“Isn’t it pretty?”
She suddenly tilted her head toward him. He gazed quietly at the halo of light flowing along the delicate contours of her face, then averted his eyes as he felt a faint fever, like dizziness, spreading through his veins.
For some reason, he felt like he shouldn't take it in with his eyes anymore.
Barcas took off the cloak he was wearing over his shoulders, wrapped it around her body, and carefully closed the window.
"It is past dinner time. You should go inside now."
"Just a little more..."
The woman, curled up inside his cloak, muttered with her chin resting on her knee.
"I want to watch the sun set until the very end."
Looking down at her thin shoulders and the nape of her neck with downcast eyes, he soon leaned his back against the wall with a low sigh. Then, a faint smile appeared on the corners of her lips.
Feeling his chest tighten for no reason, he turned his gaze to the setting sun.
As the world sank entirely into red afterimages, the cool evening air seeping through the window gradually pushed away the warmth that had been lingering in the study. For some reason, that quiet moment stirred a strange ripple deep within his heart.
Barcas clenched his fist tightly. A strong sense of alarm arose at the feast of sensations she was offering him.
This moment is not eternal.
He will soon return to his place, and will never again cast a glance at the beauty of the body.
Therefore, this strange heat swirling inside the body had to be nothing more than a momentary delusion.
He soon closed his eyes as he gazed at the fading light beyond the blackened forest.
***
A faint noise intruded into his clouded mind. Barcas slowly lifted his eyelids, which felt stiff as if glued on, and rubbed his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling surrounded by a dark gray light.
Then, noticing a bandage wrapped around the hand, he narrowed his gaze.
How did it end up like this?
He was tracing his hazy memories when he heard someone's voice from nearby.
"Y-Your Excellency! You are awake."
He slowly blinked his unfocused eyes. It was only a few seconds later that he could recognize the man's face. The gaunt daytime butler dropped the wet towel he was holding as if dusting it down and bent over beside the bed.
"How are you feeling? Is there anything bothering you...?"
A ringing voice echoed dully in his ears. Barcas pressed his temples gently, then sat up.
"How much did I sleep?"
"You had been unconscious for nearly two days. According to the healer, your physical condition was almost..."
The hand that had been supporting the pillow behind his back suddenly stopped. Swallowing dryly as if choking up, the butler hurriedly changed the subject.
"Instead of doing this, I will summon a High Priest. Since you have been unconscious for a long time, you will need healing magic."
The man hurriedly left the room without waiting for an answer. Barcas listened intently to the bustling footsteps, then turned his head to look out the window. He could see the pale sun casting a gray halo as it set beyond the black fields.
Barcas wondered how long he had been watching the scene with empty eyes when, amidst the commotion, a man in flowing priestly robes burst into the room.
While he checked his condition, Barcas leaned against the headboard of the bed and carefully scanned the faces of the servants. Judging by the fact that they all looked miserable, his condition seemed quite serious.
'Their faces are in shambles. How many times have I lost consciousness and collapsed in such a disgraceful way?' He was lost in thought when memories of just before losing consciousness flooded in all at once.
Barcas furrowed his brow and clutched his forehead. Seeing this, the priest opened his mouth seriously.
"You must not do anything for the time being and get plenty of rest. Please force yourself to sleep, even if you have to use medicine."
"...Didn't you say I'd already slept for two straight days?"
"That is not enough."
The man said seriously.
"Your Excellency's current physical condition is not much different from that of a prisoner who has been tortured for weeks without eating or sleeping. How could you be left in this state?"
The man, who had been pressing his fingers between his eyes, soon rose from beside the bed. Then, he spoke in a harsh tone to the servants who were hanging their heads low like criminals.
"I will prescribe medicine for him, so please make sure he takes it regularly. Also, please ensure that he does not attend to any government affairs for the time being."
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
As the priest finished his medical examination and left the room carrying his medical bag, Barcas immediately dismissed the servants. He was bothered by the worried stares watching him.
As a heavy silence finally descended, he staggered out of bed. Only then did the scene inside the room, which had somehow changed to look unfamiliar, come into view. Come to think of it, when was the last time he used this bedroom?
Barcas narrowed his vacant eyes and soon noticed a tapestry hanging on one side of the room, and approached it.
Forests and fields drawn by weaving threads of various shades covered half of the wide fabric. He gazed blankly at the painting, which appeared unfinished, then approached the chest where he kept his belongings and bent down.
As he fumbled around with his bandaged hand to open the lid, neatly arranged travel gear was revealed. After rummaging through them indiscriminately, he found an embroidered leather bag.
He stood motionless for a long time, staring down at it, then trudged over to the fireplace. The dark stain was clearly visible in the flickering light. Unconsciously rubbing it with his thumb, Barcas let out a hollow laugh and slumped onto a chair.
He didn't even know why he was laughing. How long had he been trembling uncontrollably, his forehead pressed against the blood-stained embroidery? Then, the sound of knocking on the door was heard.
Barcas did not answer. However, the visitor did not seem to have any intention of leaving. Once again, a cautious voice was heard along with a clear knock.
"Your Excellency, I apologize for interrupting your rest. Her Highness the Princess earnestly requested to see you..."
“Send her back.”
“Your Excellency...”
“It’ll just take a moment.”
A faint voice rang out behind the butler's troubled voice.
He closed his eyes as if exhausted. When no reply came back, the uninvited guest persistently urged him on.
"I won't take up too much of your time. Please, Barcas..."
She seemed determined to hold out to the very end if not allowed. Eventually, he broke his tightly closed mouth.
“Please come in.”
Soon after, the sound of the door opening was accompanied by regular footsteps.
He leaned back in his chair and looked at her with only his eyes. Ayla, who had crossed the room with her usual composed and elegant gait, asked cautiously.
"How are you feeling? I heard you weren't feeling well..."
"Didn't you say you wouldn't take up too much of my time?"
He cut her off in a dry voice.
"Please state the purpose of your visit."
The woman's face turned as pale as a sheet of paper. Clutching the hem of her skirt tightly with her hands clasped demurely, she continued speaking with a stern expression.
"Yes. Then let's get straight to the point."
Then, she walked to the window and looked out at the manor as darkness began to descend.
"Taking Gareth's mistake as a pretext, the forces loyal to the Empress have begun to mobilize in unison. A motion demanding the revocation of his command of the Roem Knights has already been submitted to the Council, and moves to appease the conservative nobles have also been detected."
The woman, who had been calmly listing her younger brother's mistakes, turned to look at him with a bitter expression.
"We need the Grand Duke's help to resolve this situation."
Without saying a word, he simply traced the densely embedded threads with his fingertips. Growing anxious at the prolonged silence, the Princess continued speaking impatiently.
"I'm suggesting a political alliance. I'm not actually proposing marriage. If Gareth is ousted like this, the Grand Ducal House will suffer a major blow. If the influence of the radical faction, centered around the House of Tarren, grows, the standing of the House of Sheerkhan, the leaders of the conservative nobility, will also be weakened. You would want to prevent that situation, wouldn't you?"
The woman paused for a moment and gave a determined look.
"The attack on the House of Sheerkhan has already begun. The Empress will try to hold the Grand Ducal House responsible for Thalia's death. To stop the Empress, we must unite again."
Barcas lifted his gaze, which had been nailed to his leather pouch, and looked at the woman's face. In an instant, the Princess's shoulders hunched. He spat out indifferently at the woman, who stepped back as if she had seen something frightening.
"Have you said everything you wanted to say?"
Barcas, resting his head on one hand as if tired, gestured with his chin.
“Just go out now.”
The woman's face flushed dark with humiliation. Clenching her fists tightly, she stepped close to him.
"You unilaterally broke off our engagement. Even after suffering such an insult, I have never once blamed or resented you."
A faint moisture welled up in the woman's eyes. She desperately caught her breath as if swallowing something welling up inside her, and finally let out a trembling voice.
"Have you never once thought that you were sorry to me?"
A stream of pure white water flowed down her cheek. Barcas, who had been watching the scene with expressionless eyes, opened his mouth.
"No."
The woman's elegant face was horribly distorted. Looking at the sight without any emotion, he calmly added.
"I haven't really thought about you."
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