“I can’t speak of it—that’s why.”
She did not fear death. She knew full well that Annecy would kill her. Even so, she endured the surging emotions, refrained from voicing the contradictions of Annecy Bethelgius, only because she did not want to hasten that moment.
The moment Annecy Bethelgius would kill Goyo Rubiette.
“Goyo? You look unwell.”
“…You said you wished for my happiness.”
Goyo’s face turned pale. Without realizing it, she clenched her fists and silently stared at the man who had approached her.
His furrowed brows, slightly parted lips, and a face twisted with concern and worry appeared strangely sincere.
Yes, it had always been that way.
Even before he insisted he wasn’t lying, every action of Annecy Bethelgius seemed genuine.
A perfect charade, a flawless mask. Knowing the truth was both fortunate and astonishing.
For that reason, she observed his kindness from a step back, as if watching a play.
She didn’t want to hope. She forced herself to believe that all his actions were mere performance, no matter how genuine they appeared.
Her reason likely spoke the truth.
Annecy Bethelgius was a cold, dangerous man. The notion that he married her out of manipulation only to fall in love was absurd.
After all, a play captures the audience’s love because its sweetness is unattainable in reality. No matter how sweet the imagination, reality remains outside the mind.
But.
“My apologies, Madam. I did not mean to hurt you. If you do not wish to, you don’t have to say anything. Not a single thing, nothing at all…”
‘I don’t want to hope. I really don’t.’
Even if the end would not change, even if every part of the process was a lie, if she died without ever knowing his true intentions—if she realized only at the moment of her death when his mask fell away, enduring the betrayal for just that brief instant—
Would it be so bad to believe, just a little?
Would it be alright to think, even whimsically, that he might have a sliver of sincerity?
Just a little, just a tiny bit.
“That your kindness is genuine, that you want to make me happy.”
“…That’s what I said.”
When she thought about it, wasn’t it arrogance to assume she knew all about Annecy Bethelgius?
What she truly knew were only a few details of his background and some of his actions. The words they exchanged in person were scarce, and all she could recall were fleeting moments of his mockery.
Perhaps he wasn’t as cold and dangerous as she had imagined.
The emotion—whether a sprout, a bloom, or fruit about to wither—blurred her vision.
Goyo realized once more how frail a human she was.
‘I know.’
In the end, he would make the same choice. But maybe—just maybe—he might feel a little sadness.
When he conducted her funeral, when he placed flowers atop her casket at the ceremony, he might feel a pang of regret.
He might fleetingly think that it would have been better if they had met under different circumstances, in another kind of relationship.
Perhaps not everything she saw of Annecy’s actions was a lie. Maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of it was real.
What Goyo had been most wary of all along was the hope that she could be happy.
So if she didn’t desire happiness, if she allowed herself only a small sliver of expectation, perhaps that much would be alright.
Goyo pressed her lips tightly together, despising the pitiful rationalization that felt so wretched.
But what could she do? No matter how pathetic, no matter how shabby, she wanted even a little solace, even in this way.
“…Do as you please.”
The face that had been drained of color became blank. And that blank expression soon turned into a radiant smile.
Even though he was a man who resembled the night, his smile was dazzlingly radiant—enough to bring out a trace of mischief within her, a side she didn’t even know she had.
“But won’t you at least tell me what feels burdensome? Guess what kind of mood I might be in.”
“Pardon…?”
“You said you lacked socialization skills. Take this chance to practice.”
A strong gust of wind blew toward the flustered man. The force was so great that Annecy had to brace himself against the rear of the boat as his upper body tilted.
The small boat leaned sharply, on the verge of capsizing. Annecy, realizing this too late, withdrew his hand. But the fierce wind only subsided after pushing his upper body into the water.
On the contrary, not a single drop splashed toward Goyo. Amid the chaos, she didn’t even notice how unnatural the wind was and hastily called for Wartin.
However, before the water-colored whale could act, Annecy, now drenched, emerged from the water, gasping for breath.
“Are you alright, Annecy?”
As she saw him climb back onto the boat, Goyo approached him. His expression was bewildered, but fortunately, he didn’t seem to be hurt.
He swept back his wet hair with his hand and replied, “Yes, just a little startled, Madam. Though… my clothes are completely soaked.”
Hovering close in concern, Goyo finally noticed how Annecy’s wet clothes clung to his body.
While his pants weren’t an issue, his white shirt revealed the contours of his upper body in vivid detail.
From his long, straight neck down to his broad shoulders that dropped at sharp angles, his sturdy chest contrasted sharply with his narrow waist.
Flustered, Goyo hastily lowered her gaze, but no matter where she looked, everything felt strangely awkward.
It wasn’t until her eyes had inadvertently scanned his entire body that she realized she could simply turn her head away.
Her rounded ears, peeking through strands of wind-tousled hair, turned crimson, as if aflame.
“Goyo?”
“Yes, yes!”
Startled by his call, Goyo instinctively leaned back, her hands braced behind her. The boat rocked violently as if about to sink, prompting Annecy to catch her by the waist and pull her toward the center of the boat. The boat steadied, and his eyes curved into a gentle smile.
“Be careful, Madam.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Even as she expressed her gratitude, Goyo struggled to find a place for her gaze and fixed it awkwardly on the bottom of the boat.
Though she managed to keep her expression composed, her hands hung stiffly in midair, frozen in place. The teasing glint in Annecy’s narrowed eyes grew.
‘You told me not to feel burdened, but how could I not?’
Hmm… this was undoubtedly burdensome. His parted lips closed silently.
While Annecy reflected, silently chastising himself, Wartin, who had failed to act earlier, busied itself with another task.
Sensing its owner’s desire to leave the boat, it began energetically pushing the vessel toward the shore.
Lost in their respective thoughts, neither Annecy nor Goyo realized the boat was moving until it bumped against the ground. Only then did they notice they had arrived.
Goyo’s face lit up in an instant.
Finding Wartin adorable as it wagged its tail as if asking for praise, Goyo kissed the sleek forehead of the whale. The water-colored creature, seemingly pleased, rubbed its cheek against hers before retreating.
“Well then…”
“Oh! You’re already aboard, I see!”
A new voice, unfamiliar, made both of them turn their heads. The person who interrupted looked similar to Charon in attire and age but was unmistakably someone else.
“Looks like I’m a bit late. Judging by the splash, someone took a dip. My apologies for that, ha-ha!”
“Excuse me, but who are you?”
“Ah, I’m Lanier, the ferryman. The best ferryman of Lake Illya! Though, to be fair, I’m the only ferryman on this lake.”
Was he joking? Even as they studied his face, Lanier’s expression betrayed no hint of deceit.
“Lanier… the only one? But I saw another ferryman earlier.”
“What? That can’t be right. The last time there was another ferryman here was seven months ago because the pay is terrible.”
“The name was Charon.”
“Ha-ha, what a joke. Charon is the gatekeeper of the underworld river in legend.”
Frowning slightly at the baffling situation, Goyo suddenly sensed a presence above her.
She looked up and locked eyes with someone through the thick branches. A strikingly beautiful face. The moment their eyes met, the figure smiled faintly before disappearing through the gaps in the trees.
“Just now…”
Was she really seeing ghosts? Annecy, noticing her pale face, moved closer and laughed softly.
“It was an elf.”
“What? An elf?”
“Yes. Their energy feels quite similar to Exer’s.”
“Exer is part elf?”
“Seems he didn’t tell you. His grandfather was an elf.”
Blinking slowly, Goyo searched her mind. She recalled his youthful appearance and clear green eyes.
She had known Exer was of mixed heritage, but learning that his lineage included elves gave her an odd feeling.
“You’ve been saying some strange things for a while now…” Lanier interrupted, causing Goyo to halt her thoughts.
“Elves? Around here, they’re treated as folklore. I’ve lived in this area for years, and I’ve never seen anything but humans. You must have seen something else. Perhaps… a ghost?”
“If you’ve never seen other species, then it wasn’t a ghost either.”
“Hmm… Now that you mention it, that does seem unlikely. A ghost… Is it another species?”
The ferryman tilted his head in thought, then shook it vigorously.
“Anyway, you must have been mistaken. Elves wouldn’t just show themselves like that, ha-ha.”
“Well, I feel a similar energy nearby, just as I did earlier.”
“What…?”
“They say elves don’t lie, but they are certainly adept at twisting words. Saying Charon is the name of the underworld’s gatekeeper, calling elves mere folklore in this area, and claiming you’ve never seen any non-human species—all while carefully avoiding a clear answer. Judging by your certainty in your story, it’s clear that the elf wasn’t one of the ferrymen.”
Annecy’s pointed observations made Goyo narrow her eyes slightly. His nonchalant demeanor had hidden the fact that Lanier had been deliberately deceptive.
Lanier, feigning innocence, continued to wear an overly naïve expression, but his cheeks began to twitch.
“Could you answer with a simple yes or no? Was there an elf named Charon here just a moment ago, Lanier?”
“Uh…”
“Silence is often taken as agreement. Should I assume it’s a yes?”
“Ugh… how tragic. I’ve never been caught before.”
“So, you really are an elf?”
“That’s correct, Madam.”
Lanier sighed, smiling as if resigned, and snapped his fingers. His round, human-like ears grew long and pointed, his dull brown hair turned to a shining platinum, and his previously unremarkable appearance transformed dramatically.
Or so it seemed—except…
‘His face hasn’t changed much.’
“Sadly, the belief that elves are all beautiful is just a stereotype. It’s a form of racial prejudice, really.”
Though Goyo had only thought the words, Lanier noticed like a ghost and lamented.
“My apologies. That’s not what I meant. I was just thinking about the person I saw earlier…”
“You mean Charon. That one’s full of confidence in their looks and loves being noticed. They’re always popping up unexpectedly in front of visitors. They’ve created every elf legend in this region.”
“Oh… that must be exhausting.”
For some reason, Goyo felt she could understand. Nodding in agreement with Lanier’s explanation, her gaze drifted toward Annecy.
The man met her eyes without hesitation and smiled faintly. From that smile alone, Goyo felt as though she could hear him saying, “Thank you for the compliment, Madam.”
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