SALP Chapter 15

"The room disappeared?"

Lanthe went to check the room she'd been using anyway.

And it really was gone. The space was still there, of course, but the bed she'd slept in and the small decorative furniture had vanished, replaced by what looked like either a warehouse or a wardrobe—just dresses and fabrics stacked everywhere.

"I did tell you, miss."

Rix rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish.

Right. There'd been a reason he hadn't bothered stopping her when she'd said she wanted to go out to the square. He must have thought she was inside her master's palm anyway. That no matter what she did, she'd wander around inside his territory and end up back in the room he'd permitted her.

Lanthe returned to Vigo's room in the end.

On one side of the room, a bathtub had been installed—planted there without apology, exactly as though it belonged. Screens set up around it.

"Shall I fill the bath for you?"

A waiting maid asked.

How am I supposed to bathe here? A room with no door. A room Vigo comes and goes from whenever he pleases.

"Yes. Thank you."

She wanted to refuse, naturally, but Lanthe thanked her politely and curled up in a corner of the room to wait. The warmth she'd borrowed from Vigo had long since cooled. She was cold enough that her teeth were chattering, her whole body shaking. The weather would have been called deep winter in Roas, and she'd gotten rained on besides—she had no way to endure it.

A short while later, she climbed into the tub wrapped in a large towel.

The fragrant wood scent and warm water seemed to melt away her fatigue.

'Cut off his legs.'

But soon the shards of thought burrowing into her mind wouldn't let her rest quietly.

'If I can't dispose of a single rat bastard fouling my land as I see fit, then I should be called a saint, not a lord.'

Derek.

What would happen to that child?

'Your ransom was more than expected. A precious prisoner worth exchanging for Molheom and twenty thousand krone or more.'

What would happen to her?

Until now she'd half-dismissed it. Mischievous teasing. Surely not—surely not.

But could she really feel safe? Maybe she had to accept the reality that he'd become a Penmarkian as cruel as Derek.

'Until winter ends.'

Then shouldn't she escape before that? Could she find a way to run far away before winter ended?

The people in the square had mingled and conversed freely regardless of status. They'd been kind even to an outsider they'd just met.

'As his fiancée, I'll give him a good scolding.'

Princess Ana. Vigo's betrothed. She'd been incredibly warm and kind.

'If living at the castle is uncomfortable, tell me anytime. Hermea has a few houses we can lend out.'

Would that offer still hold if she knew Lanthe wasn't Penmarkian?

Would she turn cold like Derek once she learned Lanthe was Raphlish?

'The monastery will make a fuss.'

Right, there was a monastery. She'd learned they were a gathering of people who served God, lived frugally, and practiced charity and sharing. Just like the Raphlish.

And according to Warner's earlier comment, they seemed to be people with the courage to stand up even to the lord. Could she take refuge with them? Would they help?

But Vigo seemed to look down on them. If she tried and only put them in danger for nothing, she couldn't do that to them...

"What happened to everyone...?"

Lanthe covered her still-cold face with her hands submerged in the warm water and murmured.

"Everyone..."

How were the people who'd left Roas last summer doing? Had someone helped them stand back on their feet? If she could see them again...

Steam rose like mist, blurring her vision. Her own future seemed trapped in fog too, refusing to clarify.

Where am I supposed to go?

I need to find a path. Before winter ends...

Splash! The moment she heard water splashing—

Her eyes flew open to see a large shadow looming over her head, ready to engulf her.

Absurdly, she realized someone was holding her and touching her face a moment later.

Who...!

She tried to shove him away in shock, but he didn't budge like a solid wall.

"It's me, damn it..."

Vigo...?

"What— what are you doing all of a sudden?"

When did he get back? She hadn't heard a sound.

She saw that the towel wrapped around her body had come loose in the water and slipped half off, and she hurriedly grabbed it up to cover herself.

"Get out. I'm bathing, you can't just—"

"I thought you were dead—obviously."

The end of his words, thrown out roughly as if spitting them, trembled slightly.

His fingertips dug into her shoulder. He was gripping her shoulder—hard, sudden—pain all the way to the bone.

"Ah, it hurts."

The moment she whimpered softly, the strength drained from his hand.

But he was still pressing down on her with a frightening look in his eyes. Water dripping from his hair. Drip, drip. His soaked shirt. Had he gotten wet outside in the rain, or had she done that to him?

"I must have dozed off for a moment. The water was warm..."

His hand gripping the tub instead of her shoulder had gone white. Only the bulging veins stood out blue.

"You really worry about the strangest things. People don't just easily—"

She bit her lower lip.

Hadn't that time passed? The time when you could say such things—when a scraped knee from falling in the yard, a cut on her arm from climbing the roof, was the worst pain she knew.

"Can you turn around for a second? So I can get dressed."

She said it while clutching the towel tightly closed in front.

Vigo just stared at her face without a word, then stood silently and left the room.

Lanthe quickly dried herself off and put on the clothes the maid had prepared on the bed before her bath. The embroidery was a bit more elaborate than the dress she'd worn yesterday, which made her uncomfortable, but this wasn't the time to complain about clothes.

"Ah, I'm not dressed yet!"

She heard a presence and whirled around, but Vigo ignored her words and strode toward her.

He set down a small glass bottle on the bedside table with a thunk and said:

"Drink it. Now."

"What is it?"

Lanthe glared at him while straightening the wide neckline of her dress.

"Drink it if you don't want to catch cold."

"Restore the room I was using. If the cost is a problem, I'll do odd jobs."

She said it while picking up the medicine bottle.

"That won't work."

"From the start, you and I—"

Just then, maids entered and began clearing away the bathtub. Whether Vigo had ordered it or not, they quietly tidied up without much explanation.

After swallowing the medicine, Lanthe lowered her voice demurely to continue.

"Does it make sense for you and me to share a room? You have a fiancée, you should be careful about your behavior. Don't you know basic courtesy?"

"Engagement?"

He crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side.

"Who's engaged?"

As if hearing it for the first time.

"You?"

What kind of reaction is that? Surely Princess Ana wouldn't have lied publicly. Everyone there had acted like it was common knowledge.

And Vigo had accepted being treated respectfully as if he were King Kian's son-in-law.

"Are you trying to tell me you're the only one who didn't know about your own engagement?"

At her words, he blinked as if retracing a lost memory.

Then he said "Ah" indifferently.

"You mean Princess Ana."

"Now you remember your fiancée?"

"Engagement." A short, dismissive sound. "What engagement."

The maids bowed their heads quietly and left the room.

Once only the two of them remained, Vigo stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. Lanthe quickly turned her head toward the room's entrance, averting her gaze.

"I have nothing to do with that woman. I can't believe she's still going around saying that."

"Whatever your actual relationship, if you promised marriage you should maintain proper boundaries with each other. The man who was with you earlier was King Kian, right? He looked like Princess Ana."

"You recognized him well. I couldn't even tell if those two looked alike."

Thump. He threw himself onto the bed and rang the bell on the wall. Ding-a-ling.

"A few years back, at some drinking party where knights from both sides gathered, King Kian got completely drunk and started yelling at me to become his son-in-law, shouting 'This is the engagement ceremony!' That's all there was to it. If that counts as an engagement ceremony, I've gotten married more than thirty times."

"Hmm..."

Really? Is that true? It was too specific to be a shameless lie, and the content was something that could easily be verified through witnesses...

"But Princess Ana spoke seriously about you as her fiancé. Didn't you make your intentions clear?"

Lanthe asked, hiding her wavering heart.

"I clearly said I'm not getting married. But the other party is King Kian's child. Her father goes around calling me his son-in-law, so she just goes along with it."

"She called you 'that person.'"

"So what."

He met her eyes calmly.

"If you meet that woman a couple more times, you'll be called 'darling' at least."

What, me too?

Now Lanthe was on the verge of being completely taken in by his words.

Did Princess Ana really use that kind of speech with everyone?

"But she didn't call other people that way..."

Her voice came out uncertain.

Could it be a lie when Vigo was making such confident guarantees? He had no reason to make excuses to her in the first place.

"Looks like the red-haired woman didn't attend that gossip gathering today. Anyway, there are a few people who get called 'darling' and 'that person' like lovers just because they fit Princess Ana's taste in looks, and I'm unluckily one of them. She likes my looks, so she'll probably like yours too. We look alike."

"How do we look alike?"

"We're the same ethnicity. I'm only half, though. To Penmarkians' eyes, if skin color or eye color is even slightly similar, people look alike."

"Ah..."

Come to think of it, Princess Ana had gone on and on with elaborate praise about Lanthe's appearance, something about amethyst eyes. It had been her taste. Not a joke.

But should she believe his explanation this easily? Lanthe frowned, lost in thought. Could she trust so readily someone who'd grown into an inscrutable person?

"And whether I have a wife or not."

Vigo patted the space beside him, urging her.

When the servant who'd heard the bell he'd rung earlier came in calling "My lord" and brought wine, he took the glass and drained more than half in one gulp before setting it on the bedside table.

"I decide who sleeps next to me."

At his unhesitating words, Lanthe's mouth fell open.