Chapter 32
The tranquil dawn was meant to continue.
At least, until the storm arrived.
Boom!
A deafening clap of thunder rattled the room, as if threatening to shatter the very windows.
“…Ugh.”
Diana grimaced, pressing a pillow against her ears in an attempt to muffle the noise.
But a flimsy piece of fabric was no match for the relentless storm. The sound seeped through, growing louder and louder until it pierced through her makeshift barrier.
She had despised the sound of rain ever since her days in the slums.
After years of strict discipline in the Count’s household, she had managed to endure it somewhat.
But now, in her weakened state, her old fears had resurfaced with a vengeance.
“…Ersivan.”
She murmured his name without thinking.
Strangely enough, it was always him.
Whenever she was at her lowest, the person who came to mind was always him.
Desperate, she had even rummaged through her belongings in search of a sedative.
But if the medicine’s promise of relief had been a lie, then her trembling body was the undeniable truth.
This time, she resorted to pulling a thick blanket over herself, shutting out the storm’s noise more effectively.
But now, the suffocating space around her became a problem of its own.
“Throw it away. If it dies, it’s an unexpected gain. Even if it survives, it won’t remember us.”
A fragment of a memory struck her like a dagger.
A shadowed figure emerged in the darkness—the child she had once seen from inside a wardrobe.
The child curled into a ball, his small frame barely visible beneath the pitch-black hair that covered his face. He was being carried off to somewhere unknown.
“Mmph… Ugh… Mmnn…!”
The child screamed until the veins in his throat bulged.
But the gag in his mouth rendered his cries useless.
By the time he realized it was futile, his body had already given up, collapsing in exhaustion.
The carriage came to a halt.
Moments later, the child was tossed to the ground like an old sack of cargo—discarded by a pair of calloused, unfeeling hands.
The impact jolted him awake.
And then, he screamed.
“There’s someone here!”
The gag smothered his voice, allowing only muffled whimpers to escape.
Yet, somehow, Diana could hear his words as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud.
“Please… Help me… I didn’t do anything wrong…”
His frail body trembled violently, unable to withstand the cold of the forest.
If left there, he would either fall prey to wild beasts or succumb to hypothermia.
“What… what did I do to deserve this…?”
His cries gradually lost their strength, his consciousness slipping away.
“You said you’d come back for me.”
A weak whisper echoed in the depths of his fading mind.
“You said you’d protect me.”
He hadn’t even moved his lips.
And yet, Diana could hear the words as though they were her own thoughts.
“I must be losing my mind.”
She felt drained, as if she had just seen a ghost.
She needed someone.
Anyone.
If she collapsed again, she would be bedridden for days.
“Evan…”
Of all people, her mind settled on Ersivan once again.
Determined, she reached for a candle and lit it.
As she cautiously stepped into the hallway, she found it eerily empty.
Not a single servant in sight—likely due to the storm.
At least she wouldn’t be seen in such a pathetic state.
Clutching the railing for support, Diana carefully descended the staircase, step by step.
Upon reaching the first floor, she steadied herself against the wall, making her way toward the study.
Before long, she arrived at a door engraved with the Valencia family crest.
A faint glow spilled from the crack beneath the door, confirming that he was inside.
“What should I say?”
Now that she was here, she hesitated.
Predicting his reaction only made her more anxious.
First, he would undoubtedly scold her for coming downstairs alone, unaccompanied, in her fragile state.
Then, after his obligatory lecture, he would take one look at her tear-streaked face and finally ask why she was there.
“And how do I even answer that?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He would ask why.
“Because I’m afraid of the rain?”
The mere thought of saying that out loud made her burn with embarrassment.
She was no child—what an absurd reason to wake someone at this hour.
As she lingered, the candle in her hand flickered dangerously.
If it went out, she would be in trouble.
Suddenly desperate, she grasped the doorknob.
“I’ll figure it out once I’m inside.”
The door was heavier than expected.
Using the weight of her body, she leaned against it—and in doing so, the door swung open with a loud creak.
Thankfully, she managed to regain her balance before she could stumble inside.
“I— I’m sorry!”
Flustered, she immediately blurted out an apology, assuming Ersivan must have been startled by her abrupt entrance.
But no response came.
Confused, she glanced around.
The room was empty.
She set the candle down by the entrance and cautiously approached the desk.
The workspace wasn’t completely tidy, indicating that he hadn’t left for the night.
“He’ll be back soon.”
That much was certain.
There was no way a perfectionist like him would leave his study with the lights still on.
The room was eerily silent.
Perhaps he had placed an enchantment to block out external noise so he could focus on his work.
The storm, which had been raging outside, felt nonexistent within these walls.
For now, at least, she was safe.
With the absence of the tormenting noise, Diana slowly regained her composure.
She now had the luxury of taking in her surroundings, leisurely exploring the study.
A massive bookshelf lined the walls, its height towering several times over her own. Her mouth fell slightly open in astonishment.
Retrieving a book from the top shelf would likely require at least three ladders.
Hyde had once mentioned that this collection rivaled that of the royal palace library.
Turning to the opposite side of the room, her eyes landed on an opulent velvet sofa.
“…Evan?”
Something—or rather, someone—was draped over it.
As she stepped closer to examine it, she was stunned to realize it was Ersivan himself.
She had assumed he was out, not that he had chosen to take a brief rest here instead.
Tilting her head, Diana observed him closely.
She was so accustomed to looking up at him due to their height difference that this vantage point felt almost novel.
He was completely unguarded.
With his eyes closed, he looked almost innocent—a rare sight.
Noticing that his blanket had slipped down, she picked it up and gently pulled it over him again.
He instinctively curled into it, clutching the fabric closer as if seeking warmth. It was… oddly endearing.
“…You’re sweating.”
Now that she was looking more closely, she noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
She retrieved a handkerchief from the nearby table and carefully dabbed at his damp skin.
His black hair, slicked with sweat, clung to his pale complexion. She gingerly peeled the strands away from his forehead, brushing them back into place.
No fever…
Just in case, she pressed her hand lightly against his forehead.
His temperature was warm but not alarming.
“Should I pass the time here?”
The rain, the thunder—none of it reached this quiet space.
It was a perfect place to linger.
After smoothing out the stray strands of his hair, she was about to take a seat on the sofa opposite him when—
“Don’t go…”
The fragile voice made her pause.
It was so faint, so unlike him, that for a moment, she thought she had imagined it.
“…I’m sorry…”
The words repeated, this time with more clarity.
There was no mistaking it now.
It was Ersivan’s voice.
His normally composed demeanor had vanished. The words slipped from his slightly parted lips, raw and vulnerable.
Diana slowly lowered herself onto the floor beside the sofa, folding her legs beneath her.
She made no other movement.
If she made her presence known, he might wake.
So instead, she merely rested her chin on the armrest, quietly watching him.
Who in the world… could make someone like him apologize so desperately?
“Evan, what is the most cumbersome emotion to you?”
“Guilt.”
She recalled their past conversation.
Was the person he was apologizing to the same one he had spoken of that day?
“…Because I couldn’t protect you.”
His words were unpolished, unrefined.
That meant it wasn’t his mother he was referring to.
Then who?
Diana tilted her head slightly, her narrowed gaze fixed on his pained expression.
Who is it that binds him so tightly?
There was an undeniable difference between reading about someone’s pain and witnessing it firsthand.
What had once been abstract was now tangible, enveloping her like an unseen force.
She could feel his suffering.
And for a fleeting moment, she was powerless against it.
“Ersivan.”
She whispered his name.
The way he bottled his pain, suppressing it within himself—it reminded her of the nights she had spent curled up in a wardrobe, stifling her own sobs.
Keeping it all inside, refusing to let anyone see—
It was foolish.
And yet, she understood it all too well.
She shouldn’t feel this way.
She couldn’t afford to feel this way.
“This isn’t pity.”
A part of her resisted, whispering that she should fear him.
That she shouldn’t get involved.
“This is…”
Her voice trembled, the words catching in her throat.
“…This is recognition.”
People are drawn to those who resemble them.
She had always looked at others with envy, longing for their happiness.
But for the first time, she had found someone whose misfortune mirrored her own.
And she felt drawn to it.
She thought of herself—of how she had suffered alone, of how, in those moments, all she had wanted was for someone to reach out.
Then, if he was enduring the same solitude, wouldn’t he need a hand as well?
Slowly, Diana reached out and took Ersivan’s hand in hers.
His was larger, rougher than hers.
And yet, instead of pushing her away, his fingers instinctively curled around hers, holding on tightly.
Ersivan was not fully conscious.
That, at least, was fortunate.
Because in that moment, Diana allowed herself to show him a side of herself she had never revealed before.
She let him hold onto her hand as though it was the most precious thing in the world.
It was laughable, really.
If our circumstances had been just slightly better…
If we had been able to show each other our true selves…
Could we have saved each other?
