I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 84

Ah, Natasha.

Sieghart exhaled, and his breath, cold like frost, hung in the air. His sorrow spread slowly, like smoke from a pipe, drifting through the emptiness. That grief soon became the path he was meant to follow.

His slow steps carried his heavy body forward. It felt like his feet were stuck to the ground, making every movement difficult. Still, Sieghart forced himself to keep going, putting distance between himself and the safety of stillness.

Ah, Natasha.

The closer he got to her, the more his face twisted with pain.

His vision narrowed, the edges warping and fading. He held onto the last bit of clarity as he continued walking.

When he finally reached the bed, the tension in his body collapsed. His knees nearly gave out as he stumbled forward.

Natasha was lying motionless on the bed, her face pale like that of the dead. Her arms looked rough and shriveled, like cloth torn to pieces.

The sheets and blankets were fresh and clean, changed daily by the maids. But now, that pure white had been stained red.

Alarmed, Sieghart scanned the room.

The first thing he saw was a piece of broken glass near her hand. Then, further away, the shattered remains of a vase.

Her eyes were slightly open. She was breathing weakly, so she had not completely lost consciousness.

But something about her felt wrong. Her gaze was unfocused, and she did not respond to loud noises. It was as if her body was present, but her spirit was fading.

His cold blood began to boil. His muscles tensed, and his whole body felt sore with panic.

“Call the physician. Bring them now,” he shouted at Meliana, who had entered with a medical kit.

She quickly handed it over, then ran out again with hurried steps.

Sieghart crushed some herbs and sprinkled the powder over her wounds. Natasha flinched. Even in her dazed state, her face twisted in pain.

“It hurts,” she whispered quietly. It was not a complaint or accusation. It was simply a reaction, something instinctive.

The heart Sieghart had barely managed to hold together began to fall apart again.

“Why,” he said, his voice shaking. “Why are you doing this, Natasha?”

She turned her head slightly at the sound of his voice.

“You have dreams. You’ve worked so hard. There is no reason for you to fall apart like this. Why are you choosing death again? Why would you go through this again?”

Unwanted memories began to surface.

Ten times, Natasha had died.

Sieghart had been trapped in the past each time, watching it happen again and again. Though his body moved and acted like the man he used to be, his soul remained aware.

His mouth and hands moved on their own, reflecting the Sieghart of the past. He had been unable to stop her from throwing herself out the window.

Before he could even grieve, time would move again, placing him somewhere new.

Twice, three times, four times, five. Then finally ten.

Each time, all he could do was stand there and watch the woman he loved die.

Then came her final life. This time, he had control. He had the power to move on his own. And the first thing he did was find her.

He promised himself that he would make her happy. He followed what she had always wanted.

They ate together. They slept beside each other. He wrote her letters, just as she had once wished.

He remembered their anniversary. He took her out of the cold estate and brought her on trips, so she would not feel alone.

He did everything he could to protect her from Emperor Kail Letius.

“That sounds easy for you to say, Sieghart Aschart.”

Her soft, trembling voice broke through the storm in his mind. The weight of the past, which had clung to him so tightly, slowly began to peel away.

“I loved you. I loved you so deeply that I could have given up everything for you.”

Her voice fell to a whisper.

“That is why this hurts so much. I hate what this has become. I hate it because the man I once loved is now someone I can no longer forgive.”

Her fragile voice pushed Sieghart deeper into a maze of guilt.

“I loved you. I wanted you. I needed you. But you destroyed everything. You called me lowborn. You ignored everything I was.”

“Tisha,” he said, barely able to speak.

“You could have left me. You could have let me go when I tried to leave. But instead, you kept me close and made me suffer. You treated me like I was less than the dirt beneath your feet.”

Her words pierced him like knives. The man who had stood tall in battle, who had faced death without fear, now crumbled under a few quiet sentences.

“And yet, in this life, you acted as if you loved me.”

“…”

“And yet, even after everything, you confessed that you loved me.”

“…”

“You said something like that to me. How could I not lose my mind? No matter how long I’ve wished for it or how much I dreamed of a future with you, how could I feel anything but the urge to run away? I just want to escape, Sieghart. To somewhere you’re not.”

Natasha coldly pushed Sieghart’s hand away as he wrapped the bandage around her arm.

The corners of her mouth twitched upward. It looked like a smile, but it wasn’t one. It seemed more like she was trying not to cry.

Even when she eventually began to cry, Sieghart couldn’t bring himself to wipe the tears from her cheeks. He wanted to brush his fingers along her eyes, to press a light kiss there, but he couldn’t find the courage.

He knew that any show of affection from him now would only make things worse.

“Sieghart, you never loved me. Not truly. If you had, you never would have treated me that way. If you loved me now, you wouldn’t be doing this. What you’re feeling isn’t love. It’s guilt. Twisted emotions born from pity for the woman you let die.”

She didn’t know the truth, so it was only natural that she couldn’t accept his love.

Natasha Charlier couldn’t possibly understand the endless, desperate love of Sieghart Aschart, just as he had once struggled with the same questions and guilt she now felt.

But even now, Sieghart couldn’t speak. He couldn’t explain everything, so he had no right to say she was wrong.

There was still a secret room, hidden like a blue beard behind locked doors, that she hadn’t discovered yet. And he had to protect it.

She looked into his empty eyes, then turned her gaze away as if disgusted. Her eyes glanced at the bandage wrapped tightly around her wounded arm. A bitter smile touched her lips.

It was as if she were mocking herself, as if to say, after dying so many times, was she really flinching at a wound like this?

“The only reason I could face you, the only reason I could smile at you or be kind to you at all, was because this time, the man I met seemed different. But if it turns out that man is still the same one from before, then everything changes.”

She turned back to Sieghart, her voice firmer now, more composed. It was clear that this was the end of the conversation for her.

“Your confession came too late. Just like my forgiveness. You should have told me the truth when I asked. You had the chance, again and again. If you had any conscience at all, you should have stopped me before I came to rely on you.”

After a moment, Sieghart bent down and picked up the bandage she had knocked away. He cut off the part that had touched the floor, then quietly began wrapping it around her arm again.

“Fine. You probably don’t want a heartfelt apology. It’s too late for that. Even if I meant every word, you’d just hear it as another excuse. It wouldn’t matter.”

Though her words had torn through his chest like knives, leaving his heart in tatters, he pretended not to care.

“Even if I was the one who dragged you back into this hell, even if you’re grieving, angry, and in pain, keep holding on. Keep living.”

“…”

“Keep moving forward. Think of the day you’ll be happy again. Picture yourself smiling and free, while I remain in misery. Keep going with that future in mind. Right beside me, the one who dragged you into this nightmare, into the snow and the darkness.”

As he spoke, he could see Natasha slowly calming herself. That only made him speak more deliberately. He didn’t care if his words felt like a curse. Even if they were a curse to himself and to her, he had to say them.

Because he still needed to treat her wounds.

Meliana and the physician continued to report on the Duchess’s condition.

Meliana shared hopeful news, saying that the Duchess, who had seemed deeply depressed for days, was slowly regaining the will to live.

But Sieghart knew better. He knew this wasn’t recovery. It was desperation. It was her way of running away. When Natasha faced something unbearable, she always threw herself into movement, afraid to stop and face it.

“I see. Then take even better care of her,” he replied.

Still, he thought, maybe for now he should be thankful that she was moving at all.

Whenever she threw herself into doing something, some part of her would find a strange kind of joy. Perhaps he could hold on to that small hope now.

“Understood. Should I suggest that she go visit you, Your Grace?” Meliana asked, her tone light.

She clearly didn’t know what had really happened. She must have thought it was just a simple argument between the two of them. She seemed to believe that maybe she could help patch things up.

“No. Only bring her to me if she says she wants to see me.”

Sieghart declined gently, with a faint, bitter smile.

But to his surprise, Natasha Aschart came to him the very next day.

“Your Grace, there is something I need to say.”

She was holding the contract they had written together.

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