Chapter 74
Just say that you had no choice, beg for forgiveness. Even if it’s a lie, I’ll pretend I don’t know. Because if I pretend not to know…
Cyrone’s voice trembled as he finished his plea. Elia quietly met his gaze, which was calm and cold at the edges.
“What meaning does that have now?”
Elia finally shook her head. How cruel is this cycle of fate that it always ends up in the same place? No matter how much she tried to run, the string always pulled her back to where she started.
Everything suddenly felt so distant to Elia.
“My father killed the deposed Empress. He killed your mother. I’m the daughter of a traitor. What changes now if I beg for forgiveness?”
Elia pushed Cyrone’s shoulder and shouted. It felt like the blood was draining from her body, and she staggered.
“…Elli.”
Cyrone urgently pulled her into his arms. Like a child who can’t let go of grains of sand slipping through their fingers, he held her tightly.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Even if I die by your hand, I don’t care.”
But Cyrone’s fingertips were trembling around Elia’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I love you more. It’s okay, Elia.”
His usually composed eyes were burning red. A haze blurred his vision. Cyrone spewed out a jumble of words, unaware of what he was saying.
“I’ve waited for this day for so long. It’s all over now, Elia. I’ve killed them all… Now it’s just us two, only us two.”
The reason Cyrone endured until this moment was only this. The reason he had to be strong was only this. Now, he had crushed the old ministers who always argued with him, and cut off the lifelines of the noble families who stood in his way.
The future he so desperately wished for was right in front of him. Yet the one reason for it all, Elia, was gone. That was a horrifying end for Cyrone.
“I killed them all for you. If they interfere with us, I’ll kill them. If they’re obstacles, I’ll break them. Elia, it was all for us.”
The one and only reason he had to have Elia was this. She was his salvation, the last light at the edge of the cliff.
“Let’s start everything over. Like the beginning… okay?”
Cyrone begged, locking eyes with Elia.
“Can’t you just forgive me already?”
His desperate voice begged for Elia’s forgiveness, like his heart was burning too. Elia looked at him and she wondered silently.
Where did this tragedy truly begin? Was it the late Crown Prince who died to preserve honor?
Even so, was it the loyal Reiffers? Or perhaps Loran or Rias, caught in the whirlwinds of the era? If not them, then was it me who loved you? Or maybe it was you who loved me despite everything. Why must we all already be victims of this tragedy?
“Cyrone.”
Elia couldn’t believe any of this was real. Cyrone, who had always looked down on her arrogantly and crushed her heart mercilessly, was crying. Kneeling, he was begging her.
“…Let this tragedy end with us.”
Elia looked calmly yet resolutely into Cyrone’s eyes and spoke. But before her words could finish, Cyrone shook his head.
“Elia, I’m begging you like this.”
He buried his face in her lap. His hands holding her were desperate, as if he would never let go.
“Please, won’t you love me again?”
It was a night so pitch black even the moon had closed its eyes.
* * *
That day was the final day of the New Year’s festival. Cyrone attended a simple luncheon, eating without saying much.
“……”
Suddenly, he instinctively turned his head at the gaze touching his cheek. The red-haired child quickly bowed and hid her face.
Cyrone looked down at the round head with an emotionless gaze. He did not forget her name. In fact, he never had. Among the countless eyes reaching him, hers was the deepest and purest.
That child’s name was Elia. Cyrone clearly remembered the name of the girl he had once briefly crossed paths with in the forest.
* * *
Even on the last night of the festival, the heat of the crowd did not abate. People gathered in the square, and the garden of Welrod Palace was lively throughout the night.
Cyrone quietly slipped through the crowd. The excitement and fervor around made him uncomfortable.
He passed through a thicket of rose vines and reached a modest shrine. It was a place few visited, and it was Cyrone’s favorite spot. Here, free from any ceremony or reason, he could face God alone.
From this vantage point, the prison tower holding the deposed Empress Loran was most clearly visible.
Cyrone knelt quietly and gazed up at the tower. His heart, boiling from the festival’s heat, slowly cooled.
“…God, if you are listening.”
Just as Cyrone slowly parted his lips to speak, he heard a very faint presence. He quickly turned around and stared into the vines, searching for whoever had hidden there.
“Who’s there?”
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