I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 7

With Sieghart absent, the task of receiving the guest fell entirely to the Duchess.

If she were to be honest, Natasha wanted nothing more than to throw Kail out for barging in without a word of warning. But she was now the lady of House Aschart. She couldn’t afford to make rash, emotional decisions.

“Is His Majesty waiting in the drawing room?”

“Yes, Madam. The maid is preparing tea,” the servant replied.

“Then I’d better head down quickly.”

The maid who had come to escort her draped a shawl over Natasha’s shoulders. Natasha smoothed out her tousled hair and straightened her appearance.

“I’ll go with you,” Kayeina said gently, taking Natasha’s trembling hand into her own.

Only then did Natasha realize how badly her hands were shaking. Her clumsy fingers had even failed to fasten the buttons on her blouse properly.

Kayeina quietly helped her with the buttons. When she hesitated at the last one, unsure whether to leave it undone, Natasha whispered first.

“…Fasten it all the way.”

The blouse was designed with many buttons—leaving one undone would normally make the outfit look cleaner, less stiff. But today, she wanted it all closed.

“Of course.”

Kayeina did exactly as she was asked.

Natasha’s throat tensed as she tried to swallow. The fabric pressed around her neck felt tight—but she refused to loosen it. It was a small act of defiance, a silent promise to herself that she wouldn’t let herself be reduced to what her people had become—executed like criminals.

As they walked down the corridor, Natasha ran through her thoughts.

What would she say to him—her enemy? Should she demand an overdue apology? Ask him why it had to be her kingdom? There were so many ways to ask, but in the end, what she really wanted to say was: Why did it have to be so cruel?

“It’s good to see you, Madam.”

“…”

“Ah—should I still call you Princess?”

But when she finally came face to face with Kail, her mind went blank. Every word, every argument she’d prepared vanished in an instant.

Kail was slouched on the couch with his legs crossed. The moment he saw her, he stood, grinning wide enough to show all his white teeth. The smile was mischievous, laced with mockery.

Stay calm.
Natasha buried the fury rising in her chest.

“Please address me as Madam,” she said evenly.

“So formal.”

A moment later, Kail took her hand and kissed it.

His blue eyes—so unlike her own—scanned her carefully, as if dissecting her with every glance.

“Shall we sit now, Madam?”

“Very well. The rest of you may leave us.”

Rather than continue under watchful eyes, she preferred to face him alone.

Natasha dismissed not only the maid serving the tea, but also the handmaids waiting nearby. Even Kayeina, who looked visibly uneasy, was sent out.

“What brings Your Majesty here? Regardless of your position, I must ask that you refrain from making unannounced visits in the future.”

“Just because the duchy declared independence doesn’t mean you’ve escaped the sun of the Empire. Are you criticizing the emperor of a nation for stepping out of his own palace?”

“We’re not close enough to justify such unannounced visits. I ask that, next time, you follow proper formal procedure.”

She handed him the guest register and a fountain pen.

“If you would leave your name and the reason for your visit, I’ll be sure to relay it to His Grace.”

“Hah! So you mean to send me away today, is that it?”

“It’s difficult to accommodate unannounced visits. I apologize if this isn’t the answer you were hoping for, Your Majesty.”

Natasha bowed her head politely. But her civility was thinly veiled; her intentions were clear. She was asking the emperor to leave.

Kail, however, made no move toward the pen or the paper. Instead, he leaned back farther into the sofa.

“You don’t need the Duke here to be this harsh with me. Talking to the Duchess alone isn’t so bad. And let’s be honest—it’s not as if you’re swamped with duties right now.”

“…I decline. My availability has no bearing on whether I’ll meet with you.”

As Natasha continued to refuse, even Kail’s smug expression began to crack.

“By this point, your excuse about this being ‘sudden’ is sounding rather thin. So if I did go through the formal process—would you meet with me then?”

“If His Grace—”

“Not His Grace. You, Madam.”

“…”

“If I make an official request—tomorrow, ten days from now, a month, or even six months from now—will you ever agree to see me?”

Natasha was silent.

Because Kail was right.
Tomorrow, ten days later, or a month from now—it didn’t matter. A meeting between them would never happen.

There was no reason—no obligation—for her to host the man who had destroyed her world.

With Sieghart away, the burden of receiving the guest fell entirely on the Duchess.

In truth, Natasha wanted nothing more than to throw Kail out—for invading her home without so much as a word. But she was now the mistress of House Aschart. She couldn’t let emotions dictate her actions.

“Is His Majesty waiting in the drawing room?”

“Yes, Madam. The maid is preparing tea.”

“Then I’d best get moving.”

The attending maid wrapped a shawl over her shoulders, and Natasha ran her fingers through her tousled hair, trying to pull herself together.

“I’ll come with you,” Kayeina said gently, taking Natasha’s hand in hers.

Only then did Natasha realize her hands were trembling. Her fingers had been shaking so much, she hadn’t even managed to button her blouse properly.

Kayeina quietly fastened the buttons for her. She hesitated at the last one, unsure whether to close it all the way—but Natasha spoke first.

“…Fasten it completely.”

The blouse had many buttons. Leaving one undone usually gave a softer impression, while buttoning all of them made it look stiff. But today, she wanted it to feel tight—constricting, even.

“Yes, Madam.”

Kayeina obeyed without hesitation.

The tightness around her neck made it hard to swallow. Her throat bobbed and caught halfway. But Natasha didn’t undo a single button. Maybe it was pride—or maybe it was a silent vow not to end up like those who had been brutally executed.

As she walked down the hallway, Natasha thought of what she might say.

What could she say to that man—to the one who destroyed everything? Should she demand an apology? Ask why it had to be her kingdom? There were so many ways to ask, but the question that burned most was: Why did it have to be so cruel?

“Pleasure to see you, Madam.”

“…”

“Or would you prefer I call you Princess?”

But when Natasha finally came face to face with Kail, her mind went completely blank. Every word she’d rehearsed disappeared.

He sat with one leg crossed lazily, but stood the moment he saw her. His smile, all white teeth and mischief, oozed arrogance.

Stay calm. Natasha pushed down the hatred boiling inside her.

“Please address me as Madam,” she said evenly.

“So formal.”

A moment later, Kail pressed a kiss to her hand.

His blue eyes—so different from hers—scanned her closely, as if peeling away her composure.

“Shall we sit, then, Madam?”

“Yes. You may all leave us now.”

Rather than be watched, Natasha preferred to confront him alone.

She dismissed the maid pouring tea, and even the attendants waiting discreetly in the back. Kayeina, clearly uneasy, was no exception.

“What brings Your Majesty here? Regardless of your title, I believe it’s time you refrain from dropping in unannounced.”

“Just because the duchy declared independence doesn’t mean you’ve escaped the sun of the Empire. Are you criticizing a sovereign for stepping outside his palace?”

“We’re not on such familiar terms that surprise visits are appropriate. I kindly ask that future visits follow proper diplomatic protocol.”

Natasha handed him the guest log and a fountain pen.

“If you could write down the purpose of your visit and your name, I’ll make sure His Grace receives it.”

“Oh? So you’re saying I should leave?”

“It’s difficult to respond to every unannounced visit. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you were hoping for, Your Majesty.”

Natasha bowed politely—but her words were clear. This was a formal rejection.

Kail didn’t even glance at the paper or pen. Instead, he leaned back deeper into the sofa.

“You don’t need the Duke to be this harsh. Having a conversation with the Duchess isn’t so bad. It’s not like you’re swamped with responsibilities, is it?”

“…Regardless of my workload, I decline. That’s all that matters.”

At her continued refusal, the amusement on Kail’s face finally wavered.

“Now it’s starting to sound like you’re using formality as an excuse. So, if I followed proper procedure, would you meet me then?”

“If His Grace—”

“Not His Grace. You, Madam.”

“…”

“If I formally requested a meeting—tomorrow, ten days from now, a month, six months—would you ever agree?”

Natasha’s lips stayed sealed.

Because Kail was right.

Whether it was tomorrow or six months later, she would never agree to meet him.

Because she owed nothing—not even civility—to the man who destroyed her world.

“I’m sorry. I have nothing to say to you. I’m not nearly magnanimous enough to make small talk with the man who wiped out my family. I do appreciate the goodwill Your Majesty has shown to the kingdom’s people and to our duchy—but my hatred for you is separate from that.”

She acknowledged Kail’s support: helping her people settle in new lands, establishing fair treatment for former citizens of her kingdom. But her resentment toward Kail Letius, the man—not the Empire—remained untouched.

At her blunt confession, Kail let out a scoff. It carried the air of disbelief—he hadn’t expected her to speak so plainly. But clearly, he trusted in the power behind him.

His elegant fingers, soft and uncalloused, drummed against the couch’s armrest. The rhythm slowed as his impatience cooled.

“Fair enough. I understand. I can’t blame you for hating me. You don’t want to entertain the man who destroyed your happiness. I get that.”

He leaned forward, and Natasha almost—almost—thought he was about to leave.

But his movement wasn’t one of retreat—it was a poised strike. Instead of rising, Kail lowered his head and propped his chin on his hand. His voice took on a playful edge.

“So I hope you’ll understand my feelings, too.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“My desire to punish a lowly woman who doesn’t know her place.”

He grinned, fingers tracing the rim of his teacup.

“Some of your relatives are still living in what used to be your kingdom, aren’t they? Ah, and isn’t there a maid here who used to act like royalty? Helped a certain princess escape?”

Natasha’s face went cold.

Her scowl of hostility collapsed into despair.

And that was exactly what the devil had been waiting for.

“That maid? That girl’s not worth much. She’d be easy to take care of. And your relatives? They’re no different. Sure, the people might protest a bit, but how long do you think their sympathy would last, really? Here or in the duchy—they’ll move on.”

It was horrifying.

Not just the words, but the way he smiled as he said them.

“So, Madam… just as I’ve graciously understood you—I expect you to understand me.”

“….”

“Or would you prefer we start talking about consequences?”

With that, Kail laughed loudly. His scrunched nose, his exaggerated grin—it all looked like a man picking out decorative heads for the palace walls, and enjoying it.

A vivid image flashed in Natasha’s mind.

Kayeina, and her relatives—lined up at the guillotine. A massive blade hanging above them, tied with rope.

The rope snapped.

The blade dropped.

Blood sprayed like a fountain, splattering across Natasha’s face as she watched. Eyes in severed heads blinked once, staring at her as if to say: You didn’t stop this.

Then came the final, chilling scream that yanked her back into reality.

“…Please…”

“…”

“Please spare them… Your Majesty. What… what do you want me to do?”

She hadn’t wanted to give him the satisfaction. Hadn’t wanted to bow, to submit.

But in the end, things went exactly the way Kail wanted.

Natasha lowered her head, voice trembling, pleading for mercy.

“It’s simple, Madam.”

“…”

“Come when I call. Just like a well-trained dog.”

Sieghart, who had left on his trip without a word, returned late the next night.

Natasha hadn’t been sleeping. The moment she sensed movement, she left the bedroom to find him. When she noticed the bedroom lights still off, she checked the study—there, a warm glow shone from behind the door.

Tonight, she couldn’t afford to hesitate.

She didn’t knock.

She opened the door without permission—because tonight, she needed to talk to him, whether he wanted to or not.

“…I’m sorry. I just need a moment of your time.”

Sieghart frowned at the sight of her. He looked as though he had a lot to say, but Natasha rushed in with an apology.

“I won’t scold you for barging in,” he said coldly. “But I’d prefer you didn’t try to argue when I say no. I’m busy. Let’s talk another time.”

“Just for a moment…”

“Do you really not pity your husband, who’s been buried in paperwork the moment he got back from hunting monsters? Is it necessary to take even more of my time?”

He was more distant than usual—whether from fatigue or annoyance.

Of course, she thought. He must be tired from the monster hunt. Coming home to a pile of documents must be frustrating.

But she couldn’t back down now.

No matter how weary he was, he had to hear this. Even if he seemed indifferent now, surely, he’d care once he knew.

“While you were away… His Majesty the Emperor came to see me.”

And so—she had to say it. She had to ask for help.

Because if not now, then never.

The sharp, blade-like words she had come to expect never came. Time passed, and still—no answer.

That silence gave Natasha a sliver of hope. Maybe… just maybe, Sieghart was finally listening.

“I’ll hear it another time. For now, you should return, Princess.”

“…”

“It’s late.”

His voice, wrapped in gentle phrasing, was still a rejection at its core. No matter how kindly dressed, words are just paper-thin layers—once peeled away, the truth is revealed underneath.

And the truth was clear: the man was annoyed.

The way his eyes never left his paperwork, how he only moved his lips while staying rooted to his chair—it all pointed to one thing. He wasn’t here to comfort her. At best, he wanted to pacify her with a few empty words so he could get back to his work.

If he had truly been worried about her, he would’ve stood up, held her close, maybe even kissed her forehead to calm her.

But he didn’t.

“You’re right. It’s late… I’m sorry for bothering you when you’re busy. I’ll go now. Good night.”

Natasha said no more.

Anything beyond this would’ve just been stubborn pride—desperate pride, born of longing, that only hurt more when met with rejection.

And yet, even now… part of her still hoped.

This was the first time she had let her hurt show openly. Surely now, surely, he would realize.

Even as she slowly reached for the door handle and quietly opened it—she didn’t look back. Not when she stepped into the hallway, not even when she gently closed the door behind her.

“…Ah.”

Nothing changed.

There was no miracle. No word to stop her. No footsteps behind her.

Only the final hope she had clung to snuffed out without a sound.

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