It's Too Late for Regrets - Chapter 6.6

“No matter what happens, give birth to the child….”

 

If he had known back then that the child would bring her even closer to death, he would never have said something like that.

 

“No, Ines.”

 

How did she take those words?

 

Did she take it to mean, you must give birth to an heir, even if it kills you?

 

Rayan slowly reached for Ines’s thin arm and gently removed it from his chest.

 

As he caressed her peacefully sleeping face, his voice came out crushed and desperate.

 

“No… that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean I didn’t care if you died…”

 

But she gave him nothing in return—nothing but suffocating silence. The terrible emptiness was filled only with the sound of his own ragged breathing.

 

Realization came slowly.

 

He would never hear her voice again. No resentment, no anger, not even resignation.

 

His hand, which had been gripping her narrow shoulder tightly, lost all its strength.

 

With nothing left to support her, her cold body collapsed weakly into his arms. Rayan buried his face in her neck, now void of warmth.

 

Even if there is a next life, let’s never meet again.

 

That was the last thing she left him with—cutting short even the little life she had left. The meaning behind it was clear.

 

“Again…”

 

She ran away again.

 

Just like that autumn six and a half years ago—she had succeeded in escaping from him once more.

 

But Rayan was not the kind of man who would let Ines run away like this, nor one who could accept it quietly. His shallow breathing began to slow.

 

Finally, a flat voice fell quietly from his lips.

 

“Get out.”

 

The knight, sensing something was seriously wrong with his lord, hesitated and called out.

 

“Y-Your Highness…”

 

“Everyone out. Now.”

 

“…As you command. Please step outside.”

 

Several knights rushed into the bedroom and pulled out the sobbing Berry, the doctor, and Robert.

 

Even as Robert was pushed out, he glared sharply at Rayan.

 

“You’ll regret this for the rest of your life. And you’ll never… be forgiven by that child…”

 

The old man’s shouting faded down the hall.

 

Rayan didn’t look back at the door.

 

 

Outside the door, crouching in the shadow of a marble statue, the child had heard everything.

 

He hadn’t understood more than half of it, but instinct told him something terrifying had happened.

 

Only after the knights and the others disappeared down the stairs did Caesar move.

 

He carefully approached the door to his father’s bedroom—a place he had never entered before.

 

It looked like his mother had gone in there.

 

After all, the servants had carried her into that room, and then his father had followed.

 

He’d only caught a glimpse, but his mother looked like she was asleep.

 

Her lips were a little redder than usual, but with her eyes closed, she looked just like she did when he saw her sleeping in the early mornings.

 

Still, something felt off.

 

Unlike him—who always needed a few hours of nap time—his mother never took naps.

 

Standing in front of the door, Caesar whispered softly.

 

“Mom…?”

 

Through the narrow gap in the door, he saw only the side profile of his father—someone he had only dared to glance at from afar.

 

His father, who never lowered himself for anyone, was sitting on the bare floor, leaning against the bed.

 

His silver hair, which Caesar had always wanted to touch, sparkled even in the dark room.

 

Caesar’s eyes lingered on that hair for a moment before shifting his gaze. He could just barely make out someone lying on the bed.

 

Because of the canopy, he couldn’t see clearly, but the small frame and messy black hair told him it was his mother.

 

Caesar grabbed the door with his tiny hand and slowly pushed it open.

 

Creeeeak. A chilling sound.

 

Caesar called out again, gently.

 

“Mooom…?”

 

But he couldn’t step inside the room.

 

Even though it was still before sunset, the room was dark like midnight, filled with thick, black fog. The kind of darkness even he knew the name of wrapped around his green eyes.

 

Fear, fear, fear.

 

Despair. Despair. Despair.

 

No one inside was breathing.

 

A huge shadow covered the bed with the canopy drawn, rippling fiercely as if to swallow the man sitting underneath it.

 

The man, with one knee raised and his arms draped over it, slowly lifted his head.

 

His expression was unlike the father Caesar remembered.

 

His sharp profile was still beautiful, but his half-lidded eyes were unfocused.

 

Caesar followed his father’s gaze, wondering what he was looking at—but there was nothing there, only deep darkness.

 

Caesar’s clear green eyes blinked in confusion.

 

“Uh…”

 

A strange sense of dread began to tap at the boy’s fragile mind.

 

Caesar was too young to understand what death meant. Ines had never taught him such things.

 

About darkness, death, and shadows—things that had always stayed near her.

 

And so, for Caesar, the word “death” was forever etched into his memory through this moment.

 

The dark room. The bed with the canopy. His father sitting underneath it with his head tilted back and eyes closed.

 

The man, who had been facing away, slowly turned his head. His green eyes, once cold and noble, were now dark enough to be frightening.

 

Just before their eyes could meet—

 

“…!”

 

Suddenly, someone grabbed Caesar’s shoulder and pulled him back. The boy vanished into the darkness in an instant.

 

Without surprise, Caesar wrapped his arms around the neck of the one who had lifted him.

 

“Kian.”

 

He was a tall man with a well-built body.

 

His pale cheeks had a bluish tinge, and his long black hair flowed down to his chest. His eyes, glistening under dark lashes, were as black as obsidian.

 

The black fog that always surrounded him had completely lifted. What remained was a darkness shaped perfectly like a man.

 

Holding Caesar, Kian turned away from the room where Ines had taken her last breath.

 

Caesar, his face buried against Kian’s chest, asked with a trembling voice.

 

“Kian. Where’s Mom?”

 

“She’ll come back one day. If you want her to.”

 

“If I want her to…?”

 

“Yes. So don’t worry now. Let’s go upstairs and sleep.”

 

…Okay.

 

Just before stepping into the shadowed hallway, Kian glanced back over his shoulder.

 

His red lips curved into a faint smile.

 

His lips parted, and he spoke one last farewell to the master he had served his whole life.

 

“Sweet dreams, Ines.”

 

And with that, their figures melted into the shadows.

 

 

It took only one day for the news of the Grand Duchess’s death to spread across the entire duchy.

 

But her funeral preparations didn’t begin until nearly three weeks later—only after news of her death had reached not just the capital of Lezan but the entire empire.

 

There was only one reason the funeral was delayed so long.

 

The Grand Duke refused to let anyone enter the bedroom where his deceased wife lay.

 

For three weeks, he never stepped outside the room draped in the shadow of death.

 

Kyra and Alveron, unable to bear it any longer, had braced themselves and opened the door several times.

 

Each time, they found their master standing by the window, staring wordlessly at the bed with the canopy fully drawn.

 

Kyra tried speaking to him, but Rayan didn’t respond—not even a word. As if he couldn’t even hear her.

 

They had no choice but to bring in food, though he hardly touched it. At most, he would sip some water.

 

That was how the first week passed.

 

Then, on the first day of the new week, the bell calling for attendants rang from his bedroom.

 

The attendants, Alveron, and Kyra rushed in, only to hear the Grand Duke’s emotionless voice issue an order.

 

“Bring the pending documents about the development of the western wilderness road connecting to Jenaire.”

 

“Th-The documents…?”

 

“And the report from the spy planted in the Torgen barbarian region.”

 

At that moment, even Kyra wondered if her nephew had truly lost his mind.

 

To carry on business as usual in a room where a corpse lay… Was he sane?

 

But Rayan Eleanor was not the kind of man to joke.

 

Without stepping even once outside the room, he began reviewing the documents Alveron brought him.

 

“Bring all the ledgers recorded since my father’s death, the military supply routes during the war, and the development reports for the western road.”

 

Though his cheeks were hollow, his clothes were as neat as always, and his face wore the same expression—as if a thin layer of transparent ice covered it.

 

His voice was sharp, and his commands were clear.

 

The only difference was that the gleam in his green eyes grew more intense by the day.

 

Soon, the Grand Duke’s room was piled high with dozens of ledgers and thousands of pages so dense with writing they made one dizzy just to look at them.

 

What on earth is Rayan thinking…?

 

Today again, Kyra bit her lip nervously as she left the room, her nephew not sparing her even a glance.