Chapter 6.9

If the forest couldn’t yield value, it would be transformed into something entirely different. That was something the Dante family could imagine, but the Cherlin family could not. From the start, they were contradictory and could not even find a point of coexistence.

“The most efficient trade route to the capital will pass through that forest. It’ll likely be developed to the point where its original form will be unrecognizable. It seems the Young Earl didn’t tell you. You and Sir Cherlin are probably opposed to the development.”

Crisen gave Lisael no breathing room. Every word he spoke threw her into a state of intense turmoil.

‘Miguel? Miguel knew about this? If he knew, why didn’t he tell me…?’

Of course, he wouldn’t have told her. If he had, there was no way she would have just listened quietly. Even though the land had already been handed over, she would have hurled harsh accusations at him—or worse, ignored him entirely, as if he didn’t exist.

“That forest… it’s the only forest left in Cherlin, which has become an industrial city. No matter how difficult things got, it was land we held onto until the end.”

The forest was the last remaining window into the old Cherlin, just before industrialization took over—a living remnant of the village’s past. Memories of a time when not everyone was wealthy but no one worried about food or work, when bonds with neighbors and laughter still existed, had all been stolen away by the acrid smoke of factories.

In a Cherlin that had been completely transformed, the forest remained in its place until the very end. The Cherlin family didn’t let go of it. But even that forest, which they had clung to so desperately, was handed over when it was weighed against the livelihood of the villagers.

Lisael’s eyes clouded over with confusion. Even that lush forest would soon be torn apart by the greed of the wealthy, its original form unrecognizable.

“The Young Earl went to the capital, didn’t he? Soon, the bidding for the canal construction will begin, and he’s likely involved in that. After all, it’s a Kingdom project.”

“That makes sense….”

There was nothing she could do. It was already too late, and she had been too naive. Despite everything, she and Cherlin had failed to shed their innocence.

They had been foolish again. And they had been deceived again.

Miguel, who had said he was leaving for the capital, was as indifferent as ever. How could he remain so unshaken? Even though the person who would be most devastated by the destruction of the forest stood right before him, he remained unnervingly calm.

‘How ridiculous I must have seemed, wishing him a safe trip.’

Lisael mocked herself. The fact that she could laugh even now was absurd, yet her lips lifted weakly as she let out a hollow breath.

When you care for someone, don’t you naturally come to cherish what they hold dear? 

At least, that’s how Lisael felt. She cared deeply for the things her loved ones treasured.

But Miguel—was it all just a misunderstanding? Had I mistaken your minimal courtesy, born of old ties, for affection? 

Everything she had seen and felt until now was dissolving into illusions and deceptions.

I was fooled. Fooled by his pathetic act or his shallow pity.

His offer to help with the divorce was nothing more than a way to rid himself of someone he no longer found useful. She couldn’t even distinguish where the lies ended and the truth began. 

Or was there any truth in the Miguel I had seen?

A surge of contempt and disappointment, aimed solely at one person, swelled within her like a bursting bloom.

‘But even if I had known… even if I had known, I would have made the same choice.’

She realized something else, belatedly. Even if she had known about Dante’s worldly schemes for the forest, the outcome would have been the same. The only difference would have been a longer period of anguish.

Earl Dante, who spared no means to achieve his ends, had found it too bothersome to deal with her directly. That was why he had gone through the trouble of deceiving her father.

This time, the Dante father and son, united in purpose, had aimed their first blow at Cherlin yet again.

Miguel, who had always been a bystander, had finally given Lisael a reason to be disappointed in him. He was no different from the Earl; the only difference was the timing.

Lisael felt a sharp gratitude toward Miguel for finally putting an end to her doubts.

***

Lisael parted ways with Crisen and immediately sought out Lloyd. She had intended to wait sincerely for Miguel’s message, but now she felt like a butterfly that had lost its antennae, directionless. Whatever letter came from the capital, she knew it would be so repulsive that she wouldn’t even be able to read it to the end.

She would rather face the Countess and Kaera than meet Miguel again. The realization that Miguel was no different from the others had come far too late, and the backlash of disappointment had exceeded her limits.

She wanted to ask Lloyd, her father’s old friend, for advice on how to break the news to her father with as little shock as possible. When Lisael emphasized that she had come alone, the door, which had remained firmly shut before, opened wide as if it had been a lie.

When she finally reunited with Lloyd after so long, he looked very different from the man she remembered. The once-robust Lloyd, who had always seemed unshaken by hardship, now appeared gaunt and frail.

“Lisael… I almost didn’t recognize you. Come inside.”

Yet the brilliance in his eyes, a testament to his unwavering convictions, remained unchanged. Lisael entered, carrying the salmon sandwich he used to enjoy.

“Crisen told me about you, which gave me the courage to visit again.”

Lisael, who passed along the greetings of the former village chief of Cherlin, felt a sense of comfort in Lloyd’s home—the only former chief who welcomed her. The feeling of being unwelcome had kept her confined to a figurative thorny prison.

Now, the warmth of Lloyd’s hospitality made her even less inclined to return to Cherlin, or more precisely, to the lord’s castle.

“I never doubted Cherlin. We were old friends and comrades. Your father was not the kind of man to abandon the village, even if it cost him his life. I always believed there must have been a reason.”

His smile, though faint, deepened the wrinkles on his face. Seeing Lloyd’s faint smile, Lisael couldn’t suppress the grief and hardship she had endured. Her eyes blurred instantly, and a lump rose in her throat.

“Huh… Huhuh… Huhuhuh…!”

She hadn’t wanted to show such a pitiful side in front of Lloyd after so long. But her pent-up emotions had already escaped her control, spilling out in sobs and gasps.

‘Thank you… for saying that.’

She wanted to speak, but her voice was choked, and no sound came out. Lisael was too busy wiping away the hot tears streaming down her face.

“I… I wasn’t able to attend your wedding because I wasn’t feeling well! I’m sorry I didn’t send a message!”

Flustered by Lisael’s tears, Lloyd hurriedly apologized, blaming himself for being careless. Lisael accepted the handkerchief he offered and wiped her face, shaking her head.

“That’s not it. I’m just so happy you welcomed me.”

“…You must have had a hard time. All this while.”

They had resisted the entrenched powers for a long time. The strong bonds and shared understanding they had built over time made elaborate explanations unnecessary. Lloyd, looking troubled, couldn’t take his eyes off Lisael as he gently held her hand.

“Lisael, you are now part of the Earl’s castle, but you must never forget your identity. You are different from them. No matter how much time passes, you must not grow numb to them, nor should you ever trust them.”

Lloyd’s stern advice struck Lisael like a sharp rebuke. Just a day ago, she had trusted one of them. The shame of it was too much for her to admit.

“The Earl is someone who only cares about his own interests down to his very core. For people like him to hold wealth and power beyond their means is a great misfortune for us.”

“Is there… no hope?”

“That depends on us. Lisael, you’ve been in Ruota for quite some time, so you must have seen it. The strikes and protests that show no signs of progress or agreement.”

“Back home is not much different….”

That scene, which never failed to unsettle her whenever she passed by, still vividly played out in her memory. Was it not a symbol of despair for workers who seemed to have no hope?

“The factory owners, who bleed their workers dry, don’t seem willing to make even the slightest concession. So, does that mean their strikes are pointless?”

“No, I think the very act of raising their voices like this has meaning. If they simply conformed, it would be the same as acknowledging this unjust system. There would never be any change.”