Chapter 039
Sioden didn’t stay long.
As soon as he left, Apple entered, carrying medicine used to treat scarred tissue.
Approaching the bed, I said to Apple,
“He apologized to me.”
Apple, immediately understanding who “he” was, looked dubious.
“…Lord Raslet, you mean?”
‘Miss, let me apply the medicine.’ Apple gently turned my shoulder. I turned around, following her calloused hands, which I hadn’t noticed before.
“Why did he do that?”
Sioden had no reason to apologize to me.
“He had every reasonable reason to.”
Apple’s hand, applying the medicine to the scar, paused.
“Miss…”
Apple seemed to want to take my side. It was understandable. Apple cared for me.
But not everyone in the world sees me the way Apple does.
After finishing applying the medicine and removing her hands, I said,
“It’s strange.”
Apple sighed softly and closed the medicine bottle. After wiping her hands on a cloth, she returned with a comb and a silk ribbon for embroidery.
Apple began to carefully comb my hair. It was a skilled touch, even though it must have been over a year since she last did this.
I explained to her why I felt this way.
“Sioden also knows why he acted that way back then.”
Regardless of any shame or hurt he inflicted on me, he didn’t do those things willingly.
And people with extenuating circumstances offer explanations before they humble themselves. It’s not because of character flaws or moral failings. It’s because everyone has a self-preservation instinct.
Even the kindest person is likely to explain their circumstances first.
“But he apologized without making excuses.”
Apple tied a silk ribbon to the end of my braided hair.
“Because he did wrong.”
I didn’t agree with her.
Applying the formula that one apologizes because they did wrong doesn’t work, as people’s hearts aren’t that straightforward.
When someone who usually shows indifference suddenly treats me well, it’s only when they want something.
I don’t think Sioden is any different.
He, too, whether unconsciously or consciously, must want something to the point of readily humbling himself.
But telling Apple this would only worry her.
I looked down at the red silk ribbon tied to the end of my braid. It was the hair ribbon Apple had embroidered with gold and green threads.
After staring at the ribbon for a moment, I said to Apple,
“Speaking of which, I received a letter from Rowen.”
“From Rowen?”
“Yes.”
Sioden had given it to me before he left.
“The new Lord Rowen sent a letter.”
I had a pretty good idea why Iswen had written to me.
It would probably contain instructions on how to act in the future.
Unless filled with empty rhetoric, letters from Rowen had always been that way.
I didn’t want to read it, but I couldn’t ignore it either.
Apple sat opposite me on the bed, watching me. Though she couldn’t see the contents of the letter, she was close enough to offer comfort if I needed it.
But the letter’s contents were completely different from my expectations.
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
Iella might not give him a chance.
On the second day after meeting her, Sioden admitted that fact.
His words, seeking a second chance, though he knew it was shameless, were not met with a positive response.
Iella avoided his gaze as she replied,
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
The woman’s bright gold eyelashes fluttered. Her bewilderment was plain to see.
While sensing the need for something firm and positive, leaving her no room for conflict, Sioden realized his options were limited.
“I’ll give you time to think.”
After that day, he received no contact from Iella.
The longer her silence lasted, the more anxious Sioden became.
People build their future based on past experiences.
Sioden couldn’t believe that the image he had shown in the past was so ideal that Iella would want to include it in her own future. He had missed too many opportunities to harbor such an idealistic delusion.
The longer she thought, the more flaws she would find in him.
‘I only want one thing. Please return Iella to Rowen.’
He recalled something Demian Rowen had said in the capital.
In the worst-case scenario, Iella might return to the South, as her two brothers wished. Demian seemed to earnestly desire his sister’s return…
When his thoughts reached that point, Sioden realized something was amiss.
Demian Rowen had been worried that he wouldn’t return Iella. He knew Iella could demand an annulment from him at any time if she wished, and that he would have no choice but to comply, yet he still worried.
“If she wishes so.”
When he’d said that, a faint irritation and anger had crossed the man’s face. It was an aggressive way of expressing his anxiety about things not going his way.
Therefore, Demian had thought Iella might not want to return to the South.
Another of Demian’s words flashed through his mind.
“Father doesn’t care for Iella as much as is publicly known.”
What if that didn’t only apply to Capren Rowen?
Was there another reason besides distrust for why Demian Rowen wasn’t confident about his sister’s return?
Iella might not like her brothers that much.
Thinking about it, Iella hadn’t looked particularly happy when Iswen Rowen’s letter was given.
At the time, Sioden had judged that she was gloomy because she disliked him.
But on reflection, he wondered if there might have been something else besides resentment towards him.
If his position was similar to that of Rowen’s two brothers, her choice would depend on future experiences.
And unlike the two Rowens far away in the South, he was close to Iella…
As he gauged that the situation might be more favorable to him, Rhys approached him from across the hall.
“Your Grace, I found the ledger.”
Rhys was investigating those involved in Merwen’s handling of internal affairs on his orders. There were traces of double-entry bookkeeping, so he was searching for the hidden, real ledger.
Despite the lack of definitive evidence, the appearance of the ledger should have been positive, yet Rhys’s expression was grim.
“But the handwriting…”
Sioden reached out to his aide, who trailed off with a troubled expression. Rhys handed him the ledger.
Sioden opened the leather-bound book.
Inside, the evidence he expected was densely written.
The records, sufficient to confine one retainer outside their fiefdom for life, were all in the same handwriting—the culprit’s.
Sioden’s brow furrowed at the handwriting, distinctly different from Merwen’s.
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
Two days had passed since I received Iswen’s letter.
And during those two days, I spent most of my time thinking about the letter’s contents. Not because I was dwelling on emotions like sadness or anger, but because I couldn’t understand the letter’s intention.
At the end of the introduction—filled with simple greetings, such as inquiries about health and weather—or at the beginning of the main body, Iswen wrote something unexpected.
[-I have wronged you many times.]
That alone was enough to make me stiffen, but what followed was shocking.
[-I won’t ask for much. It would be good if you could return to the South and talk.]
Judging from Iswen’s usual character, it was the kind of sentence he wouldn’t have written, let alone said.
It was a letter no sane person could have imagined, yet the signature below was neat: Iswen Rowen. All the flowery language he usually used when writing deceptive letters was gone.
The simpler and clearer the language on the paper, the more troubled I became.
I looked at Apple, working by the bedside drawer. As usual before leaving the castle, she was organizing my jewelry box.
Apple also knew the contents of Iswen’s letter. I had shown it to her because I was so confused.
I asked Apple, who was polishing a jewel with a soft, fluffy cloth,
“What do you think Iswen meant by that letter?”
I understood Sioden’s apology.
His words and actions towards me seemed less like attempts to hurt me and more like choosing appropriate options given the circumstances.
Since the circumstances had changed, he might have chosen a new option. For example, being kinder than before.
But Iswen was different.
