Chapter 140

“I’ll tell the captain to hurry with the preparations for departure,” Genovia said, her tone decisive.

“What?” Elise blinked, surprised. Even Genovia’s usual cold demeanor seemed to crack for a moment, leaving Elise momentarily confused by the unexpected words.

“The ship might even set sail by dawn,” Genovia added, her gaze unreadable.

“That would be nice, but why go to such lengths?” Elise’s voice carried a note of wariness, her eyes narrowing slightly as a flicker of suspicion crossed her mind. “You hate me, don’t you? At least, that’s what I thought.”

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension. From the moment Genovia had pulled her into the carriage, a faintly glowing magic circle had appeared in the palm of Elise’s left hand—hidden beneath the layers of her robe.

She couldn’t shake the thought that Genovia might still intend to hand her over to the imperial knights. Until she stepped out of this carriage and saw where they were going, Elise couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Genovia was unpredictable, capable of both sudden kindness and the kind of ruthlessness that made even the bravest hesitate.

Noticing Elise’s guarded expression, Genovia snapped irritably, “If you don’t want it, fine.”

“…No, it’s not exactly that,” Elise replied, shaking her head slightly, her voice softer.

“Then just take it as it is,” Genovia retorted with a sharp edge. “Before what little kindness I’m offering turns into malice.”

With that, she buried herself in a plain robe that seemed completely out of place on her, its unremarkable fabric only emphasizing the stark contrast to her usual poised, haughty appearance. She lapsed into silence, her eyes distant.

Elise, sensing there was no point in pressing further, chose to remain quiet as well.

The world outside the carriage gradually shifted. The narrow streets of Novella gave way to the wide, bustling canal that ran through the heart of the city.

As the carriage passed shops that had finally reopened after a two-week closure, the air felt charged with the energy of the city coming back to life. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on marble-paved squares echoed briefly as they crossed, and soon the towering city walls came into view.

Beyond them lay the harbor.

Wow… Elise stood, momentarily entranced by the vast expanse before her. Beyond the sailors shoveling snow and unthawing ships, the sea stretched out in an endless gray-blue sweep, meeting the hazy sky at the horizon. The sight of the ocean, so foreign to her, filled her with wonder.

Genovia’s voice cut through the stillness, sudden and unexpected.

“I don’t have a mother. She passed away before I could even take my first steps.”

Elise’s gaze shifted back to her, confused.

“It was an accident at sea. She drowned saving me, sinking to the bottom of the ocean.”

The revelation hit Elise harder than she expected. For a long moment, she struggled to find the right words to offer. But before she could respond, Genovia continued in a detached tone, as though she were speaking of something long since buried.

“After learning that, I swore I’d never be like her. Throwing your life away for a child? How foolish is that? The child’s left alone anyway. Noble sacrifices of mothers—what’s the point if the child grows up never knowing them?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Elise’s voice faltered slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “All of a sudden?”

The carriage slowed to a halt in front of a massive stone archway that led into the harbor. Genovia shrugged, a gesture that seemed both casual and weighted.

“I’m saying I’ve changed my mind,” she replied, her voice flat, yet there was a flicker of something unspoken behind her eyes. “If my greatest wish was for you to die alone in some unknown place, dragging around that frail body of yours, well… not anymore. It’s all because of that useless expression of yours. I can’t even stand myself for being so absurdly sentimental. Don’t look at me like that—I hate it. Everyone has moments of foolish emotion now and then.”

Elise remained silent, her thoughts swirling as she tried to piece together the meaning behind Genovia’s words.

“Anyway,” Genovia continued, her voice harder now, “I won’t pray for you to die like my mother did, adrift in the endless sea. Sending you away means I can finally free myself from the dregs of this wretched unrequited love. It works out for both of us.”

Without waiting for a response, Genovia handed Elise a small slip of paper. It was a boarding pass, stamped with the seal of House Irrien.

Elise accepted it wordlessly, her fingers brushing over the seal, feeling the weight of what it represented.

“…The duchess must have been a remarkable mother.”

Genovia’s gaze darkened slightly at the mention of her mother. She didn’t respond right away.

“She left too soon, too tragically. At best, she was half of one.”

Elise’s voice softened, a quiet understanding in her tone. “Even from the heavens, she must have cared. Leaving without giving more love must have weighed on her heart.”

Genovia fell silent, her expression unreadable.

“She wouldn’t have wanted to leave you lonely. Of course not.”

Elise’s words were gentle, but there was an underlying sorrow in them. She knew, from her own experiences, that love that couldn’t be expressed left a deep, lasting wound. A wound that could never truly heal.

Love, no matter its form, left scars. If even a dragon’s heart wasn’t immune to it, how could a human’s be?

“…Good grief, who’s pitying whom?” Genovia muttered, breaking the heavy silence.

She let out a short, almost amused laugh, though it lacked true humor. The carriage had nearly reached its destination.

The door swung open with a suddenness that matched the change in Genovia’s demeanor. With a casual, almost dismissive gesture, she crossed her legs arrogantly and motioned toward the open door with a tilt of her chin.

“I don’t need that kind of pity, so you can go now, Your Highness. If you understand the favor I’ve done for you over the past fortnight, don’t mention my name, even if you’re caught by the Duke or the Imperial Knights. Fair trade, don’t you think?”

Elise hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Fine. As long as you don’t do anything foolish.”

She didn’t feel the need to thank her, not for the whole of her kindness—or the lack thereof. Genovia Irrien’s insults were far from forgotten, and she’d only forgiven half of them in her heart.

Tightening her hood, Elise stepped out of the carriage. The moment her foot hit the ground, the door slammed shut behind her, and the carriage disappeared into the busy street.

Elise took a deep breath, the briny, cold air of the harbor filling her lungs.

Just one day. I only need to endure for one day.

The rough number “5” was etched into the stone arch beside her, marking the entrance to the harbor. Beyond it, a massive ship loomed, anchored in place. Sailors hurried about, pulling ropes and likely repairing the lookout tower.

Elise’s gaze lingered on the vessel. If she boarded that ship, a week-long journey would bring her to Hamaram, the first island they’d dock at. It would be her first time leaving Van Yela, a step toward freedom. From what she knew, the East Sea was much safer from pirates than the South Sea.

Van Yela wasn’t well-versed in sea routes, apart from Norella, so once the ship sailed, her escape would be nearly complete.

I have to meet Barnon first, she reminded herself, her mind already turning to the next step. Ricardo’s Mast would need to be raised at Harbor 5, but the idea of crossing paths with someone—especially someone who might know her—made her uneasy. Perhaps boarding the ship first was the safest course of action.

She sank down onto the steps of Harbor 5, her mind racing with thoughts and possibilities.

“Miss.”

Startled, Elise glanced down to see a child squatting next to her, mirroring her posture. The boy, no older than ten, had light blonde hair and wide, curious eyes.

“Miss, are you a beggar?” he asked, his tone innocent but blunt.

Elise blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unfamiliar word.

“Huh…? No, I’m not like that,” she replied quickly, her voice betraying a hint of surprise.

“Then, are you waiting for the ship?” The boy’s eyes brightened with a knowing look.

Elise hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Uh… yeah.”

The child’s confidence remained unwavering. “The ship won’t leave today, Miss. It’s filled with snow, and they need to melt it and re-oil it. They said it won’t be ready until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

“I see…” Elise muttered, her mind processing the unexpected bit of information. “Thanks for telling me.”

As she awkwardly expressed her gratitude, a small thought began to form in her mind. She realized just how little she knew about Norella. The city, its people, its customs—everything felt foreign. She needed a safe place to stay for the day, but asking an adult with unclear motives seemed far too risky. Maybe children, with their honesty and innocence, were a safer option.

Elise watched the boy, who was now busy building a snowman, and after a moment, she gently asked, “Hey, do you happen to know if there’s an inn around here where I could stay for the night? Ideally somewhere quiet, with few guests.”

The boy paused, glancing up at her, then responded without hesitation. “Then go to the red-roofed inn down the alley. The owner lady always complains she can’t accept guests during snowstorms.”

“Really?” Elise asked, a bit surprised by the boy’s precise answer.

After a few more exchanges, Elise learned that the boy worked as a messenger in the area, which made sense given his sharpness. This was working out better than she expected.

As the boy returned his attention to his snowman, Elise waited patiently, deciding to bide her time until he lost interest. Then, she leaned closer to him and asked, “Hey, kid. Would you do me a favor?”

“A favor?” The boy looked up, his eyes full of curiosity.

“Yeah, I’ll pay you,” Elise said, her tone soft but firm.

The boy’s face lit up with interest, and Elise, having been hurriedly pulled from the Duke’s estate by Genovia, realized she didn’t have much money on her. Reaching up into her hood, she untied the ribbon securing her hair—a luxurious silk cord embroidered with gold thread. It was from the Duke’s estate, and she knew it had value.

Elise tied the red cord around the boy’s wrist, watching his reaction. His eyes widened in amazement.

“Wow, it’s pretty! What should I do?”

“You know what ‘Ricardo’s Mast’ is, right? The sailors’ graves on the northern breakwater of the old harbor?” Elise asked, her voice lowered to a whisper.

The boy nodded, his eyes eager.

“Go there and do exactly what I asked. It’s not hard. It’s really simple,” Elise instructed, leaning in closer to whisper the rest of her request in his ear.

The boy tilted his head a few times as he processed the information, then grinned. “Piece of cake!”

With the red string now tied securely around his wrist, the boy sprinted off toward the north without another word.

Elise watched him disappear behind the city walls before turning her attention back to the street ahead. She began walking toward the inn he had recommended.

How much would it cost for just one night? Maybe I can tear off a button or something for the payment… she thought, her mind occupied with plans.

But her thoughts were abruptly interrupted.

About halfway down the street, a chilling, bone-rattling sound sliced through the quiet air, coming from right behind her neck. It was a sound that seemed almost like the prelude to death itself.

A surge of shock and disbelief flickered across Elise’s face. Her heart raced as she froze in place, the eerie sound echoing in her ears.

***

The smoke from the burning incense spiraled lazily upward, filling the small inn room with the scent of marigolds. Barnon, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, stared at the man before him.

“Are you really asking how Her Highness attempted to take her own life…?” Barnon’s voice was a mixture of incredulity and a touch of anger. Was this a genuine question, or some kind of mockery?

Rezette Kyrstan’s face remained impassive, unreadable. He didn’t respond to Barnon’s tone, his attention fixed on the sword wedged tightly between Barnon’s fingers. His other hand, almost mechanically, lit another stick of incense, the thin trail of smoke rising into the air.

It was an obvious attempt to push Barnon’s patience, to stretch it to its breaking point. But to Barnon’s eyes, it was a contradiction in motion—a man whose calm demeanor stood in stark contrast to his seemingly petty gesture.

“Did Her Highness never give any hint of it?” Barnon pressed, trying to make sense of the situation.

“That’s why I’m asking you, Duke,” Rezette’s reply was flat, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Elise doesn’t speak to me at all.”

The way he uttered the princess’s name was telling. Though his face remained cold and indifferent, the jealousy—or perhaps childish pride—was unmistakable. Barnon swallowed back a bitter laugh. He had expected this. The tension between them had been palpable the moment Rezette barged into the room, like an uninvited guest—and it had only escalated since.

This wasn’t just a matter of politics or loyalty. It was a matter of men, of pride and something deeper.

The Duke was watching him—watching him as a man.

Barnon, understanding the silent challenge in that look, couldn’t help but feel a hint of amusement. At least this side was sincere about that marriage, he mused, inwardly sighing at the thought.

It was clear that Rezette had more at stake here than just Elise’s well-being. Perhaps his heart was as unbreakable as his legendary ability to withstand attacks.

But Barnon wasn’t going to let that stop him. He needed to see if that heart could be shaken.

“That.” Barnon’s gaze shifted to the incense, now burning faintly, its scent filling the room. “Is that what you’re burning? It has an unusual scent.”

Rezette’s eyes flickered briefly, but his expression remained unchanged. His grip on the sword tightened ever so slightly, though he didn’t draw it.

“My question only requires answers related to my inquiry, Duke,” he said coolly, his voice a low warning. “If you wish to keep all five of your fingers intact, that is.”

Barnon held his ground, his fingers still pointed toward the incense. “It’s marigold,” he said with a casual tone, his eyes never leaving Rezette’s. “The name of it is well-known among those who served Her Highness in Argan. No one was unaware of its effects. Do you think you know why?”