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Chapter 230
Richard couldn’t bring himself to take Iona hand. He simply stared up at her in a daze.
His lips were tightly sealed, as if he couldn’t find the words to turn her heart back.
But since such words had never existed in the first place, in the end, he had made a rather wise choice.
If nothing would change no matter what he did, then at the very least, he could hold on to his last shred of dignity.
Iona, watching his stunned expression, slowly withdrew the hand she had extended toward him.
It had only been a courteous gesture anyway, so she didn’t feel hurt by the rejection.
Looking down at her now-empty palm, she slowly curled her fingers into a fist.
“After this, leave the North immediately. If you need an excuse for Her Majesty the Empress, you may stay a few more days.”
“……”
“But do not show your face to me again. I don’t just mean in the coming days.”
Her voice, speaking of a complete and final farewell, was eerily calm.
This had been decided long ago—from the moment Iona had awakened from death and returned to the past.
Though she felt sorry for Richard, who had likely never imagined such a separation, she had intended this from the very beginning.
Just then, a knock echoed from the hallway beyond.
It seemed the Count had sent someone to hurry them along.
Sure enough, a woman—presumably a maid—raised her voice and asked,
“Pardon the interruption. Are the two of you speaking well? The Count has—”
“You may tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
Cutting off the maid mid-sentence, Iona stepped forward and headed toward the door.
There was no reason to linger—she had nothing more to say to him.
As if trying to stop her, Richard suddenly opened his mouth.
“...There was a time,”
His voice trembled slightly—something that was very unlike him.
After swallowing slowly, he continued.
“There was a time when I was your entire world.”
Iona steps halted.
After a brief moment of hesitation, she turned to look at him.
He had already risen from the floor, no longer kneeling.
Iona met his desperate gaze with a strange, unfamiliar feeling.
It seemed he wanted to hold on to her—so badly that he was even willing to invoke their shared past.
The fact that he could want her this much… surprised her.
Perhaps that’s why Iona let out a faint smile.
“What purpose does it serve to dwell on the past? I’m living in the present.”
With those final words, Iona stepped outside.
She didn’t look back—not even once.
The door closed behind her, and with that, they were truly separated.
Richard was left alone, consumed by a profound sense of loss.
Just like that cruel season fifteen years ago, when the flames had once burned so beautifully.
***
These are the fragments of memory that tend to surface when recalling that time:
A table draped in luxurious fabric, sweet desserts, smiling faces and gentle reassurances—
And beneath it all, convincing hypocrisy and well-dressed lies.
“They say excessive fortune can be poison. That was precisely the case for Count Hawkins and his wife. Imagine their joy when a gold mine was discovered in the hills they once dismissed as worthless.”
[Still, Count Hawkins seems to have held onto his wealth, hasn’t he?]
“Not quite. A skilled lawyer from Toros managed to secure a sizable alimony for the wife. He also lost custody of the child.”
Richard’s mother, Rosalia, recited the divorce drama of a noble family in her usual neutral tone, one that made it hard to tell whose side she was on.
Teresa, seemingly intrigued by the scandalous topic, listened with sparkling eyes.
Richard, on the other hand, simply fidgeted under the table, kicking his legs in boredom.
They said refined households raised children like little adults, but these two women were discussing matters far too tainted for a boy not yet ten years old to find interesting.
Richard couldn’t even understand why he needed to know about someone else’s divorce in the first place.
Matters that sordid were best left unspoken—wasn’t that what virtue demanded?
[So the child is to be raised by the Countess Hawkins?]
“The decision isn’t finalized. Count Hawkins is contesting the ruling. He’s arguing that taking all the heirs would ruin the family name. The judges seem sympathetic to that reasoning.”
[It’s a difficult issue. You can’t exactly split a child in two.]
After reading Teresa’s written words, Rosalia glanced at her with slight caution.
Clearing her throat delicately, she continued,
“Actually, the child Count Hawkins wants to take is the eldest. The Countess gave birth to their second child recently.”
The implication was clear: the first child required less care now that they were older.
Rosalia added the detail in a carefully even tone.
She clearly avoided discussing childbirth in front of Teresa, and that was likely why her knowledge of the Hawkins household was so outdated.
Despite once being close with Countess Hawkins before marriage, Teresa had only learned about the birth of her children years after the fact—and even then, only by piecing together hints from other updates.
Still, it would’ve been better to hear such happy news in a timely manner.
Each time she discovered something that had been deliberately left out, Teresa had to wonder why people thought she needed to be spared.
She scribbled down a sentence with a dazed expression:
[So she already has two children…]
It had been several years since Teresa was confined to this palace.
It wasn’t so strange for an old friend to have married and given birth to two children in that time.
With a vague expression, she continued writing:
[How old is the second child?]
“...Just over a year.”
[Then it’s not too late to send my congratulations. If it’s not too much trouble, could you pass them along to Countess Hawkins the next time you see her?]
Truthfully, she would’ve preferred to write a letter herself, but nothing from within these walls was allowed to leave.
Rosalia could come and go freely only because she had received special permission from the Emperor.
She had been working as an intermediary between Teresa and the Emperor, and her efforts had earned her access to the palace.
Though “access” sounded like a privilege, it was closer to a tiresome obligation.
There was no glory in conversing with a fallen imperial princess.
And it wasn’t as if Teresa could even entertain her.
Unlike Rosalia, who brought news from the outside world, Teresa remained trapped in the palace, living the same dull life day after day.
Feeling guilty for making Rosalia run such trivial errands, Teresa offered a sheepish smile.
[It’s a bit laughable, isn’t it—having to ask for favors like this.]
Without a word, Rosalia reached out and gently took Teresa’s left hand.
“I don’t know if it’ll comfort you, but I doubt this confinement will last much longer. His Majesty’s health is deteriorating, and there are signs of a succession on the horizon. It’s not something to celebrate, I know… but once His Highness the Crown Prince is coronated, you’ll likely be released. So don’t worry too much.”
[Thank you, sister. But it’s all right.]
“……”
[This life is stifling at times, yes… but I am here because I must atone.]
Teresa wrote the words with a composed expression.
She wasn’t referring to having consorted with a man her father hadn’t approved of.
Even so, Teresa rarely voiced any complaints about her suffocating existence.
Perhaps it was because this was how she chose to pay for the life of the child she had lost.
Rosalia responded with a voice that had turned strangely stiff.
“Well… I think that’s more than enough punishment.”
[My daughter wouldn’t agree with you.]
“...Once you’re free and remarried with a new child, you may feel differently.”
In that moment, Rosalia’s attempt to comfort Teresa felt strangely genuine.
Richard thought it was laughable.
He already knew—even back then—what his mother had done to Teresa.
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