How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending - Chapter 79.1
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Beyond the distant horizon, Hezekia Port began to take shape.
The fleet glided gracefully along the rolling waves. The sails, fully spread in the open air, reflected the sunlight and shone white.
Between the low houses lining the dock, the flag of the Grand Duke of Hezekia fluttered in the wind. Beneath the red roofs, countless people had gathered densely. The news that the fleet under the Grand Duke’s command had safely returned had already spread throughout the Hezekia region, carried by messengers sent in advance from Belforte.
“They’re back! The fleet is back!”
At the distant cheers, the expressions of the sailors on deck brightened all at once. Faces worn from the long voyage seemed to melt with relief. I could not help but smile along, letting my tension ease. Now we were truly in a safe place.
Tristan leaned against the bow, silently watching the scene. I stole glances at his sharp profile as if I had done something wrong, and suddenly I recalled the absurd contact on the deck a few days ago. The memory did not stop there, but quickly went back several days further. The night Tristan had opened his eyes, his pale face glowing under the light filtering through the window. The hot sensation of his lips against my skin.
I hurriedly rubbed my heated face with the back of my hand.
‘It is probably time to forget this, Ruellin…’
As I chastised myself, the ship reached the harbor. The sailors on deck busily dropped the anchor.
As the ship docked, people swarmed toward it. Among them, my gaze naturally went to an elderly man pushing through the crowd. His wrinkled face, gazing anxiously at the ship, was a mix of desperation and fear.
It was Wilhelm, the Grand Duke’s long-time butler.
A few days ago, a messenger had reported that his son, Walter, had been rescued by chance and would be returning with us. Wilhelm probably did not believe it. Walter had been accused of treason and taken to the royal palace in Belforte, after which no news had come. More than four years had passed.
For a father who had buried the possibility of his son’s death deep in his heart, hope might have felt cruel. Sending news ahead might even have been a mistake.
“Let Walter come down first.”
From below, Wilhelm clutched the railing with trembling hands, trying to spot his son among the sailors on board. Tristan issued a short command when he noticed him. Walter, supported by the sailors behind him, bent his body slightly and expressed his gratitude to the Grand Duke.
Finally, Walter began to walk slowly along the gangplank. His steps were unsteady, and his pale, emaciated face bore the clear traces of his suffering.
Yet there was no doubt that he was Wilhelm’s son.
Wilhelm’s eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized his son. His trembling hands covered his mouth.
“Walter. My child, Walter…!”
His voice, choked with tears and trembling, echoed in the air. People parted to give him a path. The elderly man staggered forward, almost tripping in his haste, but quickly regained his balance and pressed on.
“Father!”
Walter called out, spreading his arms wide. Tears had already welled in his eyes. Wilhelm collapsed into his son’s embrace. Sobs escaped his trembling shoulders.
“My son… you were alive. Truly, you were alive…”
Wilhelm repeated these words endlessly, sobbing like a child. The eyes of the surrounding people also grew moist. I watched the scene for a moment and then quietly turned away.
The sea breeze brushed gently across my cheek. Mixed with it came a faint, fresh scent of citrus. I looked up to see Tristan approaching beside me.
“You have returned.”
His calm voice fell softly. I smiled slightly and nodded silently.
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