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He took a deep breath upon seeing the woman who had fallen asleep in his arms. Her moist, slightly sweaty skin clung to him and the scent of her body intertwined with the smell of intercourse made his mind swirl. Riftan blinked his eyes in a daze like a drunken man, then soon realized that he was embracing her too tight to let her properly breathe and hurriedly pulled his arms. However, as he felt the cold chill creeping, he captured her back into his arms. He could feel every inch of her narrow bones beyond her smooth and mellow skin.

He cautiously swiped the hair away from her face and clasped her cheeks with trembling hands. Her reddish-brown eyelashes, which were slightly darker than the color of her hair, dropped like rain-soaked feathers and the pinkish corners of her eyes slightly wrinkled. His heart ached as if it was squeezed.

Riftan traced his fingertips on her round forehead down to the bridge of her tiny nose and swiped his thumb over her plump lips. Her sweet breath tickled his fingertips and her presence pierced through his bones.

Even if he just gazed at her from afar, she had been the woman who held him captive, never being able to escape from her hold. Now, she had become someone he could never get out of his mind until the day he died. His face contorted as he slowly pulled his body away from her. It felt more painful than having his own flesh torn.

Riftan brought the blanket up to her neck and sat idly on the bed, staring at the dimming fire in the furnace for a long time. He knew it was time to leave, but his body that felt heavy like a soaked cotton refused to move. He rubbed his face harshly and then struggled to stand up. He wanted to see her eyes which looked like a winter lake one more time, but he thought that she wouldn’t like to see him. It would be better if she woke up without him by her side.

He wiped his body roughly with a wet towel and picked up his clothing then put it on. He was afraid that if he took even a moment of delay, he would never be able to leave. As Riftan picked up his sword, he forced himself to fight the urge of staying by her side. Then, before he walked out of the door, he took one last look at the woman who came to be his wife.

A bitter sadness surged within him. Riftan shut his eyes, opened the door, and headed outside. Then, the maid and the priest who stood guard in front of the room, entered the chambers, and confirmed that the marriage was successfully fulfilled.

“With this, the deal is sealed.” The butler held out a scroll of parchment to him. “This is a letter the duke has written which states the appointment of duty for the dragon campaign.”

Riftan looked down and snatched it. The butler then nodded to the soldiers waiting by the hallway.

“Guide Sir Calypse towards the dungeons.”

He was about to tell them to take good care of his wife, but he bit his lip. Did he really deserve to persistently say those words for her?

Riftan swallowed his self-scorning thoughts and followed the men with heavy steps. As he descended from the stairs, he saw the faces of his subordinates as they stood guard by the empty venue. They appeared as if they were about to say something, but kept their mouths shut. He passed by his men and hurriedly crossed the garden that was lit dimly by the bluish dawn. The sky was hazy as if it was filled with clouds that showered icy winter rain over their heads and shoulders.

“This is the place.”

The soldier walked briskly through the rain bearing a lighted torch and pushed open a door on one side of a thick wall, revealing a set of stairs leading to a dark underground. After ordering Uslin and Ruth to wait on the ground, Riftan descended the stairs with Elliot. When the soldier who guided them reached the end of the stairs, he unlocked the double iron gates and hung the torch by the wall. Then, a terrible scene unfolded in front of his eyes. He clenched his fists tightly.

Carcasses of dead rats piled on the damp floor like a black sludge, the stench of feces filled the entire area, there was no knowing whether the prisoners were dead or alive as they all lay motionless. Riftan fetched a torch and looked around the prison, grinding his teeth at the mushy sound that his feet made against the ground. It filled him with anger, discovering that his stepfather was locked in a place like this for several days.

“The person you’re looking for is in the farthest cell.”

Riftan glared murderously at the soldier. “Then what are you doing not leading us there immediately.”

The soldier, who was startled by his ruthless tone, hurriedly rushed towards the location. Riftan collected his self-restraint and followed his steps. He would never forgive the duke no matter how awry things get.

“H-he is here.”

The soldier who led them towards the end of the hall, shone his torch through the iron bars. The prisoner inside sobbed and hid towards the corner. Riftan’s eyes froze as he looked down at the man’s figure. The soldier then opened the cell and hoisted him up. Through his disheveled, balding hair, revealed a face swollen as a pumpkin.

Riftan swallowed a grunt. His stepfather’s eyes widened through his dark, bruised eyelids. A terrified whimper-like sound erupted from his chapped lips. Riftan’s face contorted as he realized that he was trying to beg for mercy.

“…hurry, take him out of here.”

Elliot entered the cell without any hesitation and supported his stepfather out on his behalf, as Riftan stood still in shock. He turned away, not daring to touch his stepfather. As they got out of that terrible place, Ruth, who was waiting atop the stairs, immediately rushed straight to his stepfather to check his condition.

“It’s a relief that nothing seems to be missing.”

He mumbled and let out a small sigh of relief. However, Riftan couldn’t feel the slightest of relief. Ruth immediately cast healing magic over him, but the stepfather didn’t seem to even realize that the pain had gone away. Riftan gazed down at the figure of his stepfather and shouted at the soldiers.

“What are you doing not bringing the carriage right this instance!”

After a while, a carriage halted in front of them. Riftan sat atop his horse and watched as his stepfather entered the carriage. The pouring rain covered the world in a white shroud. He stared at Croix Castle as he took icy-cold breaths. The enormous castle that he once envied now peered down as if it was mocking him. Riftan soon spurred his horse, looking at the gray structure that seemed to glow against the mist.

As soon as they saw the stepfather, the wife and little daughter wept. Riftan watched them silently from behind and handed the innkeeper a pouch of money and asked him to bring bath water and a hearty meal, then headed out. The rain was pouring stronger.

“It’s not Sir’s fault.” Ruth quietly approached and said those words as Riftan looked dazedly at the dark sky. “Even if Sir Calypse did not give those gold coins, the Duke of Croix would have still taken your stepfather as hostage.”

Riftan did not reply. Ruth sighed and turned the topic after reading his rejection from the silence. “What are you going to do now? Are you going to move your family to Anatol?”

“No.” Riftan spat dryly, his eyes fixed on the cement walls built upon the hills. “Anatol is too dangerous. I intend on sending them to Triden’s estate.”

In the first place, they were not a family he could call his own. Riftan turned his head to see the stepfather and his wife who were still hugging each other, then spoke in a low voice.

“First, we have to join the Knights when we’re ready. Prepare to leave as soon as the rain stops pouring.”

“…As you wish. Then, I’ll put the carriage on standby.”

Ruth then gently left him alone. After watching the rain for a moment longer, Riftan went to his room and began writing a telegram addressed to the king. King Reuben will certainly be furious, he had just ruined his ambitious plan to tame the Duke of Croix. He will be outraged, it was like having his most trusted blade cut his own foot off.

Riftan frowned as he imagined the monarch’s furious face, but suddenly realized that the words he had written were so swaying that he couldn’t recognize them himself and stopped writing. He arched his eyebrow and took out a new sheet of parchment and dipped his quill in ink. However, the letters only kept getting messed up. It was then that he realized he was awfully trembling.

Was it due to the sense of loss he felt, or because of anger? He felt a chill run through his bones. Then, Riftan hunched as he shivered and threw the inkwell against the wall as a violent impulse surged within him. Black liquid spattered in all directions. Riftan stared vacantly at the black stains, then soon sat down, wrapping his hands around his head, and growling like a wounded beast.

All of the comfort he had cherished in his heart was lost within one day. Riftan clutched his head tightly and groaned woefully as he couldn’t even cry. He was merely trying to relieve his loneliness and find comfort for a few moments, yet even that wasn’t allowed. He clasped his chest that was brindled with dirt as he struggled to keep himself together.

You can’t fall just yet. You must keep your mind straight. He still had responsibilities left to be accountable for. Riftan desperately repeated that to himself. As his trembling barely subsided, the sound of rain pitter pattering against the window came to a stop. Riftan smoothed his expression again and opened the window to gaze at the gray, desolate landscapes.

It’s time to leave.

He picked up his sword.

***

His stepfather didn’t say a word as he climbed onto the carriage. Riftan didn’t even attempt to talk to him. The old man, who had been exhausted for several days, sat unbudging next to his wife until he saw his son running towards him from afar and got up from his seat.

Riftan watched as he embraced his little son tightly in his narrow, skinny arms then asked Gabel to stay by their side.

“Take them safely to the viscount.”

Note – Nymeria: This chapter literally broke my soul.