The Boy and the Winter Island (04) 021
“Ah. Miss.”
In the central square of Mlrand City, outside the most unique and largest teahouse there. Kalen spotted Eliana awkwardly making her way out and hurried to her side. She still seemed unsteady on her feet. It was only natural—after seven years confined to bed, her legs had stiffened. Though she'd been venturing out to various places lately, he had always been with her.
Eliana finally exhaled, steadying herself. “...Kalen.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Kalen.”
“Miss?”
“Kalen...”
On the way back to the carriage, Kalen found her odd repetition of his name concerning and quickened his pace. During their journey north, he had been the only one by her side, so he'd driven the horses himself. But now, there was no need—the Rakatus family's expert coachman took the reins with practiced ease. Confirming the carriage's departure, Kalen matched Eliana's eye level.
“...”
“Is something the matter?”
“N-no, not really...”
It was a lie. Just as obvious as Eliana's strange fixation on him. Naturally, Kalen stuck close by her side. Reading her mood from her expression was child's play for him. And right now, the Eliana in his view was clearly displeased with something.
“Did someone upset you?”
“No...”
“Did they get too familiar and approach you?”
“No... ah, that might be it...”
Still, she was denying it. Kalen sighed, utterly at a loss, and Eliana slyly turned her head away. It was a dramatic shift. She rarely looked away first. She always met his gaze head-on. But now, she had unmistakably turned her head. Her cheeks were just a bit flushed, though.
“Kalen...”
“Yes, Miss.”
“...I have something I'm curious about.”
Curious. Kalen had sensed her displeasure. Was this whimsy stemming from that? He waited calmly for her to speak.
“...Why do you call me 'Miss'?”
“Pardon? Because you're Miss...”
“Mm.”
That little mm of hers was a catch-all. Affirmation, denial, or hiding her feelings—it covered everything. Only Kalen could read it perfectly; anyone else unfamiliar with her would be lost. And to him, this was clearly a denial.
“My name...”
“...”
“Call me by my name... Kalen...”
Eliana's mind replayed the teahouse scene vividly. Eliana, Lady Eliana, Eliana. Why did they have to chant her name like that? Conversations with Kalen were so blissfully happy, yet those endless calls of her name had grated on her. No matter how curtly she replied, they kept invoking it. No wonder her father said surviving high society was tough. Still, if it helped Kalen, she pushed on diligently.
Then the thought struck: even strangers called her name so eagerly. Why wouldn't he? Thinking back, it was true. He always addressed her as “Miss” with formal respect. Her name, Eliana, was right there, yet he'd never used it.
The thought extended further, to shortly after they met. When Kalen had told her to drop the formalities. What was it? He had said their relationship felt stiff. Indeed, even he seemed dissatisfied with it being just lady and bodyguard—so coldly defined. Pleased that their minds aligned even here, Eliana resolved: she'd make him call her by name and use informal speech. Her cheeks burned again.
—Holding that warmth in her cheeks.
“I'm not 'Miss'...”
She anticipated his calm voice taking the shape of her name. The same syllables as those women in the teahouse, but surely a different ring. Eliana was certain.
“...Lady Eliana.”
The moment Kalen's words fell, her head whipped away again. She turned to hide an unflattering expression, but even so, she wanted to meet his eyes while being called.
“...Again.”
“Lady Eliana.”
“...”
Just as she'd imagined.
Eliana's debut into high society at such a young age. Through Eclesia Salon, one of the premier gatherings. It became quite the shocking topic.
In a world dominated by magic, even the quickest reached only the 1st Hierarchy just 1-2 years before their coming-of-age. Magic hierarchies deepened with time invested. Skipping those years for an early debut was virtual suicide for a noble lady.
Yet the debutante was Rakatus's lady. What a difference.
Compared to the youngest lady at Eclesia Salon, Eliana was a full year younger, and the waves she caused were immense. The reason was clear: she excelled. Overwhelmingly so, in every way.
Beauty and appearance. Etiquette and grace. Aura and personality. And finally, magic.
Magic drew the most buzz. At such a tender age, despite her early debut, she handled the 1st Hierarchy with some skill. Her aptitude was the refined Nature Attribute. And she'd only begun learning recently—her talent shone blindingly.
How many reach for such gifts? The writhing of flowers aspiring to be shining stars was so ugly.
Considering her growth, expecting the 2nd Hierarchy by her coming-of-age wasn't exaggeration.
And one more thing: her mental image. If her magic skill excited and built anticipation, this was dismissed as outright fiction by many.
Yet the murmurs originated from Eclesia. Where Daphnis Rkarin was. Rumors being false there was the absurd notion.
From Eclesia Salon, the buzz spread to other Mlrand social circles, then Felts and Klaimene gatherings. Ultimately rippling across all high society.
Those claiming to have seen it were solely Eclesia's members. Whether to elevate their salon's prestige was uncertain. But if true, many wanted to witness Eliana's mental image vista.
A vast plateau blanketed in snow. Serene yet lofty, under cool sunlight. Majestic canyons and crystal waters. Like beauty ravishing the brain.
All who glimpsed Eliana's world spoke of ecstasy. Rumors mentioned a man's silhouette amid it, but those knowing mental images dismissed it as nonsense—impossible.
Thus, Eliana's debut succeeded brilliantly.
One would think she'd rejoice at such results. But...
“Kalen.”
The person in question couldn't feel the slightest joy. Because of Kalen's words just moments ago. He'd mentioned parting again.
“Mis—Lady Eliana.”
“Kalen.”
Her head grew hazy, breath quickening. It felt like her vanished illness returning, eyes filling with fear. But Kalen showed no sign of yielding.
Why, why, why.
Why leave me?
You're my bodyguard. Guard me forever, look only at me.
Imagining a life without Kalen made everything vain. She hated picturing a room, mansion, garden, world without him. All meaning stemmed from his presence.
Yet he spoke of parting again. As her head throbbed excruciatingly...
Kalen's calm voice rang in her ears. “There's medicine.”
His usual steady, somewhat curt tone. Comforting, utterly pleasing for that reason.
Meeting her gaze, he rummaged in his bosom and produced a small vial. Transparent and empty.
“Come to think of it, I never mentioned this.”
She barely grasped his words, but strained to hear.
He set the vial aside and removed his upper garment.
—Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart recalled that rhythm naturally. Before her: his blackened chest area, fissures spiderwebbing like cracks. Unchanged.
“I have a long-standing illness, Lady Eliana.”
“...”
“Like yours, nothing's known about it, nor any cure.”
“...”
“At least medicine offers hope of recovery and eases the pain.”
“...”
He held up the empty vial again. “But it's all gone.”
“...”
“To get more, I must return for it. Lady Eliana.”
A disease like hers, pain like hers, lessened suffering, hope. No word failed to pierce her heart. How could she not know? They were once hers, overcome only because Kalen came to her.
Something welled in her throat, choking her. Just a feeling. Eliana gently caressed Kalen's body.
“Is it... because of me...?”
“Yes.”
“...”
Relief flickered briefly. But then displeasure. Acknowledging it meant one less reason to cling to him. Now she'd have to grasp at guilt to keep him. But he hurt. No medicine meant no good. Getting it meant parting. She hated parting. Hated his pain. He'd protected her. Who protected him? She'd do it endlessly if asked. But she lacked the strength to watch him suffer.
Stay together. Or send him. An impossible crossroads.
Her head pounded like it would split. And her choice...
Crunch—something ground between her teeth. Blood trickled from Eliana's lips.
“Cough! Cough!”
Exaggerating her coughs, she wiped her mouth with her palm and checked. Then extended her trembling hand to show Kalen. Pitifully shaking.
“It hurts... Kalen...”
Her jaw and voice quivered. Overloaded beyond endurance, she'd abandoned thought. Choosing to return to when she could rely on him freely.
Would he scold her? Disappoint him? He'd sacrificed for her. Yet she wouldn't let him go despite his pain. How selfish would she seem? Imagining him withdrawing affection nearly stopped her breath. But she'd rather die than release him.
Hah, hah. Breath ragged, tongue aching, thoughts muddled—yet one thing clear.
Swish—Kalen, frozen till now, moved. Eliana flinched reflexively, then watched him slowly.
Kalen was his usual calm self, but with a soft smile. He began wiping her hand and mouth.
It touched something in her. Tremors eased, breath steadied. She was the one acting out, yet he cared for her to the end. Like the prince depicted on her winter island.
Grateful. Fond. She still hated it madly, didn't want to let go. But if just briefly. A short parting. If his medicine meant he could stay with her—
Feeling cloth on her skin, Eliana gave up matching his gaze. Her self-bitten tongue oozed metallic blood, but she ignored it, leaning into him.
Her head shook side to side faintly. “You'll... come back...?”
Her face against his body smeared blood from her lips. Something watery from her eyes. Yet Eliana clung tight, refusing release. Fresh blood from bitten lips mixed with tears, pooling on her chin.
“If Eliana doesn't forget me.”
“...”
With that, Kalen sealed the suspicious deal.