My Ruin to You - Chapter 242

“I went of my own accord.”

“It was a situation where you had no choice but to go.”

“That’s true.”

Roseline nodded expressionlessly. A familiar sigh followed.

“You also did what you had to do, so don’t blame yourself either. The one who’s truly at fault is someone else.”

“Who are you referring to?”

“Mür.”

Roseline, who even dropped the honorific, bit her lip as she recalled Mür’s detestable face. They had arrested Mür immediately after the situation was subdued a few days prior, and it turned out he had used transformation magic to hide in the stables. However, it seemed wielding magic that went against his affinity wasn’t easy; he had transformed into a horse with six legs and was quickly discovered.

She had also heard that after reverting to his original form, he was shouting at the top of his lungs that it was all a misunderstanding and that he demanded to see the Grand Duke.

“Once His Highness recovers, he will deliver a fitting disposition.”

Merrick spoke calmly. He, too, seemed prepared to accept his own share of the punishment, with a mix of grim resolve and resignation spreading over him like a shadow.

Instead of a hasty consolation, Roseline answered with silence. If punishment was to be meted out for disobedience, then Merrick’s efforts should rightly be commended. Merrick, standing in for Valen during his absence, was spending his days impossibly busy.

He urged the commanders, including the captain, to ensure the Grand Duke’s absence didn’t destabilize the front lines, but he postponed the Duchy’s official duties, such as diplomatic documents and tax reports. Thus, documents requiring Valen’s signature were just piling up. Even the paper was waiting for him, but since he showed no signs of waking, it was a pitiful state of affairs.

Merrick, who had another busy schedule today, left the room after asking Roseline to look after Valen.

“…….”

Left alone, Roseline looked down at Valen, who lay with his eyes closed as if asleep. Perhaps he really was just asleep. That was the shared opinion of the personal physician and Merrick. They said his body, having reached its limit from severe insomnia, was now catching up on sleep.

According to Merrick, Valen had barely slept since the war began. That, too, felt like her fault, making her heart feel as heavy as waterlogged cotton.

No, it wasn’t that. Even after arriving at the mansion, he would occasionally open his eyes and look for Roseline. Upon confirming she was by his side, his long eyelashes would flutter down, veiling his beautiful eyes as if asking when he had woken. One day, he gazed a little longer; another day, he called her name. Though he was improving daily, it wasn’t a complete recovery, forcing Roseline to swallow both relief and anxiety simultaneously.

Living through this, she came to fully understand how he must have felt when he was left alone after her death. At least Valen was still alive. What must this man have thought while looking at me lying in a coffin?

“…What would he think? Of course, he was sad.”

Muttering to herself, Roseline rubbed her stinging eyes and stood up. The sunlight was so brilliant she thought to open the window for some air, when the desk by the window caught her eye. Or more precisely, the pen on the desk.

“……”

A strange impulse came over her. She hadn’t been able to give him anything when he departed for the front, but she thought he would be happy to receive a letter from her upon waking. He had always loved her letters. She remembered him once showing a hint of disappointment when their exchange of letters had naturally dwindled some time ago.

Her hesitation was brief. Roseline went straight to the desk.

“I’ll just open one drawer. Excuse me,” she whispered softly towards the tall man lying in the bed and opened the drawer. As expected, it was filled with high-quality paper with a stiff texture. Just as she carefully pulled out one sheet—

“…Huh?”

Her own name, nestled within an unfinished sentence on what looked like a fresh sheet of paper, caught her eye. As if entranced, Roseline took out the paper from the drawer and examined it.

Roseline.

Did I ever tell you?

That the letters filled with your daily life, written in a hand that resembles yours, were my greatest joy in those days.

And so, I still wait for the messenger birds.

Even though I know it’s impossible.

Isn’t it strange? I spent countless times returning to you, yet they’ve all grown blurry.

The time I held you was merely a thousand days, and the time I wandered, unable to forget those thousand days, is beyond measure—yet the clearest thing to me is you alone.

Even the changes in seasons and time all originate from you.

The day you liked, the flowers you love.

The lavender has bloomed in the garden.

It reminds me of you, circling the garden for the longest time, saying you liked how lavender could be enjoyed for so long in the north.
Even now, as the scent of flowers drifts in through the window, I write letters I cannot send and think only of you.
I miss you, Roseline.

I will arrive in the capital in a few days.

But you won’t come to the banquet, will you?

I wonder when I will get used to you hating me.

I wonder when your heart will soften.