Charlotte - Chapter 5

“We have arrived at Rosa Castle.”
“We have arrived at Rosa Castle.”
“We have arrived at Rosa Castle.”

The words echoed in layers, ringing in her ears as if she had reached the peak of a mountain.

Charlotte took in a deep breath, then exhaled. Once, twice, three times, and then several more. Only after that was she able to permit the coachman to open the carriage door.

As she stepped onto Rosa’s land, the fresh green grass was crushed beneath her feet. While she marveled at the sensation, a warm breeze brushed past, caressing the pale nape of her neck. Her silver hair shimmered like spun silk, naturally scattering in the wind.

Leo Kartenon’s words resurfaced in her mind—how he had once described Rosa’s spring as being as cozy as a thick cotton blanket. It was entirely true. It was hard to believe that this place was still part of Ignator, the same as the royal capital.

For a moment, Charlotte stood dazed, savoring the gentle touch of the wind as it embraced her.

“The people here are even warmer. There are so many who cherish me, despite my shortcomings. Your Highness will surely come to love Rosa as well. And Rosa, in turn, will love you. If you come to Rosa, you will undoubtedly be happy.”

But everything that followed those words had been a lie.

As she gazed blankly at the sky, where soft white clouds billowed and bloomed, she finally turned her attention to the people of Rosa Castle who had come to greet her.

It didn’t take long for her to realize.

The only warmth she would ever feel in Rosa was this weather.

They must resent me.

A woman who had broken off her engagement with their master long ago, now returning with all manner of disgraceful rumors trailing behind her, seeking to become the duchess once more—it was only natural for them to despise her.

Had she been in their place, Charlotte would have felt the same. When she considered it from their perspective, she could hardly blame them.

Just as she was attempting to interpret the cold, hostile stares directed at her as something else—something born from affection for Leo Kartenon—she heard a voice.

“Princess Charlotte de Ignator.”

A distinguished-looking elderly gentleman stepped forward, bowing politely.

“You must have endured a long and arduous journey. Welcome to Rosa Castle. I am Ferndel Drang, the steward of Rosa Castle.”

Ferndel Drang.

Charlotte committed the name to memory, knowing she would grow weary of hearing it in the days to come. She also made a note beside it: a man skilled in empty words.

Like the others, he must have regarded her as nothing more than an unwelcome guest in Rosa. Yet he masked it well, ensuring neither his words nor his gaze betrayed the slightest hint of disrespect.

“For now, I shall escort you to your quarters so you may rest from your travels.”

For a fleeting moment, she nearly followed him without hesitation, longing to collapse onto a bed, forgetting even why she had been so obsessed with smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress.

But then she spoke.

“Where is your master?”

At Charlotte’s sudden question, Ferndel, who had just begun to lead the way, hesitated. It wasn’t as if she had asked something inappropriate, yet his movements were stiff as he turned back to face her. His expression, though lowered toward the ground, was noticeably pale.

“The lord is currently unwell and unable to move freely, which is why he could not come to greet Your Highness. I humbly ask for your understanding regarding his condition.”

It was only after Ferndel began explaining himself that Charlotte realized what kind of misunderstanding he was under.

Charlotte de Ignator. No matter what people thought of her character, no matter what circumstances had shaped her life thus far, she was, undeniably, the daughter of the king—an official princess of the realm.

At this moment, before signing the marriage contract, her status was still higher than that of Leo Kartenon, the lord of Rosa. In proper decorum, it should have been Leo himself standing here in Ferndel’s place to receive her. From Charlotte’s perspective, this was an act of discourtesy.

But she wasn’t upset because Rosa’s master had failed to greet her. Such trivial matters were of no concern to her.

It had simply been so long.

Leo Kartenon was close—closer than he had ever been in years.

He had always been too far, a distant dream she never dared to reach for. But now… if she wished, she could see him.

That was all. She just wanted to see him.

Not knowing where to begin or how to explain, Charlotte simply pressed her lips together. In the end, she repeated herself.

“I asked you where your master is.”

No matter the speaker’s intent, interpretation always lay in the hands of the listener. And Ferndel, as one of Kartenon’s people, was never going to interpret Charlotte’s words in a favorable light, no matter how carefully she chose them.

Being hated was nothing new.

Hostility had always been her shadow. Winning another’s heart was a task beyond her reach. Even if the world saw her as a frivolous, extravagant woman, as the rumors claimed.

Having long given up on grasping the unattainable, Charlotte urged Ferndel again in a dry voice.

“How much longer do you intend to keep me waiting for an answer?”

***

“Go inside.”

Ferndel, who had guided Charlotte to the lord’s office, stepped in first. Only after emerging again did he finally give her the answer she had been waiting for.

Now, she was truly just a step away. Just a single door stood between her and Leo Kartenon.

Charlotte’s heart pounded wildly—or perhaps, it stopped altogether.

With a pale face, she closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. Then, she took slow, deliberate steps into the room Ferndel had opened for her.

Not long after, she heard the door shut behind her.

It was as if that sound had been a signal.

There, standing by the sunlit window, was Leo Kartenon.

It felt like finding a signpost on an unfamiliar road.

Charlotte took in every detail—the familiar black hair, the broader back that had grown since her memories of him. She savored each one as she approached.

Worried that her eagerness might show, she forced herself to slow her steps, stopping at what she thought was a reasonable distance.

But it felt too far.

Would it be all right to move just a little closer?

As she hesitated, Leo Kartenon finally turned to face her.

The movement was slow, almost like a vision unfolding before her eyes.

And then—

For just a moment, Charlotte’s gaze, which had been desperate to capture every detail of him, froze.

Time itself seemed to come to a standstill.

A black lace cloth, like a blindfold, covered Leo Kartenon’s eyes.

Somewhere behind it, his unfocused green eyes must have been searching blindly in the darkness. His head was held straight, yet it did not align perfectly with her own.

“That man… they say he’s gone blind.”

A voice echoed in her mind—one that had once dragged her into despair.

“You’ve arrived.”

Leo Kartenon, the one she had longed to see so desperately, spoke to her.

But Charlotte could not answer.

If she opened her mouth, she felt as if emotions she had no right to show would come spilling out unchecked.

Her breath wavered, weak and unsteady. Afraid that he might notice, she pressed her hands firmly over her lips.

Why had she even looked in the mirror?

Why had she so diligently smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress?

What had she been hoping for?

Leo Kartenon could not even see her.

Reality, which she had not fully grasped until now, struck her with brutal clarity. The realization made her previous actions seem utterly foolish.

She wanted to shatter that ridiculous hand mirror, tear this absurd dress to shreds so that she could never wear it again.

Maybe then, she could erase the moment she had dared to hope to appear beautiful before him.

“You must find this quite touching,” Leo Kartenon spoke again after the long silence.

“Are you shocked to see that a man who was already wretched has become even more so?”

His words cut not only at her but at himself as well.

Charlotte could not bear to hear him speak that way—not about himself. She had to say something, anything, if only to stop him.

“…It’s been a long time.”

After hesitating, opening and closing her lips dozens of times, those useless words were all she could manage.

She had wanted to say his name. But that, she could not do.

As if crushed under an unbearable weight, Charlotte lowered her head, hiding her trembling lips behind her hands once more.

A sorrowful breath pooled against her palms.

Along with the name she couldn’t bring herself to say.

Leo.

My Leo.