Chapter 29
029.
Her hands were ragged—tattered enough to be called shreds.
A few damaged nails were one thing, but the tips of her fingers looked as though parts of the flesh had been bitten clean off. Her palms, freshly wounded not long ago, were still healing, marked with faint pink indentations shaped like fingernails.
Normally, she wore gloves or did her best to hide it. But now, in front of him, everything was laid bare without a single defense.
“Wait—”
Henesstia twisted her arm, trying to pull her hand away, but there was no way Riad would let go. Instead, he stretched out her hand fully.
Then, as if fully committed, he grabbed her other hand and examined it. His expression contorted.
His face had turned so grim, it looked like a spirit from the underworld had climbed back up just to scowl at her. Henesstia froze at the sight.
“What the hell is this.”
At the harsh question, her mind raced.
If she said it was from biting her own hands, he’d ask why. And what would she even say about her palms?
She had never been in a position where she had to explain something like this—it was completely overwhelming.
“I tripped—”
“If you’re going to spit out that pathetic excuse, save it. Do you think I can’t tell the difference between a fall injury and something like this?”
She held her breath to stop herself from hiccuping.
What kind of excuse would he believe? As she hesitated, Riad, who was inspecting her hands, suddenly pulled up her sleeve.
“……!”
He ran his fingers down her pale wrist, checking for something, then let the fabric fall again.
“Tch… And here I went as far as to pull your sleeve up—what exactly was I trying to check.”
What did that mean? She had no idea. But he clearly had no intention of explaining and turned his attention back to her hands.
Afraid of what he might start imagining, Henesstia rushed to speak.
“The truth is… whenever my shoulder starts to hurt, I unconsciously…”
It was the only excuse she could think of. She was essentially throwing her now fully healed shoulder under the bus.
Riad raised an eyebrow and glanced at her left shoulder.
“It feels a little less painful when I do it… and then it just became a habit…”
“……”
If he dismissed this too, she really wouldn’t have anything else to say.
But as for the habit of biting her fingertips when anxious—she had no idea how to explain that.
“…Don’t do this again.”
Thankfully, he let go of her hand.
“If it hurts, bear it. If you apply medicine and let it heal, all you have to do is endure it. Why make new wounds? You’re not too young to understand that trying to suppress pain with more pain is foolish, right?”
As he scolded her, Henesstia clasped her now-free hands together and nodded.
Riad ruffled her hair.
“Sometimes, there are soldiers who, unable to bear the pain of treatment, end up harming themselves.”
Why was everything from the battlefield so brutal? Of course, none of the stories in her favorite fairytales or novels ever touched on things like this.
Riad, who had returned from such a world, squinted as if sifting through a memory.
“There are wounds that could’ve healed with proper treatment, but those men died because of the ones they inflicted on themselves. The battlefield has enough of that already—so don’t you dare do this again.”
The small scratches on her fingertips weren’t even remotely on the same scale as a war injury.
And Henesstia hadn’t even done it to suppress pain… or maybe the reason was different, but the effect was the same.
Still, she didn’t want to prolong this conversation now that he was finally wrapping it up.
“I won’t do it again.”
She nodded quietly, and Riad let out a sigh as he removed his gloves.
“Here, try these on.”
They were thin half-palm gloves, and of course they didn’t fit her.
The fingers were already loose, and Riad bit his lip in irritation.
“Damn it. Do we have anything else?”
“I’m really fine…”
“You might have to grab the reins or hold on to me while we’re riding. Your skin will definitely get scraped if that happens—so how can you say you’re fine?”
Her palms did sting a bit, but it was nothing serious.
Honestly, if Riad hadn’t pointed it out, she might not have noticed the injuries at all—at least not until they had worsened or scarred.
“Cedric!”
“What?! I’m busy right now…!”
“Go ask Edin if he’s got gloves that would fit Henesstia.”
She insisted she was fine more than ten times, but Riad didn’t listen to a word of it.
In the end, she had to wear a pair of gloves that fit her reasonably well and mount the horse again.
“Try not to use your hands. I’ll put medicine on them once we get back to the estate.”
“…Okay.”
Oddly enough, the gloves made her hands sting more.
She wasn’t sure if it was because of the gloves themselves—or because, once noticed and recognized, the pain had imprinted itself too deeply in her mind to ignore.
“Alright! We’re moving out!”
And just like that, the long journey back to the Count’s estate was finally coming to an end.
* * *
When she had been in the carriage, she could hear the knights chatting cheerfully among themselves, even while riding at full gallop beyond the thick walls.
But now, just because Henesstia was here among them, the atmosphere had dulled into something quiet and joyless.
Being held between Riad’s arms and staring only forward was also a kind of torment.
Especially—
‘That knight…’
Every time she turned her head, her eyes met with Igni’s, riding right behind Riad. It was… no, it was extremely uncomfortable.
She knew it was to be expected after what had happened earlier, but the discomfort was so overwhelming, she had nearly forgotten her fear of horseback riding.
‘But… riding doesn’t really scare me anymore.’
She’d managed just fine the last time, after all.
Victrix might not have liked her, but she had still allowed her on her back.
Riad had said that Victrix would never carry someone she didn’t like.
Hearing that, Henesstia had felt a small, foolish sense of connection and had even tried to gently stroke Victrix’s mane—only to be flatly rejected.
“Count, I think we’re approaching the territory now.”
Just then, someone called out a report, and the forest path opened up into flat land. The knights began to speed up.
Riad did the same. As their pace suddenly increased, Henesstia clutched his arm tightly and lifted her head.
In the distance, the count’s domain came into view.
The Countdom of Ingel, handpicked and granted by the Emperor himself.
A land of abundance where honey poured like golden rain from the skies and milk flowed like waterfalls. But also the place most frequently targeted by marauders.
As they neared the count’s castle, the tall white walls loomed above them, overwhelming in their sheer presence.
Unable to see past the walls, Henesstia’s head tilted further and further back as she looked up.
They were said to be the strongest fortifications on the continent, built to withstand the constant invasions of barbarians and raiders—and they lived up to the title.
“Form up in march formation!”
Igni’s voice rang out loud and clear, and the knights, who had been riding loosely, quickly reformed into four tight columns.
The once-scattered sound of hooves became a synchronized rhythm, pounding the ground in perfect tempo.
“If you keep craning your neck like that on horseback, you’ll snap it.”
At the sharp warning, Henesstia quickly pulled her head back down.
Before she knew it, they were standing before the castle gate.
The guards, as if waiting for this very moment, stood at attention and shouted with booming voices.
“The Count has returned! Open the gates!”
“Open the gates!”
The gates began to open.
Worried that her hand might tremble as it clutched Riad’s arm, Henesstia quietly let go.
As the gates parted, the first thing to greet them was a trumpet fanfare.
The trained knights entered skillfully on horseback.
“Count!”
“Our hero has returned!”
“Raise a toast for them all!”
The moment they crossed the threshold, an overwhelming cheer erupted, as if the crowd had been holding its breath just for this.
Henesstia’s eyes widened at the sheer energy of it.
People lined both sides of the road leading up to the castle. It felt as if not just the whole domain, but even more had gathered here.
Flowers and colorful paper confetti rained down from above.
“Well done!”
“Welcome back!!”
Henesstia shrank.
She hoped—just this once—that the people’s eyes would never land on her.
But as always, her hope went unanswered.
“Who’s that…?”
The faces of the townspeople, filled with awe as they looked upon the knights and Riad at the lead, changed in an instant.
“Isn’t that…?”
“Oh… Oh no.”
“Ardin’s—”
There was no one who couldn’t recognize the woman riding the same horse as Riad.
No one spoke the second half aloud, but Henesstia could hear it anyway. The unspoken words, the thoughts they couldn’t say, rang in her ears like whispers from just beside her.
All she could do was pretend not to hear them. She refused to react. Instead, she straightened her back and stared straight ahead.
Then Riad suddenly pulled hard on the reins.
Victrix, understanding her master perfectly, reared up on her hind legs and let out a loud cry.
“……!”
The knights following behind came to a halt, and the cheers that had grown awkward because of her fell into total silence.
Henesstia’s heart pounded in her chest.
If Riad hadn’t been holding her, she would’ve fallen to the ground.
‘Why now…? We were so close to the castle—did he hear something?’
Just then, a red rose petal that had drifted from above landed gently in her hair.
Riad reached out, flicked the petal from her hair with his finger, then turned to the crowd and shouted:
“Open the gates and declare four days of celebration! Let it be known far and wide that Riad Ingel and Henesstia Ingel have returned alongside the glorious Evgenia Knights!”
His voice was loud enough to make the entire castle ring.
So loud, in fact, that there was no way anyone could have missed it.
And as soon as he finished, the halted cheers returned even louder than before—roaring to a near-frightening degree.
“Glory to the Count and Countess!”
“Honor to the Evgenia Knights!”
“Our lord has returned!”
In the midst of cheers that pierced the sky, Henesstia stared out over the scene in a daze.
Though the thunderous welcome wasn’t meant for her, something deep inside her stirred with its warmth. For a fleeting moment, it felt like she was part of them—part of something she never truly belonged to.
