The End of Your Arrogance - Chapter 30.1

“Madam,” Rene’s voice cut through Evelyn’s thoughts, jolting her back to the present. “How can we know whether it’s the Black Forest rejoicing or just insignificant humans?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

“The Black Forest is indeed rejoicing,” Rene declared, her tone now imbued with a strange power that seemed to ease Evelyn’s pain, causing tears to stream down her cheeks.

“Is that so…?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Absolutely,” Rene replied confidently. “Don’t others say the same?”

Liv’s birth had been a harbinger of despair. His arrival had been met with whispers of doom and gloom, and Evelyn had been powerless to change it. The child was sickly from the start, unable to eat or sleep, his tiny body wracked with fever. His eyes were a grotesque sight, their blood vessels bursting and bulging. Even the maids recoiled in horror at the sight of him scratching and crying out in pain.

“My niece will become a great swordswoman. That’s why he’s in such pain, the late duke had told me. It’s just comforting words, but it still made me happy,” Evelyn said. She bit her lip to stave off the tears that threatened to spill over, and Nazz and Rene looked at her with pity.

“I’m babbling,” Evelyn said, her words trailing off.

But her words were cut short by a cold voice that seemed to come from the depths of the forest itself.

“My brother can be quite affectionate.”

Evelyn turned to see Ilya standing in the doorway, his face impassive as ever.

Evelyn’s heart leaped as she saw the tall, dark figure standing at the door. “Your Highness, you’re here?” she said, her eyes lighting up with a warm smile. But as she gazed into his face, she could feel his chill emanating like an icy breeze. He stood still, his hand firmly gripping the door handle.

Suddenly, he turned around and Evelyn found herself standing up without realizing it. “Rene, I’m going to go now,” he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Rene watched the two people disappear, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

Desperate to connect with him, Evelyn called out, “Your Highness! Wait a moment!” But his response was as cold as before. “Don’t follow me.”

Evelyn almost ran to keep up with him. Though he didn’t look back, she noticed that he slowed down a bit. When she caught up to him, she reached out her arm, but before her hand could touch him, Ilya swatted it away, causing her to wince in pain as she clutched her hand.

Ilya slowly turned around to face her, his eyes glaring. “I told you not to follow me,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I thought you might have misunderstood,” Evelyn said, her voice shaking slightly.

“What’s there to misunderstand? Just go back,” Ilya said, turning around and quickly walking away.

Evelyn watched his back in silence, her heart aching with the pain of rejection.

Arthur watched with concern as Evelyn tried to put on a brave face. “Are you okay, milady?” he asked tentatively, his eyes scanning her for any signs of distress.

“I’m fine. It’s not the first time His Highness has acted that way,” Evelyn replied, trying to sound strong. She didn’t want to burden the young knight with her problems.

Feeling suffocated by the tension, Evelyn’s gaze wandered aimlessly until she spotted a towering structure adjacent to the mausoleum. “The Tower of Penance,” she whispered to Arthur, her voice entranced by the structure’s imposing presence. “Can’t we just go inside for a moment?”

“But the eagle said there were ghosts inside,” Arthur protested, his eyes darting around nervously.

Evelyn’s face fell, and she looked down, feeling the weight of disappointment. Arthur hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes and shouting, “Let’s go! There’s no one guarding it anyway.”

Evelyn’s spirits lifted, and she grinned as if she had never been depressed.

* * *

Ilya slumped back into the sofa in his study, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over him. “Nasir, Nasir, Nasir! Damn it, if you’re dead, at least have the decency to disappear!” he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

He grabbed a glass on the table and hurled it across the room, shattering it with a sharp crash. The sound echoed through the otherwise silent study, a stark reminder of his anger and desperation.

Familiar self-loathing crept up on him, the feeling that he was cursed, just like the child who bore his likeness. “You will become a great swordmaster. That’s why you’re in so much pain,” he heard Nasir’s voice, the boy who had once spoken those words to him with a face that looked like he might drop dead at any moment.

“How did I feel then? Did I find solace in his words, knowing he was the only one who believed in me?” he wondered, but the memories were lost in the fog of time.

Instead, he recalled a memory long ago during his fight in Tartar, of a young woman with bright green eyes and a smile as fresh as spring. It was his wife, Evelyn Maduse, who had blushed brightly at the sight of Nasir’s handsome face.