RODH Chapter 43

43.

[…As Odette’s illness worsened, Dragon King Kruch sent a personal letter requesting to rent the imperial temple. However, Crown Prince Seor von Sain, who held full authority over the temple, denied the request. Not long after, Odette’s condition rapidly declined.]

She didn’t die because of that… right?

Between this and what happened with Nevan, I really didn’t understand why everything turned upside down whenever the imperial family got involved.

I held back the urge to shout that father and son were both irredeemable trash and continued reading.

[In response, the Empire hastily dispatched priests, but Odette had already passed away by the time they arrived.
Kruch expressed his sorrow, saying, “The wings of the dragon clan have been broken.”
(Omitted)
Thus, the head of House del Venom became Crown Prince Lucian del Venom.]

So Lucian wasn’t just a crown prince—he was also the head of House del Venom.

I closed the book and sank into the chair.

From the open window came a cool breeze and the sound of insects in the grass.

Suddenly, Lucian’s words and his bitter smile came back to me.

“Protect those you love. Time, once lost, never returns.”

“Damn it.”

I didn’t know that was what lay behind those words.

I couldn’t even begin to grasp the pain Lucian must have gone through.

Why had Seor refused?

Whatever the reason, it was clear that bastard was nothing but human garbage, not even fit to recycle.

Lucian had every reason to resent Seor—why didn’t he?

Was he hiding it on purpose?

I crawled into bed, almost dragging myself.

Should’ve just left that journal alone…

Tangled in thought, tossing and turning, I didn’t even notice when dawn broke.

Bain came in with breakfast.

“Good morning, young ma—oh!”

Bain stepped back in shock, but I greeted him calmly.

“Hey, Bain. You’re here?”

“Your eyes are all red, young master. And your complexion—”

“Of course it’s bad. I was up all night.”

“Why?”

There was no way I could tell innocent Bain about Nevan or Lucian.

How many secrets do people carry that they can never share?

Suddenly, I felt lonely again.

The only person who knew about my regression was that crazy old man.

I wanted to tell Nevan, but what if he didn’t believe me?

That kind of rejection would hurt more than anything.

Needing comfort, I asked Bain to change the menu.

“Bain. Bring muffins instead of this. And chamomile tea, not black.”

“Alright.”

Bain glanced at me worriedly, then quietly stepped out.

The moment he did, Lucian dropped down from the sky.

This time, the portal in the ceiling was a dark violet hue.

Despite the trespass, he greeted me cheerfully as if nothing were wrong.

“Good morning, Ian.”

“What is it now, so early in the day?”

Lack of sleep made my tone a bit sharp.

Lucian folded his arms and gave me a once-over.

“Did the necklace not help?”

Having seen the photo, I couldn’t bring myself to say something so ungrateful, so I shook my head.

Lucian’s eyes curved into a crescent.

“You looked at the picture, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So? I was super cute as a kid, right?”

“You look exactly the same. Only taller now.”

“You could at least say I was cute back then.”

“You were cute. Happy now?”

“Where’s your soul? Did you sell it off?”

He was the same as always. I bit my lip.

I wondered… Did Lucian resent Seor?

Was he holding back for revenge?

Just imagining the two of them spilling each other’s blood made me shudder.

That was something I had to prevent.

I blurted out, caught in my own needless worry.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Did your mother suffer a lot?”

At the word “mother,” Lucian’s expression fell.

I quickly shifted my wording.

“I can’t understand why His Highness Seor made that decision. I spent a fair amount of time as his fiancée, but I never truly grasped his—”

“Ian.”

Lucian’s voice was soft as he called my name.

He smiled like a priest in white robes and said,

“It’s in the past. And it wasn’t Seor’s fault.”

“What? What do you mean…?”

“Do you know Empress Marcella had a chronic illness?”

“I heard rumors.”

“When my mother was sick, her condition worsened too. That’s why they denied the temple request.”

“But… couldn’t the priests have been split to treat them both?”

Lucian shook his head.

“No one in the Empire has that level of divine power. Maybe the Grand Sage could’ve done it.”

The Grand Sage.

According to Berkisto’s journal, he was the one who lived in the Winstol tree, supposedly over a hundred years old.

“I don’t blame Seor because I understand his desire to save his own mother. But Ian…”

Lucian stepped closer, lowering his head.

He whispered right against my ear.

“Anyone who dares say that the dragon clan’s wings were broken because of that—I’ll kill them all.”

“…Why are you telling me this?”

As I slowly backed away, Lucian casually grabbed my hand.

“Just so you know. Because you do know who said that, right?”

Lucian smiled.

Even if he said otherwise, it seemed like he still harbored resentment toward Seor.

Time to adjust the plan.

“Just don’t fight in front of me.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“What are you talking about, Ian? I’m a pacifist too.”

“Didn’t you just say you’d kill everyone? How’s that peaceful?”

“It’s only natural to kill people who talk nonsense. Besides, I’ve got a wide network.”

My head throbbed.

Did this lunatic not even know what a pacifist is?

“A pacifist doesn’t harm anyone.”

“No one?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I won’t hurt anyone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll just kill them.”

Lucian smiled sweetly.

“That’s not—”

I buried my face in my hands.

Forget it. No point talking.

Talking to an idiot just made me feel like one, too.

“Why’re you like this, Ian?” was the last thing I heard before I issued Lucian an expulsion order.

---

The invitation from the North arrived just as the flowers of the Winstol tree had withered and its fruits began to grow.

Ian had been faithfully exchanging letters with Nevan.

Upon hearing a portion of the letter’s contents, the etiquette tutor from the North looked startled and asked,

“Are you perhaps close family or lovers?”

Ian’s face turned bright red as he denied it vehemently.

Still, the letters that once held only a single line now stretched to five.

[To the dear Ian,
Do you know about the festival held in the North during late summer?
Northerners call it the Berry Festival, though I’m not sure what it’s called in the central or southern regions.
I’ve rambled long enough.
You are invited to the festival.
– Nevan Nik Kirias]

All over five lines. Ian stroked the hawk’s head fondly, the one that had delivered the letter.

Now that he thought about it, he remembered hearing the feathered courier bird had gone missing.

Bain had definitely sent it north last time. Maybe it really had ended up there?

As Ian suspected, the Ruben family’s courier bird was indeed with Nevan.

Luke, licking his lips, had suggested that a fat pigeon was good eating, but Nevan strictly forbade any such thought.

“We have to feed it well before sending it back.”

“I think it’s been fed plenty, Your Grace. Its feather coat is about to burst.”

“That’s not fat—it’s fluff.”

“In this summer heat?”

“Luke.”

“Ah, yes, sir.”

Silencing his tactless retainer, Nevan now treated the bird almost like Ian himself.

It was an unusually clever bird for a courier, and Nevan often spoke to it absentmindedly while reviewing reports from the estate.

So to him, Luke’s talk of eating it must’ve seemed barbaric.

“Ahem. I heard the young lord will be attending the Berry Festival this year.”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t we prepare something?”

“Prepare?”

Nevan blinked innocently, and Luke gestured animatedly with both hands.

“Romance is all about the chase, Your Grace! A real man makes their lover theirs. Hmph!”

“The chase…”

“That’s right! You must pull him in, Your Grace!”

At that moment, Klain, who had been silently listening, cut in.

“Romance, you say? Is it proper for a jilted heir to be involved with His Grace? And if you pull with that monstrous strength of yours, he’ll be dead in no time.”

“What was that?”

“That’s enough, both of you.”

They’d been bickering more than usual lately.

Nevan simply looked forward to the day the Berry Festival would begin—when he could spend time with Ian.

And on the day itself—

What had once been a small local event had suddenly expanded into a nationwide celebration, thanks to the arrival of the Crown Prince, the Tower Lord, and even the Dragon Crown Prince.

The people of the domain were overjoyed, declaring that the North’s golden berries had finally received proper recognition.

Ian, dumbfounded, looked at the four alphas gathered—including Seor.

“What brings you all the way out here?”

Seor answered coolly,

“The North is still imperial territory. If I attend this festival, it will prosper further.”

“His Highness speaks the truth.”

Peter, siding with him like an ally, chimed in.

Ian now turned to Lucian and Alvis.

Noticing Ian’s gaze, Lucian grinned and answered candidly,

“I heard you were coming.”

“I never said I was.”

“I heard it in your sleep.”

“I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“Must’ve been in your dream, then.”

At a loss for words, Ian turned to Alvis, who quickly rummaged through his sleeve and pulled out a simple-looking pouch.

“What is this?”

“It’s a magical pouch that can hold about ten kilograms of berries.”

“So you’re planning to strip the entire grove.”

Seor sneered.

Before Ian could offer a word of thanks, he felt a gaze from somewhere nearby and turned his head.