Chapter 52
“You sure know how to pick your battles.”
Cyrone’s eyes curved into a genuine smile. Not a forced smile, but a heartfelt expression.
“Well, I suppose I can’t help it.”
What happened next was Cyrone overturning his glass. The crimson wine that had filled it spilled like scattered droplets across the carpet. It happened in a fleeting moment, almost painfully fleeting.
“…!”
“Your Highness!”
Reiffers snapped angrily as he stared at the wine soaking into the floor. It wasn’t just passing the cup to someone else, but spilling it. This was a clear insult.
Expressions among the guests shifted for various reasons. Rias, sitting quietly like an observer, suddenly had veins bulging in his eyes.
He clenched his palm tightly, his trembling face showed an unusually blatant anger.
The atmosphere in the hall turned tense in an instant. Most people exchanged cautious glances, but Cyrone alone remained composed.
Ignoring all the chaos, his gaze was fixed solely on Elia.
“How could I ever refuse your request?”
Cyrone smiled, dazzling more brightly than any golden crown.
As the crowd’s gazes scattered in all directions, Cyrone’s sharp eyes landed on Rias standing close to Elia.
“…”
Rias seemed completely unaware of Cyrone’s stare, muttering as he stubbornly watched Elia’s back.
“In the end, you keep holding me back.”
Cyrone’s satisfied smile showed he finally understood.
* * *
The carriage sped down a steep road, leaving Welrod Palace behind. The cold wind whipped fiercely, as if heralding the uncertain future ahead.
After the banquet ended like that, Reiffers, who had been glaring at Elia with eyes red as if ready to strike her cheek, vanished without a trace.
Elia stood in the mansion after getting back, unable to take off her coat, restless for reasons she couldn’t explain.
She stood by the window for a long time, watching the sunset. Though the sun was setting, the light lingered stubbornly.
‘Is Father really targeting Cyrone too? Why on earth?’
Elia recalled the deepening rift between the current Emperor and the noble families.
Though clashes with the imperial loyalists like Reiffers occurred during the succession, those were all matters of the past. With the deposed Empress’s removal, sufficient pressure had already been applied to the imperial power.
So why was Reiffers trying to provoke Cyrone as well? There was no obvious rival heir to the throne ready to challenge Cyrone at the moment.
‘…Another heir?’
Just then, without a knock, the door suddenly swung open.
“Rias? What brings you here without notice?”
The one who barged in unannounced was Rias. His abrupt and rude behavior was unexpected. He seemed to have changed clothes, now cloaked head to toe in a deep black robe.
Elia frowned slightly as she looked at Rias, but he seemed indifferent to her expression.
“Why are you wearing combat boots…?”
Elia’s eyes caught the stark contrast of the black robe Rias wore and then noticed the heavy military boots on his feet. Despite her question, Rias gave no reply.
With the steady thud of his boots, he walked into the room and stood by the window overlooking the garden.
His presence had already ruined the pristine carpet. As a breeze blew through the slightly open window, the deep black fabric of Rias’s robe swayed gently.
It was so dark it seemed to swallow his entire form. Almost as if darkness itself had taken shape.
“That was so like you.”
The late afternoon sunlight, heavy and red like a distorted sunset, fell over Rias’s head.
Trying to suppress the anger in his voice, Rias bit his lip tightly. It was moments like these, turning his back on her, that felt easiest, when he didn’t have to hide his expression.
“Your feelings for Cyrone… they almost bring me to tears.”
Rias said stubbornly, staring fixedly beyond the garden. Though his face was turned away, there was hardness in his tone.
“I’m sorry. It just slipped out, I didn’t mean to—”
Elia wanted to see Rias’s face, but at the same time, she didn’t. She stared at his broad, solid back and felt as though she was hitting an unbreakable wall.
Why did he feel so unfamiliar lately? When had Rias started feeling like a stranger? Fidgeting nervously, she fiddled with her neatly trimmed nails.
Unexplained doubts bubbled up inside her, but for now, guilt took precedence.
“What’s there to be sorry about?”
Rias’s voice was tinged with a hint of a smile, but his careful expression was starting to crumble.
He thought to himself that if this continued, his true face would be revealed. He had always prided himself on his endurance and patience, but in front of Elia, everything was unraveling.
Without realizing it, Elia was drawing out his real self.
“…That.”
Elia let out a low sigh as she gazed at the rigid figure before her. A heavy weight settled in her chest.
“My father… he’s someone who can do anything if he sets his mind to it.”
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