Chapter 33
As Ersivan rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up, he felt something… unusual.
A suspicious sense of comfort welcomed him.
As he straightened his upper body, the blanket draped over his chest slipped onto the floor.
Leaning down to pick it up and place it back on the sofa, he caught sight of a familiar figure.
“…Lillian?”
At the edge of the sofa, a woman lay sleeping, using her arm as a pillow.
Diana had spent the entire night in that uncomfortable position, her body slightly curled against the armrest.
Ersivan silently exhaled, then gently lifted her onto the sofa, tucking the very blanket he had used around her.
Only then did he take a moment to reflect on the absurdity of the situation.
Not only had she snuck into his study in the middle of the night, but she had also stayed until morning.
Ersivan’s gaze lingered on her small, delicate hand, which rested outside the blanket.
A moment later, the fingers twitched.
They trembled, fragile and unsteady—like a leaf caught in the wind.
Something in him stirred. An instinctive urge to grasp her hand and steady it.
As he lightly traced her fingers, déjà vu struck him.
I had a nightmare.
The warmth, the familiar sensation—
In his hazy state last night, someone had held his hand.
And it had been her.
He still didn’t know why she had come.
But he had a faint idea why she hadn’t left.
Like a stray puppy unable to ignore another’s suffering, she had likely found him too pitiful to abandon.
The more he thought about it, the more absurd she seemed.
Ersivan ran a rough hand through his hair.
Of all people, she was the last person he wanted to see him like that.
Then, he noticed her body curled tightly, trembling slightly.
His study was soundproofed, but it did not retain heat.
She had spent the entire night in only a thin negligee—it was no wonder she was cold.
Without hesitation, he retrieved another blanket and draped it over her.
Only once her face relaxed, the tension fading from her features, did he feel at ease.
Seating himself at the edge of the sofa, he leaned in slightly until their eyes would have been level—had she been awake.
“…How much should I trust you?”
His low voice broke the silence.
Her long eyelashes quivered in response.
Can I even trust her at all?
He still had no answers.
Every time he felt like he was getting close to one, she would throw him back into the abyss.
How am I supposed to trust someone when I don’t even know who they really are?
His gaze landed on her lips, firmly sealed, betraying nothing.
What kind of truth would spill from them?
Would she tell him she had come to ruin him?
Or would she claim to be the salvation he had waited for?
No matter what she said, he supposed he would choose to believe whatever suited him best.
“…Completely.”
A soft, slightly hoarse voice answered him.
His eyes flickered upward.
The lips he had been watching moments ago were now parted.
Her tightly shut eyelids had lifted.
Something crept up his chest—an unfamiliar tightness.
Suppressing it, he steadied his voice.
“You’re awake.”
“Just now.”
“You’ve been awake since I moved you, haven’t you?”
“Sharp as ever.”
Diana chuckled as she sat up.
She reached up, tucking her tousled hair behind her ear.
It was an unremarkable motion, yet strangely endearing.
“What brought you here last night? You even fell asleep beside me.”
Ersivan cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“Ah… I stayed because… well, you looked unwell…”
Now that she had to explain it, embarrassment crept in.
She avoided his initial question entirely, choosing instead to address the latter half.
“…I apologize for overstepping.”
Ersivan’s expression turned unreadable, prompting Diana to hastily add,
“I thought I might have gone too far.”
If she were to defend herself, it was him who had held onto her.
She had tried to pull away more than once, yet every time, he had murmured in that sorrowful voice, pleading for her to stay.
And so, the night had passed.
“I often struggle to sleep on rainy nights.”
Ersivan finally broke the silence.
He had sensed she was waiting for an explanation.
And, admittedly, he was curious to see how she would react.
If her reaction matched what he anticipated, he might finally find some clarity.
“Blocking out the sound, shutting my eyes—it never helps. The unease remains.”
He watched her carefully, observing every small shift in her expression.
If she reacted as expected, his doubts would lessen, even if just a little.
“It’s childish, isn’t it?”
His lips curled into a smirk, a self-deprecating laugh slipping out.
“I never wanted to appear weak, so I hid it.”
His words were filled with disdain—for himself.
Even as he spoke, he could still see his reflection from last night.
Drenched in sweat, writhing in his sleep.
Diana, however, couldn’t bring herself to agree.
Instead, she quietly countered,
“Why do you call yourself weak? Everyone has their own fears.”
Anyone who had witnessed his torment last night would have understood.
It was not something to be dismissed as childish weakness.
“…I have them too.”
Diana admitted, almost without meaning to.
“That’s why I came last night. Because I was afraid of the night. I, too, struggle to sleep when it rains.”
The words left her mouth before she could stop them.
Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, a warning against ever showing weakness.
Disobeying him, even in something so small, was almost foreign to her.
And yet, here she was, defying him for the sake of offering someone else comfort.
“Evan, do you think I’m weak?”
“Of course not.”
“Then neither are you.”
She shrugged, her voice light, as if stating something obvious.
“…You’re making it very difficult not to believe you.”
Perhaps it had been effective after all.
His voice carried a rare ease as he greeted Diana, his usual guarded tone absent.
It seemed, at least for now, that she had succeeded in closing the distance between them by a single step.
Diana tilted her head slightly, studying him intently.
“Then… will you trust me completely?”
Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulder, the ends brushing against her ankle. The faint tickling sensation made her instinctively lower her legs from the sofa.
Caught off guard by the sudden movement, she widened her eyes before letting out a small laugh, embarrassed.
Was it the sunlight behind her, glowing warmly through the window?
Or was it simply her?
For just a moment, she seemed to shine.
After that day, Ersivan never returned to the room.
The very man who had coaxed her into staying with him was now leaving her waiting for days.
And when she finally learned the reason, it was through the most unexpected situation—
And the most unexpected person.
“My lady, would you like to choose a color?”
“A color? What is all this…?”
Daisy had burst into her room that morning, both arms full of embroidery threads.
Like a street vendor, she spread them across the table in neat rows, then eagerly urged Diana to pick one.
“These are for embroidery, aren’t they?”
“I was asking why you’ve brought them.”
“Why, for the hunting expedition, of course!”
Daisy tilted her head, confused by Diana’s confusion.
As the future duchess of Valencia, how could she possibly forget such an important event?
Hunting expedition?
The term felt familiar yet foreign at the same time.
Seeing Diana’s puzzled expression, Daisy gasped dramatically, waving the embroidery threads at her.
“The monster subjugation hunt is in just a week!”
The monster subjugation hunt was a grand noble event, held twice a year.
As its name implied, it was a ceremony in which participants ventured into monster-infested territories to hunt and slay as many as possible.
Hosted by the imperial family, it was one of the few events Ersivan participated in without fail.
Recognition dawned on Diana’s face, and Daisy quickly gestured toward the neatly arranged embroidery threads.
“That’s why you need to pick a color! If you start today, you’ll have enough time.”
It was an old tradition to gift embroidered handkerchiefs to knights participating in the hunt.
Diana’s vision dimmed momentarily as she took in the sheer number of threads spread before her.
The endless rows of colors made it impossible to decide.
“If you’re unsure, you can take all of them!”
“Then I’ll just end up staring at them while trying to choose later.”
She could already picture herself holding a needle, paralyzed by indecision.
The thought made her chuckle.
“In that case, why not decide what you want to embroider first? That might make picking a color easier.”
Something for Ersivan…
The thought alone made it feel far more difficult.
Letting out a small hum of contemplation, Diana finally reached for a deep crimson thread—one nearly identical to the color of his eyes.
Daisy’s gaze immediately followed her hand, her expression shifting into one of hesitant disapproval.
“You’re choosing… red?”
Her voice was careful, but the underlying message was clear: Must you really choose that color?
The fact that red had been among the available options meant it wasn’t outright forbidden.
“Do you think he’d dislike it?”
“His Highness would love anything you made for him, but…”
Daisy trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish the sentence.
Only then did Diana fully grasp her concern.
It wasn’t about Ersivan’s preferences—it was about the others who would see it.
Red, the color of his infamous eyes.
The same color whispered about in hushed tones.
The Valencia duchy was a place where power dictated everything.
And yet, even here, they had to be mindful of the murmurs of lesser nobles.
All because of ridiculous rumors.
“If he’s fine with it, then why should anyone else matter?”
There was no real need to take a stand.
Diana had nothing to gain from drawing unnecessary attention to herself.
And yet— For some reason, stubbornness took hold.
A foolish, inexplicable defiance surged within her— One she had never indulged in, not even as a child.
