Chapter 38
Diana wandered aimlessly through the rain before finally spotting Ersivan.
Drenched from head to toe in the downpour, he looked almost unfamiliar.
His voice still resonated from the dagger, yet, strangely, the sound of his actual voice felt far clearer than the one transmitted through the blade.
Standing behind a tree, Diana gazed at him in silence.
She could not tell whether the streams trailing down his face were raindrops or tears.
All she knew was that when she absentmindedly licked the moisture on her lips, she tasted salt.
<Are you asleep?>
“……”
<I apologize for disturbing you. May you have pleasant dreams.>
Perhaps mistaking her silence for slumber, Ersivan ended the connection.
With a sigh, he pulled up the hood of his robe, though it was already too soaked to offer any use.
His vacant stare into the distance made him appear eerily fragile.
At that moment, Diana praised herself for her foolishness—for taking the risk, for overcoming her fear, for coming all this way.
The rain pounded harder against her hair, muffling the sound of his breathing. Only then did she step forward.
Her presence was swallowed by the rushing water, making her approach eerily silent. He only noticed her when she was right at his feet.
“Diana, just where do you think—”
He was about to scold her. Anticipating his reaction, Diana covered her ears in advance.
“Do you have any idea where you are right now?!”
Just as she expected.
She knew him as well as he knew her.
Diana, offering a sheepish smile, peered up at him.
His crimson irises, dulled by the rain, had lost their usual brilliance. The eerie look in his eyes made her quickly avert her gaze.
“If something had happened to you—”
His voice trailed off, his teeth sinking roughly into his lower lip, distorting his words.
“What were you thinking…?”
His once-radiant golden hair had long lost its luster, now clinging lifelessly to his face.
His lips, usually tinted with a healthy shade of pink, had turned a pale blue and trembled visibly.
The dress she had worn for a special occasion—the very one Ersivan had bought for her at Helen’s salon—was now in ruins. The hem was torn beyond recognition, caked in filth.
Even the finest tailors in the empire would struggle to restore it.
The rain chilled the air, yet her insides burned as though she had swallowed fire.
Even so, Ersivan could not bring himself to raise his voice.
Because the woman standing before him was smiling softly.
“There’s no need to be so upset. I’m truly fine.”
Her voice, worn thin and frayed, frustrated her. But he could not scold her for that either.
Instead, he reached for her arm.
Her sleeves, soaked through, clung to her skin. The dampness startled Diana, making her lift her head.
Though the deep hood cast shadows over his face, his red eyes shone through with haunting clarity.
His irises, always burning with passion, now glowed with a subdued light.
Only then did Diana realize the truth behind the moisture clinging to his lashes.
She was not the only one who had been crying.
If he was going to cry, he might as well sob outright. But silent tears like these—how was she supposed to bear the sight?
Then again, she supposed it was hypocritical of her.
After all, she had forgotten how to cry aloud, too.
“I know I look a mess, but nothing happened to me. And, whether it was luck or fate, the dagger pointed me in the right direction.”
Before giving her the blade, Ersivan had cast a spell on it, allowing it to reveal his location in times of emergency. Tonight, it had served its purpose.
Which meant she had not been lost for too long.
A small measure of relief softened Ersivan’s expression.
“…Were you afraid?”
Shifting his grip, he clasped her wrist. His fingers traced over her damp skin before sliding between hers, intertwining their hands.
Their rain-chilled fingers locked together, pressed tightly against each other.
Diana, unaccustomed to physical contact, found herself feeling no embarrassment at all.
Because she knew—her mind recognized—that there was nothing impure about his touch.
Just as she had once taken his hand to comfort him on a rainy day, this time, it was he who held hers.
It was his turn to offer her solace.
A simple gesture, unfamiliar in execution, but undeniably Ersivan Valencia’s way of showing comfort.
“If I said I wasn’t scared at all, I’d be lying. But I was alright.”
“…”
“So, Evan, stop worrying and just be here with me. This is our first time weathering the rain together, isn’t it?”
Truthfully, saying she had “overcome” it was an exaggeration. Her heart still raced, and her head still spun from the dizziness.
Yet, something was different.
A strange confidence bubbled up within her, as if, for once, she could bear the rain forever.
Ersivan felt the same.
“…Ha.”
A chuckle escaped him. Yet, there was another sound mingled with it.
His shoulders shook.
He tried his best to suppress it, but anyone with eyes could see— Ersivan was crying.
As she held him, Diana recalled the days when she had wished for someone to embrace her as she wept.
Perhaps that cold-hearted man had once wished for the same.
But there were only two hands, and none left to spare.
She hesitated to pull hers away from his—reluctant to lose the warmth that occasionally seeped through their damp fingers.
So instead, Diana leaned forward, pressing herself into his embrace.
Plip. Plip. Plop.
The distant sound of raindrops slowly faded into her ears. When she lifted her head, she found that Ersivan had instinctively hunched over, shielding her from the drizzling rain.
Diana had initially intended to push him away. But seeing his silent gesture, she relented and nestled into his arms.
Ersivan tightened his hold around her.
He had anticipated most of her actions—nearly everything she had done so far had fallen within his expectations.
But this was an exception.
Not once had he ever considered that she would abandon something for his sake.
That she would cast aside her fear, run through the forest, and come to him.
Was this truly the same woman he knew?
Could she really be… the daughter of that damned Count Mernard?
A deep confusion settled within him.
The rain, which had shown no sign of stopping, eventually ceased.
Diana and Ersivan sat side by side in front of a small fire, warming their bodies after being exposed to the cold for so long.
They exchanged lighthearted conversations—ordinary things, the small matters of daily life. There was no awkwardness; they had been apart long enough that there was plenty to talk about.
Then, Ersivan broke the lull.
“There is something we must discuss.”
The comfortable atmosphere that had begun to settle around Diana immediately tightened.
Though he hadn’t named a specific subject, she knew exactly what he meant.
There was something they had yet to address.
‘Diane.’
‘It is the name of the sibling I always longed for but could never have.’
It was about the confession she had made—that she was Lillian Mernard’s lost twin sister.
Nervously, Diana blurted out the excuse she had prepared in advance.
“I heard that she had a younger sibling. A twin… someone the family abandoned, someone they never even acknowledged. A pitiful child… I only found out about it much later. But by then, it was already too late to find them.”
Ersivan narrowed his eyes slightly. “Too late?”
“…My sibling had already passed away.”
Just say they were dead.
That was the conclusion Diana had come to.
After all, to the world, her existence had never mattered in the first place. Burying the truth should have been enough.
If she no longer existed, then Ersivan would have no reason to keep searching for Diana Mernard.
“I see.”
His response was more indifferent than she had expected. There was no shock, no disappointment—no emotion at all.
He seemed so detached that she couldn’t even tell if he believed her.
Did he accept her words as truth? Or was he still harboring doubt?
A hint of anxiety crept up her spine, but she didn’t want to push her luck by saying more. Instead, she continued her fabricated tale, disguising her own existence in death.
“…Diane. It was a name I always wanted to say aloud, yet one I could never speak. So I kept it to myself.”
“…”
“At times, I was afraid. Afraid that I might forget them, lost in my own life and fleeting happiness. That if even I forgot, there would be no one left to remember them. I didn’t want that. That’s why I took the name for myself—to keep them in my memory forever.”
A pause.
Then, Ersivan murmured, “I understand now. I will remember their name as well.”
Diane.
Hearing him utter the name so nonchalantly made Diana’s heart pound in an odd way.
“…Could you say it again?”
She wanted to hear it once more. Just one more time—his voice, his tone, calling her name.
Perhaps it was foolish. Caught in the moment, she had acted on impulse.
Only after the words left her lips did she realize how ridiculous her request was. But she didn’t take them back. Instead, she simply waited for him to speak.
Ersivan glanced at her, then finally asked, “Was your sibling’s name truly Diane?”
Diana hesitated before answering.
“…It was Diana.”
Ersivan repeated the name.
“Diana.”
A tremor passed through her.
She hadn’t smiled intentionally, but the corners of her lips twitched on their own. Heat bloomed in her cheeks.
Diana. Diana. Diana.
For the first time since her life had been stolen from her, someone had spoken her name.
Yes. That was how it sounded. That was the rhythm, the accent.
“…Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saying the name of the sister I lost.”
A lump formed in her throat.
A strange warmth surged within her, swelling to the point that she felt like she might burst.
Her nose stung, a sharp ache spreading through her sinuses.
Before she knew it, tears welled in her eyes.
