It's Too Late for Regrets - Chapter 6.7

He still appeared perfectly composed, but it was clear something wasn’t right.

 

Every time his eyes flicked toward the bed with the drawn canopy, he looked anxious and irritable, like someone desperately waiting for something.

 

Then, as if trying to brainwash himself, he would force himself back to work—almost as though he was trying with all his might to escape reality.

 

Only one person seemed to sense what was going on inside him—his direct bodyguard, Rayan’s closest subordinate.

 

He was the same knight who had followed Rayan all the way to the Kingdom of Apael, back when Rayan went to visit the woman who would later become his wife, before they were married.

 

Standing guard in front of the Grand Duke’s bedroom with another subordinate, the knight muttered gloomily.

 

“Looks like he’s planning to wait.”

 

“Wait for what?”

 

“For Her Grace to come back.”

 

“Come on, how can a dead person return? You really think His Grace doesn’t know that? If that body starts to rot, what’s he planning to do then…?”

 

The knight trailed off, lost in thought, remembering six years ago.

 

In Hailan, a coastal city in the eastern region of Apael, the Grand Duke had given the woman ten days and let her go. The knight assumed his master would immediately return to the capital to handle royal affairs.

 

But he was wrong.

 

During those ten days, his master either followed the woman secretly to check on her condition or didn’t move from the inn at all.

 

Because he didn’t know when she might come back. And he had to be there when she did.

 

Back then, the knight thought it was part of a careful plan—to catch the prey as it walked into the trap.

 

But looking back now, it had been too obsessive to be just a game.

 

Even after the promised ten days passed, Rayan stayed another five days at that inn, not moving a step.

 

His expression, sharper and more sensitive than ever, seemed almost nervous. At the time, the knight brushed it off, thinking it couldn’t be.

 

And the moment he finally had the woman, the tension around him visibly faded.

 

The only difference between then and now was this—

 

The woman he had longed for, using every means possible to make her his, would never return again.

 

She had crossed a river even divine blessings couldn’t reverse.

 

So the waiting was in vain. Even five more days later, and by the fifteenth day that Rayan locked himself in that room, the canopy had still not been drawn back.

 

Still, he kept waiting.

 

Even with her body lying in the Grand Duke’s bedroom, there was no smell of decay. The room was still filled with the faint scent the woman used to wear.

 

About a week later, everyone in the mansion finally understood: the master had no intention of accepting his wife’s death.

 

Was it that he didn’t want to believe? Or did he truly believe she would come back? It wasn’t clear.

 

And then, another week passed.

 

One day, the front gates of the mansion flew open as if they were being broken down.

 

 

A white horse galloped powerfully through the gate, the rider’s blond hair glinting coldly under the late summer sun.

 

“Your Highness the Crown Prince—why are you here so suddenly…?”

 

Kyra couldn’t hide his shock at the prince’s sudden, unannounced visit.

 

He was accompanied by only one guard. He had ridden across the wide plains for days with just one knight.

 

Without even greeting Kyra, Edgar jumped off the horse and barked harshly.

 

“Where is it?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Ines’s coffin. Where is it? I haven’t heard of a funeral being held.”

 

“Well… that’s… hard to explain…”

 

Kyra couldn’t finish the sentence.

 

How could he say that Rayan had kept the dead body in his arms for a whole month?

 

“I’ll see for myself.”

 

Edgar brushed past Kyra and ran straight up to the Grand Duke’s bedroom.

 

As soon as he threw the doors open, he saw his cousin standing by the window, staring at something outside. The bed canopy was still drawn.

 

“…Ha.”

 

Edgar let out a low, bitter laugh and strode in, grabbing Rayan by the collar.

 

“Have you gone mad, brother?”

 

His soft brown eyes, usually calm and warm, now surged with rage and grief. Edgar gritted his teeth.

 

“For nearly a month… what are you doing with her?”

 

“…”

 

“Haven’t you sinned against her enough while she was alive? Is that not enough? Now you won’t even let her rest in peace?”

 

Every word he spat was laced with knives.

 

The moment Edgar heard the news in the capital, he rode here alone, ignoring everyone who tried to stop him.

 

Three years ago, just after he left Eleanor, he had heard Ines was pregnant.

 

She had never sent him a letter. At the time, he had been relieved.

 

Because if she had reached out for help, desperate enough to turn to him, he might have ended up turning against Eleanor itself.

 

But she didn’t ask for help. Instead, he only heard scattered rumors from gossiping nobles that she had given birth safely and was living quietly in the mansion.

 

He had seen Rayan a few times afterward in the capital.

 

Rayan never brought his wife and child to imperial events.

 

But he never dodged questions either.

 

<They say the Grand Duchess is stunningly beautiful. Won’t you bring her to the capital at least once?>

 

<My wife is in poor health. The child isn’t strong enough yet for such a journey, and I find this kind of attention rather… unpleasant.>

 

It wasn’t that he was trying to protect them from gossip. It felt more like he just couldn’t stand other men showing even the slightest interest in his wife.

 

Rayan’s obsession with Ines had never burned out.

 

So Edgar thought, at the very least, that she would be happy in his care.

 

But it had all been a lie.

 

Edgar clenched his teeth.

 

“Do you know why I left this place without a word back then?”

 

“…”

 

“If I had known she would die such a miserable death, I would never have sent her to you.”

 

“I told you… she was gentle and lovely. I begged you to be kind to her, even in the end. But you still let her die—why?!”

 

His hands, still gripping Rayan’s collar, trembled violently with rage. His eyes shimmered with tears.

 

He had never imagined, when he first saw Ines in the palace of Jenaire long ago, that not learning her name would become such a lifelong regret.

 

Ever since they reunited, every day had been filled with regret.

 

He should never have left her on that balcony. He should have brought her out, no matter what.

 

He should have gone to Eleanor, even once. Should have taken her far from this man.

 

Edgar let go of Rayan’s collar like he was discarding trash. His voice shook uncontrollably.

 

“You shamed her enough in life. Isn’t it time to stop? You drove her to death… and still, you only think of her as your possession—”

 

“…Possession.”

 

Rayan, who had silently endured Edgar’s words without a single protest, suddenly let out a cold laugh.

 

It started as a hollow breath but grew sharp and loud.

 

Rayan roughly brushed back his disheveled silver hair and covered his eyes with a hand.

 

When he opened them again, his green eyes gleamed threateningly through his calloused fingers.

 

“Possession…”

 

Had Ines ever truly belonged to him, even once?

 

From the moment he first saw the nineteen-year-old girl to the moment she died at twenty-six, he had been obsessed with keeping her near.

 

That only proved he had never truly had her.

 

She was never his—that’s why he was always so desperate, so frantic to keep her.

 

He had torn off her wings, locked her in a cage, and still wasn’t satisfied. So he broke her completely.

 

And even then, Rayan never had Ines. She always slipped through his grasp.

 

In the end, even through death.

 

Rayan pushed Edgar’s shoulder aside and muttered,

 

“…I know.”

 

“What do you mean you know?!”

 

“I said I already know she’s dead. Even without your righteous scolding, I know.”

 

He had realized it—painfully, thoroughly. For three weeks, he had lived in a personal hell.

 

Rayan stared at the bed all day long, waiting.

 

Waiting for her to come out from behind that cursed canopy before he had to lift it himself. Or, to vanish entirely by some means he would never understand.

 

He desperately hoped for the second option.

 

If she disappeared, maybe it meant she was alive and had run away.

 

Then he could search for her.

 

Even if it took his entire life—he’d search every corner of this continent, across the seas, through every island, until he found her.

 

But every night, after biting his lips until they bled and drawing back the canopy—

 

Ines was still there, lying on the bed.

 

Just as she had been the moment she died.

 

And every time, a new wave of black despair crashed over him.

 

“…You fought to leave when I told you to stay.”

 

Still gripping Edgar’s collar, Rayan shoved him aside.

 

Each step toward the bed was heavy, as though he were sinking into a deep swamp.

 

His veined, pale hand grabbed the canopy and ripped it open.