the imperial family was not theirs alone to bear. Elia, bearing the Reiffers name, and Cyrone, heir to the throne, were both bound by those chains.
So Elia always understood and endured Cyrone’s resentment. For the past ten years, she had begged forgiveness even for her father’s mistakes. But now she no longer knew what to do or how.
The endless, weary time passed, and Elia’s feelings for Cyrone became a habit. An unconscious, instinctive habit.
Now, as she finally voiced the question she had wanted to ask for so long, she no longer expected an answer. It was a cruel thing, even to herself.
The cruel silence was broken first by Cyrone.
“How many times must I say it before you understand?”
Trying to hold back his anger, Cyrone took a short breath and muttered low.
“You’ve never done this before.”
Sitting on the edge of the desk, lost in thought, Cyrone’s fingers tapping the table suddenly stopped.
“…That bastard is the reason you’ve become like this.”
His piercing blue eyes trembled anxiously. Sometimes Cyrone’s emotions slipped through unexpectedly, like now.
“If you keep acting like this, I, I—!”
He bit his lips, struggling to speak. It felt as if the world was silently collapsing.
The presence of that intruder who drove a wedge between them, the changed Elia. These were variables never accounted for in Cyrone’s future.
In every dream Cyrone had, Elia was always there somewhere…
Discussion
1 CommentErica