Chapter 72

As Ellen drew closer to the entrance where he was waiting, her heart raced and it became hard to breathe. Her eyes stung, but Ellen bit the inside of her cheek and walked with the calmest expression she could manage. At the open entrance, the servants were crowded together.

“Madam.”

As soon as the servants saw Ellen, they parted to either side and bowed deeply. Thanks to them, she could easily see Lennox standing at the entrance.

“…….”

Lennox was a mess. His beard had grown wild, his hair was unkempt, his clothes were dirty, and his presence was ominous. His cracked, dry lips were tightly closed. Through slightly longer hair, his red eyes looked hollow. He looked much the same as when he’d last come to her room before their separation. Lennox slowly turned his head to gaze at Ellen. Ellen returned his gaze. For a while, silence hung between them.

“…….”

Ellen gripped her skirt tightly and bit the inside of her cheek. All her nerves were focused on Lennox, so she didn’t even taste the blood seeping from her torn flesh. Just as Lennox’s lips began to part, Ellen cut him off.

“I don’t know this person.”

Lennox’s lips pressed together. When he stepped quickly to stand before Ellen, his shadow fell over her. Amid the musty smell, Ellen caught his scent, but looked up at him with unwavering eyes and continued.

“Escort him out.”

“Ellen. I have something to—”

His voice, dry and cracked, was about to spill out when someone struck Lennox’s back with a club. He staggered. Ellen swallowed the scream that almost burst out and stepped back. As soon as Baroness Dermann gave the order, the servants did not hesitate. Thud, thud. Clubs and kicks rained down on Lennox’s body.

Ellen wanted to shout for them to stop, to tear them away, but she silently engraved the sight of him being beaten onto her eyes and heart. Lennox did not resist. Only his hollow gaze stayed fixed on her.

“Enough.”

When Lennox collapsed on the floor, Ellen ordered with a trembling voice. The beating stopped, and the sight of Lennox’s back, battered and fallen, stabbed painfully into her eyes.

“He looks like a beggar, so give him a little money and send him away. If he comes again, even without my order, escort him out.”

Ellen turned away coldly. She forced her feet off the sticky floor. Her body kept wanting to turn back to him, like a magnet, but she never once looked back. Behind her, there was a faint rustling sound. With a slap, coins rolled across the marble floor, and heavy, staggering footsteps moved away in the opposite direction.

Bang. The entrance closed, cutting off the sound of his footsteps, his scent, and his gaze.

“Madam!”

Emma supported Ellen, who sank to the floor. Ellen clasped her trembling hands tightly. The sight of clubs raining down on his body, of him silently enduring the blows, and his hollow eyes that never left her—all of it haunted her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she closed them, she could forget. But the more she tried, the more vivid the painful image became. Only when Emma helped her up could Ellen stand. She returned to her room, but couldn’t remember how. She drank the cold peppermint tea Emma had prepared, but her mind didn’t clear—instead, it felt foggy.

“Emma. Leave me alone.”

“Yes.”

After Emma left, Ellen closed the curtains, darkening the room, and sat with her chin in her hand. In a space where the light and sound of the world were perfectly blocked, Ellen slowly erased him, creating scars as she did. The tears running down her cheeks were her last attempt to erase him.

* * *

Lennox didn’t notice the glances of passersby. Or rather, Ellen’s gaze, looking down at him, was so vivid in his mind that he couldn’t care about anyone else.

On his way to Baron Dermann’s mansion, he wanted to ask Ellen: did she know her father was the one who killed his mother? Had she kept silent, or did she truly not know? But when he saw her face, all those tangled emotions couldn’t be sorted out.

“…….”

Lennox stopped walking. He stared at his feet, then shook his head. Actually, it didn’t matter. It was Ellen’s father who killed his mother, not Ellen. Lennox knew just how much Ellen had adored his mother. In fact, if anyone would be most shocked by the truth, it would be Ellen.

‘Because she’s Ellen.’

He couldn’t hate her just because she was that man’s daughter. How could he? So he only called her name, unable to say anything else. In the end, Lennox decided to ask Ellen the one thing he truly wanted.

Would she go with him? Would she leave behind this unwanted marriage and come with him? He wouldn’t ask why she had to do this; he just wanted to go together. He wanted to say that. He was even ready to forget everything, even that Viscount Valère had killed his mother. He had made up his mind.

‘All this time, I tried so hard to get closer to her.’

The conservative nobles of the Kursh Kingdom didn’t want him to receive a title or join the kingdom’s knights. Lennox knew it, but let them use him anyway. If he could stand beside her, he could endure any humiliation.

‘There’s nothing left for me to do here.’

He had to leave the Viscount’s house. He couldn’t stay any longer. With Ellen gone, there was no reason to remain.

Under the blue sky, the clouds drifted gently, glowing in the sunlight, and the wind was mild. The streets were lively. A peaceful afternoon for everyone but Lennox—a terrible, painful afternoon for him.

Even as he was beaten by Baron Dermann’s people, Lennox never looked away from Ellen. At that moment, Ellen, as a noble lady, was punishing the vagabond who had intruded on her house. There was no affection in her gaze. The warmth he remembered was gone. Her black eyes were cold, indifferent, and emotionless. Lennox’s heart collapsed and hardened at her gaze. When she turned away without a glance, Lennox’s mind went cold.

Rejection. Farewell.

His lips curved upward. He covered his eyes with his palm. His shoulders shook. Silent laughter spilled from his lips, then his mouth tightened and his shoulders stiffened. His chest swelled and then deflated.

‘Farewell.’

A strange word. A word he never wanted to say. His mind knew it, but his heart always hoped it wouldn’t be true. Now, both Lennox and Ellen had to accept it.

He fumbled inside his coat and found a hard object: the identification card Richel Aryan had given him at the autumn tournament years ago. Lennox’s one hope for a new future.

Lennox looked down at the card with its gold rim and clenched his fist. If the Kursh Kingdom wouldn’t accept him, if he had no reason to stay here, he had to find another path.

‘Don’t be mistaken, Ellen. This isn’t the end.’

He probably would never forget her. Not for the rest of his life. But he could grow distant, and if she didn’t want to see him, if she wanted this farewell, Lennox was ready to accept her wishes. So, for now…

* * *

In the southeast, in the Aryan Empire, which boasted rich lands and vast territory, snow began to fall. The morning had been cloudy and dark, and everyone expected rain, but instead, heavy snow came. It was rare, so the citizens of the Empire were excited. Even the Imperial Palace was no exception. The falling snow brought joy to the palace. Aryan Empire’s Crown Prince Richel was no exception. Richel put aside his work and stood by the window, watching the snow. The garden, usually filled with rare plants and vibrant colors, was slowly turning white.

“Snow is falling. Is an important guest coming?”

Whenever it snowed at the palace, an important guest always arrived. Karan, who stood behind him, answered.

“Looks like that young man you marked a few years ago is coming, Your Highness.”

He spoke without much thought. Just then, a chamberlain announced respectfully from outside the door.

“Your Highness the Crown Prince. Lennox Lennon requests an audience.”

Richel’s lips curved into a smile. Richel turned around. His platinum hair shone brilliantly, in stark contrast to the dark, snowy world outside.

“You’re quite sharp, Karan.”

“Will you meet him?”

“Of course.”

Karan looked dissatisfied but bowed and opened the door. The chamberlain waited politely for Richel’s answer. Richel leaned against the large window, crossed his legs, and smiled broadly.

“Bring him here politely.”

Richel perched on the edge of his desk and leisurely waited for Lennox. His long, delicate fingers tapped the table at regular intervals, as if enjoying himself. After about fifty taps, the chamberlain announced Lennox’s arrival.