Chapter 241
Had he been his usual thorough self, he would’ve prepared a hundred plausible excuses in advance. But he had rushed here recklessly, without thinking—because the moment he realized Jaha had discarded the ring he gave her, he lost all reason. Some animal instinct had warned him of something ominous.
Jaha stared silently at the ring in his hand.
She had said she would run away, but somewhere deep down, she had expected it might come to this.
No matter how much I struggle, won’t I still end up in the palm of his hand?
Just like that ring, now obediently resting in his grasp as if nothing had ever happened.
“That…”
He parted his lips as if to say something, then closed them again without a word. Perhaps realizing that silence was the wiser choice.
Jaha knew. It wasn’t strictly surveillance—he had likely stationed people around her for protection. After all, he was excessively, almost obsessively, concerned for her safety. But even so, monitoring her every move without permission was unforgivable.
Letting out a sigh, Jaha finally spoke.
“Before, you asked if I knew any other names besides Rikanan.”
His eyes wavered.
“Lex. Abrixa.”
When she uttered the names softly, he froze as if receiving a death sentence.
If she had only discovered that his surname was Abrixa, he wouldn’t have reacted like this. But the fact that Jaha—who now knew that name—had discarded the Abrixa ring and tried to leave him made him realize something.
He had likely arrived at the truth. Yet, whether he couldn’t believe it or didn’t want to, his desperate gaze scoured Jaha’s face, as if trying to discern just how much she truly knew. So Jaha stared back just as intently.
Fear.
Restlessness.
The shameless hope that his past actions before the regression might remain hidden.
A threadbare expectation that, even knowing everything, she might still forgive him.
All these emotions swirled violently in those blue eyes.
The waiter returning with their drinks sensed the unnatural tension at the table and hastily retreated.
After a pause, Jaha resumed the conversation.
“Come to think of it, there was also the name Ende. You told that noblewoman in the dress shop to call you that.”
She wasn’t sure of the order of the names, but by now, she’d probably pieced together more than half.
“This is as far as I’ve figured out, so I’d appreciate it if you told me the rest.”
Finally having his answer, he tore his gaze away from Jaha and buried his face completely in his palms—as if trying to escape the terror now looming before him.
Those large hands, which had always seemed so dependable, trembled helplessly.
Jaha recalled his bare hands beneath the gloves. Long, elegant fingers with pronounced knuckles. The back of his hands, veins and tendons starkly visible.
Once, she’d imagined interlacing her fingers with his—not through gloves, but skin to skin.
“Rikanan… Ende Theodor Lex Talionis Abrixa.”
He forced the words out syllable by syllable, as if wrenching them from his very core.
“That is my name.”
Even after speaking, he couldn’t bring himself to lower the hands covering his face.
A futile act. Hiding wouldn’t change a thing.
Everyone had moments when they wanted to flee—Jaha herself had experienced it countless times—so she understood the sentiment. But at the end of that avoidance and escape lay only the realization that running was pointless.
“I see. As expected of royalty—even your name is unusually long.”
“Jaha, I—”
“It’s about me. I have these… strange memories. Too vivid to be delusions, yet things I’ve never experienced no matter how I think about them. I kept hoping they were just unpleasant nightmares.”
Jaha tried to steady her trembling lips. But if the world had ever bent to her will, how easy life would have been.
“Turns out those nightmares were real, weren’t they?”
His head snapped up.
Even without checking her reflection in those blue eyes, Jaha knew her expression must look utterly grotesque. She couldn’t control it. The only consolation was that the man before her looked just as shattered, so she wasn’t alone in her humiliation.
“You’ve remembered… everything?”
“Not everything. But enough to make a judgment.”
“Jaha.”
“We can’t keep this relationship going.”
The flawless sculpture of his face twisted in agony.
“Jaha, ah—”
His voice, desperately repeating her name as if he didn’t know what else to say, was heartbreaking enough to enchant anyone. Enough to make you want to grant him absolution without realizing it.
This was why beauty and sweetness were toxic. Simply because they pleased the eyes and ears, they effortlessly blurred the line between good and evil.
“Jaha…”
How strange. Though she was the victim in this relationship, looking at him now, he seemed the more pitiable one.
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Kamelia Kaltig