It's Too Late for Regrets - Chapter 7.9

Rayan rested his cheek on the coffin covered in green silk. He asked with a soft laugh rising from deep in his throat.

 

“Is it more comfortable here without me? If I said I hope you didn’t think so… would that be too much to ask?”

 

If she couldn’t come back, then he would simply go to where she was.
Ines had gone there—what reason was there he couldn’t go too?

 

Humans all eventually reach the end of their lives. There was nothing to fear.
When his destined time came, he would naturally go to where she had gone.
But he wouldn’t let fate decide when—that was up to him. There was no reason to wait until life faded away naturally.

 

His hand, veins bulging with a bluish tint, brushed the long sword hanging at his waist.
Every night, he fought the tempting urge.
And fortunately, his last bit of reason still won—at least for now.

 

“Don’t worry… I’ll make sure to keep all the things you ordered me to.”

 

Hot candle wax dripped onto his hand, leaving red burn marks.
Rayan muttered softly.

 

“There are fifteen years left until Caesar becomes an adult.”

 

Fifteen years. More than enough time.

 

“A good place, good food, good clothes… Ines, honestly, for your final wish to be something so small…”

 

The candle was getting shorter.
Even as the flame near the wick began to scorch his skin, he spoke flatly, as if he couldn’t feel a thing.

 

“Our son will have everything.”

 

He planned to leave Caesar a perfect Eleanor—more perfect than ever before.
A nation with such solid standing that no one would dare to underestimate or threaten it.
It didn’t need to be the sun of the continent. It just needed to be the moon that ruled the night.
One that could shed light even on the darkest, shadowed lives—people like Millian and Ines.

 

In the end, the belief that had ruled Rayan’s life changed.
There would be no more discrimination against illegitimate children in Eleanor.
If perceptions didn’t change on their own, he would force them to change. It wasn’t difficult for him.

 

Then finally, the duchy would be complete. He whispered gently:

 

“I’ll go after he becomes an adult.”

 

That was the conclusion he had finally reached.
Time would pass quickly, and even hell had an end.
He would endure fifteen years with that thought.

 

And then, he would go to where Ines was… A dream so blissful. His low voice trembled slightly.

 

“You don’t even have to marry me again there. I won’t ask for that. I said we shouldn’t even meet in the next life… No. I want to see you just once. I have to see you once.”

 

The hardened wax that had covered his hand began to melt again under the flame as it came close. It sizzled.

 

“Just let me see you. I won’t do anything. Just… let me see you…”

 

All the wax melted, and the skin beneath turned red and started to burn.
Rayan silently watched as his hand burned. It hurt a little.
But it surely didn’t compare to the pain Ines had endured.

 

Rayan muttered dryly.

 

“…Not bad.”

 

Since Ines’s coffin would always remain here, he could spend the rest of his life burning like this hand beside her.
Not burying her in the ground had been a good decision.

 

Rayan took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Ines mixed with the burning smell of his own flesh.

 

“Not bad…”

 

The candle, now shorter than a single word, dropped to the floor in flames.
He rubbed his burning hand roughly on the edge of the silk to put out the fire.
Then, stepping on the fallen candle, he stood up.

 

From tomorrow on, he would have to stay alert even at night.
There was too much work to do if he wanted to make Eleanor the strongest absolute monarchy.

 

Just as he stepped down from the altar—

 

“…?”

 

A subtle presence tickled his sharp senses.

 

Without thinking, driven by instinct, his sword flashed out like lightning.

 

The murderous intent shot toward the inner part of the chapel where the presence had come from.

 

“Who’s there—?”

 

But Rayan couldn’t finish his sentence.
He saw a small head quickly hide behind a pillar—and his mind went blank.

 

“…Caesar?”

 

“….”

 

Though he thought it couldn’t be, his son’s name came out of his mouth.
Rayan never missed a presence once caught by his senses.

 

The sword he had thrown aside clattered loudly on the marble floor.

 

He rushed over and looked behind the pillar—
And sure enough, there was his young son, curled up in the shadows.

 

“Father…”

 

The boy looked up at him with wide, startled eyes.
Rayan hurriedly scooped him into his arms.

 

“Caesar, what are you doing here? How did you get in, huh?”

 

“Well…”

 

Caesar, now in his arms, hesitated and buried his face deep into his father’s chest.
Did he know his mother was here? Had someone told him?

 

He shouldn’t have had a key. How did he even get in…?

 

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a sharp realization struck him like a blade.

 

“…!”

 

For the first time in a long while, his thoughts started to function again.
The boy had entered a place he absolutely shouldn’t have been able to, and did so without a sound.

 

His mind filled with the image of a woman who had once appeared without warning at Kyra’s grave during that tragic, rainy week—
Someone who had done so with a method someone once claimed he would never discover.

 

A sudden premonition sent chills down his spine.

 

“No way…”

 

Clenching his teeth, Rayan set the child down and ran back up to the altar.

 

With forceful hands, he flung aside the green silk covering the coffin.

 

Then he saw it.

 

The dried lips had been savagely bitten.

 

“Damn it…”

 

The glass coffin, where the dead should have lain, was completely empty.

 

Ines’s body was gone.

 

 

It was just before dawn.
A pair of feet in black leather shoes stepped atop the chapel’s spire.
The dead woman’s dress fluttered in the morning breeze.

 

Kian glanced down from the spire.

 

He saw it—Rayan Eleanor, pale and lifeless, tearing apart the chapel from beneath the stained-glass windows.

 

“Ines!”

 

The handsome man with silver hair and green eyes burst through the chapel doors.
He ran across the yard and into the mansion.

 

“Seal the manor! Now!”

 

His voice, like a raging demon’s, echoed wildly—madness oozing from it once again.

 

Before long, the duke’s residence, still half-asleep, began to wake.
Knights scrambled to search the chapel and surrounding buildings.

 

Kian stepped down from the spire.
The person Rayan was frantically searching for was now in his arms.

 

The veil of darkness that had hidden him lifted, revealing the oldest of shadows—in the form of an adult man.
Under messy black hair, his sharp green eyes glowed.

 

Aside from his eyes and pale skin, everything else about him was black.
He looked over Ines’s cold body. The corpse showed no signs of life.

 

But the soul that had once inhabited it had long been bound to the darkness.

 

A pitiful soul, unable to ascend to heaven, trapped because of its ties to him.
A woman who had lived with darkness in her heart since birth had endured a life full of sorrow.

 

“Let’s go, Ines.”

 

His voice whispered softly into the cold dawn air.

 

“To a new place.”

 

 

Darkness swept across the land, crossing rivers and scanning every corner of the duchy.
The new body for the pitiful soul had to be as beautiful and noble as the soul itself.
Among all the blessed women raised with love, the one with death closest to her.

 

The darkness crossed the vast plains in the northwest of the duchy, toward Lezan.
Rain had fallen the night before, leaving the dry land muddy.
Though dawn approached, thick fog blurred all vision.

 

On that road, a carriage marked with a lily crest was traveling.
Its passengers were the last of the nobles returning to Lezan after the duchess’s funeral.

 

The darkness gazed at the murky wilderness where the carriage was headed.

 

On the uneven land, rain had pooled into shallow puddles.
To the coachman, it looked like an ordinary muddy road—but they had strayed far from the original path.

 

Death lay in wait just there.

 

Darkness took its place three steps from where death had already claimed.

 

The carriage drew closer.

 

A red-haired young woman appeared in the window, the curtain slightly drawn.

 

“Don’t be too sad, Celia. There are many noble bachelors in the capital just as fine as the Duke.”

 

Count Irope consoled his deeply troubled daughter as best he could. Of course, it didn’t help much.
Tears began to glisten in the golden eyes of the beautiful young woman.

 

“No, Father. There’s no one. Not in Lezan, not across the whole continent—no one as handsome as His Grace!”

 

“The Crown Prince, and that… what’s his name? The youngest son of Marquis Blair…”

 

Count Irope listed all the famous noblemen of Lezan before giving up.
His daughter had started to sob.

 

“I thought this time would be my chance… But he didn’t even meet me once…”

 

“…Celia, from what I can see, it’s time to let it go. Ever since that royal from Jenaire died, he’s just…”

 

“What’s wrong with His Grace, Father?!”

 

“Well, his eyes…”

 

They just didn’t seem normal anymore.

 

Count Irope couldn’t bring himself to badmouth the man his daughter so dearly loved—and closed his mouth.