Chapter 19 

“I’m fine.”

But all that came back was a rejection.

“If that’s what you wish, I can arrange to have Tyrtan return from Tussla right away.”

Growing anxious at Elena’s unbothered demeanor, Maketon played another card.

“No… I couldn’t possibly impose like that…”

“Haha. That’s odd. I thought you’d be eager to see Tyrtan. Perhaps I was wrong. In any case, the ball is about to begin. I’ll ask you again after you’ve had a chance to enjoy it.”

“Well, I doubt it’ll come to that… but since you say so, I understand.”

Even amidst the tension stretched taut between them, Elena didn’t yield a single word, not from the very start to this very moment.

Maketon, flustered by how differently the conversation was unfolding from what he had expected, hastily rose from his seat. Seeing this, Elena also stood up.

Even if she had decided to side with the Marquis faction, she had no intention of surrendering herself fully into their hands. Just this much was enough for now.

* * *

After her meeting with Maketon ended, Elena stepped into the ballroom and stood awkwardly.

No one approached her, and she herself didn’t know anyone else there. At a loss for what to do, she retreated to the edge of the room and quietly sipped her champagne, until Van appeared.

Why would the Commander, who always distanced himself from the Marquis, be at an event like this?

Startled, Elena nearly dropped her glass.

Should she flee the room immediately? Or should she go to Van and apologize?

Unable to decide, she stood frozen, staring blankly as Van strode directly toward her. Elena had no idea why Van, of all people, had come to a ball hosted by Count Pirard, Marquis Masen Chariot’s closest ally.

“No matter what excuse you come up with, I’m not interested. Though who knows? If you fall to your knees and cry, maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

At his cruel suggestion, Elena faltered, unsure of what to do. Van gave her one final sharp glare, then turned away coldly.

She couldn’t afford to be cast out of the Order. How many years had she worked just to get close to him?

“Commander.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Elena finally took a step and grabbed his arm.

If she wanted to stay near Van, she had to remain in the Order. As the daughter of the fallen Baron Vened family, there was no other way to approach him.

“Commander.”

Though she called out to him again, Van didn’t stop. And so, ignoring the curious glances that pierced her from all around, Elena abandoned her dignity and grabbed the hem of his cloak.

Only then did Van slowly turn to face her.

“What is it?”

That gaze, colder than any he had cast upon her before, pierced her heart. But she had to remain by his side. That was the only way to plan her revenge and carry it out.

So Elena slowly knelt down.

As her knees fully touched the floor, gasps rippled through the crowd. It was a shocking sight, something no one could have imagined seeing at a ballroom.

“I’m sorry. I accept the punishment for lying to you, Commander.”

A ballroom was a place where even bowing one’s head was considered disgraceful. And yet here Elena knelt before the ruler of the North.

By the rules of society, this was a declaration of total submission, a complete and utter defeat. It was the kind of dishonor that would make her a pariah in high society for life. So the onlookers quickly hid their shocked smiles behind their hands and watched with barely concealed fascination.

“If punishment is due for defying your command… I’ll accept that as well. But please, I beg you… don’t expel me.”

“Vened.”

Still bowing her head, Elena spoke as she stared at the floor, desperate. She couldn’t let the years of effort go to waste, not now. Even if her pride was trampled, this was the right choice.

“Raise your head.”

Elena unclenched her tightly pressed lips and slowly lifted her gaze as commanded. Then she saw it, his eyes, wavering. His face, contorted in pain.

But why?

He was the one inflicting the pain. She was the one kneeling before him. And yet, looking at Van, it felt almost as if the roles had been reversed. His hand came down. A warm finger touched her chin.

“So quick to kneel. That doesn’t suit someone from Ridwan.”

The touch beneath her chin felt unfamiliar. Was it because of anger? His hand was trembling faintly.

The red in his eyes slowly settled. Once, twice, he blinked slowly until his gaze returned to normal. But in contrast, his hand trembled more. Following the line of her jaw, his fingers brushed her loose hair back.

The touch was strangely gentle, like he was stroking a fragile, priceless work of art that might shatter with the slightest force.

“I’ll let you stay. Consider it a reward for your admirable persistence.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Van’s hand withdrew.

That was enough. Even if it took another ten years, she would continue moving forward at his side. Even if she joined the Marquis faction, she’d never be accepted without her status as a knight of Ridwan.

When Elena bowed again, murmurs erupted throughout the hall. She didn’t lift her head until Van’s footsteps had receded completely from earshot.

When, she wondered, would she finally be able to drive a blade into that back? And when, if ever, would she stop being outmatched and finally defeat him?

In that moment, it felt as though she were trapped in a nightmarish world where only the two of them existed.

A world where no one else was present but her kneeling self, and that cold, unfeeling back. In that world, she was the only one who was weak.

* * *

Marquis Masen Chariot had watched the entire ordeal with interest. The daughter of the fallen Baron Vened had knelt before Van Nizena. 

He didn’t know what history lay between Van and Elena, but today, Van had utterly crushed the last shreds of Elena’s honor. To Masen, ever driven by aristocratic ambition, the fracture between them was plain to see.

Tyrtan was in their hands, and his sister was in Ridwan. Regardless of that fact, what had happened today alone made Elena seem ripe for the taking. It was only right to gather all those who held grudges against Van to his side. After all, hadn’t Aurin Vened once crossed over and accomplished something quite remarkable?

Even after Van left the hall, the other guests continued stealing glances at Elena, whispering animatedly about what they had just witnessed. And yet, Elena stood tall, sipping her drink as if nothing had happened.

“It was getting noisy out there. I thought it best to speak privately, so hope you don’t mind?”

“Thank you for your gracious consideration, Your Grace.”

Masen had borrowed a receiving room from Maketon to summon Elena.

“What happened to the Vened family… well, it’s awkward to bring it up now, but it truly was unfortunate.”

“Not at all.”

Masen twitched his nose as he observed her strikingly calm face.

Was she emotionless? Or just cold to an extreme? Was she, as Maketon feared, a bold schemer? Or a broken doll, ruined beyond repair?

Whichever she was, one thing was certain: she despised Van.

“Count Pirard likely mentioned this already, but Tyrtan is currently with us. He’s quite a capable knight, and his work has kept him from coming to you.”

“I see. That’s good to hear. As I told Count Pirard, just knowing my brother is safe is enough for me.”

Masen had heard that Maketon failed to recruit her, but listening to this now, he could understand why. Still, no matter how impassive Elena was, this wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go.

Like with Aurin, they had tried for over ten years to plant someone close to Van Nizena. But ever since Dran died, Van had grown extremely wary of letting anyone near him. Every attempt to infiltrate his inner circle had failed.

And yet, Elena Vened had grown into a promising asset. Masen regretted not paying more attention back when she first entered Ridwan.

“If you’re willing, I can arrange a meeting with Tyrtan.”

Masen was determined to win Elena over.

A knight from Ridwan, and supposedly one of Van’s closest, yet clearly at odds with him. If she took Masen’s hand, she could easily provide him with valuable information.

“Dame Vened?”

He had expected her to agree immediately. But contrary to his expectations, Elena quietly sipped the tea placed before her.

“Ah, my apologies. I was just lost in thought…”

“Ten years apart, and you still need time to decide?”

“That’s precisely why. It’s been ten years… I wonder if it’s even the right time to meet again.”

A knight so timid?

At that answer, Masen’s expectations of her plummeted. She was far more indecisive and pitiful than he’d hoped. If he had to pick among his assumptions, the broken doll theory seemed most accurate.

“In that case, I’ll leave it to your convenience.”

“Well, then…”

Her vague tone only deepened his disappointment. Even her sharp blue eyes seemed dull now.

“Let’s assume you’re open to meeting him. Of course, you know that in return, you’ll have to be of some help to us, yes?”

“Oh? Is that so? But as you know, Your Grace, I no longer have a family or any resources to offer.”

“Tsk. You just need to do a favor for me later. That’s all.”

“That already sounds like a burden. In that case…”

Masen was beginning to doubt whether the famed Ridwan knights, who were said to slay monsters with a single strike, were really this underwhelming. At this point, there was nothing left to be disappointed in. His opinion of Elena had completely crashed.

“But even for me, offering favors out of the blue is a bit much. Let’s keep things casual, like occasional meetings, or perhaps an exchange of letters.”

“Yes, that much I can manage.”

The fact that she offered only this much made him wonder: could she actually be loyal to Van? But then again, why would anyone remain loyal to a man who humiliated his own knight so publicly?

To Masen, such disgraceful behavior was utterly incomprehensible.

“Still, just out of personal curiosity…”

“Yes, go ahead. I’ll answer honestly.”

……

T/N: So Elena is Van’s soulmate/fated mate whatever that is, and he had to protect her because of that instinct? 

And Tyrtan was actually the one who killed Dran, the previous Emperor, which is his brother…