Chapter 37
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Chapter 37
Yellow moonlight drifted across the dark navy sky like luminous clouds. The mysterious silver stream that cradled Charlotte's feet flowed onward as well. Everything flows and fades with time—there was no reason Leopold's memories should prove an exception.
'I've become unable to forget you.'
Yet Charlotte found solace in Leopold's words. Not because she believed the noble prince would truly never forget her. Rather, it was the hope that she might become more than a blurred figure lingering at the edges of memory—that she could be the one he chose to remember, the one at the center of his thoughts.
"I haven't done anything of great service to Your Highness yet, and still you would remember the time we've spent together... I'm truly grateful."
Charlotte spoke with a smile playing at her rosy lips. Though her forehead still burned with warmth, she could not allow herself—a woman with such presumptuous thoughts—to mistake the prince's compassion for something more.
Leopold lowered his gaze to meet Charlotte's eyes once more, his voice barely a whisper.
"Charlotte, that's not what I meant..."
At this, Charlotte blinked her round eyes. She had always wished to capture gentlemen's attention, yet she seemed remarkably poor at recognizing when she had truly become the object of their gaze.
Seeing her thus, Leopold seemed about to speak, then released a laugh that resembled a sigh. What more could he say, when his own life hung in such uncertainty? Even if he were to speak his heart now, he would be nothing but a shadow to her sunlight. He could offer her no future, no promise.
'Promises I cannot keep...'
His disappearance—or perhaps his death—had already shattered so many plans and promises. He could not bear for Charlotte to suffer because of feelings for someone who might not exist.
Leopold's hand, which had cradled Charlotte's cheek, slowly withdrew from her. His face held only a dark, glistening smile.
Meanwhile, Charlotte, observing the shadow that had fallen across Leopold's expression, wondered if perhaps their conversation had only deepened his longing for the life he'd once lived.
'I know the investigation to find Your Highness has made little progress, yet here I am already imagining whether you would remember me once you've returned to your former life...'
Charlotte reproached herself for her selfishness.
"By the way, Your Highness, there's news I've been meaning to tell you. I heard it from Terrence, one of your former mercenaries—Jane's fiancé..."
"..."
Leopold gazed at Charlotte with an intensity that belied his measured tone. His sage-green eyes seemed to deepen with an emotion she couldn't quite name.
Yet Charlotte was too preoccupied relaying the news she'd gleaned from Jane to notice the shift in his gaze.
"On the night His Highness disappeared, porters visited the Estate. They were sent by the original owner of the residence where His Highness was staying, or so I'm told. Did you happen to know about this?"
"...No, Charlotte. I saw no one that night."
Leopold answered slowly.
"To conceal my identity, I couldn't remain in one place for long. So whenever Armand secured an Estate and servants from London's nobility, I would move there and stay for a time."
"Then those porters may well have been sent by the true owner of the Estate where Your Highness was residing. Perhaps that's why the mercenaries allowed them entry..."
Charlotte spoke with the air of one lost in contemplation. Even untrained mercenaries, hired for protection, would hardly permit strangers of uncertain standing to enter the Estate. Moreover, she recalled that elderly nobility often let their properties to visiting provincial or foreign aristocrats—a profitable arrangement.
'Those with noble titles but modest fortunes often lease their Estates and servants to visitors. Armand must surely have rented one such property...'
"It seems the porters who visited the Estate on the night His Highness vanished are now the investigation's most crucial lead. Now that Philip Oslo knows His Highness disappeared that evening, he'll certainly press forward with inquiries concerning the porters."
Charlotte recalled how Philip had inscribed her words upon his notes. Fortunately, Leopold remained unaware that she'd revealed herself as a necromancer to him. Had he known, he would surely have fretted over her recklessness.
"So please, Your Highness, do not lose hope. I truly believe the mystery surrounding you will soon unravel."
Charlotte's eyes gleamed as she continued.
"You will reclaim your body and live as yourself once more. After the negotiations conclude, you'll be free of your royal burden and able to attend countless midnight concerts..."
Perhaps it was the bitter chill of the autumn night. Or perhaps it was because Charlotte genuinely wished for Leopold's happiness. Either way, a rosy flush bloomed across her cheeks as she spoke. Witnessing this, Leopold felt a pang of guilt stir within him.
"...The nights grow colder. Shall we retire to your chamber, Charlotte?"
"Oh, that won't do. Bianca in the adjacent room might overhear our conversation."
...
Leopold's gaze drifted slowly across Charlotte's form, wrapped in the blanket.
Had anyone witnessed her in this moment, they would have seen only a solitary young lady abandoned on an autumn night in some remote corner of the forest. A lady who wandered each evening through pathless woods for an unseen presence, willingly stepping into the cold darkness.
'If I simply conceal my feelings, I thought they would have no effect on you whatsoever....'
Leopold realized that this reasoning no longer held true. Even if his heart remained silent, his very presence had cast a deep shadow over Charlotte.
Leopold spoke with a worried expression.
"Then perhaps today you should refrain from speaking with me further and retire to your room early."
"I don't want that. I wish to spend more time with you, Your Majesty. That's why I came to the forest at this early hour in the first place...."
Charlotte spoke in a dejected voice. The longing that gleamed in her eyes made Leopold wonder if his darkness had been consuming her brightness far longer than he'd realized. When was it—that moment when Charlotte greeted him with sparkling eyes and confessed that the embrace of darkness felt warmer than the midday sun?
"Your hands are cold. Your cheeks too, and the bridge of your nose...."
Leopold spoke softly. Charlotte seemed to fall into thought for a moment, then suddenly grasped his hand and said,
"Your Majesty's hands are filled with warmth. So if I hold them like this for a while, I'll be fine."
Charlotte laughed lightly, as if it were nothing. Yet her cheeks flushed with a shy blush.
Leopold gazed down at his hand enfolding hers. Regardless of whether Charlotte felt his warmth, he himself could not know if his warmth truly existed or if it could even reach her.
With Charlotte's soft breathing, Leopold's mind drifted back to what she had said before.
'So you must promise me. Until the problem is resolved, until you return to your important and serious life....'
'...always appear by my side like this.'
It was a confession she had uttered in this secret place meant for only the two of them.
'Yes, it wasn't only I who wished to share even the last fragment of night together....'
Leopold smiled wryly at the thought. There was one crucial difference between two people drawn to each other. Unlike Charlotte, who could not even fathom his heart, he could perceive her transparent feelings.
'Charlotte, the more your heart turns toward me....'
Leopold's desolate gaze fell upon Charlotte's face once more. Her once radiant face appeared slightly pallid beneath the midnight moonlight, and behind her playful eyes, a melancholy shadow had begun to linger.
"You truly need real warmth, Charlotte."
Leopold rose from his seat, his voice clear and resolute, and Charlotte's body was drawn up alongside him as she held his hand.
"But, Your Highness...."
Charlotte's voice wavered with reluctance. As he gazed upon her face, Leopold found himself recalling her smile—so warm and luminous it could have heated the night air itself. Yes, her radiance belonged not in the solitude of a midnight forest, but beneath the sun of midday.
'Your time and passion should not be spent on one standing at death's threshold, but on someone who can truly give you warmth in return.'
Just as her vibrant smile should not be directed toward him, Leopold realized that even his silence was something he had no right to grant her. As always, it was a logical, rational decision made not for his own heart, but for another's sake. Yet this time, it was a choice he had to make—not for just anyone, but for the one to whom he had given his heart.
And yet, even as he knew what the right choice for Charlotte was, he felt his entire body grow cold, as though the warm sunlight that had once bathed him had been swallowed by gathering clouds.
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