Married To The Enemy Kingdom's Illegitimate Prince
Chapter 32 — Just a Dream

Chapter 32: 32 — Just a Dream

Snow fell heavily outside, covering the world in a ghostly veil. Inside, Cynthia sat on a couch in a brightly lit room, a surreal contrast to the shadowed night beyond. She cradled a steaming cup of tea, staring blankly at the papers spread across the table.

A bitter laugh escaped her, the sound strangely muffled, as her eyes rested on the title: [Divorce Agreement].

Her gaze drifted from the papers to the man seated across from her. He was always focused on the documents, his face a cold mask.

"You want a divorce?" Cynthia’s voice wavered, cracking as though it were an echo from another time.

Lucian nodded, his silence speaking volumes.

"Is it because of that wen—" Cynthia’s lips trembled as she caught herself, the term feeling foreign. "That woman," she corrected, her voice barely a whisper in the dreamlike haze.

"Think what you will," Lucian’s words felt detached, "but this marriage has lost its meaning."

"Right," Cynthia’s chuckle seemed to fade into a hollow laugh, reverberating through a distorted sense of reality.

Lucian’s gaze shifted up, his expression unreadable, as if he were questioning a fading memory. "What’s making you laugh like a madwoman?" His voice echoed strangely, crossing the boundary between real and unreal.

"... heartless," Cynthia murmured, her voice a soft whisper swallowed by the room’s eerie stillness.

"Huh?" Lucian leaned forward, the sound of his voice warping in the dreamscape.

"You’re so heartless, Your Highness," Cynthia whispered, her head bowed to hide tears that felt like they were falling in slow motion.

"Although I appreciate the nicknames you occasionally use, it’s time we end this meaningless marriage," Lucian’s sigh seemed to carry a hint of distant sarcasm. "I’m sure you, too, crave freedom."

His words, though laced with sarcasm, seemed to drift in and out of clarity. Cynthia couldn’t summon any hatred; the emotion remained elusive, slipping through her fingers in the foggy haze of the moment.

"My brother died. It hasn’t been two months, and I can barely overcome this..."

Pain.

She wished to say more, but complaining to the man before her felt futile.

He didn’t care.

Nothing about her complaints would make him want to stay by her side.

She had nothing to offer him.

Not anymore.

The alliance between Eldoria and Selvarys had faded when her brother’s body turned into ashes.

She could barely remember the warmth of the hand that often caressed her head as a child, praising her for her academic successes or for mastering the steps of her dance classes.

"Now, I’m truly left alone," she chuckled, whispering to herself, as Lucian’s presence slowly faded from her mind as if he was never in the hall.

Despite his faint words, which were starting to turn fuzzy, she could barely comprehend them.

Tears flooded from her eyes like rain pouring down in the rainy season, but the emptiness she felt inside wouldn’t wash away.

***

Cynthia blinked her eyes open and took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that had streamed down her cheeks.

Another dream...

It wasn’t rare for her to have such dreams; they had been recurring since she was ten years old.

She constantly hoped the memories wouldn’t hurt her as much over time, but the feelings overwhelmed her no matter how many years passed as if it were yesterday that all those things happened.

"You’ve finally woken up?" a familiar deep manly, reassuring voice asked.

Relief was evident in his tone.

Cynthia turned her gaze toward the source of the voice and saw the tall, blonde-haired man approaching her.

Without thinking, she embraced Alistair tightly.

"Thank God," she mumbled to herself, her grip tightening around her brother. "It was just a... dream. Just a dream," she repeated, trying to push away the lingering shadows of her nightmare.

The man in her dream had died, and she hadn’t been able to be with him in his final moments.

The emptiness she felt was a constant companion, regardless of time or life.

Even now, in this new life, the loneliness and coldness in her heart remained unshaken. The emotional wounds she carried were deeper than the physical pain inflicted by the maids in Erion.

This place was filled with memories from her past life, where she had endured some of her darkest years. She wished she could rewrite or erase those memories, but fate was beyond her control.

"C-Cynthia, are you alright?" Alistair asked hesitantly, snapping the young woman from her deep thoughts.

The last time she had clung to him so desperately was before he went to war. She had insisted that he write to her, no matter what. He did, and before he knew it, five years had passed.

Then, one day, she suddenly appeared on the battlefield, riding a white horse and clad in armor. She looked every bit like a knight in shining armor, despite not being one at the time.

When she expressed her desire to fight alongside him, he was stunned.

Women were not allowed to be knights, but Alistair broke the law and let his sister become one. He was willing to face any consequence to shield her from danger and make all her wishes come true.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he chuckled, recalling how she used to cling to him like this as a child.

After their parents died, however, she stopped visiting him, which had shocked him.

Normally, children would seek comfort from adults when feeling lonely, but Cynthia hadn’t shown any sign of that.

Instead, she seemed to shut herself off, though she always smiled around him, making him wonder if he was overthinking it.

"Maybe she simply grew more mature after our parents’ loss," he told himself.

The hand that Cynthia had longed to soothe her in her past life now gently caressed her head, but the pain of his previous neglect still lingered.

"Why did you do that, brother?" Her voice trembled, her words caught in her throat. She kept her feelings to herself—he didn’t remember.

To him, he had always cherished and doted on her, unaware of the harsh past she had endured due to his cold behavior.

"Such a lovely family," a sarcastic voice interrupted, pulling Cynthia’s attention to her surroundings.

"Your Highness..." Cynthia gently pulled away from the embrace and forced a smile.

"Your Highness?" Vincent’s lips twitched in irritation. "You call His Majesty ’Brother,’ but me, a mere prince, you address as ’Your Highness.’" He scoffed. "You clearly don’t consider me family," he muttered, scowling.

"You..." Cynthia sighed, shaking her head. "You really need to grow up."

"But I’m older than you! How can you tell me to grow up when you’re clearly the child among us three?"

"Well," Cynthia hesitated. "Counting my past life, I am technically older than you."

"It’s only three years," she added with a forced, awkward laugh.

She didn’t want to remind herself that Vincent had died in her past life.

"Only?" Vincent clicked his tongue in disbelief. "Three years is enough for you to treat me as your elder."

"Enough," Alistair said firmly, casting a sharp glance at Vincent, who flinched nervously.

"You should rest. You’ve been unconscious for two weeks," Alistair turned his attention back to Cynthia.

"Two weeks?!" Cynthia gasped, her confusion from the dream momentarily overshadowing her recollection of the events before she lost consciousness.

Her brothers nodded.

"What happened? The last thing I remember was that strange place... then a light... and then just... darkness," Cynthia said, scratching her head as she tried to piece together her hazy memories.

"Well... Cynthia..."

The hesitation in Alistair’s voice faintly indicated that something had happened while she was in deep slumber, unaware of her surroundings.

"He won’t be able to say it," Vincent interrupted, his arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame.

"Mind your manners," Cynthia glared at him.

Although he hadn’t been in high society for years, he should still mind his manners as he was in Selvarys. She didn’t want the servants who occasionally passed by her bedroom’s hallway to witness a member of Eldoria’s royal family behaving like a commoner.

"You’re speaking as if I’m some commoner," Vincent clicked his tongue, making his way toward a chair placed in front of Cynthia’s dressing room. With a firm grip, he dragged the wooden piece before Cynthia’s bed.

"Take a seat, Your Highness," he sighed.

Nodding, Alistair sat down, thinking of how to word his thoughts.

"Tell me what happened," Cynthia said, looking into Alistair’s eyes, waiting for a response.

After what happened, the future would surely have a huge impact. She needed to know to prepare herself in case things diverged from her past life.

"W-we called a priest... It’s not that we were trying to... examine you without your consent..." Alistair pursed his lips, unable to continue.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Cynthia was trying to understand why her brother hesitated.

He was a straightforward man, never hesitating to speak the truth. This kind of behavior wasn’t like him.

Cynthia’s gaze dropped to his trembling hands.

"So, brother, tell me... what exactly is making your hands shake so much when you never trembled while fighting hundred men in the battlefield?" she wondered, her violet irises shimmering as the sunlight cast a halo around her figure.