RTPM 17

Chapter – 17

When she returned to her room in the annex, she didn’t even make it to the bed. Staggering, she leaned against the window before collapsing in a pitiful heap.

“Haaah…”

The heat coursing through her body refused to subside. She tried to throw the window open wide, but even that was stiff and unyielding. She attempted to push harder but soon gave up, letting her hands drop with a sense of resignation.

This isn’t even my home… I can’t go damaging things.

If she did, she could only imagine what Decarno would say—though now, she didn’t even want to. Just considering what he had said about Kyrion made it clear he had no intention of asking for details or understanding her circumstances. He had already made up his mind, and it was so absurd that trying to explain herself seemed pointless.

‘What on earth does this man think I am?’

Her pride took such a blow that her mind went blank. Even though she had never been with anyone but Decarno, she knew that in Loarc’s open social circles, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to have another partner even if they were married.

But she had never imagined it would happen to her. It didn’t matter whether she had actually done anything or not. The only thing that mattered was that Decarno thought she had.

“Miss, may I come in?”

“….”

It was her personal maid from the annex. After knocking, she entered cautiously, carrying tea and a simple meal. Yet she didn’t leave immediately, glancing at Evangeline’s face until their eyes met.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just wanted to make sure you were alright… and to see if the food was to your liking…”

“Did the Duke instruct you to do this?”

“….”

The maid’s face turned bright red, confirming it. Though she had asked to be left alone, it was clear why the maid, who hadn’t shown up for some time, suddenly took an interest in her.

‘Maybe that man was right after all.’

Evangeline felt a bitter sadness in realizing that pure goodwill rarely existed in human relationships. She swallowed down whatever words threatened to spill from her lips, then stopped the maid who was about to leave.

“Wait a moment. Could you deliver this for me?”

“Huh?”

“Please send it to Melks Street, Number 5.”

She scribbled a few lines on a small envelope and handed it to the maid. Since it was something Decarno had sent, the letter would inevitably reach him.

At least she didn’t have to bother notifying him that she had canceled their meeting—some small comfort.

Having let everything go, Evangeline felt no anger. Not meeting the old friend who had once made her smile, not seeing her position sway daily on his scale—none of it mattered. Her mind was soaked entirely in sorrow and despair, leaving no room for other emotions.

‘…This must be my lowest point.’

She believed that nothing could be worse. Her family ruined, shunned by everyone, and now even the man who was supposed to be her husband misunderstood her—surely nothing could be more dreadful.

“If this is the worst, so be it. Now all that’s left is to climb back up from the bottom.”

“…Father.”

Evangeline, already lying on the bed, heard her father’s hearty voice in her ear. Even when goods were stolen from the guild, or heavy rain caused a mine to collapse, he had always laughed as if nothing had happened.

He claimed that as long as no one was hurt, losing anything else didn’t matter. Though she had once looked at him incredulously, now she couldn’t help but be won over by that laugh.

Closing her eyes, she lifted the corners of her mouth, trying to recall that smile.

‘How did he smile…?’

From morning to noon, from noon to night, all she could think about was that smile. With Decarno absent and no one to report her situation, she ignored the meal.

She simply wanted to endure. She wanted to muster strength somehow.

“Try to smile, Evangeline.”

She clutched her limp hands, trying to summon the smile of her father. Alone on the empty bed, curled up, she whispered a prayer, asking to start again, as if acknowledging that she had reached the absolute bottom. If not, she felt utterly powerless.

“…Miss, are you there? May I come in?”

“Yes.”

Hearing the maid again reminded her that night had fallen. Even in such a state, she didn’t want to face anyone in this disheveled condition. Slowly, she rose, tidied her hair, and faced the same maid from the morning.

“Has the Duke returned? If so, I can prepare immediately—”

“Oh, no. I have something to deliver.”

“….”

In the dim room with the lights off, the maid didn’t know what she had brought. Evangeline finally glanced at the dark-colored box and the maid awkwardly set it down.

“There was a visitor from the guild. They said, under the Duke’s orders, they couldn’t let anyone in, but at least they asked me to deliver this…”

“What is it?”

“Just… the item you requested…”

The maid’s voice trailed off, showing she didn’t know much. Evangeline stopped, hesitant to turn on the light. Perhaps instinctively, she didn’t want to see it in full brightness. Trembling, she slowly opened the black box. Before she could fully open it, a warm breath escaped her lips.

“Hhh…”

Inside, dimly seen through her blurred vision, was a single dirt-stained shoe and a button from the shirt she had chosen herself.

They were relics of her father, once known as the wealthiest man in the Veliche Empire.

#3

No news of survivors. Wreckage was found, but no belongings could be salvaged. Given the negative circumstances, it’s best to let go of any hope.

Decarno, having received the brief telegram from Phylon, tossed it into the fireplace. Even as he watched the four corners of the paper burn simultaneously, he didn’t show much disappointment. He had already expected this outcome to some extent; from a purely rational perspective, it was logical not to entertain any hope carelessly.

So the telegram that actually darkened his expression so thoroughly was something else entirely.

Dear Kirion,

Something urgent has come up, and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep our appointment today.
Please wait until I contact you first.
I hope you are eating well and taking care of your health.

Evangelin Ohara

Overall, it was an utterly unsatisfactory letter. There wasn’t even one part he could single out—everything about it rubbed him the wrong way.

The mere “Dear” before the name of a mere naval officer, the way she summarized her intent to be his wife as “something urgent,” the fact that she still promised to contact him again—every detail, down to her surname, Ohara, left him irritated.

“…she’s thinking of the cat and mouse, huh.”

A smirk crossed his handsome lips at the last line, wishing him to eat well and take care of his health. Did she imagine she could say that to him while he was barely eating and wasting away day by day? He had no idea how far this woman’s naivety would go.

“….”

Decarno opened his hand as if recalling her delicate wrist from that morning. He was certain he had held something with this hand, yet no weight remained.

It was as if something had just brushed past and vanished.

As if trying to erase the inexplicable discomfort within him, he rubbed his empty fingers. But it had no effect. The act of recalling someone and doing something so meaningless only worsened his mood.

Was this fitting for the head of the Teze Ducal House?

Whether it was fitting or not for the head of Teze—that alone had been the sole measure of right and wrong in his life, ever since he could remember. Born as the only son of a family that had long held the leadership of the aristocracy, Decarno’s fate had been determined the moment he was born.

And it wasn’t just about matters that could sway the empire or the house.

Who he associated with, who he spoke to, how many times he smiled—these seemingly trivial matters could still influence the hierarchy among the other nobles. Except for the three years of military service in his late teens, Decarno had meticulously adhered to that rule.

If he wavered or faltered even briefly, the consequences were unimaginable. Someone would despair, someone’s livelihood could be at risk, and yet someone else would cheer as if waiting for it.