My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 1047: Dreams of the Past: Eon is always my priority

Loholt's smirk remained, satisfied with the chaos he had created.

Rael turned toward him, his eyes cold enough to kill.

But before he could speak, Aurelius' voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Enough," the Duke said.

The single word carried so much authority that even Loholt stiffened, his arrogance retreating slightly as he remembered where he was.

Rael didn't wait.

He turned and walked out of the hall, ignoring the whispers, ignoring the stares, ignoring the nobles who pretended to be sympathetic while secretly enjoying the scandal.

Eon hesitated, then followed him halfway, but stopped, because she knew Rael would not want an audience.

Aurelius watched Rael leave.

Arthur's gaze followed him too, his expression unreadable.

Remia's lips tightened faintly.

And Raphael, sitting quietly at the far end of the hall, watched everything without moving, his eyes calm and cold, but the faintest flicker of something unreadable passed through them.

*

Rael reached Artaigne's room quickly.

The manor corridors were quiet compared to the banquet hall, the distant music muffled behind thick walls, and the soft glow of lamps made everything feel like a dream that was turning into a nightmare.

He stopped before her door and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

Rael exhaled sharply, his fingers curling, then he spoke through the door, his voice low and urgent.

"Artaigne, open the door. Please."

Silence.

Rael swallowed, then tried again, softer. "I didn't mean to humiliate you. I didn't mean for it to happen like that. Just… talk to me."

For a moment, he thought she would ignore him completely.

Then the lock clicked.

The door opened just enough for him to enter.

Rael stepped inside.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and Artaigne stood near the window, her back facing him. Her shoulders trembled, and when she turned, Rael saw tears on her cheeks, not loud sobbing tears, but the quiet kind that came from deep betrayal.

Her eyes were red.

Her voice shook when she spoke.

"How could you say that?" she demanded, her words sharp and broken at the same time. "How could you say it so easily, in front of everyone, like I'm nothing? Like I'm just some ornament you were forced to accept?"

Rael's chest tightened painfully.

"Artaigne…"

She stepped forward, her hands clenched.

"We've been together for more than three years," she said, her voice rising. "Three years, Rael. We traveled together. We trained together. We ate together, laughed together, survived together. And in a few years, I'm supposed to become your wife. I'm supposed to stand beside you for the rest of my life."

Her voice cracked.

"But you didn't even hesitate," she whispered, tears spilling again. "You didn't even pause. You chose her. Like I wasn't even worth thinking about."

Rael took a slow step forward, his hands raised slightly as if he were approaching a wounded animal.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't. But that question… it wasn't something I could say otherwise. If I lied, Eon would have known, and I would have betrayed her. And I would have been lying to you and myself."

Artaigne stared at him as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"So you admit it," she said, voice trembling. "You admit that I'll never be first."

Rael's throat tightened.

He nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said softly. "You have been watching me for years. You should know that Eon isn't my sister, Artaigne. She is the other part of me. We are incomplete with one another. Even if the god asks me to choose the world or Eon, I wouldn't bat an eye and choose Eon."

Artaigne's eyes widened, her expression twisting with pain.

"You're insane," she whispered.

Rael's voice remained steady, but it carried something fierce, something absolute.

"Maybe I am," he said. "But that's who I am. My sister is my priority more than my father, more than my duchy, more than my future, and yes… more than you. And that is a fact you must accept. Because it is true."

The words struck her like a slap.

Artaigne's face twisted, and she let out a broken laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"So what am I to you?" she demanded. "A political arrangement? A duty? A girl you'll marry because the King ordered it?"

Rael's eyes widened.

"No," he said quickly. "You're not that. You're important to me. You matter. I care about you, Artaigne. I do. But I can't change the truth of who Eon is to me."

Artaigne's breathing became shaky, her hands trembling.

"You care about me," she repeated bitterly. "That's all you can say? You care? Do you know how pathetic that sounds when you just told me I'll always come second?"

Rael stepped closer, his voice low and sincere.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have handled it differently. I should have protected you from that humiliation. But the answer would have been the same."

Artaigne's eyes burned with anger now, and she wiped her tears harshly.

"Get out," she said.

Rael froze. "Artaigne…"

"I said get out!" she shouted, her voice breaking as she pointed toward the door. "Leave my room. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you right now. I don't want to hear your apologies. I don't want to hear your excuses!"

Rael stood still for a moment, his jaw clenched, his heart heavy, because he wanted to argue, wanted to explain, wanted to fix it, but he knew there was nothing he could say that would not make it worse.

So he nodded slowly.

Rael turned and walked toward the door, his steps heavy, and just before he could close it behind him, Artaigne shoved him hard enough that he stumbled into the hallway.

The door slammed.

The lock clicked.

Rael stood there, staring at the closed door, hearing the muffled sound of Artaigne's shaky breathing behind it.

*

Later;

Rael stood alone on the balcony of his room, his hands resting against the cold railing as he stared down at the sleeping estate.

The Garcia Manor looked peaceful from above, its lanterns glowing softly like fireflies trapped in glass, the distant patrols of knights moving like silent shadows, and the wind carrying the scent of trimmed hedges and stone that had been warmed by the day.

Yet Rael's mind refused to quiet, because no matter how calm the night looked, his chest still felt like it was burning from the banquet, from the whispers, from the way Artaigne's eyes had looked at him when he spoke the truth.

He hadn't lied.

He hadn't hesitated.

And somehow, that honesty felt heavier than any punishment.

Behind him, the balcony door opened quietly, and Rael didn't need to turn to know who it was. The footsteps were too familiar, too light, and the presence that followed them felt like half his own soul.

Eon stepped out, her hair loose, her expression unusually subdued, and she stood beside him without speaking at first. She stared out at the estate the same way he was staring, as if looking down might somehow make the weight in their chests lighter.

After a long moment, Eon spoke, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

"I'm sorry."

Rael's gaze remained fixed ahead, but his fingers tightened slightly on the railing.

"For what?" he asked quietly, though he already knew.

Eon lowered her eyes, her voice tightening. "For what happened. If I wasn't there, if I didn't respond to Loholt, if I didn't… exist in that moment, you wouldn't have had to say it. Artaigne wouldn't have been hurt. The nobles wouldn't have whispered. Everything wouldn't have turned into chaos."

Rael finally turned his head and looked at her, and the coldness in his eyes softened the moment he saw the redness at the corner of hers.

"You're not in the wrong," Rael said, his voice firm. "Not even a little."

Eon frowned faintly. "But—"

Rael cut her off, his tone sharper now, not directed at her, but at the world that dared to blame her.

"It doesn't matter if it's Artaigne," he said quietly, "or Father, or even the King. Anyone who can't understand our relationship, anyone who can't accept what you are to me... has no place in my life, and I won't apologize for that. If I'm the body, you are the soul, Eon... A body can't live without its soul... We were there for each other since the day we were born. I won't give the right to a third person to decide the nature of our relationship... Artaigne has to accept it."

Eon's lips trembled faintly, but she didn't cry. She simply stared at him, and her hand reached out to grip his sleeve gently, as if grounding herself in the certainty of his words.