I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 69

“If you’re planning to ask me about what the Emperor said—”

“Yes, I am. That’s exactly why I want to ask. I don’t want to judge based on his words alone. I want to give you the chance to speak.”

“……”

Did that mean he was willing to answer? The man’s lips, which had been moving busily just moments ago, suddenly froze.

“The Emperor said strange things. That I’m somehow ‘dirty’ to you… That we’ve both been ignoring each other’s sins…”

That was how the Emperor had put it.

As if Natasha had committed some great wrong against Sieghart.

“Could you please tell me exactly what he meant by that?”

She needed to know—whether the Emperor had been twisting the truth, or whether there really was something she didn’t yet know.

“There’s no need to listen to the words of a mad Emperor.”

“But you didn’t say he was lying.”

“……”

“You’re… not answering?”

Normally, even when he didn’t want to speak, Sieghart would at least nod or shake his head. But this time, he said nothing at all.

A moment later, he frowned and pressed a hand to his temple as if a headache had hit—and then he stood to leave.

It was the first time in this life that Sieghart had ever tried to walk away from her first.

But more than shock, something else hit Natasha like a blow to the head.

“Sieghart…!”

She rushed forward and blocked his path.

He didn’t push past her. Surprisingly, he stopped. But he still wouldn’t face her. His voice came out low, barely above a whisper.

“Sometimes… not knowing the truth is kinder.”

“……”

“You know that, too.”

It felt like the second Bluebeard had spoken.

Like the sealed box in her hand was warning her again.

“Natasha, just like you can’t tell me everything, I can’t tell you everything either.”

“……”

“So just this once… pretend you didn’t hear anything.”

Don’t open that room.
Don’t open that box.

This time, the disaster waiting inside might be even worse.

Natasha, who had already opened one door and faced the filthy truth about Kayeina, felt fear rise in her again.

And in the end, she let go of his sleeve.

The warning Sieghart had delivered about cutting ties with the Imperial family hadn’t been an empty threat.

A few days later, the Daily Beacon published an official article announcing the conflict between the palace and the Duchy.

It wasn’t gossip from a third-rate tabloid or baseless rumor spread in noble salons. It was a formal statement—stamped with the Aschart seal at the end of the article.

It meant the Duchy had acknowledged the contents as fact, and had approved their public release.

It was shocking news.

The Aschart Duchy’s declaration of independence and Sieghart Aschart’s recent appointment as Knight of Honor—had long stirred whispers and unease. Now, it was all out in the open.

Reports followed of emergency meetings being held at the palace between the royal family and Imperialist nobles.

Meanwhile, the Duchy itself remained quiet or at least, it kept up the appearance of peace.

Now that war had begun with the crown, showing any weakness was unthinkable.

On the surface, the Duchy seemed serene and dignified. But in truth, it was facing dangerous, unstable days.

Perhaps it was because both of the Duchy’s pillars looked ready to collapse.

The Duchess, betrayed by her own maid, appeared to be holding up surprisingly well. A little withdrawn, perhaps—but all things considered, she was functioning. For someone who’d been betrayed by a friend of ten years, she seemed almost… normal.

At least, she had—until her visit to the Imperial Palace.

After that, she shut herself away in her room like a recluse.

The servants were increasingly troubled by it. Secretly, many of them wished the Duke would do something—force her out if he had to.

He was the only one who truly cared about both her physical and mental wellbeing. They believed if anyone could pull her back to reality, it would be him, even if it meant being harsh.

But contrary to expectations, the Duke kept his distance. He seemed guarded as if he were afraid of something.

As the days went on, the servants grew more and more anxious. Whispers spread through the halls, wondering if something had gone wrong between the Duke and Duchess.

Time moved quickly, and before long, that day drew near.

The time when summer fades and autumn begins, when the heat and chill depend entirely on the sun’s mood.

The Duke’s household acted like it didn’t exist, but the rest of the Empire was buzzing with excitement for that day.

In the heat of midsummer, the North was always the most popular festival destination. Regions expecting to host had already begun advertising, trying to draw in travelers.

But when that day came, it would be the worst. The mood in the mansion would drop even further. The servants didn’t think they could handle it.

Then, two days before the festival—just when anxiety reached its peak—

The door that hadn’t opened in weeks swung wide.

The Duchess finally stepped out of her room.

The maids delivering her meals were so shocked they forgot to greet her. They froze in place, staring, until Natasha approached them and spoke first.

“The weather is lovely today. I was thinking… maybe I could have tea with His Grace.”

“L-Lady Natasha!”

“Would you mind preparing it for me?”

She said she wanted to walk through the garden, enjoy the sunshine.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. And I’d like something sweet, please prepare a nice variety of desserts. Also, I’d really like the Duke to join us.”

“Of course! We’ll take care of everything right away. Should we come get you when it’s ready?”

“No need. I’ll already be out walking in the garden. Just help me get ready first, if you don’t mind.”

“Right away, Madam!”

The color returned to the maids’ faces. They eagerly pushed their serving trays away and hurried off to help her dress—excitement clear in every quick step.

Their joy was as bright as the sun outside.

At Natasha’s request for something “light and cheerful,” the maids chose a dress in a warm, spring-like hue. It was more ornate than her usual attire—more lavish, a bit heavier.

The accessories were brighter, too. Her hair was styled into elegant waves, thicker than usual. She looked like she was hosting a special guest, dressed with intention and grace.

Sieghart, who had barely left his office, working day and night, came without resistance when summoned by his wife.

Natasha took a deep breath of the summer air. Not even the rarest teas could carry such a refreshing scent.

It had been a long time since she tasted tea while it was still warm. Until now, she’d only had time to sip what had long gone cold on the tray outside her door.

And it had been even longer since she’d looked at him face to face.

“It’s good to see you, Sieghart. Have you been well?”

At some point, she had stopped calling him formally. Just Sieghart. Once the distance between them had faded, titles no longer felt necessary.

At her question, his eyes narrowed slightly. Sensing it, she added with a soft smile:

“Was that strange to ask? I thought it was a natural way to start a conversation.”

“…I’ve been getting by. And you?”

“Me too. Just barely.”

“That’s good to hear.”

He gave a faint, dry smile and took a sip of his tea.

It struck her then—his face looked different.

The lines were sharper, his complexion pale. His entire expression seemed weary. Tired in a way she hadn’t noticed before.

She recalled hearing his name whispered in passing by the servants, concern in their voices. Maybe this was what they meant. He looked… worn down.

Trying not to stare, Natasha reached for a biscuit and took a bite. It crumbled gently on her tongue.

“Would you sleep in my room tomorrow night?”

Once she’d swallowed, she found the courage to ask—quietly, carefully.

His posture, so straight and composed, faltered just slightly. But it was enough. Enough to know her question had struck a chord.

“I sleep better when you’re beside me.”

“So, I’ve been waking you by coming in late.”

“I wasn’t sleeping much anyway. But when you’re there… it’s easier.”

Sieghart would return only in the early hours, slipping into her room like a shadow. He stayed silently by her side until morning, then disappeared again.

It was almost pathetic, how he only dared to approach when she was asleep. Still, Natasha had never once turned him away.

Every time he stayed, the ghosts of her past, the weight of loss, the voices of the dead—faded.

You disgraceful girl. You still go back to him?
Stupid woman. Even in death, you’ve learned nothing.
Oh, foolish princess. You still believe he won’t betray you again…

But every time his fingers touched hers, those voices disappeared.

Just like now.

She welcomed the silence that came with his presence. It brought her peace.

“Please. It’s not a big ask. Isn’t it normal for a husband and wife to share a bed?”

As she spoke, she gently reached for his hand. Her fingers brushed against his softly, cautiously. Each touch made him tense, but she didn’t stop.

Not until the tremble in her voice faded. Not until he gave her the answer she hoped for.

At last, he let out a deep breath.

And in that sigh, finally, came the words she needed to hear.

“Alright.”

He was holding something back. Something so heavy it could break him.

And Natasha knew, if she didn’t hold on to him now, he might fall apart completely.

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