Children in their innocent days, knowing nothing.
The three of them, who had simply gotten along as their hearts led them and as they pleased, no longer existed in the same place. It was now time for everyone to find their own place. Her encounter with Vin Eburk had gifted Anita a slightly premature maturity.
And the winter of that year was the last time Anita visited the Edenbahir ducal estate.
Afterward, time passed, and Anita did not visit the ducal estate again until her father went missing. Her correspondence with Lanslo, which had continued only through letters, gradually fizzled out. As if proving the true meaning of the saying "time heals all wounds," her feelings for Lanslo also slowly faded away.
It was only after she found stability while helping with her father's work that Anita had a passing realization.
‘Ah, so Lanslo was my first love.’
It was a relief to have realized it so much later.
Because by then, their relationship had become one that could be recalled with a bit of bittersweetness, and nothing more.
She truly never imagined she would end up marrying the person she had struggled so hard to push out of her heart. Even if it was a contract marriage destined for divorce, weren't they now a proper ‘married couple’?
Anita turned her back on the desk where the letter to Vin Eburk lay.
‘What should I do? It’s as if I’ve snooped through his things.’
Is this something that's okay between a married couple, not something to be so formal about? Hadn't their engagement been broken off long ago?
But what if he had been exchanging letters with Vin Eburk without her knowledge…
And what if the feelings they shared were anything but light?
‘He’ll surely be displeased if I let on that I know about this letter.’
After standing in silence for a moment, Anita left the room without checking on Lanslo, who would be lying in bed.
It was strange. How could the desire to bury her face in a pillow and burst into tears coexist with the feeling of her mind having grown lighter?
Anita squeezed herself into the couple's bedding, which had already grown cold, and reproached herself.
‘It was my mistake. Of course, there’s no way he could love me.’
Let's let Lanslo go completely. Let's shatter my feelings for him into perfect pieces.
For the sake of the man I love, and for the sake of the me who loves him.
Anita began to practice letting go of her feelings, little by little.
Ironically, the first day of practicing to let go was the easiest.
At first, every time she saw Lanslo's face, the letter to Vin Eburk came to mind, allowing her to treat him with an extremely rational and objective attitude, one that was ‘nothing more than a collaborator to any observer.’
This meant she showed none of the intimacy of a married couple, the naturalness of a decade-long friendship, or the behavior of someone deeply lost in a painful one-sided love. She thought it was acceptable, at least within the estate.
Lanslo showed no particular reaction to Anita's suddenly cold demeanor. Instead, he left her with a cryptic remark as if in passing.
“Just do whatever you want to do, Anita. You don't need to feel guilty toward me. I'll accommodate you in any way I can.”
If she could have her way, she would have asked if the reason they married truly meant nothing to him.
Of course, she couldn't ask. Because Anita, too, had her pride.
From the second day, the servants began to walk on eggshells, as if they had noticed the unusual atmosphere between the two. Lanslo's attitude remained as affectionate, frank, and easygoing as ever.
Sasha, noticing the change in Anita, whispered to her at the dinner table in a voice only she could hear.
“It looks like Lanslo made a huge mistake, didn't he? If you're going to teach him a lesson, your current attitude isn't enough. You have to be colder! What's the point of just having a cold voice and expression if you're still answering all his questions and making small talk?”
“…You can see it too?”
That I'm being cold to him?
“What? That you can't bring yourself to be cruel? Of course. You're too nice for your own good. From now on, just ignore whatever he says, pretend you didn't hear him, and have dinner separately. Don't even look at his face. That's the only way he'll realize his mistake and apologize, you know? I don't know what you two fought about, but… you don't get angry over just anything, so it must be his fault.”
Anita found Sasha, who took her side unconditionally without even knowing the reason, to be lovely. And more than anything, she felt sorry.
‘I’ve made too many people worry.’
Yes, on second thought, she realized there was no need to discard her feelings in such a conspicuous way.
‘I was the one who got my hopes up, and I was the one who was disappointed. Making the people around me walk on eggshells under the pretext of distancing myself is childish.’
At times like this, she genuinely admired Lanslo.
To think he could maintain a consistent, unwavering bluntness anytime, anywhere, in front of anyone.
In the end, Anita gave up on her one-woman cold war after just three days. Likewise, Lanslo showed no particular reaction to Anita's second whim.
It was a fresh realization, but not having to consciously treat her own husband with hostility was a truly comfortable and useful way to act. The additional benefits were not insignificant either.
For instance, she could now ask the question she hadn't been able to for the past three days, for the sake of maintaining her cold attitude.
“Lanslo.”
Lanslo, who was reviewing the ledgers sent by Georges, looked up at her.
“Speak.”
*Ahem.* Anita did her best to shake off her embarrassment before speaking.
“About my question from three days ago… I don’t think I got an answer.”
“What answer?”
“The person the Grand Dame and Prince Reinhardt were conspiring to kill. Who is it?”
Prince Maxim? Schwehlik III?
Lanslo gave her a look that said, *You were still thinking about that?* But he soon put down the paper he was holding and answered.
“Everyone.”
Ah, that was the most efficient answer, one she hadn't dared to consider.
“It’s a method Prince Reinhardt is fond of. Wiping out his political enemies, leaving not a single one behind.”
She had learned a great secret, but it wasn't as shocking as she'd expected. It was probably because she had been somewhat certain of it over the past three days.
There was something else that was more surprising.
“How on earth did you find out that kind of information?”
“How do you think I found out?”
She hadn't expected him to ask back.
“Um, you planted someone by the Grand Dame's side, or you found clear evidence of the assassination plot, or…”
“…”
“What’s the answer? Is it one of the things I said?”
His reply was slow. Anita watched Lanslo with slightly nervous eyes.
But he only gave a deflating answer.
“No. It’s no use looking at me like that. It’s a trade secret.”
Neither of them?
‘Then… is it simply a guess?’
But Lanslo wasn't one to speak easily of uncertain matters. Then how…
Suddenly, a rather absurd hypothesis flashed through Anita's mind.
[Nuaza was born with the great ‘Power of Prophecy’.]
The first sentence that appears when you open the fairy tale <Nuaza's Journey>.
‘No way.’
No way? Could it really be?
‘Father wouldn’t have left me <Nuaza's Journey> for no reason. If that fairy tale was meant to inform me of Nuaza’s power…’
Wouldn't that usefulness make sense? At least, to Anita.
The Power of Prophecy. She knew it was a very unrealistic, illogical, and irrational power, but with such a power, Lanslo would have more than enough ability to see through the Grand Dame's schemes.
Though she knew it was a judgment bordering on delusion, Anita wanted to have her hypothesis confirmed.
So she decided to gather her courage and ask.
“Lanslo. I’m asking this just in case… but I’m being serious, so you have to answer without laughing at me.”
“Just how absurd a question are you about to ask? Go on.”
*Ahem.* This time, she cleared her throat a little more loudly.
“Do you… by any chance, have prophetic dreams?”
A silence fell.
It was a very long, yet light silence. Long enough to feel the hot autumn sunlight drifting through the air and tickling her skin.
“Amazing.”
Lanslo's exclamation, heard at the end of the silence, was more than enough to make Anita's face flush red.
“What kind of wiring does your brain have to produce a question like whether I have prophetic dreams?”
“S-so you really don’t have prophetic dreams? Or, something similar to prophecy?”
“Who knows.”
It was a vague answer, but the meaning within it was clear.
That Anita's hypothesis was wrong.
‘Then how in the world did he know?’
It wasn't something she should have dragged on for so long, but since Lanslo wouldn't tell her easily, her curiosity only grew.
However, it wasn't long before she decided to completely let go of her delusion.
‘Because having Nuaza’s power also means having the curse…’
The Curse of Being Unable to Love.
That’s such a sad curse.
Even knowing it couldn't be true, Anita hoped that Lanslo would not be afflicted by such a wicked curse.
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