I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 4

With the snowstorm raging, Sieghart said it would be dangerous to return to the duchy immediately. Instead, he promised to send a carriage once the weather calmed.

As he walked away, there was something different about him. Something that lingered.

It should have been the cold that left her shivering—he was the one who had stepped out into the snow—but oddly, the real chill came from the ring wrapped around her slender finger.

And so, Natasha stood by the window, watching.

She kept watching until his figure became a dot. And until that dot vanished into the white void, she didn’t move.

I…

That’s when she realized.

I’ve fallen in love with him…

She could feel it—her heart, racing faster than ever.

Later, she confessed her intention to marry him to Sir Dante.

Two days later, when the snowstorm finally cleared, Dante arrived breathless and furious.

“Marriage? Princess—what are you saying?!”

Her words left him stunned. He couldn’t believe it. Who was the man? Had she been threatened? Was he trustworthy?

Natasha hadn’t even spoken yet, but Dante was already ranting, pulling at his hair in disbelief. And then—suddenly—it hit him.

“No… It’s the Duke of Aschart, isn’t it?”

It made sense. He was the only man she had been in contact with.

She didn’t deny it. She simply nodded.

Dante gasped as if the air had been knocked out of him and sighed heavily.

“Princess, even if he didn’t commit the crime himself, he was still closely tied to the Empire. Are you truly certain about this?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

She nodded again.

Dante didn’t know the full story. But Natasha did. This man had been there for her in ways no one else had. Not just with protection or wealth—but by bringing light back into her life.

He had held her hand when she was sick and burning with fever.
He had appeared like a hero during a fight with a villager.
He had brought her chrysanthemums and candles on the anniversary of her parents’ death—when she had no grave to mourn them.
He had placed a ring on her finger with quiet determination.

Each moment became a warm memory.

To build a life with the person she loved.
To reclaim the dream she once gave up after tragedy.

With him—she believed it might truly be possible.

Natasha Charlier wanted to be happy… with Sieghart Aschart.

Faced with her resolve, Dante finally gave in.

He had been watching Sieghart closely for half a year. The Duke of Aschart wasn’t a kind man—no one would call him that. But he was absolutely someone who could make her happy. Dante, too, believed his feelings were genuine.

“…Very well. He’s kept you safe all this time. I won’t oppose it anymore. If anyone can protect you from both the Empire and the Principality, it’s him.”

“Yes. He even said you’re welcome to come with me to the duchy. You don’t have to worry, Sir Dante. You know as well as I do—he wouldn’t harm me.”

Her bright smile made Dante’s shoulders sink with reluctant relief. He smiled back, though it came out a bit crooked.

“Princess… I only want you to be happy.”

“I will be.”

“Live a life you’ll never regret. A beautiful, fulfilled life.”

“Of course.”

She said it so confidently—so fearlessly.

Not knowing it might have been too much faith…
Too much trust.

Two days later, Sieghart arrived with the duchy’s carriage.

Natasha, Sieghart, and Dante traveled together. During the trip, Dante asked every question that had been building inside him—disguised as polite curiosity, but each one hiding a thread of doubt.

But Sieghart answered every one calmly, kindly, without hesitation. His words were too precise to be lies, and his composure too steady to be an act. Slowly, Dante’s doubts began to fade.

When they arrived at the estate, things didn’t go exactly as planned.

Contrary to the agreement, Dante was placed in a separate building. The Aschart knights claimed that placing the princess’s companion directly into their ranks would be favoritism, if not outright corruption. Even Dante couldn’t argue the logic.

With no strong case to make, Natasha couldn’t protest either.

And so, she stayed alone in the main residence.

Because the two weren’t officially married yet, they couldn’t share a room. Natasha was given a new space and began unpacking the modest belongings she’d brought.

The handmaids assigned to her helped set things in order. Afterward, she soaked in a warm bath infused with fragrant oils. The scent clung gently to her skin, easing her nerves.

Her natural hair color had returned, the dye completely washed away.
Her eyes, too—once dimmed by illusion—now shone in their true hue.

“Today, I can finally show him who I really am.”

She looked into the mirror and smiled faintly.

For the first time, she was about to reveal her true self—the real Natasha Charlier—to the man who might become her future.

And her heart…
was racing.

But contrary to her hopes, the man never showed up at the evening banquet.

Nor at breakfast the next day, nor that evening. Not the day after that either… or the day after that…

Even on the night before their wedding.

Three weeks.

He had vanished for a full three weeks. Once she realized it was the price of the memories they had shared, Natasha made no complaints. She consoled herself, thinking he must be busy—after all, she had distracted him from his estate duties and other work during their six months together.

Still, pretending everything was fine had its limits. On the night before the wedding, Natasha couldn’t help but feel hurt by Sieghart’s absence.

“He said he loved me.”

Yet she didn’t doubt his heart. The time they had spent together over the past six months meant too much to her.

He had always come running to her through rain or snow, whispering words of love. Whenever something was difficult, he would appear like a hero and take care of everything.

“It must be because of the wedding. There’s so much to prepare… and once we’re married, we might not be able to focus on work, so he’s just getting things done early…”

Thinking about the care and devotion Sieghart had shown so far, her worries faded. Soon, she found herself looking forward to the wedding.

Natasha in a white wedding dress, and Sieghart in a sharp suit, would stand before everyone and make a vow of forever. They would slip rings—symbols of love and commitment—onto each other’s fingers and share a beautiful kiss.

“I wish tomorrow would come faster.”

With that joyful thought, she drifted off to sleep.

Unaware that the past six months had already bound her in chains of emotion she could never escape from.

As Natasha held a bouquet of everlasting silver lilies, a brilliant trumpet fanfare echoed ahead of her.

Wearing her wedding gown, she carefully stepped onto the aisle.

She didn’t even have time to admire the view beyond the veil. Though the venue was decorated with flowers, jewels, and all things extravagant, it was Sieghart—dressed simply and neatly—who stood out the most.

Her heart full of excitement, she stopped in front of him. Through the fine lace of her veil, Natasha secretly watched him, hoping he would look at her—at the way she had dressed up just for him.

But perhaps he didn’t notice. Sieghart only stared blankly into space. His posture was steady, and so was his gaze. Embarrassed, Natasha looked away on purpose, trying to focus on something else. But no matter how hard she tried, her eyes kept returning to him.

After the officiant’s ceremonial words, the ring bearer entered.

The groom took the ring and slipped it onto the bride’s finger. At the center of the band was a blue diamond, the symbol of House Aschart. Natasha felt her heart swell. It felt like proof that she had finally become part of the duke’s family.

After exchanging rings, the two looked into each other’s eyes. Only one thing remained.

The wedding kiss—the highlight of the ceremony.

“Now, it’s time for the two of you to prove your love,” said the officiant.

At those words, Sieghart stepped forward. Natasha’s heart, which she had barely calmed, started pounding again.

The veil brushed against the back of his broad hand. With a gentle touch, he lifted the lace and entered the space between them.

Up close, his red eyes looked even more beautiful. Yet their intensity made her tense.

He, too, was staring at her red eyes. Perhaps because it was the first time he’d seen them this closely—eyes that mirrored his own—he softly murmured the word, “eyes,” over and over.

In the small space between them, their breaths mixed. The subtle sweetness in the air only heightened the tension.

“Princess.”

He moved his lips.

Was that the sign their kiss was about to begin? As he wrapped his arms around her back and shoulders, Natasha tightly shut her eyes.

His hair brushed her forehead now and then, making her shiver. His deepening breath was sweet enough to make her feel dizzy. Their noses gently touched.

Everything felt so close—everything but their lips.

Feeling confused, Natasha slowly opened her eyes.

It wasn’t her imagination. Their lips had never touched. Sieghart had simply leaned in close—just close enough—but carefully kept his lips apart from hers.

“….”

Ah.

A silent gasp slipped out between her lips.

The look in his eyes as he gazed down at her was cold. His deep red pupils were calm, even commanding—as if ordering her to close her eyes.

She could see the guests over his shoulder. Not wanting to reveal that their kiss was fake, Natasha followed his silent demand and shut her eyes again.

Moments later, cheers filled the room. Guests offered blessings and congratulations. And just like that, Sieghart stepped back, as if he’d only been waiting for that moment.

Why…

Natasha clenched her fists tightly.

Why…?

To keep herself from revealing the silent wave of emotion crawling up from deep inside her.

And to hide the wedding ring too loose for her finger that now spun gently out of place.

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