I Will End My 10-Year Unrequited Love - Chapter 10
Among the people gathered in this room, almost no one was unaware of Elia’s feelings for Cyrone. Like most noblewomen Elia’s age, it seemed they considered her feelings for the prince to be a mere passing infatuation.
“Master Rias is nineteen this year, so the age difference is just perfect.”
The Empress said with a pleased expression.
The curious gazes of the people turned toward the young couple, and a strange excitement rose between them. Gossiping about the potential scandal between young men and women was always a favorite topic among those who loved to talk.
Elia, though the subject of that gossip, paid little attention to it.
“……”
But Elia’s face was burning. It wasn’t because of the idle chatter of the people. Cyrone’s gaze was clearly, and for a long time, fixed on her. His eyes, half-lidded as he sat back with his arms crossed, seemed indifferent.
At the end of his gaze was Elia. How dry and cold his eyes were, devoid of emotion. She couldn’t tell what lay behind them.
‘This isn’t what I wanted.’
During their time together Cyrone’s gaze was always evading hers, but now lingered on her. Elia had hoped Cyrone would look at her, but this wasn’t how she had envisioned it. She felt embarrassed in front of him, as if she had been caught in an unflattering light.
“What do you think, Master Rias?”
Perhaps misunderstanding the redness on Elia’s face as shyness, Marchioness Tina asked the question.
At her bold question, the fascinated gazes of the others shifted to Rias’s face. Rias, looking a bit taken aback, finally turned to look at Elia.
Their eyes met. Rias’s deep black eyes slowly traced Elia’s red hair, her flushed cheeks, and the smiling eyes that sparkled with life. Then, they lingered on her slightly parted lips.
He smiled lowly while his gaze never left Elia. It was a look filled with youthful excitement, unmistakably filled with a kind of innocent thrill.
“I’m honored.”
…What? Elia’s eyes widened in surprise. What she had thought would be a fleeting moment now felt as though it was growing into something bigger.
“Then, how about Elia?”
Clearly pleased with Rias’s response, the Empress mischievously turned the question to Elia. The air in the garden grew thick with a warm, teasing heat. The young ladies covered their mouths with handkerchiefs, while the older ladies clapped and laughed.
“Ah, well, I…”
Elia stiffened, feeling awkward at the sudden question.
Rias’s gaze was warm and kind, like the spring sunshine. It was the kind of gaze Elia had never felt from Cyrone, even after all the years she had loved him.
For a moment, Elia felt her own reflection in Rias’s gentle gaze, and she thought how dazzling she appeared to him. Someone is looking at me with such eyes.
“So, I—”
Just as Elia tried to steady her thoughts and open her mouth, the sound of glass shattering interrupted her.
Clink—!
“Ahh!”
The sharp, piercing sound of a glass shattering echoed through the quiet afternoon. As shards of glass flew into the air, a collective scream from the crowd followed.
Startled, Elia, who had been looking at Rias with a complex expression, instinctively turned her head. The sound had come from the direction of the Empress’s seat.
“Cyrone!”
“Your Highness!”
Blood splattered onto the pristine white tablecloth. Realizing that the blood was falling from Cyrone’s hand, Elia’s face turned ashen.
Elia instinctively jumped up from her seat, but by then, people had gathered around Cyrone, blocking her view. Blood continued to drip from the floor in thick, dark drops.
“Cyrone! Are you alright? Someone call the physician!”
The Empress shouted at the attendants in panic. She could not calm the shock in her chest after witnessing Cyrone shatter the glass with his bare hands right in front of her.
The clamor of voices blended into a cacophony of confusion. But Cyrone, the very center of the commotion, seemed remarkably calm. He quietly observed the blood on his palm and the sharp glass shards embedded in his skin.
“The glass was rather slippery.”
Cyrone murmured with a low laugh. Blood gushed from the deep cuts in his palm, staining the white petals near his feet, turning them a dark red.
Elia’s legs trembled, and she barely managed to grip the tea table to steady herself. She felt that it would be easier to endure the wounds than to witness this.
“……”
It was then. Cyrone’s gaze turned to Elia. As their eyes met across the room, he furrowed his brow slightly, as if the pain in his hand had made him uncomfortable.
Elia’s heart lurched in her chest. The pain-filled gaze in Cyrone’s eyes overwhelmed her, erasing everything around her.
“Cyrone, just a little longer. Please hold on.”
Elia, almost in a trance, rushed to his side. She quickly ripped a piece of her dress. The fine silk, woven by the hands of her seamstress, tore violently.
“Just hold on, Your Highness. The physicians will be here soon. Just a little longer…”
Elia desperately pressed the piece of fabric against Cyrone’s open wound, but the thin material of her summer dress couldn’t stop the blood pouring out.
