Stone Thrown into the Lake

Chapter 17

Duran Craig’s request for a solo outing was not fulfilled easily. It was primarily due to his unexpected rejection of the bag of gold coins from Yvor, and secondly because of his reaction when meeting the knight she had arranged to escort him. But the biggest reason was that he couldn’t answer the questions that followed.

“What will you be doing, Dew? Please give me an answer. I can’t stand this nervousness.”

Yvor’s voice trembled softly, her hands tightly clasped together. Duran’s lungs were clogged by her earnest gaze. He wanted to get rid of the lump in his throat, but he couldn’t answer Yvor’s question.

‘What are you going out for? How do you say that?’

Even if it would hurt her feelings by staying silent, he couldn’t say anything.

“Nope!”

Eventually he caved and changed his mind. Come to think of it, he didn’t even need to go out, not at that moment. End of the story.

But he was not barred from leaving the grounds of the castle as a result of his sudden change in mind. With a subdued expression, Duran glanced around the field he had passed by the day he entered Serium Castle.

“The weather is nice.”

Yvor took a hold of his hand. With his gaze still fixed on the field, Duran answered. “Yeah.” It was three days after his sudden change of mind, and a suggestion from Yvor came this morning.

“It’s a nice day, shall we go on a picnic?”

It was the solution she arrived at after a long period of self-blame for influencing Duran to give up on the outing he requested.

“Because your sister will be over there until evening.”

Yvor said kindly. It was obvious that she meant her original destination. At her diligent consideration, Duran’s chest tickled, but he bit firmly on the words at the tip of his tongue.

‘Thank you.’

Those were the words he should have said, but he was unsure of how to express those words and the kind of facial expression he should have, much less whether he had the right to say something like that.

“…I’ll look around and come back.”

Enduring the stuffiness in his chest, Duran spoke briefly and turned around. He could feel Yvor’s gaze on his back for a long time. The gaze made him hyperconscious and he was unable to tell if he was stepping on dirt or stones.

Her gaze, soft as loose yarn, had always rooted him to his spot. To say that her every action, words, and thoughts were not uncomfortable would be a lie. But it was far more terrifying to think of the day it would disappear. Despite it being uncomfortable and annoying, losing it would be unbearable. He wanted to run from the softness that ensnared him, yet still worried that it would break with a hard push.

Eventually, Duran gave up on going further. He thought as he walked aimlessly. He wanted to get Yvor a present, be it through a purchase or a handmade item. He just wanted to give Yvor something, and thinking about it made his chest itch

Duran Craig likened himself to a debtor with a pile of debt he didn’t know how to repay. He had to return something, anything, for what he had received. Duran was afraid that Yvor would look back at him and realise her loss one day. Giving her something that she would like was difficult, as he could only offer her little things. Thinking about this, he became uneasy again.

Refusing the allowance from Yvor stemmed from the same principle. He couldn’t buy a gift for her with the money she gave him. He would rather pay her back by his own means, otherwise it would be like taking a loan to pay off his debt.

While it was a concept that never occurred to Duran in the capital, where he was treated like trash, it was not that hard to think about now. His desperation to give something back to her was enough to make him lower his pride. But for someone who must’ve attained everything she wanted on her own, it seemed that nothing he had to offer was worthy enough.

After a moment of contemplation, he turned around. Instead of worrying about what he couldn’t do, he would much rather be by Yvor’s side during an actual picnic. Now, he too, knew that Yvor Adela would be delighted to have Duran Craig beside her. Feeling a little helpless, he just kicked the stone under his feet.

While heading back to Yvor, he stopped in his tracks and stared silently at the long slender branches, full of densely packed flowers. He did not recognise the small flowers, which had a strong scent enough to anchor him to reality.

The white petals swayed in various directions as he prodded at the flower with his fingertips. The flowers would most likely be crushed at a careless touch. A fleeting thought crossed his mind.

Duran was certain that the white and slender flower that captured his attention was due to its resemblance with Yvor. But saying that aloud was too embarrassing, so he picked the flower on an impulse.

The few stalks of flowers he had retrieved was far from what he wanted to give her. Just like how Yvor Adela wanted shower her brother with the most precious things she could offer, so did Duran Craig. He wanted to give her something that suited her, but was constantly bothered by his inability to do so. He had considered throwing away the flowers in his hand multiple times on his journey back, but ultimately decided against it. So Duran offered the flowers to Yvor.

“I’ll give it to you.”

“…”

Yvor was silent for a moment.

‘You don’t want it? You don’t like it?’ Duran thought nervously. The flowers he had offered seemed insignificant before Yvor. There were plenty of beautiful flowers in her garden, and even the ornamental flowers changed by the maids daily were more precious than this.

Feelings of anxiety from being kept in the dark created a bubble that swelled angrily. Ultimately, he felt that he was akin to a dwarf in a fairy tale. While the dwarf could provide the princess with flowers and fruits, a crown was beyond his means.

“I just saw these as I was walking.”

‘If you don’t need it-’ As he was about to continue, Yvor took the flowers from him.

The bubble filled with regretful and negative thoughts like ‘I should have thrown it away with my own hands’ , and ‘Why did I bring something like this,’ burst instantly at her actions.

“Dew, are you giving this to your sister? Really?”

Yvor Adela asked in a trembling voice. ‘Can I really take this? Do I deserve this? Can I accept what you have given me?’ She was fearful and desperate at the same time.

If Duran said that the flowers were hers, she would never yield this happiness to others. Attempting to exchange a petal for its weight in gold was futile. The worth of a crown she had worn in the past was less than that of a petal from this flower.

“…Huh.”

‘I gave it to my sister.’ Duran averted his eyes from Yvor’s, missing the tears welling up in her eyes. If the depth of her current feelings could be converted into time, she was convinced that she could live to the end of time and witness the birth of the next world, without having to eat, drink or even breathe. She was so happy, it seemed like she could live on forever.

“Thanks. Thanks. Thanks, Dew… My dear dew…,”

Yvor cradled the flower in a hand, cautious of damaging it in the slightest. Overcome by emotion, she used the other hand to draw him into a hug, and placed her head on his. Hair of similar colour blended together.

“I am really happy.”

In the past, she was accustomed to beguiling the king with flattery, but now she was tongue-tied and at a loss. She was happy. Very happy.

‘I love you, really, Dew.’ Similar words were repeated over and over again.

“…It wasn’t a big deal. I can do anything like that, anytime.”

Duran thought of her joy and tears as contagious, nearly causing the unshed tears in his eyes to flow. Her infectious emotions were like an epidemic he had fallen victim to, and the resulting urge to hold her slightly trembling shoulders did not fade easily. The boy was still a dwarf. All he could give to his princess-like sister was such a flower. But maybe, maybe..

Just as his outstretched hand was about to touch her back, a voice rang out.

“Excuse me.”

A man on the back of a horse had wanted to ask for directions. Duran turned and saw him first. Behind him, Yvor raised her head, and was rendered speechless momentarily.

When their eyes met, the man’s green eyes curved like clouds, glimmering under the light. It was the face of a person she was familiar with. Yvor Adela spoke wordlessly.

‘Prince.’ And she said it again.

‘Sidis Murka.’

The man laughed as if he had heard the unspoken call.

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