Chapter 152
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 152
The mourners were few. Since the Grand Duchess had yet to regain consciousness, hardly anyone spared a thought for the tiny, blood-stained bundle—a life far too fleeting to even be called a person.
Lucas took another slow sip of wine, his mind a turbulent swirl of emotions.
After the chaos erupted, his brother had remained holed up in his chambers. It was only after the Grand Duchess’s hemorrhaging finally stopped that he emerged to look upon the deceased child.
Lucas, who had rushed over late to assess the situation, shuddered as he recalled the expression Barkas had worn in that moment.
With hollow eyes that seemed drained of all humanity, the man had stared at the small bundle wrapped in swaddling clothes for a long time. It was only after a maid burst into tears, her face pale with terror, that he gave the instructions to bury the child with proper decorum and turned away.
His composure had been chillingly calm, yet it left Lucas with an unsettling shiver.
In the brief moment their eyes met, Lucas had glimpsed a grim shadow on his brother’s face—the kind of shadow one might expect to see on a decapitated corpse.
Looking as though every drop of blood had been siphoned from his body, the lifeless-looking man had retreated back into his chambers and bolted the door. For the past three days, he had silently kept watch over his wife, who remained in critical condition.
There was a mountain of work requiring the Grand Duke’s approval, yet no one dared to knock on that door. No one was heartless enough to shove official documents in the face of a man who had not only lost his firstborn so pointlessly but was now on the verge of losing his wife as well.
However, with the threat of war drawing closer by the hour, they could not simply sit idly by.
If Brother doesn’t come out of that room by tomorrow... I’ll have to force my way in.
Saddled with this grueling responsibility, Lucas let out a heavy sigh and took another swig of the strong liquor. Just then, a clear, ringing voice drifted up from below the castle walls.
"What are you doing up there?"
Lucas turned his head and frowned as he spotted Laina entering through the castle gates, leading a bay stallion.
She had her hood pulled low, likely returning from another secret excursion without her guards. She stopped at the base of the stairs leading to the battlements and looked up at him with a look of utter disdain.
"Don’t you have anything better to do than mope around up there?"
"What about you?" Lucas replied indifferently, wetting his throat with wine. "Where are you coming from, dragging a horse around in this weather?"
"I left because I didn’t want to be inside the castle. I’m sick of seeing the servants walking around with miserable faces as if the world is ending."
Lucas stiffened at his sister’s callous words. He knew Laina harbored hostility toward the Grand Duchess, but he hadn’t expected her to be so cruel regarding such a tragedy.
"The Grand Duchess is bedridden and hasn’t even regained consciousness," Lucas rebuked her. "Can’t you show at least a little sympathy?"
"Did that woman ever show any sympathy for our father or for me? Why should I?"
Hurt by his accusatory tone, Laina’s large, reddish-brown eyes shimmered with a faint hint of moisture. She glared at him, masking her vulnerability with a sharp retort.
"Don’t be a hypocrite, Lucas. Aren’t you the one secretly rejoicing the most that things turned out this way?"
Lucas looked at her, bewildered. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Don’t play dumb. Right now, you’re the sole heir to the Grand Ducal House. And maybe you’ll stay the heir forever." A crooked smile played on his sister’s lips. "With a frail frame like hers, she’s clearly unfit to bear a healthy child. Unless Brother takes a new bride, you or your children will inherit the Sieorkan name one day."
He looked down at his sister as if she were a stranger. She had always been headstrong and willful, but she had never been this cruel. Was their father’s death truly that traumatic for her?
He narrowed his eyes, studying her face intently. It occurred to him that perhaps Laina had been feeling isolated ever since they lost their father and he himself had begun his formal training. The sorrow of being pushed out of the spotlight had curdled into malice.
For a moment, he felt conflicted. Part of him wanted to indulge his sister’s tantrum, but he feared it would only drive her further astray. They were no longer thoughtless children who could be forgiven for every reckless word.
"I have no desire to become the Grand Duke, nor do I have the capability," he said coldly, hoping his sister would come to her senses. "I’m truly disappointed in you, Laina. I don’t particularly like that woman either... but I still feel pity for her. Isn’t that just human nature? I never knew you were such a cold-blooded person."
"I’m the one who’s disappointed, Lucas. I didn’t know you were so stupid," Laina snapped back, her face contorted with spite. "Do you think I’m the only one thinking this? The vassals are whispering behind your back, too. They say if that woman fails to produce an heir in the end, they’ll have no choice but to bring in a new mistress or pin their hopes on you."
Lucas fell silent, lost for words. Laina glared at him mockingly, then jerked the horse’s reins and turned away.
"By the way, Daren was looking for you at the training ground," she called out over her shoulder as an afterthought. "He said the Noble Alliance Council will be meeting soon, and he wants you to represent House Sieorkan in Brother’s stead."
"......"
"You’d better go. It won’t hurt to start making your face known to the council members early on."
With those pointed words, Laina walked leisurely toward the stables.
Lucas watched her retreating figure with a dazed expression. Feeling the rain, which had briefly subsided, begin to pour heavily again, he pulled up his hood.
Looking down through the battlements, his eyes fell upon the graveyard soaked in rain. The maids who had been mourning were already gone. He stared down at the bouquet of pale lilies placed by the tiny grave, then turned away with a bitter sigh. His mouth tasted like ash.
* * *
A dull ache pierced through her hazy consciousness.
Thalia managed to force her eyelids open; they felt as if they had been glued shut. Her vision was blurred, as if she were underwater, but she could faintly make out the room bathed in a bluish light.
For a brief moment, she thought she had been trapped in a long, painful dream. But then, her hand instinctively moved to her belly. Feeling how hollow it was, she realized she was trapped in a nightmare called reality.
"Thalia."
As she blankly stroked her aching stomach, a large hand gently cupped her head. It was only after a long while that she realized someone was quietly holding her from behind.
Thalia turned her head instinctively and blinked slowly as she saw the man she had spent half her life yearning for. She saw those beautiful eyes that had always made her heart ache just by looking at them.
But Thalia couldn’t feel anything. It was as if she were the living dead.
Maybe I really have become a corpse.
"Thalia."
As if to deny her thoughts, a clear voice rang out near her head. It was a strange, strange voice. It sounded like a child who had just learned to speak, repeating the same word over and over.
"...Do you recognize me?"
When she didn’t respond, the man tilted his head to look into her eyes. His ashen hair, which had grown significantly longer over the past few months, tickled her skin.
Thalia stared blankly at his sharp face, which was shrouded in a bleak shadow, before slowly closing her eyes again.
"I’m cold..."
The man didn’t miss her faint, breathy whisper. He immediately wrapped her body tightly in a thick duvet.
Yet, she couldn’t feel even a hint of warmth. It felt as if she were buried under a pile of cold earth.
Thalia wondered why she knew what that felt like. Then, it suddenly occurred to her that she had been buried under stones and earth once before. A strange thought crossed her mind—that perhaps she had been there all along, from then until now.
Was it not so? There was no way that marrying Barkas, becoming his wife, conceiving a child, and losing that child so pointlessly could have happened in reality. She had simply been lost in a hollow delusion while rotting away, trapped beneath the rubble.
Thalia felt a single tear roll down her cheek. Yet, her heart remained eerily still.
It felt as if her mind and body were completely severed. Reality and dreams, past and present, were so tangled that she could no longer think clearly.
As a wave of dizziness washed over her, she closed her eyes tightly. She felt that if she fell asleep this time, she might wake up in that cold pile of earth again.
Perhaps that would be for the best.