I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 78

When Sieghart heard that the Duchess had collapsed again, he rushed to her side without hesitation.

She was lying in bed, her face paler than it had been the day before. The physician sat beside her, examining her closely, then clucked his tongue in frustration and delivered his diagnosis: dehydration and malnutrition.

“She must eat and drink. If she continues refusing nourishment, her life will soon be at risk.”

Meliana, who had been managing Natasha’s care, explained that she had refused both food and water for three straight days.

With a deep sigh, Sieghart gave a quiet nod and ordered everyone to leave the room.

The physician said he would return in four days with medicine and departed. But Meliana lingered. She hovered by Natasha’s side, eyes full of worry, then turned to Sieghart.

“Did something terrible happen to her?”

She said Natasha looked even more broken now than when she had suffered Kayeina’s betrayal. With a pleading voice, she asked Sieghart to take proper care of her lady.

Normally, he would have brushed off the concern, telling her it was none of her business. But this time, Sieghart didn’t say a word. He just gave her a bitter smile, then nodded faintly.

Hours passed before Natasha opened her eyes.

When she saw the familiar chandelier above her, her expression twisted in discomfort. She turned her head slowly and met Sieghart’s gaze. He had grown thin, his face worn with exhaustion.

“Natasha…”

His voice was faint, as if it barely had the strength to reach her. But she didn’t want to hear it. She covered her ears and shook her head, refusing the sound of his voice as it tried to reach her.

No. No. I don’t want to hear it.

Why now? After all the chances I gave you. You stayed silent through every one of them. So why try to speak now?

I told you before. By the time you decided to speak, it would be too late. I wouldn’t be able to believe anything you said. I wanted the truth before it turned into another excuse.

So why now?

“You know,” she said quietly, “I didn’t want to admit I was a fool. I tried so hard to understand you. But I just… I still can’t.”

“…”

“Why did you do it?”

Her voice trembled. Tears lingered on her lashes.

Sieghart opened his mouth slightly but couldn’t answer. He knew these questions weren’t directed at the man he was now, but at the one he had been.

And Natasha didn’t hold back anymore. She let all her questions spill out.

“Why did you hate me so much?”

She could understand if he had only pretended to love her under imperial orders.

She could accept that, once those orders no longer bound him, he had cast her aside.

But why had he hated her so deeply?

“And why are you pretending to love me now? Why act like the past never happened? Why act like you forgot everything?”

Why now, of all times?

“Why?”

The cry burst from her like a thunderclap.

“I loved you.”

The words finally came from his lips. But they arrived too late, carrying a truth that could no longer reach her.

“I only realized it… after everything was already over.”

Back in his study, Sieghart sat at his desk and finally let out a long breath. He pulled out the pipe he had thrown aside earlier and began packing it with tobacco. His hand moved roughly, forcefully.

He lit it and let the heat build. Bitter smoke filled his lungs and mouth. It was far from pleasant, but he didn’t stop. He just sat there in silence, smoking blankly.

Then his eyes drifted to the stack of letters on the table. One in particular stood out.

It was a letter he always checked first, without fail.

Damn it. Today, he didn’t want to look at it. But he had duties, even if they were personal. He forced himself to open it.

The very first line squeezed his breath tight in his chest. Smoke choked in his throat, burning as it went down.

“So, you’ve stayed married to the daughter of our enemy for two whole years. Are you really planning to betray your family for her?”

“Where is the boy who once begged us to help him, saying he wanted revenge? You’ve become pathetic.”

“Does your wife know how disgraceful you are? How shameless she is?”

“Of course she doesn’t. As I’ve always said, I couldn’t hide my disgust that day when she greeted me so sweetly, as if she were innocent. She asked me about my relationship with your family, not even realizing her own guilt.”

“Sieghart Aschart, for the sake of the past, you’d best come to your senses. If you care at all about the name Callete, don’t stain it any further.”

“Ashy Callete”

Sieghart let out a quiet, bitter laugh as he read the signature at the bottom of the letter.

His aunt’s message, arriving for the first time in a month, said nothing new. The only addition was a brief remark about how two years of marriage had already passed, noting how quickly time was moving.

If you don’t want to disgrace the Callete name, then you know what must be done.

He dragged his finger across the underlined sentence. Her words, like her voice, were always the same.

That relentless Callete.

That ruthless Charlier.

Was it really fair to suffer this much over the weight of a name?

Sieghart’s thoughts drifted far into the past.

To a time when he had still been known as Enoch Callete.

Enoch Callete.

He had been the youngest son of the noble Callete family in the Kingdom of Charlier.

The Calletes were one of the most prestigious noble families, aligned with the aristocratic faction that opposed the crown. They sought to limit royal power and defend the political voice of the nobility.

Naturally, such a family was nothing but a thorn to the royal family.

The monarchy had long been troubled by the Calletes. But they couldn’t punish a respected house without a reason. Doing so would cause backlash from both the public and other nobles.

And yet, the Calletes’ influence continued to grow. When one of their trading ventures surpassed the royal family’s commercial interests, the court was humiliated.

The Callete family had roots in the Galonde Empire. Centuries ago, a Galonde noble had married into Charlier nobility, creating a new branch, Callete.

Given that heritage, it was natural for them to maintain strong ties with Galonde. But the public, rather than questioning the royal family’s failures, mocked them for falling behind the Calletes.

Eventually, the royal family tried to negotiate with them, asking for cooperation.

The Calletes refused outright.

Worse, the next day, a newspaper friendly to the Calletes published an article exposing the meeting.

“Has the Royal Family Lost to House Callete?”

The title was sensational. The content exaggerated. It praised the Calletes while painting the monarchy as weak and ineffective. The public, once quiet, stirred again in frustration toward the throne.

King James Charlier XIX had had enough. Enraged by the humiliation and years of undermined authority, he decided to purge the Calletes once and for all.

The method was simple: accuse them of treason.

Because of their history with Galonde and their calls for open diplomacy, the king decided to twist that into evidence of betrayal. He would claim the Calletes were plotting to make Charlier a vassal of Galonde.

The king ordered spies to infiltrate the Callete estate. Two maids and two footmen were secretly planted among their staff.

Five years passed.

Then the Calletes once again pushed for trade with Galonde.

That was the signal. The trap had been set. King James accused the Calletes of conspiracy and treason.

By then, the infiltrators had earned the family’s trust. The maids had learned to mimic the Count’s handwriting and forged letters of correspondence with Galonde nobles. They even carved a seal that replicated the family crest.

When the forgery was perfect, they “discovered” the evidence.

One maid claimed she found the letters hidden in the Count’s desk. Royal knights raided the estate and uncovered the planted documents.

With that, the purge began.

The Callete’s, accused of betraying the kingdom, were sentenced to death.

“Young master, shhh. You have to be quiet in here.”

The nurse held Enoch tightly and shut him in the wardrobe. The boy squirmed in the narrow space, uncomfortable and frustrated.

“I’m too old for hide-and-seek, nurse!”

“But I still want to play. You must stay in here and count. Don’t come out until you reach ten thousand. And keep the blanket over your head.”

Even as he complained, she insisted. He wasn’t allowed to leave, not until he finished counting.

Just as she was about to close the door, Enoch noticed something strange.

Her son was standing there, dressed in Enoch’s clothes. The boy even wore Enoch’s family badge.

“Nurse? Why is your son wearing my clothes?”

“He begged me. He just wanted to try them on. Please forgive him, just this once.”

“Okay. But can I just count to eight thousand instead?”

“No. You must count all the way to ten thousand. That’s the promise.”

He begged her to wait outside until he was finished, but she gave no answer. She kissed his forehead gently and closed the wardrobe door.

Through the narrow crack as the door shut, he saw something he didn’t understand.

His nurse was crying.

At the time, Enoch didn’t know why.

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