The Grand Duchess's Sixth First Night — Chapter 16
In all her life, Laila had never once heard anyone say they would protect her.
Born the Grand Duchess of Esdelheim, she had grown up without even her parents ever speaking such words to her.
'Laila is always perfect, so there's no need to worry about her.'
'She does well enough on her own, so there's no need to fuss over her.'
Those were the only words Laila had ever heard. She had always been forced to make her own decisions, and the heavy responsibility that followed had always fallen to her alone. And so she had never learned to lean on anyone. No—she had convinced herself she had no need of anyone to lean on.
Ervan smiled quietly and spoke to her, as if soothing a frightened child.
"I am strong, but I have my weak corners as well."
"You do, my lord?"
"In truth, I can't dance to save my life, and I have no talent whatsoever for noble etiquette."
Laila found herself nodding before she could stop. Reading her silent agreement, Ervan exaggeratedly pulled a comically mournful face.
Laila pressed her lips together hard, fighting back laughter.
"And yet you, Grand Duchess, have protected me, haven't you?"
"That was never my intention."
"Then I would like to protect you as well."
'So you don't have to be perfect in front of me. It's all right.'
Ervan swallowed the tender comfort he could not bring himself to say aloud.
Laila realized that the man before her was truly strong. He showed his weakness without a flicker of hesitation. He possessed the detachment that only a genuinely strong person—one who had never known inferiority or shame—could afford.
Laila forced her lips open.
"My lord... my family is searching for a way to break off this political marriage. The engagement I proposed before the wedding was, in the end, merely a means of buying time."
Ervan nodded, unperturbed.
"I see."
"So... it would be best not to expect too much of me."
In truth, Laila thought, it might be she who was the one harboring expectations.
Out of habit, she thought of turning back time. She would erase this conversation, erase all of these feelings, and then rebuild the wall between them—so she told herself.
'I don't even know where to begin.'
But today had drained Laila utterly. Even if she rewound time, she had no idea at which point, or with what words, she could stop the man standing before her.
Watching her rub her weary eyes, Ervan spoke with a faint smile.
"Did you know, Grand Duchess? When you speak words you don't mean, you look up and to the right."
"...!"
Just as Laila froze mid-breath, the suffocating stillness shattered with the sound of the terrace door being flung open.
BANG—
"So this is where you were, Laila."
At the familiar voice, Laila instinctively stumbled back a defensive step.
Her brother, Kyle, stood there.
His strides across the terrace were utterly unhesitating. Entering their space without so much as a knock, without a word of permission, was the height of rudeness.
Yet far from reproaching him, Laila instinctively began checking her own appearance first.
'Is he going to scold me for abandoning my post as host of the banquet too long? No—perhaps he'll say it looks improper, a woman alone with a man.'
Every trivial thing seemed like something Kyle could seize upon and punish. Laila hurriedly smoothed her dress and arranged her expression.
Tense, Laila braced herself for Kyle's 'judgment.' But his gaze was fixed not on her, but on Ervan.
"I am Kyle Esdelheim, Laila's elder brother. Lord Ervan, I presume."
Kyle extended his hand with a pleasant smile.
Watching Ervan return the smile and take it, Laila's face hardened. Kyle's gentle features and hearty charm had always won people over with ease. Ervan would be no different.
"I'm afraid I arrived late—my wife has been unwell. Family should have been at her side from the start, after all. I do hope I haven't intruded on anything."
"Not at all. You're family, after all."
After shaking Ervan's hand, Kyle sidled over to Laila and wrapped a hand around her shoulder.
"His Majesty's commands must keep you busy as well, my lord. Our Laila, you see, is more timid and flustered than she appears."
"The Grand Duchess, you say?"
Ervan's eyes narrowed. Laila's heart began to pound—with a meaning entirely different from before.
It was the familiar pattern. Kyle always wore the mask of the doting brother while cutting Laila down. People found it amusing to hear about sides of Laila they had never seen, and Kyle used that topic to warm the conversation into cozy intimacy.
"The Grand Duchess was braver than any noble I have ever seen. In any situation, far from panicking, she remains composed and calm."
He stared quietly at Kyle's hand gripping Laila's shoulder, then met Laila's eyes.
Kyle gave a low laugh. "Ha ha. It seems you don't know my sister yet, my lord. Naturally so—the two of you have only just met."
Beneath Kyle's words lay a subtle contempt. A desire to flaunt that he knew Laila better than this man ever could.
"These days she can at least manage a passable imitation of a lady, but you should have seen what a tomboy she was as a child. Why, even Father—"
Laila's complexion began to visibly deteriorate. It was a change Ervan, who had been watching her the entire time, could not have missed. Ervan cut Kyle off, firm and final.
"Everyone has such years."
The corners of Kyle's mouth stiffened almost imperceptibly. Ervan shifted his body slightly toward Laila's shoulder—the one beneath Kyle's hand—and brushed the hand away with natural ease.
"But Young Duke, I was in the middle of a conversation with the Grand Duchess that remains unfinished."
Ervan was not smiling.
"If you have no matter of importance, would you kindly step aside?"
"..."
Laila was seeing it for the first time: a conversation refusing to flow in the direction Kyle steered it.
Staring at Kyle's rigid expression, Laila felt herself go slightly numb.
"Of course."
As if nothing had happened, Kyle smoothed his stiff face back into a pleasant smile. Only then did Ervan return the smile.
"Next time, I would prefer to speak somewhere more spacious—not in a private space like this terrace."
Ervan did not forget to point out Kyle's rudeness, either. Somewhere along the way, he had learned to wield the language of the nobility better than anyone.
Kyle forced a strained smile, closed the glass door, and left.
Laila let out the breath she had been holding in a long exhale. Strangely enough, the foul mood that always came from talking with Kyle now felt almost bearable.
Dimly, Laila realized it was thanks to the man before her—Ervan.
"Your complexion had turned noticeably poor, Grand Duchess. So I sent him away."
Ervan said it as if offering an excuse, watching her face. Laila did not answer.
"You did say that men should be dealt with by men."
Receiving no reaction, Ervan added, almost despite himself:
"Unless... family is the exception?"
At last, Laila burst into a short, bright laugh.
She felt the weight in her chest lighten, just a little. Her mood lifted along with it.
Seeing her laugh, Ervan laughed too.
Ervan leaned against the terrace railing and looked up at the sky. The stars were thick enough to spill down.
After gazing at them a moment, he returned to the conversation they had never finished.
"Grand Duchess, the most useless thing in war is expectation."
"..."
"The expectation that reinforcements will come. The expectation that the enemy will destroy themselves. Or the expectation that a miracle will occur—things of that sort."
Ervan turned his head and looked at Laila.
"That is why I think only of the things I am certain of."
Laila read an unshakable certainty in Ervan's eyes. And in that moment, she understood.
No matter how far back she turned time, she would never be able to erase that certainty.
"If you wish to break off the engagement, search for a way by all means. But you would do well to remember this."
Ervan had drawn close to her without her noticing, and whispered low against her ear.
"In the end, you will choose me."