Chapter 37
As Diana rode into the edge of the forest, she spotted a barracks where the knights had gathered.
She dismounted and made her way toward the Valencia banner, stopping beneath its emblem.
A knight, recognizing her, approached with a startled expression.
“The path must have been dangerous. What brings you here?”
“I’ve come to see His Highness. Is he inside?”
“He hasn’t returned yet. He’s likely still further in the forest.”
“I see. Does he stay in the barracks with the other knights?”
“Yes. The land is limited, so constructing separate lodgings wasn’t an option.”
That meant the likelihood of Ersivan returning was slim.
A man as proud as him would never allow his subordinates to witness his moments of weakness.
“Then where exactly is he now?”
The knights exchanged uncertain glances, hesitant to answer.
Of course, they would be worried about his safety. Some of them would surely seek him out by nightfall, but Ersivan wouldn’t have been foolish enough to disclose his whereabouts.
Diana let out a deep sigh before requesting a fresh mount.
The horse she had arrived on was too weak to continue deep into the forest.
“Of course, but… where do you plan to go?”
“The horse I rode is in poor condition. It wouldn’t survive the rough terrain ahead.”
The knight’s face shifted from confusion to alarm.
Before he could speak, he frantically waved his hands in protest.
“You can’t! The sun will set soon, and it’s about to rain!”
“Then all the more reason to leave now.”
She gestured toward the sky, pressing him for urgency. If she was going to leave, it was safer to go before nightfall.
The knights hesitated, clearly reluctant to defy her request.
“You are not allowed to go.”
A firm voice stopped her just as she was about to succeed in persuading them.
“Why not?”
“Sir Joel already explained the reasons, I believe.”
The knight gestured toward the man who had spoken.
Sensing Diana’s gaze, Joel scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“If it’s that urgent, allow me to accompany you.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can handle this alone.”
“Then I cannot allow you to leave.”
“Even if it is my order?”
Diana had hoped to avoid pulling rank, but it seemed there was no other option.
“…Yes.”
The knight shut his eyes briefly, bracing himself before speaking again.
“I cannot defy the order to protect you. Please, try to understand.”
Unlike the others, who had backed away, this one stood his ground.
She hesitated, weighing her options, unsure of how to convince them.
“My lady, we’ve brought the horse you requested…?”
Luckily, another knight returned leading a stronger, more capable steed.
Diana immediately seized the reins and mounted the horse.
“My lady!”
The knight who had blocked her path called out in dismay.
“Please, at least allow me to escort you. If it would be too much of a burden, I can accompany you alone.”
His concern was genuine.
“Why are you in such a hurry? The forest is truly dangerous.”
Realizing he was prepared to physically stop her, Diana felt an unexpected pang of guilt.
She knew they were only trying to protect her.
She had no desire to make enemies of them, nor did she want to worry them any further.
If she couldn’t persuade them with logic, then…
“I suppose I could just say… I’ve gone to confess my love.”
“…What?”
“So don’t follow me. It would be embarrassing.”
That would do it.
There was no way they could chase after her now.
Satisfied with her quick-thinking excuse, she flicked the reins, spurring her horse forward.
The startled knight barely had time to react as she galloped past him.
The deeper she rode into the forest, the darker it became. The dense trees blocked out what little daylight remained.
For the first time, she understood why the knights had been so adamant about stopping her.
To make matters worse, the rain had begun to fall.
Droplets slid down the leaves, landing cool and sharp against her skin.
The once silent forest suddenly felt eerie, its emptiness unsettling.
“Who is supposed to be comforting whom?”
As the rain intensified, her body began to tremble.
Such a pathetic reaction.
Eventually, the path became too narrow for the horse to continue.
Diana dismounted, moving on foot.
Annoyed at the length of her dress, she tore the hem apart, making it easier to move. She regretted not bringing proper riding attire.
“Ersivan, can you hear me?”
She called out, pushing through the trees, hoping her voice would reach him.
The soft drizzle turned into a steady downpour.
The rain, which she had tried to ignore, was now mercilessly drenching her, seeping into her skin.
Her breathing grew uneven.
Her head pounded.
And the memories she had buried deep began to claw their way back to the surface.
“No. Not now.”
She shook her head violently, forcing herself forward.
There was no time to stop.
She had to find him.
“Why was it, truly?”
She still did not know the reason.
Why she had cast aside her pride, why she had struggled to overcome her trauma, all for the sake of finding him—even at the cost of being branded as a dangerous individual.
Simply to win his favor?
Was that truly the only reason? Did she believe that if she tried hard enough, he might one day spare her life?
She could not deny it entirely. But she also could not claim that was the driving force behind her actions.
“…That’s not it.”
Diana swallowed her pride as her reason clashed against her true feelings.
She could not leave Ersivan alone.
It troubled her—the thought that he, the protagonist of this world, could be as wretched as a mere supporting character like herself.
She could not forget the way he, drenched in sweat and feverish, would reach out his hand, only to regain his composure the moment she took it.
“I’m scared… Why is no one here…?”
As a child, she had tried to overcome everything on her own, yet she had longed for someone to shield her from the fears she could not bear alone.
“At your age, how can you still be afraid of such things? It is unbecoming of a count’s daughter—fix it at once.”
Perhaps, in the face of such a bleak reality, she had fallen into despair. Perhaps she had pitied herself far more than she cared to admit.
From that moment on, Diana had made a vow.
If she ever met someone suffering as she had, she would embrace them with open arms.
Even if she had never known love nor been loved, even if she did not understand how to give or receive affection, she at least knew what it meant to survive fear.
And so, she had sworn that should she ever encounter someone silently struggling as she once had—no matter who they were—she would not turn away.
Of course, the books had never mentioned this. She had never imagined that Ersivan would be the one to fulfill that vow.
“Evan. Ersivan.”
Diana forced down the nausea rising within her as she spoke his name.
—Vrrr.
As if in response, the dagger at her waist trembled. She halted at once, her fingers grazing the weapon.
<Did I wake you from your slumber?>
It was his voice—the very man she was desperately searching for. However, unlike the day before, no image accompanied the words.
Perhaps he did not wish to show her his weary face.
Diana, who had been staring at the blade out of habit, suddenly noticed its edge trembling, shifting ever so slightly.
Then, without warning, it stilled—pointing in a single direction, as though guiding her way. She stepped forward, entranced.
<I… I apologize. I was thinking of you, and before I knew it, I had committed this rudeness.>
“…No. It’s alright.”
<To be honest…>
Ersivan hesitated for a moment before continuing.
<To be honest, it’s laughable. Even knowing how absurd it is, I still find myself knocking at your door.>
His voice, heavy with exhaustion, wavered.
Diana recalled something she had once read: In one’s most desperate moments, the person they think of first is the one they trust the most.
Then, in this rain-soaked moment, was she the one Ersivan had thought of first?
By all accounts, she should have felt a sense of joy at growing closer to him. Yet, strangely, the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
How alone must he have been, for the first person to come to mind to be the daughter of the man he sought vengeance against?
Diana remained silent. Or rather, she found herself unable to respond.
As though receiving a divine revelation, she cradled the dagger in both hands, quietly mulling over his words.
His voice, mingling with the sound of rain, was laced with an unbearable sorrow.
For the first time in her life, Diana found herself utterly captivated—not by the rain, but by something else entirely.
Her long lashes trembled. A raindrop slid from her brow, trailing down her cheek as she finally parted her lips.
“If anything, I should be grateful. You know that I, too, fear the rain.”
<…You need not sugarcoat things for me.>
“I was being sincere.”
Diana huffed indignantly.
“Being afraid of something as trivial as the weather—it’s a struggle we both share, isn’t it? If we consider that our only commonality, then neither of us should feel the need to apologize.”
She refused to let something so precious be dismissed by mere guilt.
For the first time, they were both unmasked before each other.
Of course, Diana could not be certain if Ersivan was being entirely truthful. But she believed he was no hypocrite—surely, even he would not maintain a façade in a moment like this.
<I always thought this weakness was the cycle of my own failings.>
Failings?
Though she did not fully grasp his meaning, she did not press him.
<Time passes, and I find myself distracted by other matters. But in moments like these, it feels as though I am being reminded—warned—not to forget the past.>
Once again, Diana could not decipher his words. The books had never mentioned anything of the sort.
But there was one thing she could say with certainty.
The Ersivan Valencia she had read about was someone truly remarkable.
You are the man who overcame countless hardships to reach the summit.
You are the hero of legend, the one who vanquishes evil and triumphs in the name of righteousness.
“They say the sky was made in the image of the human heart, like a vast, open vessel.”
She recited a passage she had once read.
“The sky after the rain is always the clearest. So too will it be with the human heart. If you endure the trials of today, a future will come that will embrace even the pain of the past.”
<…>
“And you are more than worthy of that future.”
There was a question she could not bring herself to ask.
She had a vague suspicion, but no certainty. That only made her all the more curious.
At this very moment—was Ersivan Valencia speaking the truth?
At least in this moment, Diana Mernard was nothing but her truest self, stripped of all falsehoods.
