Chapter 40
Chapter 40. Rising Memories (4)
Sionne continued to gently rub the woman’s back, who showed no signs of letting go. Her right shoulder had long been soaked beyond repair.
Her choked sobs, the broken words slipping out between them—
“Because of me… hic… they died. Just because of me…”
It was easy to put the pieces together and reach a conclusion.
“So your memories have returned.”
“……”
The woman gave no answer, too lost in her crying, but it was clear.
At first, he was shocked that her memories had returned. Nothing good would come from the return of Rosalyn de Anata’s memories.
But soon, a sigh of relief escaped him. Judging by how she was still clinging to him like this, it was obvious her memories of him hadn’t come back.
“What kind of memory would make you cry like this?”
“……”
No answer from Rosalyn.
Which was just as well.
‘It’s better not to know.’
If he heard it, he might feel sympathy—and that would be dangerous. He was afraid of feeling something human for this woman.
So Sionne didn’t want to know what secrets Rosalyn carried. Yes, it was the rational thing to do.
And yet—
“Won’t you tell me what memory is making you feel this way?”
His mouth spoke completely different words from his heart.
He was urging her to share her sorrow, as if only he could bear the weight of it.
‘What, have I gone mad from playing the concubine too long?’
Even as he cursed himself inwardly, his mouth moved again, spouting empty comforts.
“You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”
He whispered, tucking her fallen hair behind her ear. Then, gently and naturally, he combed through her tangled hair with his fingers.
All the time they had spent together had created more change than he realized.
The hair that once swayed at her chin now brushed her shoulders.
They had reached a point where stroking that hair softly wasn’t out of place.
The woman who had once been wary of him, who had always pushed him away, now clung to him for support.
‘Damn it.’
He couldn’t deny it—he wanted to know why she was crying.
He felt both a desire to stay ignorant and a desire to understand.
Paradoxically, he was gripped by both.
‘No, maybe it’s only natural.’
If you’re human, wouldn’t you be curious why a woman so cold and untouchable is crying like this?
‘Besides, I’ve been feeling this for a while now…’
Sionne looked down at Rosalyn as she burrowed deeper into his arms. Her tear-streaked face gave him an odd sense of catharsis.
‘Especially… those wet red eyes.’
Was he mad for wanting to meet that gaze and spit out something cruel?
‘Yeah. I’m definitely not normal anymore.’
His dark thoughts were interrupted by Rosalyn’s next words.
“I… I killed him…”
Her voice trembled from holding back more sobs.
“Who are you talking about?”
Sionne wanted to say, “You’ve killed more than one person,” with a sneer. But he kept his tone calm.
“…Nathan. Nathan Mason. I killed him.”
It was a man’s name.
‘Mason…?’
A twinge of familiarity struck him. The surname rang a bell.
‘Meriwood Mason.’
He recalled the full name of the noblewoman who had come to Anata Castle that day.
‘He must be her family… husband, or son perhaps.’
Sionne felt like if he listened to much more, he’d be peering into the depths of something rotten inside her. It was dangerous.
But if he were going to stop her, he should’ve done it sooner.
“I killed Nathan, and… his lover, too.”
Rosalyn was devastated. The more she said it out loud, the clearer the memory became.
But once she started to open up, the words wouldn’t stop.
Helplessly, she was dragged back into the past.
* * *
After the confrontation with Nathan, Rosalyn completely removed him from the war.
But Nathan didn’t return to the capital. He stayed near the border.
“What’s going on? How did they know we were lying in ambush?”
“It seems our information was leaked.”
“Ha…”
Around that time, the conquest unit lost much of its strength after its ambush was discovered. Rosalyn began tracing the source of the leak.
At the end of that trail was Nathan. He had visited the unit just a few days before, and there was no one else to suspect.
“Wipe out the village.”
“The village…?”
Driven by fury and betrayal, Rosalyn made a decision she couldn’t take back.
“I’ve been too soft. That village is full of pro-Feitan scum, and they’ve been leaking our information. We can’t just stand by anymore.”
She could no longer forgive Nathan, who had dared to endanger even her own men.
“Round up everyone connected to Feitan and execute them. Bring Nathan Mason to me.”
Not long after the order was given, Nathan was dragged before Rosalyn.
His bloodshot eyes were vacant, and his face was stained with spit and grime.
“Nathan Mason.”
“……”
Nathan didn’t respond when she called his name. He only stared blankly into space.
“So this is that great love you were willing to die for?”
Rosalyn sighed, disappointed at the pathetic state he was in.
“You’re even more useless than I thought.”
According to reports, the woman had used Nathan as a hostage to beg for her life.
That confirmed it—Sylvia never loved him. She’d used him to extract information.
“…You didn’t have to kill her.”
What came from Nathan’s lips was resentment toward Rosalyn.
“You didn’t have to kill her! Sylvia, she was… Sylvia was my—!”
His voice rose in a scream, full of agony, and Rosalyn frowned. Without hesitation, she kicked Nathan in the face.
“Ugh!”
“Shut up, Nathan Mason.”
Blood dripped from his nose as he gasped, face down on the floor.
“When I think about the knights who died because of you, I want to cut your throat too. But I’m sparing you for your nanny’s sake.”
“Huuuh…”
“Tch. Lock Nathan Mason up. He’s being sent to the capital at first light.”
Rosalyn gave the order to Jacob, who stood at her side.
She truly believed this was the best choice for Nathan.
He was just momentarily consumed by the illusion of love. He was mentally broken from the long war, living off medicine to survive. She thought if he spent time in the capital, he would get better.
That if he lived in a safe place, surrounded by the family he loved, he’d recover.
It was a naive thought.
At the time, Rosalyn didn’t yet understand that things like war—and love—could ruin a person for life.
And that night.
Rosalyn, as usual, was battling her insomnia. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Nathan had screamed earlier that day.
Her heart kept pounding, and she couldn’t sit still. She reached for the valerian tea she’d set down earlier when—
“Urk.”
A short grunt from the guard outside, then someone entered her tent.
“…Who’s there?”
Rosalyn called out to the figure in the dark. She reached for the sword by her bedside.
The intruder said nothing and immediately attacked.
“I have to call for—ugh.”
Clang! As she blocked the attacker’s fast, desperate strikes, a sense of déjà vu crept in.
It wasn’t Feitan-style swordsmanship. It was Hernian. And the trajectory of the strikes—especially when the attacker stepped with the right foot—was eerily familiar.
A chill ran down her spine.
Rosalyn gave up trying to call for help.
“…Nathan Mason.”
The face reflected in the blade was that of her childhood friend. She knew it from the scent that followed each of his movements.
“Die, Rosalyn de Hernia.”
The moment he realized his identity had been exposed, Nathan spat words laced with hatred.
“Drop your sword. If you do it now, I’ll let this slide quietly.”
“No. I’m going to kill you and end the war.”
“Hah! You think killing me will end this war?”
“Yes. If I take your head to the emperor, this meaningless war will be over.”
Nathan wasn’t wrong.
The war had started just to kill her. And if she died, the war would likely end.
Rosalyn knew that too. But she couldn’t stop the war.
Not for her own life.
But because of the people who had died for this war. She couldn’t let their sacrifices be meaningless.
“Then the peace Sylvia wished for will finally come. The world we wanted to give our child…”
From their close distance, as their swords clashed, Rosalyn saw tears in Nathan’s eyes. The hot drops fell onto the back of her hand.
“Child? Don’t tell me…”
