I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 83

“Where is the princess?”

Sieghart asked about Natasha’s whereabouts without realizing it himself as soon as he returned to the estate.

The servants, whose faces already seemed dark from the bad weather, looked even more uneasy at his simple question. They hesitated, clearly reluctant to answer.

There had been times when they looked confused as to why the Duke kept asking about his wife’s condition, but they had never reacted this nervously before.

A sudden feeling of dread pushed Sieghart to demand an answer.

“If you are not trying to test what little patience I have left, then speak now.”

“Th, the thing is… Your Grace, the Duchess left the estate a few days ago without saying a single word, and she has not returned.”

Only then did they confess that the Duchess had gone missing.

She hasn’t come back?

Sieghart instinctively looked at the ground. Snow had piled up thickly on his boots. Outside, a snowstorm had been raging all day, making it hard to hear anything else.

And in this weather, she left without saying anything?

He immediately rushed to Natasha’s room. He searched every corner of her wardrobe and dressing table, looking for anything that might be missing, but he found nothing suspicious.

There was no sign that she had sold any jewelry to raise money for a trip back to the principality. All of her thick coats were still hanging in the closet, which meant she hadn’t stepped out even briefly.

Then where could she have gone?

“Send out the Knights of Aschart. Find the princess.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Right now.”

He could no longer ignore the fear pressing down on him. Everything else was in its place, but the woman was gone. He could not accept that.

Sieghart ordered the Knights of the House of Aschart to go and bring Natasha back.

On the seventh day, they finally found a trace of her. It was right after the snowstorm ended and the travel ban on the Douglas Forest was lifted.

“…Princess?”

Their lips, which had just touched, parted slightly. A weak, empty voice escaped through the small space.

What lay in his arms was not Natasha Aschart, but something that felt like a rotting fish.

It showed signs of decay.

The discolored skin had turned soft and fragile. A foul smell, the unmistakable stench of something rotten, surrounded it.

Her clothes, damaged and drooping, caught his attention. She was wearing a dirty negligee and a thin blanket, and he had no idea when she had changed into them. That was all she had on.

Even the knights had struggled to make their way through the deadly blizzard, but she had walked through the snowy wilderness in almost nothing.

Without thinking, Sieghart leaned down and brought his face close to her nose. The knights, shocked, tried to stop him, but he remained still.

As he feared, she was not breathing. Not even the slightest breeze entered his nose. The only thing that did was the smell of death.

It was now undeniable.

This woman was dead.

In the end, she had left him.

“…Why?”

She wasn’t someone who was supposed to die.

She was the woman he had loved and also hated. Someone he resented, but could never bring himself to kill. That was why he had kept her by his side, even after the contract with Emperor Kail Letius was nullified.

He had kept her close because he wanted her to live in misery.

And in the end, she had died within that misery.

“Why…?”

Then why did her death feel so lonely?

Why did he find himself wishing this body was a fake?

Say it, Sieghart Aschart.

Confess it, Enoch Callete.

But even in the bitter wind, there was no confession.

Tisha Winter.
Natasha Aschart.

All that remained was the pain of losing her.

The man was trapped in a meaningless world. Like citizens who lose their way when a nation falls into chaos, Sieghart wandered aimlessly, unable to accept the collapse of his own world.

It felt like being sucked into a giant vortex. He could not handle the feeling of being pulled into such deep darkness.

He had not fallen into paradise, but into the heavens where lost souls drift. In that place, fragments of broken memories floated around him.

For instance,

“…Still, I feel like I could be happy if I’m with you, Your Grace. Do you feel the same, Sieghart? I’m not the only one getting ahead of myself, right?”

The voice of Tisha Winter, the woman he had once loved.

Or,

“I don’t know what I did wrong, or what made your heart change, but it’s alright. I’m still grateful just to be near you, Sieghart.

May the moon of Aschart be blessed with endless joy and honor.

From your wife, who always loves you and supports you.”

Natasha Aschart, who always came closer, no matter how coldly he turned her away.

“…Ah.”

The man let out a short breath. His voice was dry, like dust. It was the first and only sound made by a man who had fallen far from grace.

A mirage suddenly appeared, quietly piercing through Sieghart’s denial. The feelings he had refused to acknowledge were forced to the surface by a truth he could no longer ignore.

It didn’t matter if she had been his enemy. Whether she was Tisha Winter or Natasha Charlier, whether she shared the red eyes of his past, in truth, Sieghart had always…

He had always wanted to look away from the voices of his family that echoed in his ears each day.

He had wanted to erase Enoch Callete’s existence completely.

Because the truth was, he had always…

“I loved her.”

She had been his sunlight.

“The truth is, it was love.”

He hadn’t realized it while he still had her, but now, too late, he saw how radiant she had been.

“Natasha, I’ve always, deeply…”

Sieghart had been too blind to understand.

He should have realized his feelings before he cast her into such a miserable life. He should have known that his heart would never let her go, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

He should have stopped her from dying.

“Didn’t you swear you didn’t love her, my lord? Are you saying you still did all along?”

“She’s a Charlier now, not an Aschart. Loving her is the same as betraying the Callete name.”

“Her death was inevitable. She was the daughter of our enemy, the one who destroyed us!”

For the first time, Sieghart didn’t answer. He no longer needed to.

That cursed name, Charlier.

That cursed name, Callete.

What power did those names really have over them?

In the end, both sides were victims and perpetrators. Both shared the same past, the same pain.

Her bloodline, the sorrow she carried from being a Charlier, none of that mattered anymore.

All that mattered was having her by his side.

At last, Sieghart let go of the rope he had been clinging to. As he fell into the abyss, the voices of his family faded into the distance. He felt no regret.

This was the moment he truly let them go.

“I’ll save you, Natasha.”

Holding her decayed body in his arms, Sieghart made a promise.

“You let go of me, but I’ll bring you back. I’ll make you happy, no matter what.”

He would bring her back, no matter what it took.

“My lord, my lord!”

A voice broke through Sieghart Aschart’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

“…The temple?”

Still caught in his memories, he felt briefly lost. Only when he saw Meliana running toward him, breathless and flushed, did he realize where he was.

This wasn’t the past. This was reality.

This was Natasha’s eleventh and final life, after dying ten times before.

This was the life where Sieghart Aschart could finally be with her.

The life where he wouldn’t let her go again.

Sieghart answered Meliana’s urgent call with a slight nod.

“…There’s somewhere you must go. Right now.”

Her voice trembled, as if fear had taken hold of her.

Sensing something was wrong, Sieghart turned to look at her directly and immediately froze. Meliana, usually calm and cheerful, stood stiff like a stone, her face tense and rigid.

And now, without properly explaining anything, she was trying to make her sovereign stand up and follow her without question. It was beyond rude.

Something serious had clearly happened.

“Is it about my wife?”

His voice quivered as he asked.

Meliana, just as shaken, nodded.

That small motion pushed Sieghart into a flood of emotions. Like a silkworm slowly eating a mulberry leaf, fear began to gnaw away at his heart, bit by bit.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask what had happened. He was afraid of what might come out of her mouth, afraid that the very thing he feared most had finally happened.

As he walked down the corridor, the thoughts he had been unable to finish returned to him.

He had gone to the temple and stood before the High Priest, drawing the holy sword. Standing once again before the stone from which he had first drawn it, he raised the blade and cried out to the gods.

He begged them to bring her back. To return Natasha Aschart to his side.

When the god answered that reviving the dead was impossible, Sieghart used himself as a bargaining chip.

He swore that if Natasha wasn’t brought back to life before his eyes, he would end his own.

Even then, the god was unmoved. He mocked him, calling it a foolish act of desperation. He asked if Sieghart really had the courage to die, to throw away everything he had gained in this life his power, his title, his honor.

But this knight was different. Slowly, he began pushing the blade into his own heart.

Shocked by his resolve, the god finally gave in and accepted the terms of the pact.

But even then, it wasn’t a resurrection. Bringing someone back from the dead was another matter entirely. So, the two reached a compromise.

Both would be sent back, to live again in a past timeline.

“I don’t care when or where,” Sieghart had said. “Just bring her back. Let me apologize. Let me be forgiven. Let me be loved. Just don’t let her leave me again.”

He prayed with all the heart of both Enoch Callete and Sieghart Aschart.

And then, he met her again and began anew. Though Natasha might see it as deception, Sieghart saw it as a second chance.

A chance to bury his past mistakes and plant the seeds of love between them.

Sieghart stopped in front of the open door. A horrible stench poured out of the room.

Frozen in place, Sieghart couldn’t take another step. His eyes, staring into the room, turned cold and blank like stone. His trembling figure seemed to scream in silence.

Between the twisted muscles of his face, the shadow of death crept in. The image of the moment she left him once before flashed across his mind.

“Natasha!”

All he had wanted was for their love to take root again.

That was all.

He had never, not once, wished for this kind of ending.

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