I Will End My 10-Year Unrequited Love - Chapter 18
Despite this, it was naturally the Crown Prince Cyrone who handled all of the Empire’s major affairs. The imperial seal, which was necessary for noble marriages, was also in Cyrone’s hands.
Unlike Mondol, Cyrone was a rather formidable figure even among the senior nobles. It would not be easy for Elia to deal with him, no matter how official the matter.
‘…It might actually be easier to meet the Emperor.’
As Elia walked through the garden, she found herself recalling the faint figure of the Emperor. Every time she visited the Imperial Palace with her father, Duke Reiffers, she had seen the Emperor, but over time, he had become more and more gaunt and frail.
‘Come with me. It’ll be hard alone.’
‘No. I’ll handle it. It has to be me.’
Rias had wanted to go with her, but Elia had firmly rejected his kindness. She couldn’t bear to let him get caught up in their pointless, fateful entanglements.
Breaking out of her thoughts, Elia stood before the unusually tall and imposing threshold, quietly gazing at the Crown Prince’s palace.
The resolution of everything, Elia knew this was something she herself had to create.
* * *
After entering the Crown Prince’s palace, Elia had to walk a long way. The large hallways were lined with windows, showing a fountain with its water supply cut off. As she went deeper into the inner palace, it felt colder and almost desolate.
Finally reaching the door, Elia gently knocked on the arching iron door. This was not the public office; it was the inner palace where Cyrone lived. After a moment of silence, the door creaked open as if it had been expecting her arrival.
Elia walked towards Cyrone’s room, an act so familiar to her. Very few people had access to Cyrone’s private quarters, so everything felt naturally unspoken. The servants in the hallways silently passed by her, as if they had not noticed her presence.
“Welcome, Miss.”
When Elia reached the door, Nielsen greeted her as if he had been expecting her. His tone was calm. He slightly opened the door to let her in.
“Please go in.”
“Shouldn’t I make an appointment first?”
Elia questioned Nielsen’s behavior in response. According to the usual protocol, one would have to make an appointment or receive permission before meeting with royalty. But for some time now, all those procedures had been omitted for Elia.
“…That’s surprising.”
Nielsen furrowed his brow and chuckled. He looked genuinely surprised.
“Indeed. It is surprising.”
Elia chuckled bitterly. Then, she walked through the slightly opened door. As she headed toward the center where the sunlight was growing stronger, she saw the silhouette of someone.
“I come to see His Highness.”
Cyrone, who had been looking down at the pile of documents on his desk, raised his gaze slightly to look at Elia. His expression was relaxed, as if he had been expecting her to return.
Elia lightly grasped the hem of her dress and offered a formal greeting. She stood there for a while, waiting, but of course, no response came from Cyrone.
Straightening her posture and lifting her head, Elia furrowed her brow. Cyrone was only wearing a robe that exposed his shoulders and chest. Seeing Elia’s surprised expression, Cyrone chuckled softly.
“That’s surprising.”
It was the same thing Nielsen had said to her earlier. After hearing that from Cyrone as well, Elia felt an odd sense of discomfort. Her thoughts, actions, and expressions all seemed to have become unnatural, like paint that was splashed wrong.
Like the shadow of time hanging over the inner palace, like an old fountain cracked and worn down, like the ancient tree that changes color with the seasons. Elia’s existence, loving Cyrone, should have been as natural as any of these things.
Yet now, she found herself questioning if she could truly face him and speak her final words.
The red wax seal with the Empire’s insignia slid off Cyrone’s fingers. Without giving her a glance, he muttered.
“What are you thinking so deeply about?”
A breeze carrying the afternoon of the season blew into the window, gently brushing against Cyrone’s bangs. His clear, blue eyes appeared briefly, then faded just as quickly.
Elia looked at his eyes through the mess of his disheveled hair. It was as if the memories of that day had disappeared like a fleeting mirage. The Cyrone who had trembled with anger and heat was no longer there. He had once again donned the perfect mask of composure.
Elia stood quietly in front of Cyrone for what felt like a long time. She had already known he was blatantly ignoring her presence, but it didn’t bother her. It was familiar.
Just as everything in this room had its place, Elia’s place seemed to be here, waiting for Cyrone.
“Your Highness.”
Time passed. The sunlight pouring in from the window had retreated, leaving a shadow behind. A gentle breeze knocked lightly against the window.
“It’s starting to be bearable now.”
The silence shattered suddenly. As always, Cyrone spoke while handling documents in a dry, monotonous tone.
“I have, something to say.”
A sense of unexplained unease tightened Elia’s chest. As she spoke, her voice trembled slightly, and Cyrone’s eyes, which had been fixed on the documents, finally turned to her with a detached expression.
