Chapter 69: The Courage to Say Goodbye (End)

“Hey, hey! Why are you crying all of a sudden? Now I feel bad.”

“I’m not crying?!”

Roden tossed aside the mop and hurried over to Cilia. The usual nonchalant expression on his face was now filled with panic.

He had never once seen Cilia cry since she arrived at the mansion.

Even when she spoke about her lost parents, she had only looked a little melancholic.

But now, tears were falling from her eyes.

He could guess why, yet he still couldn’t quite believe it.

Was she really that sad about him leaving?

“I told you, I’ll be back. So why are you crying, Cilia?”

They say a woman’s tears are a weapon.

The cold attitude Roden had put up melted instantly, and he found himself scrambling to comfort her.

Cilia, embarrassed by her own reaction, scowled and shoved him away.

“I-I said I’m not crying! I don’t care whether you come back or not!”

“…Oh, really? Then should I just not come back?”

“Hey!”

Cilia swung at him in frustration, but Roden swiftly dodged by stepping backward.

He then smirked smugly and scoffed.

“Heh. Too slow.”

“You—! You’re seriously—!”

“Calm down. Someone might think I’m heading to war or something.”

At their age, comforting someone was still awkward.

So instead of saying something kind, Roden chose to tease her instead.

In a way, they were quite alike.

“How am I supposed to calm down?! Do you even know how dangerous the northern lands are?!”

“It’s still a place where people live. It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine. And I’ll send letters often, so don’t worry.”

“W-Who said I was waiting for your letters?”

The Elond Kingdom Postal Service was a system designed for commoners to send and receive letters between territories.

Unlike nobles, who had private messengers, commoners had to visit the post office in person to collect their mail.

Technically, nobles were exempt from this hassle, but Cilia—Roden knew—would insist on picking up his letters herself.

Because that’s just the kind of person she was.

“Oh? So you don’t need letters? Then I just won’t send any~.”

Roden grinned mischievously, knowing exactly how she would react.

As expected, Cilia’s fists clenched in frustration.

“D-Don’t you dare skip a single letter!”

“Pfft. Make up your mind, will you? First, you say you don’t want them, now you’re demanding them.”

“I—I…! Just take care of yourself! Don’t die, don’t get hurt, get stronger, and come back! And send me letters regularly! Got it?!”

In the end, she spilled her true feelings.

Her tears had already exposed them, so she figured she might as well say it all.

Roden straightened his posture and saluted her with exaggerated formality.

“Understood! I will carry out Lady Cilia’s orders to the letter!”

“D-Don’t joke around!”

“I’m not joking. I promise—I’ll come back stronger, safe, and sound.”

For once, Roden’s voice was serious.

Cilia, caught off guard, was momentarily speechless.

It was rare to see him like this.

It felt strange. Embarrassing.

And somehow… unbearably warm.

“Ugh, I swear. Serious Roden is so weird.”

She let out a small laugh despite herself.

Then—

Thunk!

“Argh!”

—she smacked him again for good measure.

Her tears had dried up completely now.

She wiped away the last bit of moisture at the corners of her eyes and sniffled.

She had cried out of frustration, not sadness.

Definitely not because she was sad about him leaving.

So she told herself.

“…Just make sure you write to me, you idiot.”

“Of course. But you better write back, too.”

“Hmph. I’ll think about it after I read your letters.”

“Jeez. Give and take, Cilia. Give and take.”

“Just shut up and be careful.”

“Obviously. And don’t slack off on your training while I’m gone. When I get back, you better be ready for a real duel.”

“Oh, please. You’d be lucky to even touch me.”

Roden smirked.

“I dunno. Maybe by then, I’ll be fast enough to dodge your fireballs.”

“Pfft. You dodging my fireballs? Yeah, right. If you do, I’ll even grant you a wish.”

“A wish?”

Unfortunately, Roden had never once managed to dodge Cilia’s rapid-fire magic before.

Her speed and accuracy were just too good.

“Yep. I’ll grant you one wish. Not that you’ll ever manage it.”

Cilia gave him a smug, almost condescending smirk.

Roden chuckled.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Sure. Go train all you want. You still won’t dodge a single one.”

“Yeah? Well, if I do, I hope you’re ready to grant my wish.”

And with that, he grabbed his mop and dashed away before she could hit him again.

“Hey! Roden!!”

Cilia shouted after him, but he was already gone.

A long farewell wasn’t necessary.

Neither of them wanted a dramatic, tear-filled goodbye.

They were better off like this—

Just like always.

Roden stuck out his tongue at Cilia and bolted toward the back of the annex.

And, as always,

Cilia, fuming but smiling, immediately took off after him.

“What?! Hey—! Get back here!!”

Had they not played around like that yesterday, how much more regretful would this farewell have been?

Who could have known that their teasing and laughter would be the last before his departure?

With a bag almost as big as himself strapped to his back, Roden was now leaving the mansion.

Lucilan Grand Duke had moved up the departure date.

With Roselle away, there was no longer any reason to delay.

And so, last night, Roden was given the sudden news and spent the night hastily packing.

Now, he stood at the mansion’s entrance, receiving tearful farewells from his fellow attendants.

“Roden…! What the heck?! Why so suddenly?! You didn’t even tell me…!”

“Y-You’re really leaving? Just like that?”

“Huaaah, Roden, please stay safe…!”

This was exactly why he had wanted to keep it a secret until the very last moment.

It was already hard enough dealing with everyone’s sadness on the day of departure—how would he have endured this for several days?

“Don’t worry, everyone! I’ll come back safe and sound! Thank you all—take care while I’m gone! I, Deloden Roden, will return!”

The carriage procession was already prepared for departure.

With a forced but bright smile, Roden waved one last time before turning toward the carriage where Grand Duke Lucilan was waiting.

Beside him, but not speaking, was the butler, Gelion.

Gelion’s gaze held a quiet sorrow.

Roden was heading to the harsh northern lands for the sake of Roselle’s grand plan.

It was a heavy burden for such small, young shoulders to bear.

Yet, Roden’s stance showed no sign of wavering.

The boy continued to reveal qualities beyond his years—unusual maturity, firm resolve, and unwavering conviction.

Perhaps that was why Roselle had chosen him.

Gelion had always been fond of Roden, and this farewell felt particularly bitter.

“Roden.”

“Yes, Butler Gelion?”

“Take care on your journey.”

“Of course. Please don’t worry.”

“Take care.”

It was the best farewell he could offer.

A statement that made it clear—he expected Roden to return.

That he had a home to return to, always.

Roden’s nose stung as he smiled, a lump forming in his throat.

But his gaze was already fixed elsewhere—

Up at the third floor of the mansion, where Cilia’s room was.

Gelion followed his gaze and sighed.

“Lady Cilia… no matter what I said, she refused to come.”

“It’s okay, Butler Gelion.”

It was difficult for her to accept.

Even though she had known he would leave, the fact that he was disappearing overnight, just after spending an evening joking and playing like always, was too much.

He thought about how she had held back her tears yesterday.

But Roden didn’t seek her out.

This was how it had to be.

Time would help her come to terms with it.

Still, just in case she was watching, Roden waved toward her window before stepping into the carriage.

Inside, Grand Duke Lucilan was waiting.

“I apologize for rushing the schedule. The older I get, the less patience I seem to have.”

“No, it’s alright, Your Grace.”

The extra time had been a kindness from the Grand Duke in the first place.

Leaving quickly, like the wind, was better.

There was no resentment.

Instead—

“This sword… is it alright if I bring it with me?”

Roden unfastened the blade from his waist and held it out with both hands.

Lucilan’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly as he examined it.

The sword of the late King Hurion.

The sword of a knight who had once been called noble, but was now branded a traitor—Duvell’s sword.

A knight who had struggled at the crossroads of conviction and duty, only to carve a tombstone at that intersection.

Duvell, a man who, in the end, took the remains of the tyrant Brikal with him to the grave.

Now, his sword was branded as the blade of a traitor.

Lucilan’s deliberation didn’t last long.

He understood.

Brikal, the mad king guilty of heresy, would soon lead the kingdom to ruin.

A revolution had already begun to stop him.

And in that revolution, this sword would no longer be a traitor’s blade—

But the sword of a revolution.

Lucilan wrapped Roden’s fingers tightly around the hilt and said,

“Make sure you don’t lose it.”

“…Your Grace.”

Roden bowed his head in gratitude, then secured the sword at his waist once more.

No matter what, he would never let it go.

With this sword, he would carve a clear future.

He made that vow as he looked out the carriage window one last time.

Sunlight poured over the mansion’s garden.

A new beginning.

The cold, treacherous lands of the north awaited him.

And the farewell with Cilia—

It had begun.

—Neigh!

The carriage lurched forward.

Roden raised his hand one last time, waving toward Cilia’s window before bowing his head and closing his eyes.

Then, he offered a silent prayer.

To the goddess Gaion.

Please, watch over Cilia.

Please, let me see her again.

The next morning, at dawn, two figures stood at the southern gate of Roselle’s estate.

A man and a woman.

One of them scoffed.

“So this is Roselle’s grand mansion? As expected of a bastard’s dwelling—it’s absolutely disgraceful.”

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