Chapter 21
They say even mountains change in ten years—and it had already been twelve.
Yet I never once thought my heart would change during that time.
‘I was so proud of myself that I never expected my heart to change in an instant.’
I accepted the letter from Lyra’s hand, my mind tangled with complicated emotions.
The envelope was plain, without any fancy seal or emblem.
Just don’t read it. Send it back.
That impulse surged all the way up my throat.
‘Maybe I really shouldn’t read it.’
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath.
Lyra, who had been silently watching me, finally asked:
“Do you dislike it that much, my lady?”
“Huh?”
Dislike it? Me?
The unexpected question caught me completely off guard.
Lyra gestured toward my hand.
“That letter. You always wrinkle your face like that when it arrives. Everyone knows.”
“…Really?”
I was stunned.
I hadn’t realized everyone thought that.
Lyra—and probably everyone else—was seriously misunderstanding.
But there was no need for them to know the real reason my heart fluttered every time I received that letter.
It was better this way.
“Yeah. I guess I hate it.”
“Then should I throw them all away?”
That letter—was from Gabriel.
I never imagined this would happen. Really, I didn’t.
Over the past twelve years, one person had been fighting on the battlefield.
Another had been enjoying life, chasing happiness across hills and fields.
And another…
Had slowly built up an inexplicable attachment… to letters and gifts from a certain someone.
‘The foolish one was me.’
It really was ridiculous.
Gabriel hated me.
Our first meeting had been the worst, and things ended on an even worse note. So why, every time I saw one of these letters, did my heart stir?
‘When did I start looking forward to them?’
It wasn’t some grand love or anything like that.
Maybe… just like the fox in The Little Prince, I’d simply been tamed.
“I’ve just grown used to it.”
“Pardon, my lady?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Don’t throw it away. It’s still a letter from the Duke, after all.”
I recalled the words from his previous letters—each one curt, concise, even blunt.
Yet every simple sentence had imprinted itself on my mind.
‘How do you do, Lady Hildea.’
‘The battlefield is calm.’
‘How was your day? I wonder if you ever share your daily stories with someone close…’
‘It’s frustrating not knowing the news from the capital. Do you still climb trees?’
‘Fighting the enemy in the mountains was difficult, but I managed to find a rare flower. I hope you like it.’
‘I heard you were unwell. I regret that I could not visit you. I wonder if you’ve recovered by now.’
‘I was told the flowers I sent filled your greenhouse. Next time, I’ll try to send smaller ones.’
‘Those who gossip are cowards. That’s what I believe.’
‘Lady Hildea is always doing her best. Thanks to you, I’ve learned a lot.’
That was all it was.
Just little flower pots and a few words.
I fiddled with the letter in my hand. Thin, plain.
There was nothing particularly special inside.
It was just… a matter of timing.
Every time I was barely holding on—when things felt lonely and unbearably hard—the boy would suddenly ask, as if he knew everything.
‘Are you all right?’
As if he could see into my situation.
Like that day—
When I returned from a boutique frequented by noblewomen, pretending not to hear them gossiping loudly about House Hillington.
“She grew up without a mother, so of course she’s unrefined. And I hear the younger one is just wild and out of control.”
I hadn’t thought it would bother me, but it had. It left me feeling unexpectedly low.
And that day’s letter had said:
‘Those who gossip are cowards.’
Why… why now?
It felt like a boy’s careless hand was softly brushing over an old wound.
Why are you saying something like that… now of all times?
That’s how I grew attached.
And at some point, I found myself waiting for those steady, quiet letters.
Why?
At first, just as he had requested, I sent polite and formal replies a few times.
‘Yes, Rose is doing well. She likes this, she did that today…’
It was all about Rose.
Until one day… the boy asked me back:
‘And you, Lady Hildea?’
He was the first person who’d ever asked me anything like that.
What about you? Are you happy, Hildea?
That was when everything changed.
The letters, once cold and mechanical, began to include pieces of myself.
Whenever a letter arrived, I would never miss a single day in replying.
Then one day—hot with realization—I froze.
What am I even doing right now?
I looked in the mirror and gasped.
Why…
Why am I smiling at a letter from Gabriel?
“Ah, this is probably the last letter the Duke sent from the battlefield, my lady.”
Lyra’s cool voice snapped me out of my flood of memories.
“Yes… I guess so.”
Now that he was returning from the front lines, there would be no more letters.
Once he came back, there’d be no need for replies anymore…
This is the last letter.
With slightly trembling hands, I took the letter.
And the small flower pot handed to me by the other maid.
‘Heh… a tiny cactus?’
Where on earth had he found this?
Even while fighting a war, he still somehow managed to send these things.
Is he being kind to me? Or does he still hate me?
I knew.
He loved my younger sister.
And I never wished for anything beyond that.
The way he treats Rose and me is completely different. There’s no mistaking that.
All I ever received were a few thin sheets of paper—and always, one flower pot.
What arrived for my younger sister Rose, on the other hand, were thick letters and dazzling, ornate jewels.
Of course, I didn’t particularly like jewels, but the contrast was clear.
It was undeniable evidence of where Gabriel’s heart truly lay.
He likes Rose.
That difference never hurt me anymore, nor did I pay it much mind.
Rose likes him too.
When I saw Rose grinning, all giggles and brightness, I felt genuinely happy too.
“My lady? What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
I casually slipped the letter into the bedside drawer and handed the flower pot back to the maid, telling her to place it somewhere sunny.
Lyra tilted her head slightly.
“You’re not going to read it? You’ll be meeting him soon anyway. He might have written something important.”
I hesitated for a moment.
“Well, when have I ever read them? I’ve been too busy lately, and besides, the war is over. He’s on his way back now.”
“That’s true.”
“There’s no need to send him a reply anymore. If it were urgent, it would’ve gone to Rose, not me.”
“Still….”
This whole process of becoming attached—
The way I started missing those letters—
The familiarity I felt when I saw his handwriting—
None of it needed to be known by anyone.
Because eventually, I would sever it all.
“Lyra, never mind that. What about the letters from the other young noblemen?”
“Ah, those…”
Rose was truly precious to me, and I never wanted to tarnish her happiness with anything—not even by accident.
This was a one-sided attachment.
And I had no intention of turning it into anything more.
I’ll throw the letters away… when the time comes.
The one who wrote those stiff, curt greetings—
was probably never the real Gabriel.
In the end, it was just the Gabriel I had imagined in my mind.
So before anything could begin between the real Gabriel and me, I would burn it all.
‘But….’
But—if this curiosity and gladness ever grew into something uncontrollable…
Then—
Then I will…
My eyes flared with determined resolve.
‘I will disappear.’
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Emperor Detroit
He was a man who had lived his life as fiercely as a lion roaming the plains.
He never hesitated, nor did he regret.
But perhaps age was catching up to him—because now, something didn’t go as he wished. His children.
A pale face, crimson lips, clear blue eyes, and hair as soft and dark as the night sky.
His gaze softened for a moment as he looked at the black-haired girl.
“Princess.”
“Yes, Father.”
Empress Djia gnashing her teeth and clinging to the girl—Princess Rafia—was likely because of that hair.
To the Empress, she was a lowborn girl. But to Emperor Detroit, she was the daughter of the only woman he had ever truly loved.
“I don’t understand. Why do you not want to do what your father is saying?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
The princess stubbornly shook her head.
“I still remember him from when we were children, Father.”
“And so?”
The princess let out a cold laugh.
“Gabriel and I were never on good terms. Are you saying everything should change just because he’s returning now as a war hero?”
“My child. He’s not the same as he was.”
“He has a fiancée.”
“It was never formal.”
“It was a womb-promise. One that carried the word of the late emperor.”
Her pride stung. How could her father try to marry her off to such a man?
But the Emperor was deeply troubled. With the Empress and Crown Prince sharpening their claws, what was the safest way to protect his daughter?
Was it not to pair her with the most powerful and secure man?
Of course, it had been the Emperor himself who had once pressured Gabriel into an engagement with the Hillington girl.
He had always favored Gabriel more than the Crown Prince and thought it ideal to link him with House Hillington.
So at the time, he hadn’t even considered pairing him with the princess.
Besides…
Back then, Gabriel had been weak—powerless and with no influence.
But the man returning now would be different.
The Emperor had seen many noble families’ blessings firsthand. That’s how he knew:
Gabriel’s inherited blessing was one of the most exceptional.
And if left alone, all that would go to Hillington.
Once, Hillington had been a sturdy pillar to lean on. But now, they remained in seclusion, not even showing their faces.
Is that really okay? Will they not become an obstacle for the Empire’s future?
“Wasn’t it you who favored Gabriel so dearly? If you push him so forcefully, do you really think he’ll follow?” the princess snapped.
“Before your father, I’m also an emperor. I must consider many things. This isn’t like the days when I could love you without condition.”
Trying to soothe her, the Emperor added gently:
“At the victory celebration, the Hillington twins will make their debut. They’ll be the center of attention. Perhaps even more than the royal family.”
That seemed to strike a nerve.
“…I don’t like that.”
“That’s what I think too”
The Emperor smiled faintly, pleased.
The Hillington twins were not inferior even when compared to the princess.
And if they tried to win Gabriel’s favor, then Rafia would move in response.
‘Even if only to pull Gabriel’s gaze away from the sisters.’
That would be enough.
Satisfied, the Emperor wore a victorious smile.
But he didn’t know—
That the marriage pact he once treated so lightly had become more precious than life itself to someone.
