Chapter 30 – The Past

Kairan tried to resume his work, but intrusive thoughts crept in, like insects crawling into his mind. The contents of the documents before him blurred, the letters transforming into black, floating shapes. 

Eventually, he decided to take a break, setting down his pen and leaning back against the chair, closing his eyes. 

‘…Lenoa.’

The moment his eyes shut, the image of Lenoa, who had left his office just minutes ago, appeared in his mind. Today, she had worn an orange dress and asked for his permission to visit the Earl of Haim’s estate tomorrow. 

Until she mentioned it, Kairan had only known about the Countess of Haim’s pregnancy. He had just learned from Lenoa that the child had been born and was a boy. 

The moment she made her request, he had almost suggested accompanying her. 

However, he hesitated. Not because of work, but because he knew exactly how the Earl and Countess of Haim felt about him. Particularly the Earl, who never missed a chance to call him an “uninvited guest” of the Celesta royal family at every banquet they attended together. 

While the Earl was one of Lenoa’s supporters and seemed to get along well with her, Kairan couldn’t shake the feeling that Lenoa didn’t particularly like the man. 

At the New Year’s festival earlier that year, Kairan had noticed a shadow cross Lenoa’s face as she conversed with the Earl. Unlike her, the Earl had laughed heartily, chatting incessantly. 

When their conversation ended, Kairan had hurried over to Lenoa and asked what they had discussed. Startled, she had merely smiled awkwardly and brushed it off without answering. 

Even if he pressed her further, Kairan knew she would take the Earl’s secret to her grave to protect him. 

That was the kind of person Lenoa was in Kairan’s eyes—a woman who would rather suffer herself than cause harm to others. 

It was precisely because of this that Kairan cared for her even more. That incident had only deepened his animosity toward the Earl of Haim’s household. 

But today, after hearing Lenoa’s story, he realized she seemed to have a good relationship with the Countess. This knowledge eased his concerns somewhat. 

For Lenoa, who loved children, this visit would undoubtedly become a cherished memory. 

‘A baby, huh. I’d like to see one myself.’ 

As he thought about the Earl and Countess of Haim, Kairan’s mind suddenly wandered to his own childhood. 

He shook his head quickly, trying to dispel the memory, but his heart began pounding violently. Despite his efforts to take deep breaths, the recollection surged forward, tearing through his mind like a storm. 

Kairan had no mother from the moment he opened his eyes to the world. 

The woman who had given birth to him had passed away immediately afterward. Unlike the warm, red body of the newborn she had delivered, her complexion was pale, and her body cold. 

The boy, with his deep red hair and violet eyes, was the spitting image of his father. Anyone who saw them would immediately recognize their kinship. 

‘He doesn’t resemble his mother at all. If he were a girl, she might have inherited something from her.’ 

That was the first and only thing his father had said when their eyes met, before turning away indifferently and disappearing from sight. 

It was Kairan’s first memory of his father. 

Most childhood memories fade, but Kairan had been old enough to understand speech. It didn’t take long for him to grasp the meaning of those words. 

Despite being the heir of the ducal house of Blandi, Kairan grew up neglected. His mother was gone, and his father was always locked away in his study, rarely showing his face. 

One evening, harboring a sliver of hope, Kairan had sat near the study, waiting for his father to emerge. 

When night fell and darkness enveloped the estate, his father finally appeared, only to scold him harshly. 

‘What are you doing here? Go back to your room! Now!’ 

Though his father’s gaze was as indifferent as ever, this time, it was tinged with anger. 

Kairan could only watch silently as his father’s figure receded into the distance. 

His father’s indifference or coldness toward him changed suddenly when Kairan turned 17. 

One day, a man from a marquis household, a close friend of his father’s, visited the estate. Introducing Kairan as his son, his father laughed heartily and said to the man, 

‘Other fathers and sons are as close as brothers, but my son and I are nothing like that.’ 

‘He must still be going through puberty. Hahaha.’ 

The man laughed along with his father. 

While the two men seemed to be in high spirits, Kairan’s expression darkened. 

Other fathers and sons were like brothers? Kairan had wanted that too, ever since he was a child. 

He didn’t expect a relationship as close as brothers, but he had hoped for some level of closeness between father and son. 

But it was his father who had crushed that hope when Kairan was a boy. 

The pain of that day had lingered, leaving Kairan’s heart barren even through his teenage years. His father, who claimed to feel hurt by his son’s indifference, had never shown him even a shred of affection. 

In some ways, Kairan thought it had been better when he was younger. 

Years passed, and by the time Kairan turned 20, the Duke of Blandi hosted a birthday banquet for him for the first time. It was a coming-of-age ceremony, attended only by nobles who held goodwill toward the ducal house. 

Even as the guest of honor, Kairan silently ate two servings of his favorite lemon pudding before slipping away early. 

Back in his room, he stood before a full-length mirror, staring at his reflection. His red hair and violet eyes remained unchanged. His tall, handsome figure was enough to attract the attention of women. 

During the coming-of-age ceremony, countless women had flocked to him, causing him no small amount of trouble. 

In addition to his striking appearance, Kairan’s intellect was exceptional. His knowledge of history, politics, and etiquette amazed everyone, leaving them in awe. As the heir of the ducal house, he had grown up excelling in both body and mind. 

Despite the admiration of many noblewomen and being of marriageable age, Kairan had no desire to marry. 

Suddenly, he recalled something his father had muttered during his childhood: 

‘If he had been a girl, he could’ve married that boy and become queen. Tsk, tsk.’ 

Apparently, his father had desperately hoped for a daughter even before Kairan was born. 

‘Marriage? What a joke.’ 

It was universally accepted, regardless of nation or status, that sons would inherit the family line while daughters were married off into other prestigious families. Conversely, there were rare cases where daughters became heirs or sons married first, but such occurrences were uncommon.

For Kairan, inheriting the Blandi Ducal House as the heir was not an honor but rather a shortcut to ridicule—a truth he only realized later. It was on the day his father abruptly summoned him after his 23rd birthday and shared startling news.

‘Son, we are nobles of Celesta.’

‘I’m… a noble of Celesta?’

For Kairan, who had lived his entire life as the heir of the Benecia Ducal House, this revelation was like a bolt from the blue.

Before he could recover from the shock, his father began recounting the story of his grandfather. He spoke of how the current King of Celesta, once his close friend, had exiled him. Stripped of most of his lands and wealth, he had been forced to flee to Benecia. Though originally from Celesta, he had lived as a Benecian ever since.

His father recounted the tale with a sheepish smile, his tone and nuances betraying a sense of injustice. Every time he mentioned the King of Celesta, his voice grew louder, calling him ‘that bastard.’

Soon after, his father instructed Kairan to prepare to leave for the Celesta royal court. Alone, not together.

And so, half out of obligation and half by his own will, Kairan entered the palace. It had already been three years since that day.

‘Looking back, time has flown by.’

Finishing his reflection, Kairan straightened his posture. 

The wall clock revealed that less than an hour had passed. Unlike the swift passage of the past, the present moved calmly.

As he prepared to return to his work, another memory—more recent this time—held him back. Unlike the first, this one did not seize him roughly but touched him gently.

‘I’m sorry, my son….’

This tender phrase, etched deeply in his mind and heart, warmed Kairan’s eyes. He almost shed tears but bit his lower lip to hold them back.

As always, he couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not to others, especially not to “her.”

For once, he felt grateful for his father’s words: ‘Men don’t cry.’

Regaining his composure, Kairan finally resumed his work. He threw himself into his tasks, trying to reclaim the focus stolen by the chaos that had intruded like an unwelcome guest.

Before he knew it, it was 5:50 PM—ten minutes before dinner. A habit had taken root in him: visiting Lenoa to dine together.

Though she declined most of his invitations, she never refused to share a meal with him. After all, the meals for the two royals were always prepared and served in the dining hall without fail.

Thinking of Lenoa made Kairan’s heart flutter. He was eager to see her, so much so that he was about to rise when a knock echoed through his office.

Following the knock, a beautiful voice, as soothing as it was familiar, tickled his ears and his heart.

“It’s Lenoa. Shall we go to dinner together?” 

Until now, it had always been Kairan who sought out Lenoa, never the other way around. Today, however, she had taken the initiative, even sending a rare message earlier in the day, asking to dine together.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Kairan quickly ran to open the door. Standing there was Lenoa, her wide eyes staring back at him.

She was always beautiful, but today, she seemed even more radiant.

The fact that she had come to see him twice today filled him with gratitude, admiration, and affection.

“Shall we, my Queen?”

Suppressing the urge to embrace her, Kairan instead extended his hand. Even through their gloves, he could feel the warmth of her soft touch.

Though the sun had not yet set, the summer heat had cooled, giving way to a pleasant evening. As they dined together, one of them felt restless, while the other tried to calm a racing heart.

***

The following morning, Lenoa ate a light breakfast and allowed the maids to prepare her for her visit to the Earl of Haim’s estate.

After finishing her more elaborate-than-usual preparations, she finally left the palace and headed toward the carriage waiting at the main gate. It was the same carriage she had shared with Kairan on their visit to the Viscount Elwen’s residence.

As she reflected on the memories stirred by the gentle breeze, a knight escorting her offered his hand to help her into the carriage.

“Your Majesty!”

A familiar, strained voice reached Lenoa’s ears just as she was about to step inside.

Half-opening the carriage door, she saw Kairan standing there, looking as if he had rushed over in haste. 

Taking her hands gently in his, he whispered, 

“Please, have a safe trip.”

With a bittersweet smile, he bid her farewell. Caught off guard, Lenoa responded briefly before slowly withdrawing her hands and closing the carriage door.

Soon, the sound of hooves echoed as the carriage passed through the main gate.

Resting her head against the window, Lenoa closed her eyes. She had a habit of falling deeply asleep wherever she was, oblivious to the world around her, even if someone offered her their lap as a pillow.