Chapter 023
Unlike Rhys, who was confused and unable to accept reality, Ben began to prepare for the future.
“I’ve heard there’s a tailor who primarily makes clothes for Lady Rowen. I will order several women’s outfits suitable for the northern weather from that tailor’s shop.”
Rhys, who was listening nearby, interjected.
“Lady? Advisor, do you want to show respect to Rowen’s daughter?”
“Rhys, stop it.”
The knight glanced back at him. Sioden noticed the knight’s hazel eyes were filled with resentment but chose to ignore it. The time for understanding his grievances had passed.
“Will you still say that after I marry her?”
The knight lowered his head.
“…I’m sorry.”
Hearing his deeply subdued voice didn’t make Sioden feel any better.
Rhys had been the knight who accompanied him since he was a boy. Though hot-headed, he genuinely cared for his master.
Sioden softened his tone slightly.
“I understand that you don’t like this marriage. However, an attitude that disrespects the lady won’t help the situation.”
Showing discomfort would only reveal weakness.
Sioden stood up. He spoke to Ben, who had likely been troubled by Rhys’s temperament for some time.
“I will go to the tailor’s shop myself.”
After all, he knew nothing about Ella or Iella Rowen.
If it was a place she frequented, he might be able to gather useful information.
There were guests at the tailor’s shop. Ben looked at the insignia on the two carriages and said,
“It’s Rowen’s carriage.”
He turned to his master.
“Will you visit again next time?”
Sioden shook his head. No matter who was inside, there was no reason for him to retreat.
And perhaps… he might meet Iella.
He wasn’t trying to harbor any feelings without reason.
Sioden had things he wanted to say to her. Iella would probably feel the same; after all, she was also a party to this marriage.
He didn’t know what he would say when faced with her, but he genuinely wanted to talk to Iella.
As he entered the tailor’s shop, the staff who had been informed of the morning visit greeted him busily. Sioden tried not to be aware of the many pairs of eyes directed at him.
Someone spoke to Ben.
“The manager will be arriving soon.”
Since he couldn’t speak directly to him due to their status, it was a way to relay the message through the advisor. It was a formality, but most in his circle enjoyed such things.
Sioden shook his head at Ben, who was approaching to convey what he had heard. It meant he didn’t need to say it again since he had already heard it.
A staff member brought a catalog. Sioden glanced over the thin, extravagant clothes that seemed suitable only for warm weather.
Would Iella wear something like this? The thought crossed his mind.
He recalled the texture of the fabric that rustled when a woman fell into his arms. Although he had never held another woman, northern women didn’t wear such materials.
But it would suit Iella well.
Did she know that? His thoughts kept drifting in the wrong direction. Sioden didn’t bother to stop himself. He clung to the flimsy excuse that contemplation helped him understand the other person better as he turned the thick pages.
Ben asked him, who couldn’t take his eyes off the evening gowns popular among Southern women,
“Clothes like that would be too cold for northern weather.”
Sioden nodded. The old man, who had been watching him for a long time, easily sensed that his master was lost in thought.
Ben asked,
“May I choose the fabric?”
Around that time, there was a bustling noise coming from upstairs, indicating someone was coming down.
Sioden placed the catalog on the table.
“Do as you wish.”
He replied to Ben and approached the staircase. This was the tailor’s shop that Iella often commissioned, and there was a Rowen carriage parked in front of the store.
The tailor was away attending to a customer.
Given how long the consultation was taking, it was likely someone had come to have clothes made directly. If they didn’t have the authority to make decisions, there wouldn’t be much reason for a lengthy conversation.
Even though it was a reasonable conclusion, the short time approaching the stairs felt tense.
Finally, over the railing, he saw a familiar woman coming down.
“Ella?”
As he called her name, Sioden realized that Iswen Rowen was standing next to her. It seemed he had accompanied his sister on her outing.
Surprised, Iella widened her eyes slightly and then turned her gaze to her eldest brother. Iswen looked down at his sister. Their sensitive reactions to each other seemed to be evidence of their closeness.
Sioden corrected his address.
“Lady Rowen.”
Iella turned her head back to look at him.
His mouth felt dry. Sioden asked the woman who was looking at him with unfamiliarity,
“May I have a moment to talk?”
It was a straightforward question, yet Sioden felt as if he were almost begging. His heart raced as he faced the woman, pulling him down in that moment.
Iella did not respond to him. Instead, her brother spoke for her.
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
Iswen arrogantly lifted his chin. With a face that closely resembled their father’s, he looked down and slightly raised the hand he was holding with his sister.
The man represented his sister’s position as a grown woman.
“My sister plans to return to the mansion with me.”
It was an unwelcome intervention. Sioden disliked Iswen as much as he hated Capren Rowen. The three of them resembled each other. When one was despised, it was natural to recoil from the others as well.
“I did not ask you, sir.”
So it was clear that he was implying to be quiet, yet Iswen didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.
“My lord, just because Iella likes you doesn’t mean that all of Rowen finds it appropriate.”
Sioden sensed that the man’s nonchalance stemmed from his confidence in his sister.
Even if his sister showed interest in someone, it wouldn’t take precedence over family…
Wait, did Iswen just say that Iella liked him?
The thought stumbled at that point.
As he stood still, Iswen passed by him, smirking slightly.
“Until the feast is held, Iella is a Rowen. If you wish to talk, you should make an appointment first and come to the mansion.”
Sioden ignored the man. He once again grasped Iella.
“Milady, it will only take a moment. I won’t take much of your time.”
No matter how much Iswen protected his sister, he couldn’t go against her will.
If he let Iella go like this, he would have to endure another confusing day.
Sioden didn’t want to feel that way. He was not accustomed to this kind of confusion.
When something unfamiliar lingers for too long, it becomes not just uncomfortable but agonizing.
However, Iella did not give him the chance.
“I’ll see you later.”
The woman turned her back.
The tailor who came down next greeted him. As he followed her upstairs, Sioden caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
His face, reflected in the silver-coated glass on the back. Realizing too late that he was unable to hide his emotions and they were spilling out, Sioden paused.
Iella must have seen all of this.
Even after witnessing him, the woman hesitated.
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
The implications of that indifference were clear.
“Just because Iella likes you…”
Iswen said that, but Iella valued her family’s words more than his desperation.
Knowing this, Sioden still wrote a letter to Rowen.
Iella did not reply. Rhys, whom he sent as a messenger, returned empty-handed each time.
“The lady’s maid assured me she would deliver it to the young lady.”
The knight struck his chest with a look of frustration.
“Isn’t this outright ignoring him? The lady may not know how to read, but she wouldn’t completely ignore a response like this!”
Sioden couldn’t scold the knight for his increasingly rough behavior.
His own thoughts were no different; he didn’t know what words could rein it in.
Having already wasted a lot of time in the capital, Sioden soon returned to Raslet.
Until the last day of leaving the capital, there was no reply from Iella. Given the same result every day, he should have grown accustomed to it, but by then, he was just annoyed.
Capren and Iswen said she liked him, yet Iella had never said anything about him.
The only expression of intent he had heard from her was one thing.
“Please forget what happened yesterday.”
What woman would want to be erased from the memory of a man who was eager?
Arriving in Raslet, still holding onto the confusion with no one to process it, everything remained the same.
The biting north wind and the snow that occupied most of the year. The acrid and cold scent. The friends of the former head of the family are scrutinizing him. Born from Lerox, which became his original sin.
Merwen.
A woman with black hair and light-colored eyes stood at the city gate.
She greeted him with a bright smile.
“You’re back.”
