Olivia couldn't close her eyes, not even for a fleeting moment. The fires of anger burned deep within her, like embers fanned into flames, simmering beneath the surface. The night stretched endlessly, and only when the dawn began to break did light creep into her room. Her eyes, ringed with dark shadows, told the tale of sleepless hours, weighted not just by exhaustion but by the ceaseless churn of thoughts that refused to quiet.
Kira entered softly, her footsteps light as if not to disturb the fragile silence. In her hands, she carried a basin of water, and with a voice tinged with hesitation, she spoke:
"My lady… it's morning. Please, you must wake."
But the sight before her froze her in place. There sat Olivia, poised on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, already dressed and seemingly ready for the day. It was as if she hadn't touched a bed in days. Her eyes were piercing, alight with a fierce intensity, and her presence exuded an air of unease that made the room feel colder. Her pale, weary face only heightened the sharpness of her aura.
Kira called again, her voice softer, laced with uncertainty: "My lady… My lady?"
Still, there was no response. Gathering her courage, Kira stepped closer, positioning herself directly in Olivia's line of sight. Finally, Olivia stirred, lifting her gaze slowly. Her voice, when it came, was cold and devoid of vitality:
"Ah, Kira, it seems you've arrived. As you can see, I'm already prepared. There's no need for you. You may leave."
Kira steadied herself, masking her concern, and asked gently, "Very well, but what about breakfast? Shall I bring it here for you?"
Olivia waved her hand dismissively, her movements languid and detached.
"No… I'm not hungry."
Despite the clear dismissal, Kira's eyes darted to the cluttered table nearby. Empty bottles of wine were scattered across its surface, silent witnesses to a long night spent drowning in her sorrows.
Summoning her courage, Kira spoke again, her voice low and trembling:
"My lady, forgive my boldness, but… you grow thinner by the day. You haven't eaten in three days. Yesterday, you left without breakfast, and when you returned, you didn't touch any food."
Olivia let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of the world. Kira braced herself for reproach, expecting to be reprimanded for overstepping. But Olivia's response came, devoid of anger, and tinged instead with a chilling indifference:
"I simply have no appetite, Kira. And I've had enough wine to suffice. There's no need for food. You needn't worry about me."
Kira stood there momentarily, watching her mistress, who seemed to be crumbling under the weight of invisible burdens. Olivia, once a formidable presence, now looked like a tower on the verge of collapse, its foundation cracking beneath unseen pressure.
Without another word, Kira lowered her head respectfully and left the room. She left Olivia alone, surrounded by the lingering scent of wine and the oppressive silence of her thoughts.
Shortly after, Kira returned to Olivia, knocking lightly on the door as if she feared stirring a storm.
Olivia lifted her head, her exhaustion palpable, and snapped sharply,
"What is it now?"
Kira hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
"My lady... His Highness, the Crown Prince, is here. He requests to see you."
Olivia's eyes widened in disbelief, and she leapt to her feet as if a volcano had erupted inside her.
"What? He's here? Where is he?"
Kira stepped back, startled by the intensity of her mistress's reaction.
"He's in the guest chamber, Milady."
"And Lady Lila, where is she?"
Kira blinked, confused by the sudden inquiry.
"She's in her room as usual. Why do you ask?"
Olivia didn't answer. Instead, she bolted toward the guest chamber, her heart pounding violently as if fearing she had already delayed too long.
But when she arrived, it was too late. The door was partially ajar, and through the small gap, she could see the scene: Kyle, His Highness the Crown Prince, standing face-to-face with Lila.
She crept closer, hiding in the shadows, hoping to overhear their conversation unnoticed. But luck was not on her side. She stumbled, nearly falling, only to feel a strong hand gripping her waist firmly, preventing her descent.
A familiar voice whispered close to her ear,
"Stay quiet if you want to know what's going on."
It was unmistakably Matthias, his teasing tone as infuriating as ever. Though still simmering with anger toward him, she yielded to his warning, unwilling to risk exposure.
Inside, the air was thick with tension.
Lila stood frozen, staring at Kyle in visible shock. Her voice barely above a whisper:
"K...Kyle? Is it really you?"
His reply came with a pained expression, the words seemingly choking him.
"Yes, it's me."
Before he could say more, Lila rushed to him, throwing her arms around him as if finding refuge after a storm.
"Oh, thank goodness you're safe. I thought something terrible had happened when you didn't return."
Kyle, stunned by her reaction, couldn't bring himself to reciprocate the embrace. Gently, he pushed her back, his confusion evident.
"Lila, I don't understand you. Aren't you angry with me?"
She looked at him, bewildered.
"Why would I be angry?"
"I... I lied to you, can't you see? I'm not just a soldier under Matthias. I'm the Crown Prince of this empire."
A faint, almost sardonic smile graced her lips.
"Do I look that naïve to you?"
His eyes narrowed in confusion.
"What?"
"As I said, naïve. Did you really think I didn't realize you weren't just a soldier? I've known all along. My brother confirmed your true identity last night, but I already suspected you were someone of noble birth. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak, even how you eat... all of it gave you away."
Kyle's face twisted with bewilderment.
"You knew? That I was lying to you? Then why didn't you confront me?"
She shook her head gently, as if speaking to a child struggling to grasp the obvious.
"It wasn't a good enough reason to be angry."
Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders, his voice rising in frustration.
"And what about the baron? Are you not going to hold me accountable for leaving you with him? And the child? How can you be so calm about all this?"
Her gaze hardened, and she replied with unwavering firmness.
"I was the one who asked you to marry me. I'll take responsibility for everything. As for the child, don't worry. I won't tell anyone she's yours. You can rest easy."
Her words only fueled his anger further. His grip on her shoulders tightened, his voice laced with desperation.
"What do you mean you'll take responsibility? She's my daughter too! Why are you making it seem like I have no part in this?"
She looked at him, confusion evident in her expression.
"What are you trying to say?"
"Why won't you blame me? Why won't you hold me accountable for what happened to you? Why? You don't have to bear this burden alone. I'm here with you, Lila."
Her eyes softened, a mix of emotions flickering in their depths. In a quiet voice, she replied,
"Kyle, I was the one who proposed to you..."
But her sentence hung in the air, unfinished, as if the unspoken words between them were too heavy to voice.
Leila froze for a moment, as if she couldn't comprehend the words that had escaped from Kyle's lips. Her heart, which she had long wrapped in a shell of hardness, finally felt the weight of the words she had always yearned to hear.
He looked at her with eyes heavy with regret, his voice trembling as he spoke:
"You are always like this... Why do you have to bear everything alone? You can share the pain with me; I am here. Do you hate me? Don't you see me as your husband? Am I just someone you used to get ahead and then cast aside?"
She shook her head forcefully, but words betrayed her.
"No... it's not like that. Our marriage... our marriage is real."
"Then why this coldness? What will you tell our daughter when she grows up? That I abandoned her? Or what?"
A silence fell between them. Leila couldn't find words to explain what lay inside her, as though she had lost her way in a maze of emotions.