"I want to go alone, so you wait here," he said, leaving me alone in the carriage.
After a few minutes, he finally came back. He was smiling–he told me his plan is going to be successful. Well, I agreed. Since the plan is neither small nor big, just enough for his redemption.
I didn't really understand what was going on in his mind though, I would have planned a bigger and crueler plan for someone who had killed my entire bloodline–not just exposing his secret deeds. But he didn't. Does he have sympathy over the King? I don't know, and I don't want to know.
As the carriage was moving to the military base, the atmosphere outside slowly became chilly. I observed his head turned to the side, staring outside the window as the sky spilled its snow. His heavy-lidded eyes indicated weariness, yet they lit up when he saw the snow falling to the ground.
His eyes as blue as the snowy sky, framed by delicate eyelashes adding to his somewhat melancholic appearance. My eyes studied his features–soft and elegant, resembling his mother's ethereal visage.
"Christmas Celebration is not far away now, where will you go?" I couldn't bring myself to stop examining his appearance, so I opened my mouth.
"I'm planning to go to an outdoor celebration, I don't want to be surrounded by nobles." His curved lips returned as he replied.
"If you say so. I found a nice restaurant there a few days back, let us dine together."
Weirdly, he just stared back at me. Silence rested in the carriage again.
"Sure." He said.
The snow falls everywhere, snowmen are all over the streets, the children are laughing as they make snowballs and throw at each other.
"There's a lively town far from this Kingdom. We ought to move early, I want to celebrate there." He instructed.
"But a town far away from here isn't supported by us to celebrate christmas, surely they have nothing." I reminded him of his decision long ago.
"I've visited that town for years, they always celebrate christmas. It seems like the townsfolk work together for each other's warmth. Isn't that amazing?" His words were spoken with gentleness, showing his fondness for the town.
So I canceled our dinner together in the restaurant I had booked, and now we're on our way to the town. Before we left a few hours ago, I encountered Harry–the information seeker boy. He said that the town we're going to is the same one where he sought information about Laine.
We arrive. And truly, it is lively as Harry and Laine said. Children run everywhere in laughter, the townsfolk chatter all around. When Laine steps onto the town's ground, everyone greets him warmly.
"Oh, who is this handsome youngster beside you?" an old woman asks.
"This is Commander Christian. I work with him," he tells her.
"Ah, then he must be a kind person! Oh, this town will be more lively than the year before." She giggles softly.
Afterwards, we finally find a place to dine. Evening has settled, and the people have gone home for warmth. This place is nice–we get a dining table beside the window. The chilly breeze outside adds to the calm atmosphere inside. The warm dinner is flavourful, supporting our bodies' warmth.
"The King is planning to move Duke Wycliffe in his plan, I heard from my informant, " I mention, letting him know.
"Maybe Duke Wycliffe still moves even if he's in your plan."
"I know," he replies.
"It's fine. He will follow me even if he's pushed to the corner."
I freeze, every thought stalling at once.
Suddenly, a glow from outside washes him in shifting color–soft pinks, fleeting golds, deep violets that rippling across his skin. When I turn my head, it is the firework he said he was excited about.
When I look back, he is already watching them. The light catches on his white hair until it shines like frost. His white shirt adorned with lace and cuffs gathers the colors too, delicate patterns blooming and fading across the fabric with every distant room.
And for a moment, I see her in him–his mother.
The same quiet grace, the same visage I witnessed years ago. The elegance she carried had always been effortless, and now he has inherited that from her.
He does not look away. He simply watches and admires the fireworks as if it was his sparkling world.
At this moment, he's not just like her.
He's the quiet echo she left behind–the spitting image of her.
My eyes are completely obsessed with him. After the fireworks end, I tell him that I'll go out for a moment to search for an inn. I insists he waits here and I'll go alone.
I can't stop the thoughts rushing through my mind right now, the fact that he resembles his mother so much–so much that it reminded me how I, too, once desired for her.