Chapitre 477: Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 242. Ophelia's Confession III
Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 242. Ophelia's Confession III
Angel gently but firmly restrained Ophelia's hand as it reached out to touch his face. His voice, though laced with a coldness born of necessity, bore the weight of his commitment. "Ophelia, I am already married. This would be inappropriate."
Ophelia stood there, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she slowly withdrew it, as though her delicate fingers were retreating from the flames of forbidden desire. Her expression, once hopeful and filled with longing, now wavered with a mix of shock and realization. She had momentarily allowed herself to forget the complex web of obligations and commitments that bound Angel.
The silence that followed felt like an eternity, a profound and awkward pause in which neither of them dared to meet the other's gaze. Ophelia's eyes, once alight with the flickering flames of affection, were now cast downward, her demeanor radiating a palpable sense of discomfort.
"You're right," she finally spoke, her voice laced with a blend of embarrassment and humility. "I apologize for my impudence... I should have been more mindful of your situation."
As she continued to look down at the cold, stone floor beneath her feet, Ophelia's thoughts swirled in a tempest of emotions. She knew that what she had done was inappropriate, driven by the lingering echoes of their shared past.
"I will return to my room... Good night, Your Majesty." Her words, uttered with a sense of formality that barely concealed the turbulence of her emotions, hung in the air like a haunting refrain. Ophelia's hurried footsteps as she retreated, leaving behind a moment of poignant tension.
Angel stood in silence, his eyes fixed on the spot where Ophelia had disappeared into the depths of the castle. His expression was inscrutable, a mask of regal composure that belied the inner turmoil that swirled beneath. In that fleeting moment, as Ophelia's presence faded, he was left alone with the echoes of their encounter.
The quietude of the corridor was broken only by the soft rustling gown.
"Rose, I know you're there, come out," Angel's voice, steady and unwavering, cut through the stillness like a blade. He spoke without turning, his gaze seemingly fixed upon a distant point in the castle's intricate architecture.
Rose emerged from her concealed vantage point. Her eyes shimmered with a mixture of curiosity and concern as she watched Ophelia's retreating figure. The young princess' heartache was evident, etched upon her tear-streaked face like an artist's sorrowful masterpiece.
"Looks like she's crying," Rose remarked, her voice a hushed whisper that resonated through the quietude of the ancient stone walls. "Don't you want to chase after her?"
Her question hung in the air, lingering like the tendrils of mist that often clung to the castle's battlements. Rose had always been astute. She knew that Ophelia's heart bore the weight of unspoken words and hidden desires, a burden that seemed almost unbearable. She knew she and Ophelia were the same. They only had different lives and responsibilities.
Exhaling a long breath, Angel stood a few paces away, his gaze locked onto the spot where Ophelia had disappeared. His expression, though inscrutable to the casual observer, bore the weight of a thousand emotions. His love for Rose was unwavering, but the echoes of the past still resonated, tugging at the corners of his heart. He still felt obligated to Ophelia's help in the past.
"No," Angel responded, his voice a somber echo of the castle's ancient stones. "I don't want to give her false hope. I hope that after this encounter, she can find the strength to understand and, in time, move on."
Rose nodded in silent agreement, her eyes filled with a profound understanding that transcended mere words. She knew that Ophelia's feelings were not to be trifled with, for unrequited love had the power to transform even the most resolute hearts into vessels of sorrow.
Angel's gaze lingered on the path Ophelia had taken once more, but his voice, when he spoke again, was barely above a whisper, as though he feared that the castle itself might carry his words to unwanted ears.
"Especially since I will be the one who kills her brother," he confessed, his tone heavy with the weight of a fateful decision.
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