Chapter 257: The Colour Of Fear

Lydia stared at Ivan in complete confusion.

His face had gone completely pale.

His hands trembled so badly that he could barely keep them still, and his eyes remained fixed on the front of her dress. There was no anger in them. No irritation.

Only fear.

Real fear.

She frowned.

"What is wrong with you?"

Ivan opened his mouth, but no words came out. His breathing had become uneven, as though he had forgotten how to breathe.

Confused, Lydia looked down at herself.

That was when she noticed the dark red stain dripping from the dessert bowl onto the tablecloth.

Realization struck her.

"...This?"

She picked up her handkerchief and gently wiped the corner of her lips.

"It isn’t blood."

Ivan didn’t react.

She let out a quiet sigh and pointed toward the dessert.

"It’s pomegranate mollases or something."

Only then did his eyes slowly move to the table. He spotted a bowl of dark red syrup and by the side was a melting vanilla ice cream covered with that same syrup, and the sweet scent of pomegranate reached him.

For several long seconds, he simply stood there.

Then his shoulders slowly dropped.

He closed his eyes and released a shaky breath.

"...You’re fine."

The words barely escaped his lips.

Lydia looked at him strangely.

"Yes."

He nodded to himself, almost as if he needed to hear it again.

"You’re fine..."

She couldn’t understand him.

It was only syrup.

Why had he reacted as though something terrible had happened?

Ivan looked at her once more, carefully searching her face as if making absolutely certain she wasn’t hurt.

Only after convincing himself did he lower his head.

"I’m sorry."

His voice remained quiet and unsteady.

"I misunderstood. Please... forgive me."

Before Lydia could answer, he turned and walked away. His steps were quick, almost hurried, and within moments he disappeared from the terrace.

Silence settled over the garden once again. Only the distant songs of birds remained.

Lydia sat there without moving, her eyes fixed on the doorway where he had vanished.

"...What just happened?"

Nothing about the encounter made sense.

She had expected cold politeness.

Distance.

Indifference.

Instead, Ivan had looked terrified.

Not worried.

Terrified.

Her gaze drifted back to the half-finished dessert. The bright red syrup suddenly didn’t seem nearly as sweet as before.

She could still picture his pale face... his shaking hands... the relief in his voice when he whispered, You’re fine.

Why?

Why had he looked as though losing her would destroy him?

Slowly shaking her head, she stood.

"This makes no sense."

She reached for her book, only to place it back on the table a second later.

There was no chance she could continue reading now.

She needed answers.

Without another thought, she left the terrace and made her way toward Katherine’s sitting room.

The servants greeted her as she passed through the halls, but she barely noticed them. Her thoughts refused to settle.

Ivan’s frightened expression lingered in her mind.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen that look.

It reminded her of years ago...

The afternoon in the music room.

The day he had quietly spoken about his mother before asking her to teach him the piano.

She stopped walking.

"...His mother..."

The thought refused to leave her.

Moments later, she arrived outside Katherine’s room and knocked softly.

"Come in."

Lydia stepped inside.

Katherine smiled warmly the moment she saw her, while Anna stood nearby arranging documents for tomorrow night’s ball.

Both women bowed.

"Your Highness."

Katherine quickly noticed the serious expression on Lydia’s face.

"Is something wrong?"

Lydia hesitated before speaking.

"...Katherine."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course."

She paused for a moment.

"...What happened to His Highness’s mother?"

The question clearly caught both women off guard.

Katherine slowly placed the papers in her hands onto the table.

"May I ask why?"

"I was simply curious."

Katherine studied her quietly before answering.

"Lady Marina passed away when His Highness was only four years old."

Lydia lowered her eyes.

"So... he was still a child."

"Yes."

Katherine’s voice softened.

"She suffered from stomach cancer."

The room fell silent.

"I still remember her well," Katherine continued. "She was gentle and kind to everyone. His Highness adored her."

"And after she died?"

Katherine sighed.

"He changed."

"He rarely smiled again."

"He spent much of his childhood alone."

"I don’t believe he ever truly recovered from losing her."

Lydia’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her sleeve.

Ivan’s terrified expression flashed through her mind again.

"...Is that why he reacted the way he did today?"

Katherine looked puzzled.

"What happened today?"

Lydia quickly looked away.

"It’s nothing."

Katherine sensed there was more to the story, but she chose not to ask.

Instead, she spoke again.

"There is something else you should know."

Lydia looked back.

"His Highness hasn’t been taking care of himself."

She frowned slightly.

"He barely eats. He leaves before breakfast, returns late, and when he finally sits down for a meal, he hardly touches it. If he isn’t buried beneath official documents, he’s exhausting himself at the training grounds."

Katherine’s face filled with concern.

"At least it’s better than it was three months ago."

Lydia looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

A heavy silence settled over the room.

"When you first left..."

Katherine lowered her gaze.

"He drank every day."

Anna quietly looked away.

"It was as though he wanted to destroy himself," Katherine continued. "He shut himself away, refused visitors, barely slept, barely ate... only drank."

Her voice became quieter.

"There were nights I truly feared he wouldn’t wake up again."

The room fell silent.

"I had never seen him like that before."

Lydia didn’t respond.

Normally, she would have reminded herself that Ivan’s choices were none of her concern.

Normally, she would have walked away without another thought.

But today...

She couldn’t.

His trembling hands.

His frightened eyes.

The relief on his face when he realized she was safe.

"...I see."

Those were the only words she could manage.

After excusing herself, Lydia quietly returned to her room.

The moment the door closed behind her, she leaned against it and shut her eyes.

She wanted to forget everything.

Instead, Ivan’s face appeared again.

Then Katherine’s words followed.

He barely eats.

He only works.

He drank as though he wanted to destroy himself.

Lydia covered her face with both hands.

"No..."

"Stop thinking about him."

"He abandoned you."

"You promised yourself you would never be hurt by him again."

Yet no matter how often she repeated those words, her heart refused to obey.

Another thought quietly surfaced.

Maybe...

Maybe the sight of the red syrup had reminded him of Lady Marina.

Maybe, for one terrible moment, he thought he was losing someone again.

She stared silently at the ceiling.

"But..."

"Why would he be that afraid?"

The question refused to leave her.

After sitting alone for what felt like hours, she finally sighed.

"...Maybe I should tell him I’m really fine."

The words surprised even her.

She immediately shook her head.

"I’m not doing it because I care."

"...I just don’t want him worrying over nothing."

With that, she left her room.

Her first stop was Ivan’s study.

She knocked.

No answer.

A passing servant bowed respectfully.

"Your Highness. His Highness isn’t in his study."

"Thank you."

There was only one place left.

The training grounds.

Long before she reached them, the sharp sound of steel echoed through the palace grounds.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Each strike sounded heavier than the last.

When Lydia finally arrived, she found Ivan alone.

His clothes were soaked with sweat. His breathing was ragged, yet he continued swinging his sword without pause.

It no longer looked like training.

It looked like punishment.

She stepped forward.

The faint sound of her footsteps crossed the empty grounds.

Ivan reacted instantly.

Years of instinct took over.

He spun around, raising his sword in one swift motion.

The blade stopped only inches from Lydia’s throat.

Silence fell between them.

Neither of them spoke.