“It’s just a trivial matter, yet I got so worked up about it. I suppose there was no need to bring it up here and ruin the mood.”
“…No, it’s not that. I… I must have made you uncomfortable.”
Although he felt the need to continue speaking, no words would come out of the man’s mouth.
As if he had forgotten all the words in the world, the words that usually came to him with ease now eluded him entirely. He was simply bewildered.
He was confounded by the weight of his own words, trapped by them, and further disoriented by Goyo’s response to all his gestures of goodwill.
Even after recognizing his feelings for Goyo, the only thing Annecy Bethelgius could do was show her kindness.
He had believed that by being kind—just kind—Goyo would feel some measure of happiness. Even if it didn’t lead to true happiness, he thought it might at least spark some fleeting joy. Despite knowing how complicated human emotions could be, he clung to that hope.
In a way, he even felt aggrieved. What kind of life had his wife lived to feel burdened by such small gestures of goodwill, revealing her fragile heart?
A heavy silence fell between them. Goyo was regretting her overly sensitive reaction, while Annecy was at a loss for what to say.
For their own reasons, neither could break the silence. What eventually shattered it was an unfamiliar voice.
“Are you the Primula?”
The voice itself was ordinary, yet it carried a certain airy quality, like a gentle breeze. In contrast to the unique tone, the speaker was a plain-looking middle-aged man.
Perhaps sensing the strange atmosphere between the two, the man seemed slightly hesitant. From the oar he held, Goyo surmised that he was a ferryman.
“Ah, as far as I know, only the Primula is allowed to enter the forest today.”
“Yes, I’m the Primula.”
Annecy was the first to respond to the unfamiliar name. Though it was a name she had never heard before, Goyo guessed it was an alias.
The previously awkward man brightened at the “Primula’s” arrival and introduced himself.
His name was Charon, and he explained that he had been waiting at Lake Illya in Almeroph to take the “Primula” on a boat ride. As suspected, he was a ferryman.
However, the mood was not conducive to a leisurely boat ride. Although it felt rude to cancel after arrangements had been made, Goyo assumed Annecy would decline.
But after a brief pause, Annecy nodded in agreement. Goyo parted her lips to speak but ultimately decided to go along with it.
Lake Illya lay in a fairly secluded spot. Its water, green like the forest surrounding it, was so clear that the forest’s reflection was perfectly mirrored on its surface.
In the middle of the lakeshore floated a small boat. It had no gilded decorations, nor was it adorned with unnecessary jewels.
Its simple and modest appearance immediately told Goyo that this wasn’t Annecy’s personal vessel.
*So he uses a boat like this sometimes. Interesting,* she thought, finding it a little curious.
“I’ll board last, so you two can go ahead. I’ll steady the boat, so don’t worry. Primula and… uh… Primula’s wife? Whatever the proper title is, I’ll give you a hand.”
“Thank you for your consideration, but that won’t be necessary.”
Annecy leaped lightly onto the boat. Despite his large frame, the boat only wobbled slightly, and the ripples on the water’s surface were minimal. Charon marveled at his athleticism.
Once aboard, Annecy extended a hand toward Goyo. Though they had just quarreled, he didn’t hesitate. Feeling a bit obstinate about the lingering awkwardness that seemed to plague her alone, Goyo took his hand and boarded the boat.
“Well then, now I’ll…”
“Charon, if possible, I’d like some private time with my wife. We have matters to discuss, so could you grant us this favor?”
“Eh? That’s a bit difficult. If the boat capsizes or a hole forms…”
Annecy reached into his pocket at the sight of the ferryman’s uneasy expression. He pulled out four gold coins, letting them dangle between his fingers.
Charon’s expression changed instantly.
“We’ll be careful, so please.”
“Hehe, of course. You can even smash the boat to bits if you’d like.”
With a loose smile, Charon handed over two oars. As the ferryman untied the rope from the stake and pushed the boat, it rippled across the water and began to move forward.
Annecy set the oars aside and used the wind to steer the boat toward the center of the lake.
The usual sounds of the forest were now accompanied by the soft splashing of the boat cutting through the water. Goyo quietly counted the white, spreading ripples as they appeared.
When the boat finally reached the middle of Lake Illya, a ripple broke through the heavy silence as well.
Annecy’s already low voice sounded even heavier, damp with moisture.
“Do you want to return, madam?”
“…I don’t think this is the mood for enjoying the journey anymore.”
“Is traveling with me now burdensome as well?”
Startled by his sarcastic tone, Goyo lifted her head. Yet, Annecy’s expression looked more troubled than mocking.
Unable to read his intentions, she stared at him blankly. He exhaled a quiet sigh and erased the trace of discomfort from his face. This rare instance of him not smiling made Goyo tense inwardly.
“Now that I’ve said it, it does sound sarcastic. I tend to speak this way. Please don’t misunderstand.”
“All right.”
“I don’t really understand what others think about. If I must offer an excuse, I suppose it’s because I didn’t meet many people when I was young. The palace the former emperor assigned me to was nearly empty. I think there were about five maids.
My mother was… to put it bluntly, not entirely sound of mind, and the only sibling I got along with seemed decent until he later betrayed me—ah, I’m sorry. He turned on me.”
“You can speak comfortably.”
“Thank you. Now that you know about my birth, there’s nothing left to hide. The sibling I mentioned is the current emperor. Edevin Malatoi Solaris, Malatoi III.”
Her brown eyes trembled faintly. The current emperor, Edevin, though weak, was renowned as a virtuous ruler. Between the deceased first prince and Edevin, it was assumed the traitor must have been Telga. A pointless story now.
“Thinking back, we didn’t truly get along even before the betrayal. Perhaps he realized I had no other peers my age. His attitude was always excessively patronizing, and I, eager not to lose my sole friend, clung to him too much.
It was the same with the maids serving in our palace under the emperor’s orders. A strange working relationship, where they sneered at my mother and me while still bound to serve us.”
“It wasn’t a proper relationship, was it?” Annecy exhaled lightly.
“I never wondered what others thought. During my time with Edevin, I watched their moods excessively, but never again after that.”
“Why… were you betrayed?”
His expressionless face seemed somehow pained, and Goyo unconsciously asked.
Annecy’s expression twisted with a complexity of emotions. Unable to respond, he shifted his gaze here and there before answering in a lifeless voice.
“I’m sorry.”
For him, it was unspeakable. To speak of betrayal meant discussing Rubiette.
How could he tell Goyo that Rubiette had played a role in driving him and his mother into a corner?
Though most of his resentment toward Rubiette had faded, he could imagine all too well how Goyo might interpret the story from an outsider’s perspective.
Anger, hatred, revenge. Emotions long gone from him would inevitably be conjured in her mind.
Annecy Bethelgius did not want Goyo to concern herself with his relationship with Rubiette. Or rather, to be honest, he feared even a slight discomfort on her part.
“I just need a little more time. Just a little.”
Until he was sure she would choose him no matter what emotions remained for Rubiette. Or until the moment came when she truly wouldn’t care about his history with Rubiette in any way.
He needed a little time. Perhaps a long time.
Goyo blinked slowly out of habit, her thoughts unreadable. He wished to know what his wife was thinking, but when Goyo decided to conceal her thoughts, they could not be uncovered without magic.
Annecy swallowed his frustration with a sigh.
“I understand.”
“…Thank you. As a result, I’ve never deeply pondered the thoughts or emotions of others. Especially on the battlefield, I deliberately avoided doing so. Human sensitivity can become the most fatal weapon in war.
While I can rationally deduce what someone might be thinking, I’ve never approached it emotionally. I suspect that’s why my way of speaking turned out like this. Perhaps as a form of self-defense—or maybe as a way of attacking, with sarcasm.”
This isn’t an important matter, though.
“I’ve talked too much. What I mean to say is… I didn’t understand your feelings, and even now, it’s difficult for me to grasp.”
“You don’t need to understand.”
“No, I want to understand.”
The man spoke with some difficulty, his voice heavy. The woman’s lips parted slightly in response to his earnestness.
“I truly do, madam.”
“…I—”
“This isn’t an attempt to force you to explain or to demand anything. I’d simply appreciate it if you could let me know. What doesn’t burden you, what brings you light joy, and what makes you happy.”
Annecy’s lips curved faintly. It wasn’t even half a smile, yet Goyo felt as if he was trying, almost painfully, to smile. This impression, baseless as it seemed, left her with an inexplicable feeling.
With a somewhat forlorn expression, Annecy smiled.
“Goyo, if you tell me, I will be glad.”
Perhaps it was because his expression seemed so genuine, as if it couldn’t possibly be a mask. Or maybe it was because Goyo herself was assigning meaning to his every word and gesture. Or perhaps it was her heart, restless and surging with emotion, that made her waver.
Her eyes stung with the sudden swell of emotion. She narrowed them, almost glaring, as if to suppress the feeling.
“So there’s no need for you to go to such lengths for me.”
“I won’t deny that there were other motives behind marrying you. But throughout my time with you, I have never once lied. I truly hold you in… regard.”
Having already been told his attentions were burdensome, Annecy couldn’t bring himself to utter the word “love.”
Yet even the seemingly lighter sentiment of “regard” stirred a tempest within Goyo’s heart.
“Truly, I wish for you to be happy. And if possible, I’d like that happiness to come from me.”
“Please don’t say things like that. Whether you call it regard or happiness, saying such grand things is meaningless. After all, you…”
“Goyo?”
“After all…”
*After all, you’re going to kill me.*
Goyo bit her lip, unable to voice the thought.
To hold true regard, to wish for her happiness—how could those words come from someone who married her with the intent to kill, who awaited the day to fulfill that purpose?
A surge of anger rose within her. No, it wasn’t anger. Too much time had passed for her to feel insulted or outraged by his kindness. What right did she have to call it deceit when she’d knowingly entered this marriage?
Annecy Bethelgius’s kindness had always been consistent, from the beginning to the end. Goyo hadn’t learned anything new about him during their married life.
The only thing that had changed was Goyo Bethelgius’s own feelings.
Ah, Goyo realized her thoughts until now had all been mistaken.
What would happen if more time passed? What if her feelings deepened for him? What if, against her better judgment, she began to hope? What if she allowed the seed of hope to sprout again?
Those fears shattered into pieces. All of it—her unease, her unresolvable worries—was meaningless.
*I’ve already begun to hope…*
With Terio Alte, she had at least harbored the delusion that happiness was possible. But now? What could she call this? She had known the end, the process, everything from the start, and yet her feelings had grown.
Even if it wasn’t love, her emotions had grown far too much.
So much so that they could no longer be uprooted.
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