You Are Gentle, But You Don’t Love Me - Chapter 6

Afternoons without Cassio, evenings spent gazing at the setting sun alone in the garden.

Walking side by side with no one, sitting across from nobody, and simply passing the time alone—this was Juliet’s natural state.

So…

‘It’s just because I didn’t bring a shawl.’

The evening air felt unusually cold.

‘It’s because the setting sun feels bittersweet.’

The garden bathed in red sunlight seemed unusually vast.

‘It’s because the darkness is lonely and cold.’

The approaching night felt unkind.
That’s all there was to it, Juliet thought, as she sat idly beneath the gazebo, clasping her chilled hands together.
“Really, that’s all…”

The afternoon had dragged on endlessly, yet the sun seemed to set in an instant.

Between the shadows of the trees, darkness welled up like water. Pools of shadow slowly expanded, blanketing the entire garden.
Though the distant sky still held traces of light, the ground below had become an undulating sea of darkness, gradually rising.

One step, two steps, three steps. The shadow crept up the stone steps, finally touching Juliet’s feet.

Her delicate eyelids trembled before fluttering shut.

‘Juliet!’

At times, she felt like a ghost wandering the castle, alone and untethered.

Invisible to anyone, unable to speak with anyone, floating weightlessly through the past, reliving it again and again.
If that was what a ghost was, then Juliet was no different from one.

Her body resided in Escalus Castle, but her soul still wandered within the walls of Cagliari Castle.

‘Sleepyhead, wake up already.’

‘Rosie… it’s still time to sleep.’

Young Rosalyn, Juliet, and—

‘They say the Arboréa boy is arriving today!’

‘My lady, you mustn’t speak of the young master from Arboréa like that…’

Romeo Arboréa, from the days of Cagliari.

‘Um, hello.’

‘…’

‘I’m Romeo… Arboréa.’

Juliet first met Romeo Arboréa when she was five years old.
The longstanding feud between Cagliari and Arboréa had finally reached a dramatic truce in her great-grandfather’s time. Sardinia agreed to fall under Aragon’s dominion in exchange for autonomy. Cagliari was granted a duchy, while Arboréa was given a marquisate.

But centuries of animosity didn’t disappear overnight. Even in Juliet’s grandfather’s and father’s time, the two noble houses of Sardinia continued to clash.

‘Here’s how we’ll resolve it.’

Tired of this generational rivalry, someone eventually proposed a solution.

‘A marriage alliance is the strongest bond—one that can never be broken.’

They decided to foster camaraderie between the young heirs: the two daughters of Cagliari and the heir of Arboréa. The ultimate goal was an unbreakable alliance sealed through marriage.

It was a simple but effective solution.

‘I’m Rosalyn Cagliari. And this little cutie here is my sister, Juliet.’

‘Rosie…’

‘It’s okay, Julie. Don’t be scared! I’m tougher than any Arboréa boy!’

By then, Rosalyn and Juliet were already inseparable, as close as two sisters could be.

Perhaps Romeo envied them. He had no siblings of his own, after all.

‘…Can I call you Julie, too?’

‘Then what should we call you? Roro?’

‘That’s silly…’

‘Roro it is! You can call me Rosie.’

Perhaps it was thanks to their youth, or perhaps because of Rosalyn’s outgoing nature. Whatever the reason, Romeo quickly became part of their little circle. The three of them grew close in no time.

‘Rosie, are you really sneaking into the kitchen with Juliet?’
‘Why not? Julie will enjoy it too!’

‘And what if you get caught?’

‘Oh, stop being a baby, Roro. If you don’t want to come, just go back home.’

‘Fine, I’m coming. Let’s go.’

After a few years, it felt natural for the three of them to always be together, rather than just the two sisters.

‘Julie can come too, you know?’

‘Julie’s too young. What if she gets hurt?’

‘It’s just a trip to see the underground cells. What could happen?’

In Cagliari Castle, in Arboréa Castle, or roaming all over Sardinia, the three of them spent every day together, oblivious to the complicated politics of the adult world.

They were beautiful days.

‘I’m okay. I can go…’

‘See that? Julie’s my sister. She’s amazing.’

‘If you get scared, tell me right away, okay?’

Rosalyn, lively and headstrong.

Juliet’s world with them had been small yet complete.

“Don’t cry, Julie.”

“Never forget, I’m always on your side.”

“My beloved sister.”

But Rosaline and Romeo had left her side—so suddenly.
Juliet was left alone.

“Maybe… I want to go back.”

Back to when her world was most beautiful—the days when the three of them had been together.

“But…”

It was absurd to feel nostalgic about something she had chosen to leave behind.

With her eyes closed, Juliet counted the passing seconds. She didn’t need to open her eyelids to know that night was falling.
The darkness, which had barely touched her feet, crept up to her calves, her thighs, and eventually swallowed her waist. By the time the night reached her chin, it could be felt more in the air’s chill than seen with her eyes.

Then, a small sound broke the silence, and suddenly, warmth spread over her shoulder.

“…!”

Startled, Juliet opened her eyes.

Someone was standing before her. The sharp scent of medicine mingled unnoticed with the cool night air.

It was Cassio.

“I thought you might catch a cold.”

Without a sound, he had approached, holding a thick shawl in his hands. Cassio draped it gently over Juliet’s shoulders, whispering softly.

“Even though it’s summer, evenings are still chilly, aren’t they?”

“…”

But Cassio’s attempt wasn’t particularly graceful.

His usually fluid movements seemed oddly clumsy, as if he was careful not to let the shawl brush against her bare neckline.
Juliet watched his awkward gestures quietly before biting her lower lip. Her chest felt strangely heavy.

“I wasn’t waiting.”

She was certain of that.

But now that he was here, it felt as though she had been waiting for him all day.

“Truly, I wasn’t waiting…”

It felt like she was eight years old again—the eight-year-old Juliet Cagliari, hiding in the shadows, waiting for someone to find her.

Or the Juliet of twelve, or sixteen, who had taken it for granted that she would become Romeo Arborea’s wife.

She still hadn’t escaped those days. That was why she could only live like this, like a ghost trapped in the past, lingering alone while time rushed forward.

Simply longing for days gone by.

“Oh, dear.”

The shawl, loosely draped over her shoulder, slipped down. Cassio hastily caught it, his hands hovering near her shoulder, unsure what to do.

Finally, Juliet extended her hand.

“It’s fine. I’ll…”

Their fingertips brushed for a moment. But he didn’t stop there; instead, he lightly clasped her fingers.

“…I’ll do it.”

Cassio’s hands were warm—startlingly so.

No, it was the opposite. His hands weren’t unusually warm; Juliet’s hands were unusually cold, as though they had stiffened slightly.

“Alright.”

Cassio softly massaged her fingers, loosening the stiffness, before releasing them.

“That’s probably for the best.”

The faint warmth left behind by his touch lingered on her fingertips.

As though trying to shake off the feeling—or perhaps to spread it—Juliet curled and uncurled her fingers. A tingling sensation crept up her wrist.

It felt like her bl00d was flowing again.

Slowly, she adjusted the shawl. Only after carefully wrapping it around her cold shoulders did she lift her gaze.

Their eyes met, belatedly.

Cassio, who had been looking down at her, smiled slowly, his light green eyes half-hidden.

“Ah…”

She felt as though the ground beneath her feet had dropped away. Even without hearing it, she already knew what he would say next.

Right. It was absurd to regret isolation when she had chosen it herself.

But sometimes, just sometimes, she felt unbearably lonely…
“Hello, Juliet.”

This gentle greeting, made up of only a few words, was enough to make her inexplicably happy.

Juliet’s gaze wandered.

Above her, a dazzling chandelier cast its brilliant light. Candlesticks placed around the table amplified the warm, reddish glow. Fresh evening air streaming through the windows made the candle flames flicker, causing the silver cutlery and glassware to gleam.

Everywhere her eyes landed was filled with light.

“It feels like a swarm of tiny fairies fluttering about.”

The thought crossed her mind.

But it wasn’t just the light that was dazzling. The food spread across the table was equally splendid. Whole fish and seafood, beef and poultry, vegetables and fruits—all manner of dishes, both raw and cooked, graced the table.

“How long has it been since I’ve seen a meal this properly set?”
In truth, it had been a long time since Juliet had even sat in the dining hall. She had no interest in formal meals with elaborate spreads.

She was used to eating lightly—bread and juice in her bedroom, the drawing room, or the library. Many days, she skipped meals entirely. On the rare occasions she added soup or nibbled on a bit of salad with her bread, the castle kitchen would act as though a grand festival had occurred.

“If that was a festival, then tonight must truly be a celebration.”

Not just the kitchen, but the maids and servants of the castle would all be celebrating as well. After all, it was customary for the leftovers from a grand feast to be distributed among the staff.

“Perhaps I should dismiss everyone early tonight and allow them some wine…”

“Juliet?”

“…Ah.”

Lost in her drifting thoughts, Juliet blinked. Her unfocused gaze finally settled on the man sitting across from her.