Lingering Affection (2)
"It's been a while."
I spoke first. Roselyn averted her gaze, a flicker of awkwardness crossing her face. The garden, far from the ballroom's glow, felt strangely dark. Music drifted from a distance, dissolving into the night air and scattering in faint echoes.
"...Mind if I sit beside you?"
When I shifted over slightly, Roselyn smoothed her skirt and settled next to me. The fabric fluttered, carrying a wave of her signature floral perfume across my nose. It was a familiar scent. Once, I might have found it intoxicatingly sweet. Now it only felt distant.
"If I hadn't seen what you were wearing earlier, I might not have recognized you at all."
"The clothes?"
"Yeah. They've got the family crest on them."
"...Ah. This?"
The Grayan emblem was stitched over my chest. I had half a mind to rip it off in irritation, but left it where it was.
"You've changed quite a bit. It's like you're a completely different person."
"I've been to a place that changes people."
"......The battlefield, you mean. Even so... aren't you awfully thin? It's been some time since you returned, hasn't it?"
"Food doesn't go down easily."
"That's troubling."
"Yeah. It is."
Since I wasn't giving her much to grasp onto, the stress must have gotten to her. Roselyn bit at her nail while she spoke.
"I heard you made quite a name for yourself on the northern front."
"I did all right."
"They say whenever a battle broke out, you cut down dozens by yourself without a single wound. That you never once lost against an enemy commander..."
"Yeah."
"It must be nothing but rumors, right? Or the commoners exaggerating when they wrote the articles... something like that?"
"Roselyn."
"Yes?"
"Does any of that matter?"
"......."
I pulled a cigarette from the case, clamped it between my lips, and lit it. A long stretch of time passed before the flame caught and smoke began to rise, yet Roselyn didn't utter a single word. The ashen smoke drifted slowly upward into the darkness. She simply watched it with an oddly strained expression.
"You've really changed, Richen. If someone told me you were the same person as before... I wouldn't believe them."
Of course I'm not the same. Because I'm not Richen.
"Still... everything I heard sounded so absurd that I thought I should hear it straight from you."
"Why? Want me to imitate those pathetic knights who get drunk and start bragging about their heroic exploits?"
"Your tone has grown rather aggressive. Did you pick that up from rubbing shoulders with the lower ranks on the front?"
"If that's what you want to believe, sure."
"Richen."
"What? Stop acting all dignified and just say what you want to say."
"......Your attitude has been off since the beginning, hasn't it?"
"Should I speak more politely then, Miss Avenberg?"
"......Ha. Call me Roselyn like you used to."
"We broke off our engagement. I can't do that."
"That was...!"
I kept spitting out answers, but all I wanted was to run. My chest was pounding. Not the flutter of love, but the restless thump that comes when you face something repulsive, something deeply uncomfortable.
There must still be some affection left. Richen would have felt it for Roselyn, and she for him. They saw each other often, and even after their childhood betrothal they'd gotten along well enough. But in front of Roselyn, Richen had always been a failure. Without the Grayan name, he was nothing. And Roselyn had never denied it. She never said the words outright, but she never refuted that Richen was the trash of the Grayan family. They weren't lovers who cherished each other. They were simply engaged for the sake of their houses' prosperity.
So there could never have been love between us. A trace of affection, perhaps, but nothing more. Richen had lived in a world where that was enough. Just as I'd told Lione, in a world where no one would ever give anyone proper love.
"I never thought you'd come back alive. I was certain you would die...!"
Roselyn sighed mid-sentence, then continued in a soothing tone.
"You know it too, Richen. What kind of man you were."
She offered a small smile and went on slowly.
"You understand it couldn't be helped because of the family, don't you? Everyone knew you couldn't even join a mediocre knight order after the academy. A war hero? Don't make me laugh."
She said it so lightly, as if it were nothing. Words that would have cut the old Richen to the bone.
"The commoners probably just wanted to borrow the Grayan name during the war and slipped in a line or two. Somehow it snowballed into a rumor."
Yes, she was exactly that kind of woman. The kind who looked down on Richen yet permitted him to remain at her side. Because he was a Grayan. That was why, when the engagement was broken, it had seemed only natural. A Grayan who would soon die was useless.
My former fiancée kept her head bowed, as if looking at my face was difficult, and continued in a murmur.
"Still... this might turn out to be helpful!"
"Roselyn."
"I don't care about any of that, and I've always thought of you as Richen even when you looked so pathetic."
"Roselyn."
"I'm the only one who can love you. I'm the only one who would have cried when you died. Even though you've come back alive, you have no one but me..."
"......Roselyn."
When I let out a sigh, she finally raised her head.
"Ah, yes. Sorry... I only talked about myself, didn't I?"
"So what exactly do you want to say?"
"Let's pretend the broken engagement never happened!"
What the hell was she saying at this point? My insides burned. I drew in the smoke deeply. If I kept listening, I was going to start shouting.
"So... if you say it never happened, does that make it so?"
"Why not? You like me too. And is there anyone better than me as a marriage prospect?"
"Don't talk nonsense."
"......Why?"
"Because I'll be thrown out of the family. Without being a Grayan, you're useless too."
"...That doesn't matter. Whether you leave the mansion or not, you're still a Grayan."
"This isn't your first time in high society. Can't you read between the lines like any other person?"
"......Are you talking to me right now?"
"Then who else is here?"
Maybe I should thank all the deaths I'd gone through. If I hadn't died so many times, I'd still be fumbling and stuttering in front of her. Death had dulled a lot of things. And yet... the way my heart still pounded in front of this woman... to Richen, she must have been as terrifying as dying itself.
Standing next to her made me feel pathetic. I always became something worthless. And because she never denied it. In those moments, it felt like my very humanity was being rejected. The idea that I had become nothing more than a stud horse to continue the bloodline filled my head.
Rather than meeting someone, falling in love, having children to carry on the line... I just wanted to be free.
"Roselyn. I don't want to be with you."
"......."
"I don't want to marry a woman like you. That's what I'm saying. Are you deaf?"
The moment she heard it, Roselyn shot to her feet. She approached slowly, eyes locked on mine. She didn't look away. As if she truly couldn't comprehend.
"......Why?"
"Because sharing a bed with you feels like I'd have to leave a child behind without a single loving word, and every morning would be hell."
Her arms trembled. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again, biting her lip.
"You would have ended up with another man if I'd died anyway. Just think of me as dead and go be with someone else."
I expected her to get angry or leave after that. But her reaction was different.
"So what I'm asking is why you're pushing me away. Did you think I'd get hurt by those words and back down?"
Roselyn was now standing right in front of me.
"What?"
"Tell me, Richen. Is there another woman? There must have been women on the front lines... Did you even father a child?"
"......."
"No, it doesn't matter. Let's be together. I won't see any other men. Stop playing hard to get."
She reached out, plucked the cigarette from my lips, and slowly pulled it away.
"For someone like you, isn't a woman like me enough? I'll be a devoted wife, and I won't raise our child according to that idiotic Grayan family tradition. So let's pretend the broken engagement never happened."
She stared at the burning tip of the cigarette, refusing to meet my eyes as she continued.
"Or have you truly come to hate me?"
"You really need an answer?"
Roselyn took the cigarette she'd taken from me, placed it between her own lips, and inhaled.
"If you kept living exactly as I wanted, as I desired... I could have given you an appropriate amount of love. Why did you suddenly change?"
"......."
"Hey, Richen. Why are you trying to slip out of my hand? Wasn't it comfortable being by my side?"
Roselyn coughed lightly as she exhaled the smoke and looked up at me. Only her right eye was trembling. No matter how she turned it over in her mind, she clearly couldn't understand what was happening.
"Don't go."
So I rose from my seat. There was no point staying here and dragging this out.
"...Don't go."
Even as she spoke, Roselyn didn't follow me. She never would.
"......Please don't go."
Of course she believed I'd turn around if she said that. Richen would have obeyed. Because he was a fucking dog. A pathetic mutt that barked whenever its owner commanded. The piece of shit dog this world had thrown me to. At least I wasn't that kind of fucking dog. I'd rather die than live like that.