Kallion first met Yuliana when he was fifteen.
It was during the annual banquet that rotated between the great houses.
That year, it was hosted by House Heister.
Kallion hated being there. His mother had been killed by a Heister assassin when he was only eight years old.
Watching his father pretend to be cheerful and cordial with their mortal enemies, as if nothing had happened, disgusted him. He slipped away into the garden.
But there was already someone there—a small girl.
From her appearance, she looked like a servant child, perhaps one of the maids-in-training.
She was skinny, fragile, and looked too weak to work.
"Hey, can I sit here too?"
Startled, the little girl hunched her shoulders, then nodded shyly.
Her tangled blond hair looked like a broom, her rags barely enough even for winter. Clearly, she wasn't being cared for.
Was it pity that made him act differently that day?
Or was it the contrast—her shabby figure yet bright, striking red eyes—that caught his attention?
For once, Kallion showed kindness, even to a Heister servant.
"Does House Heister not even give their servants proper meals or clothes?"
He handed her some cookies from his pocket and even gave her his coat.
The little girl looked up at him with wide eyes.
He thought those red eyes were… a little cute.
He saw that girl again five years later, when another Heister banquet was held.
But she was no longer a servant. She stood proudly as one of Heister's daughters, presented among the lord's children.
Only then did Kallion realize the truth: the girl he had pitied was not a maid, but a daughter of his enemy.
A wave of betrayal hit him. He had once fed and clothed the child of the man responsible for his mother's death.
The thought made him sick. He had to run to the lavatory, retching over and over.
And then, against his will, that same girl became his fiancée.
Their engagement was nothing more than a political sacrifice to end the long war between Valdormer and Heister.
Kallion protested to his father many times, but Darkin dismissed his complaints.
He thought of running away countless times. But his mother's dying words always held him back:
"Grow strong, and become the head of Valdormer."
So he endured.
At one banquet, forced to appear at Yuliana's side, she greeted him brightly.
"You came again today. I didn't think you would."
Her smile was innocent, pure.
"I'll only stay a short while."
Even when he made it clear he wanted to leave, she only smiled, asking about his favorite foods, his favorite music.
Her naive interest made him uncomfortable.
Every time he looked at her, he saw the image of his dead mother overlapping with her face, and his stomach churned.
She looked at him with such clear, untainted eyes, but that gaze only weighed on him.
Time passed, and finally, their wedding day came.
"Do you, Kallion de Valdormer, swear on the name of Valdormer to love this woman?"
Love the daughter of my enemy? How absurd.
But clenching his fist, Kallion answered coldly, "Yes."
He had to inherit Valdormer's headship, no matter the cost.
"And do you, Yuliana de Heister, swear on the name of Heister to love this man?"
"Yes," Yuliana answered, smiling like a flower.
Even though he had shown nothing but rejection, she still smiled. He couldn't understand her.
A foolish girl, marrying into her enemy's house without even realizing it.
There would be no happiness in a marriage built on politics and grudges. Or so he thought.
"Your wife is pregnant."
So said the physician, after Yuliana began vomiting and unable to eat.
Despite the herbs she had been given to prevent it, she had conceived.
A child born from enemies—he thought its fate would surely be twisted.
His only words were:
"So, another Heister bloodline added."
Yes, that was what he had said.
It had been his honest feeling at the time.
He remembered the way Yuliana's face turned pale at those words.
He hadn't meant to blame her, but he didn't comfort her either. There was no need, he thought.
Time moved quickly.
The abortion herbs he had prepared remained unused.
He didn't want a child with her, but even so, he couldn't bring himself to take that step.
As her belly grew, he felt strange stirrings in his chest. Feelings he didn't want to acknowledge.
He forced himself to ignore them. This wasn't part of his plans. It only made him uneasy.
And before he realized it, she was in labor.
Her screams echoed through the mansion. He felt a gnawing unease, as if she would die like his mother had.
Trying to ignore it, he busied himself with papers in another room.
Not long after, the head maid came to report in a flat tone:
"The lady has given birth."
Kallion followed her to the room.
There, wrapped in white cloth, a newborn lay in Yuliana's arms.
The doctor, wiping sweat from his brow, hurriedly announced, "It's a boy."
Kallion only stared at Yuliana.
She was crying and smiling at the same time, her face filled with happiness he couldn't comprehend.
When he looked at the squirming little life in her arms, his palms itched strangely.
"It's our child, Kallion."
Her voice cracked with emotion.
Something sharp pricked deep inside his chest. A strange, unfamiliar feeling.
"I said—it's our child."
When he gave no response, Yuliana cried harder, pleading.
Even after giving birth to their son, his expression remained unchanged, cold.
Her tears made him uncomfortable.
Why did she expect ordinary things from him—things that had never been ordinary between them?
He turned and walked away, leaving her crying with the baby.
The child grew quickly.
The baby who once only squirmed in bed soon toddled around the mansion.
His name was Denian, meaning "little angel." Yuliana had smiled as she explained it.
Even as a small child, Denian seemed to sense that his father was uncomfortable with him.
But Yuliana never gave up. She tried to talk with Kallion, embroidered his gloves and clothes with little designs—small, trivial gestures.
Then one night, as usual, she was tending to the child.
It was an ordinary, quiet night.
But by the next day, everything had changed.
Yuliana's body was carried out of her room, covered in white cloth.
Kallion stared, frozen, as the woman who had chattered beside him just yesterday, who always prepared tea and spoke about Denian, now lay like a doll beneath a shroud.
Cliff spoke heavily:
"It seems she was killed while trying to protect young master Denian."
Kallion's mind went blank.
No tears came.
Only… disbelief.
The strange stirring in his chest was gone.
But in its place was a hollow emptiness.
Why, then, did he find himself wandering into her embroidery room every day?
She had only been his enemy's daughter. Their marriage had been without feeling.
So why—
"It's cold outside, so I made these gloves for you."
"Kallion! Denian started walking today!"
"The weather was so nice, I took a walk in the garden… and thought of you."
Her cheerful voice echoed in his ears like a ghost.
"I love you, Kallion."
The woman who had once smiled at him so brightly—
Only now did he realize how that smile had faded over the course of their marriage.
Standing in Yuliana's old room, he clutched his chest.
It felt like he had opened a Pandora's box he should never have touched.
His time stopped there. And it never moved forward again.