Chapter 213
Nerys’s sleeping lips trembled as words slipped out.
“Really… do you… like…?”
Only a few syllables escaped, but Cledwyn understood what she meant.
Her face looked far more at peace. He didn’t like that she was crying, but the deadly pallor had faded. She truly looked like someone simply asleep.
Smiling, he leaned to her ear and whispered—as if the words were too precious for anyone else to hear.
“Of course.”
He had never liked anyone this much. Even the word “like” felt too small, so he used “love,” and even that felt too small, leaving him wanting to just stare at her in a daze.
It didn’t take very long to leave the imperial palace. But clearly, quite some time had passed inside, for dawn was breaking when he returned to the estate.
Talfrin, who had been hastily packing to evacuate the residence—whether Cledwyn returned or not—looked annoyed to see his master unharmed. But Cledwyn didn’t have time to soothe his temperamental subordinate.
He headed straight to the bedroom, gathered Nerys into his arms, and called her name.
Nerys, Nerys.
At first, she didn’t move at all. Regret twisted in his chest. He shouldn’t have trusted that suspicious pillar of light. It said it would help—what nonsense.
He even considered leaving immediately for the papal state—trying to reason with himself as best he could.
“Mm…”
Nerys’s expression softened. It started after the fifth time he called her name.
So he tried telling her to wake up. He missed her eyes terribly. Without the radiant spark in her gaze when she looked at him, he had no reason to live at all.
Whether limp like a corpse or screaming, she had been nowhere near normal. But around that time, she began to resemble her usual sleeping self again.
So he whispered the things he always whispered.
She didn’t know, but he usually woke up slightly earlier than she did. And while she slept, he pulled the fallen blanket back over her, whispering many things into her ear.
That he loved her. That he wanted her to believe it. That he wanted every morning to be like this.
But today, he added something more. Usually, her sleepy face was cute, but now she was scared and lonely, so he wanted her to wake up.
He, who feared no blade at his throat, was terrified of Nerys’s pale face. The thought that she might never open her eyes again was more frightening than news that heaven and earth had flipped.
That was when she began to cry. And when she began muttering words like a half-asleep child.
“Dis… plea… sing…”
He froze at that. Thankfully, she added:
“Is… not…”
Well, at least his confession wasn’t displeasing. He decided to accept that.
“Be… lieve…”
She said that too. Good. He decided to accept that as well.
She spoke a few more scattered words, drifting between dream and reality. Cledwyn whispered even more. And as he did, Nerys cried harder and spoke more.
At last, her eyes slowly opened.
Dawn light spilled through the curtains, shining like her hair. Nerys opened her radiant eyes and looked at Cledwyn.
Her eyes—always shimmering with hundreds, thousands of iridescent hues—stared at him, wet with tears.
Oh gods.
He called on a name he had never bothered with before and embraced her tightly.
Nerys blinked dazedly and asked:
“Why do you… look like that?”
“What do you mean, sleepyhead?”
The corners of Cledwyn’s eyes glistened. Nerys noticed and let out a soft laugh.
Holding him close, she gently asked,
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I love you too.” (T/N: Awwwwwwww, she finally confessed her feelings!!! )
He had no words.
Cledwyn went rigid, like someone receiving a death threat. She stroked his firm back and laughed.
The morning sunlight was lovely. Especially the sunlight that poured onto him. His breath, his movements, his scent—they were all lovely.
Even if he grew old and wrinkled someday, he would still be just as lovable.
At last, she faced the happiness she once believed she could never have.
❖ ❖ ❖
The previous night’s earthquake left at least half the capital’s furniture rattling in fear.
But despite the commotion, the actual damage to noble estates was minimal. Even the report of a cracked wall near the imperial investigation team’s building became boring gossip within hours, and nobles quickly moved on to their usual trivial chatter.
“You’re ready to leave?”
“Yes, Your Highness. But since you’ve only just awakened, wouldn’t it be better to rest a few more days?”
Nerys shook her head at Talfrin’s question. She was a bit gaunt after being ill the entire previous day, but she sat through dinner in an elegant, composed manner.
“No, I’m fine. I slept well. More importantly, if communication is discovered between the new Duke of Elandria—that our dear imperial princess personally appointed—and her brother’s lover while we’re away…”
“You want me to make sure they communicate without being caught? Understood. Already in progress.”
“Excellent.”
Camille had lost many subordinates last night, yet still failed to kill Cledwyn and Nerys—despite staking so many lives on it.
She had already lost influence in politics and watched her followers abandon her. Now she was humiliated—enough that even with loyal, capable Silver Moon agents, she would be unable to act for quite some time.
Which meant the capital would be entertaining for a while.
The old Nerys might have been pleased to imagine Camille suffering. But now she didn’t particularly wish pain upon Camille—or anyone who had wronged her in her previous life.
They no longer mattered to her.
Of course, in both her past life and this one, they had acted like sworn enemies. So she would remove obstacles thoroughly.
‘I just don’t want them ruining my life anymore.’
She wanted to forget everything they had made her believe about herself. It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t happen quickly—
‘But for the sake of not insulting the people beside me…’
It would be possible, slowly.
Nerys looked at the clear water in her glass and the reflection of her face. She didn’t look that bad.
Beside her, Cledwyn stared at her face, having eaten nothing yet looking completely satisfied.
“My wife is too smart.”
“Hearing that from you feels strange.”
For someone who hadn’t regressed and yet seized the North at such a young age—Nerys felt her cheeks grow warm.
And as always when this topic came up, Cledwyn proudly disagreed with her embarrassment.
“Why? If it weren’t for you, how else would the three biggest troublemakers in the capital be watching each other’s backs and waiting to stab each other?”
Camille would stay quiet for now, hoping to survive her brother’s hostility. But she’d jump at any chance to eliminate Megara—because Megara was the reason her brother hated her.
And though Camille had urgently elevated Nellusion to duke to gain a political pawn, she’d never truly trust or empower him.
Megara, wanting to overcome her status limitations, took Nellusion’s hand. But she would never allow Nellusion more influence than herself. So while pretending to work with him and coax Abelus, she’d scheme endlessly to secure her own position.
Nellusion was the same. Though he became duke under Camille’s tacit approval, he knew well she was not truly his ally. He would work with Megara, but if an opening appeared, he’d immediately exploit her and discard her.
“It all flowed well.”
Nerys said modestly.
“Letting the three keep each other in check, then taking them down one by one when the time comes is good. Did you spare the former Duke of Elandria because you expect the final winner to be Nellusion Elandria?”
Nellusion’s father—the former duke—was currently hiding in the countryside.
He didn’t know the one who saved him was Nerys’s subordinate. And wishing to please his savior, he obediently followed instructions to lie low.
“They’re all clever and sly—no guarantees. It’s more of a contingency plan regarding the imperial family and the Elandria line.”
Which member of a great house inherited the title wasn’t something the imperial family could alter freely. Since they tampered with it, the former duke could become a significant liability if he chose to make trouble.
And with the rightful heir alive, attempting to kill him and proclaiming succession unilaterally was naturally a major weakness for Nellusion.
“You don’t need Abelus’s lover’s weakness?”
“For Nellusion or Camille, maybe. But Megara? No. She will never be the final victor.”
A marquis’s daughter, possibly a future duchess, was different from someone who would be banished from high society forever if kicked out of the palace.
‘Not that she deserves sympathy.’
Nerys left the topic and returned to the matter of the duke.
“He won’t be used soon. If a venomous snake doesn’t want to be crushed, it hides quietly until its fangs are sharpest.”
There was no longer a single reason to remain in the capital. Madam Moriah had been so shocked seeing Nerys collapse that she offered to handle society herself.
Wine needed time to mature before opening—it required patience.
“I’ll ensure the fight drags out.”
Talfrin said proudly. Nerys nodded in satisfaction.
As soon as Nerys set down her knife, a servant rushed to place a glass in her hand. Truly excessive kindness. She wasn’t some frail elder who couldn’t move.
About to scold Cledwyn for letting servants hover during meals, she glanced at him. Their eyes met, and he smiled as if that alone made him full.
She couldn’t get angry after that.
Smiling faintly, Nerys remembered the moment she collapsed. She didn’t recall much… but according to Dora, who held her as she woke, several people had heard her rambling.
When Nerys asked what they heard, Dora recited things vague enough to deny if needed.
‘It’s time to talk.’
About her past. If she told anyone, it would be her husband first.
But since they were preparing to depart, this wasn’t the moment for a long, shocking confession. Nerys gave a hesitant smile and turned back to her food.
Once they returned home, she would tell him everything. Every single thing.