Chapter 239

A hint of uncertainty flickered in Iona’s eyes.

She seemed torn—whether to quietly step back or remain in place as expected.

Although Richard could easily guess what she was thinking, he deliberately held his tongue.

He did nothing except gaze at her in silence, taking no further action.

Perhaps she interpreted his silence as an instruction to report the matter.

Straightening her posture, Iona spoke with composed clarity.

“Lady Florence returned home just a short while ago. She mentioned several days she would be available, so I suggest choosing one of those if you wish to reschedule.”

She spoke as if entirely unaware that Richard had intentionally avoided Florence, as if his absence had been coincidental.

It was a calculated move to protect her master’s dignity.

Yet every time Iona behaved as though nothing were amiss between him and Florence, Richard felt a strange sense of irritation.

‘No… not strange,’ he corrected himself bitterly.

Richard let out a dry laugh under his breath.

He could no longer pretend not to notice the direction his heart was headed.

He was beginning to see his loyal servant—and blood-related sister—through eyes the world would not forgive.

It was a truth even he feared to face, one he buried deep within.

Every time the heat he had locked away in the depths of his chest began to leak out, Richard reprimanded himself with thoughts like these:

This might be a twisted form of familial affection.

Or perhaps the trust he had in a vassal had quietly morphed into something else.

Or maybe… he had simply become momentarily enchanted by the sight of a girl he’d known since childhood, now grown into a woman.

If that were all—just a fleeting delusion—then there was no reason to dwell on it.

A dream was just a dream. And he was someone who had to live in reality.

‘It’s a feeling that will fade.’

He refused to let himself be swept away by such juvenile emotion—not if it meant risking his family.

Even if there were no hidden truths, the Empress, who harbored a grudge against the Count of Modrov, would never accept Iona with open arms.

If it was a love that could never be, then what reason was there to treasure it?

There were far more important things in his life than a woman.

There was no need to cherish a weakness that would one day be used to wound him.

And so, once again, he gave her up.

Just as he had done countless times before.

Richard spoke, his voice devoid of warmth.

“There’s no need to send someone to the Duke estate.”

“And if they send someone instead?” Iona asked.

“Then choose a day that suits you,” Richard replied as he passed her by.

Sinking into the nearby armchair, he felt Iona’s uneasy gaze at his back.

She asked cautiously:

“Will you consider… seeing her next time?”

After a brief silence, Richard returned the question.

“Do you care about her?”

Was it because the question went against her master’s will?

Iona hesitated to respond.

To say she pitied Florence every time she was ignored by her fiancé would be to indirectly cast Richard as the villain.

After some hesitation, Iona chose her words carefully.

“Lady Florence truly loves Your Highness.”

“And?”

“If you could show her just a little kindness… she would be overjoyed.”

Richard let out another dry chuckle.

He found it amusing that the very person who had just returned from being slapped by Florence was now defending her.

“Are you saying that for your own sake, for hers… or,”

“….”

“as advice offered for my benefit?”

Iona seemed to think Richard was simply trying to pick a fight again.

She may have lacked a talent for flattery, but after serving him for so many years, she had mastered the art of not offending him.

Lowering her head apologetically, she replied:

“It’s for Your Highness as well. You chose this marriage to avoid further nuisances, didn’t you?”

She wasn’t wrong.

Marriage had always been inevitable, and the constant pestering of the ministers had grown tiresome.

But the most bothersome of all was the Empress, who gave him pointed, knowing glances every time they met—as if accusing him of something unspeakable with Iona.

After the sickly, scrappy girl had grown into a proper beauty, the world began to view the relationship between Iona and Richard in a different light.

And the Empress, who knew well how improper relationships could ruin people, could hardly take such rumors lightly.

After all, she had once orchestrated a scandal that led to a common man impregnating her sister-in-law.

If she could do that to her own family, what wouldn’t she do to Iona, the daughter of that man?

Watching his mother grow noticeably gentler after the engagement, Richard felt certain he had made the right choice.

The engagement itself, at least, was a decision he had no regrets about.

Despite who that woman was.

“Still, I can’t be expected to sit across from her while suppressing the nausea.”

Richard spoke casually, as if it were no more than a passing comment, tilting his head slightly to gesture for Iona to come closer.

Startled by his harsh words, Iona’s shoulders gave a barely perceptible flinch.

But she didn’t let it show. Instead, she quietly did as she was told, taking the seat across from him.

Without a word, she accepted the cigar he held out, her movements composed and obedient.

A thin trail of white smoke soon rose into the air, and the space around her hands grew warmer.

As Richard brought the cigar to his lips, the image of Florence leaving the palace flickered through his mind.

All he remembered was her back.

That was always the case—because of his weak constitution, he had made it a habit to avoid being alone with Florence as much as possible.

“You don’t like your fiancée?”

“If I did, things wouldn’t be this strained, would they?”

“Then... why not call off the engagement? Neither His Majesty nor Her Majesty would want you trapped in an unhappy marriage. If you’re going to break it off, it’s better to do so before the ceremony. There must be someone else—someone who wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.”

A quiet laugh escaped Richard.

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke and asked, amused:

“And who would that be?”

There was a time when Richard hadn’t completely dismissed the idea of a bright and happy future with Iona.

In his mind, it went something like this:

Despite the opposition of his parents and the court, he pledges himself to Iona.

Though Iona doesn’t truly love him, she accepts his proposal because he desires it.

They marry amid hollow congratulations and hushed gossip.

To his surprise, their life together is peaceful.

Iona always puts him first, and since the one who truly loves in the relationship is Richard, there are no real fights.

Like any seemingly happy couple, they eventually have a child.

He holds their child in his arms, offering comfort to the wife who endured the pains of labor.

But perhaps this was more nightmare than dream.

Because the imagined face of the child—didn’t resemble Iona. It resembled Richard.

Children inevitably resemble their parents.

And Richard... was cowardly like his father, and shameless like his mother.

He was a monster born from the worst parts of both.

So of course, he had committed something as unforgivable as harboring lust for his own sister—something even a beast would not do.

A relationship that began as a taboo could never end well.

He knew that his selfish desire would only destroy everyone in the end.

And yet... what a beautiful illusion peace could be.

“I’m content with how things are now.”

“……”

“She’s the woman Noona chose for me, after all.”

A faint smile curved across Richard’s lips, subtle as a stroke of a brush.

With his words neatly closing the conversation, Iona had no choice but to hold her tongue.

Swallowing what she wanted to say, she offered him a soft smile, out of habit more than anything else.

Richard stared at her for a long moment, then muttered to himself,

“That’s enough.”

-- End Of The Chapter --

 

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