When Ophelia and Chadwick returned to the estate, the clock had already passed one in the morning.

“Welcome back, Master. My lady.”

Philip bowed deeply and spoke carefully.

Ophelia glanced at him briefly before turning her head away. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not now, at least.

Least of all to Chadwick.

In fact, if it was Chadwick, even more so.

Without looking back, Ophelia mounted the spiral staircase. At the very top, her room was just within sight. Tonight, it felt unbearably far away, yet she longed for it so much.

She quickened her steps towards the door. But before she could reach it, Chadwick stepped forward and blocked her way. His gaze bore down upon her.

“…Do you still have something left to say?”

Her voice sounded weary and drained. Her head felt heavy, and her body was cold. She no longer had the strength for those moments when she asked him questions and waited for his answers.

Chadwick regarded her quietly, then sighed briefly.

“I hope there will never be a day like today again.”

To her ears, it sounded like: Stay inside, don’t trouble me again.

“Do you know how much I—… Hah, never mind. Enough for today. But see that it never happens again.”

Ah. So it hadn’t been her imagination after all.

With pain throbbing at her temples, Ophelia pressed her fingers against her head and forced out the words:

“Why are you suddenly saying such things?”

At her question, Chadwick’s expression tightened with a faint grimace.

“Do you not understand… even now?”

“You’ve never cared where I was, or where I went. Not since that day.”

At the words that day, Chadwick’s body went rigid, frozen. His face hardened as he stared at her, then at last he closed his eyes and held his tongue.

Ophelia bit her lip at the sight and pressed on.

“Do you know?”

Chadwick’s eyes settled on her, silent. His thick lashes cast dark shadows over his lowered eyes.

“What is it you want to say?”

His voice rumbled low, echoing faintly down the corridor.

“That you and I… we haven’t had a real conversation even once since that day.”

Perhaps she should have let herself get hurt a bit more back then, just to enable them to talk to each other honestly. Before they drifted so far apart.

They say time heals all wounds. But the wound between them has only festered and worsened the longer it has lingered.

Tonight, she was struck by the truth of that, and she could no longer deny the misery it caused her.

As she spoke in a sorrowful voice, Chadwick looked down at her in silence. For some reason, his bare hand was clenched into a fist, the veins standing out sharply against his skin.

At last, he spoke in a low voice.

“If I have nothing to say… what need is there for conversation?”

At that, Ophelia gave a hollow smile before answering softly.

“…Because we’re husband and wife.”

Even now, still husband and wife.

Her voice carried the weight of exhaustion, bone-deep fatigue.

“And that’s supposed to be enough reason?”

At his dry retort, Ophelia lowered her gaze to her feet, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips.

“…You’re right. Looking at you, it seems it isn’t reason enough at all.”

“…Ophelia.”

Her resignation in tone drew him a step closer.

But Ophelia, pretending not to see, spoke wearily.

“Move aside.”

“…”

“I won’t trouble you anymore. Just… please, let me pass.”

In response to her plea, Chadwick moved away from the door to clear the way for her.

Without glancing back, Ophelia slipped into her room.

Chadwick stood staring at the closed door for a moment, then undid a button on his collar and sighed faintly.

Click.

The door shut, and Ophelia crossed the room, collapsing onto her bed without even changing her clothes.

The warmth of the air, the softness of the blankets against her skin, was so welcome it brought tears to her eyes.

“…It was so long.”

The day had been far too long.

Burying her face in the pillow, she whispered the words. Exhausted beyond measure, her body and heart seemed to reject the weight of reality itself.

—”There’s no chance you’ll ever love me again, is there?”

The question she had asked earlier still echoed in her mind.

“You won’t even answer me.”

Perhaps, to him, it wasn’t even worth answering.

Moisture welled in her violet eyes. Tears she thought had dried broke free once again.

“You cruel man.”

Even if she says it, why is it always her who gets hurt, never him?

Her gaze fell quietly upon herself.

The white dress that Chadwick had bought her shimmered faintly in the light.

“…How foolish I am.”

What had she expected from just a dress?

Ophelia rose from her seat and removed the dress from her body. The gown that had filled her with anticipation only hours ago now felt like nothing more than a symbol of her abandonment.

Perhaps it was the force with which she clenched the fabric, but the gem sewn into the dress cut into her delicate palm. Drops of crimson blood welled up between her fingers, as though her very heart had been torn open.

At last, her hand slackened.

The bloodstained gown slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, crumpling like a fallen petal.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

“Hah…”

The door to Chadwick’s chambers opened with more force than usual, and he moved with sharp, unrestrained movements. He impatiently unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a body scarred and chiselled with scars that gleamed beneath the lamplight.

Leaning heavily against the table, he heard her voice echoing in his mind: soft, desperate, unrelenting.

—”You never loved me at all, did you, Chadwick…?”

Love.

What was that, truly?

She already knew what answer he would give, so why had she asked?

“…Infuriating.”

Chadwick reached for the cabinet, pulled out a bottle of brandy, and uncorked it with a snap. The sharp, woody tang of strong liquor filled the room, burning its way into his lungs.

—”Just for tonight… whatever happens… don’t leave me, Chadwick.”

Ophelia’s uncharacteristically raw voice echoed in his ears.

It was the only reason he had stayed in that place when he should have walked away, as he always did.

Her words clung to him like a chain; they were too loud to ignore.

And so he tried to wait.

But in the end, he did not.

“Hah…”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard; the golden liquor burned its way down his throat.

If Edel found out, he would be furious — he would tell him that mixing narcotics and alcohol was courting death.

But tonight, this was the only way to cope.

He downed the crystal decanter in one go and set the empty bottle on the table with a dull thud.

Then, with one large hand, he pressed against his eyes.

The sudden rush of alcohol made his veins burn like fire.

—”Vmmm.”

The sacred sword, carelessly tossed onto the bed, trembled faintly.

Chadwick let out a breathless laugh.

This wasn’t a call for them to go somewhere together.

He shouldn’t have waited. He shouldn’t have gone looking.

If this was always going to be the outcome, he should have stayed distant and built his walls.

But he couldn’t.

It was instinct.

The moment he saw the empty carriage, he ran without thinking or understanding what had happened.

He didn’t even know where to begin searching.

And he had no time to figure it out.

The wind against his skin was bitterly cold, so sharp that it felt cruel.

Chadwick knew that a wind this mercilessly frigid had the power to kill.

His heart thudded anxiously in his chest.

—”Ophelia!”

The image of her standing precariously beneath the claws of a monster four years ago replayed vividly in his mind.

It was as if the wind had frozen the blood in his veins; his entire body turned cold.

Before he knew it, he was alone in the plaza.

And there she was:

Ophelia was sitting quietly on the edge of the fountain.

His breath, which had been caught in his throat, finally returned to normal—like blood returning to its proper course.

He had meant to ask if she was all right. He had meant to ask if she was cold.

—”There is no chance you’ll ever love me again, is there…?”

If not for those words, he truly might have spoken.

“Why do you expect that from me?”

“Don’t ask me for the one thing I can’t give you. The one thing I must never give. Just that. Just me. If you can give up on me, that’s all it takes.”

Chadwick murmured in a low voice, as if trying to brainwash someone — or perhaps himself.

If she could let go of him, he could protect Ophelia from everything else.

The rest, he could bear.

He didn’t have the strength to stop her, but he could fight off everything else.

— “You don’t want to drag Ophelia back into that filth again, do you?”

The unpleasant voice from the past echoed in his mind.

Even if he was treated like a dog on a leash, it didn’t matter.

“So please. Just this once. Give up on me Ophelia.”

His eyes, unsteady, fell to the holy sword. Then, leaning on the bitter burn of the liquor, Chadwick closed his eyes.