Wrong Script, Right Love-Chapter 130: Threads of Grief and Gold

[Alvar’s POV — ThorenVald Estate—Night]

The moonlight spilled through my window—bright, silver, almost mocking. Too bright. Too calm. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

I hated it.

It felt like the sky itself was pretending nothing had fallen apart.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Haldor’s voice followed carefully, "My lord..."

"Come in," I said, not turning away from the window.

He entered, bowed, and then straightened with a scroll in hand.

"We received a report, my lord. Lord Leif is safe. Sir Roland has reached Raventon Village. Lord Leif inspected the dam, and—for now—there is no danger."

I nodded once. "Good."

"What about the shadows?" I asked quietly.

"They are keeping their eyes on him. If anything happens, we’ll be notified immediately."

"Good," I murmured. "Until Leif is at Raventon... report everything to me."

Haldor nodded and then hesitated.

"...My lord, may I ask something?"

"Go ahead."

He lowered his head slightly. "Did you have a fight with Lord Leif?"

I stayed silent. Then I gave a small, empty smile. "Do you think I can stay angry at Leif for long, Haldor?"

Haldor didn’t answer immediately. His eyes dimmed—not with doubt, but with worry.

"No, my lord," he said slowly. "But... it is strange. You have never once let him go anywhere alone. And yet... you did not accompany him to Raventon."

His voice was gentle.

Too gentle.

As if he were afraid I would break. I took a slow breath, looking back at the moon.

"...Because this is best," I whispered. "I have to separate myself from him."

I hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But he heard it. Haldor’s eyes widened in shock. "My lord—"

"Enough," I said, turning away. "You may leave."

But he didn’t move.

Instead, Haldor stepped forward—cautious but firm.

"My lord... Lord Leif is the purest heart I have ever seen," he said softly. "He can be careless and lazy, but he is responsible. Thoughtful. He would never do anything to hurt you, or anyone around him. If there is a misunderstanding—if you heard something false—then—"

I cut him sharply.

"I never thought my captain would take another noble’s side over mine, Haldor." My voice was cold, but under it... something trembled. "Has the Regulffsson house lost your loyalty?"

His eyes widened—not wounded, but desperate.

"When did Lord Leif become ’another noble,’ my lord?" he asked quietly.

The words hit harder than any blade.

I swallowed. I couldn’t answer him. I simply turned back to the window, gripping the sill until my knuckles whitened.

"Just leave, Haldor."

But he didn’t.

He stayed right where he was.Because he was loyal.Because he cared.Because he could see I was falling apart.

"My lord," he said softly, "you should clear whatever misunderstanding exists before the wedding. If you let silence widen between you and he—"

That was it.

Something snapped.

"I SAID LEAVE, HALDOR!"

He flinched, truly flinched, like the shout cut through the air like a blade.

"My lord..." he whispered.

I turned then.

Angry. Or hurt. Or something uglier than both.

"THERE WILL BE NO MARRIAGE, HALDOR." My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop. "SO STOP—STOP TALKING ABOUT IT. STOP PRETENDING THERE’S A FUTURE. JUST—JUST LEAVE ME ALONE."

Silence collapsed over the room. Haldor stared at me—eyes wide, chest tight, the realization sinking in.

Not anger.

But heartbreak.

He bowed slowly. Deeply.

"...As you command, my lord."

And then he left. The door closed softly behind him. But my hands still trembled. My jaw still clenched. My heart still ached like someone had reached in and crushed it.

Because anger wasn’t anger. It was grief. And every word I had thrown at Haldor...was meant for myself.

For my own weakness. My own fear. My own inability to let go or hold on.

I dragged a trembling hand over my face, exhaling shakily.

"...I need to find a way to stop this marriage," I whispered to the empty room. My voice cracked, barely holding together.

"As soon as possible."

The words echoed back, hollow and final. And for the first time, the future I had once dreamed of felt impossibly far away.

***

[Leif’s POV — Raventon Camp—Late Night]

The campfire crackled softly beside my tent, tiny sparks drifting upward like golden fireflies until the darkness swallowed them whole. Zephyy slept curled at my feet in his tiny ferret-like form, his tail looped tightly around my ankle—as if imprisoning me to prevent nightmares from stealing me away. The crimson pup snored on my chest, warm, soft, and utterly innocent.

"My lord."

Cedric’s voice cut through the calm.

I gently moved the pup, stood up, and stepped outside. Sir Roland was already there, armor still dusty from travel, bowing deeply.

"My lord," he greeted.

I nodded. "Good timing, Sir Roland. Did you check the forest on your way through?"

"Yes, my lord," he said. "We passed through the Blackwood forest."

"And?"

He exhaled faintly. "We don’t have an impressive number of trees."

I nodded grimly. "So they won’t be much use."

"Indeed," Roland confirmed. "Either we grow more Blackwood trees—which will take decades—or we beg the Spirit of Earth to accelerate their growth..."

He paused.

"...which is, respectfully, impossible."

I sighed. He was right.

The Spirit of Earth was ancient, unpredictable, and notoriously moody. Even if I prayed for a century, she probably wouldn’t appear even out of pity.

That left... cutting the existing trees.

But even if we did, it would only yield a small amount of black diamonds. Barely enough to support the dam project, let alone the other construction efforts.

I rubbed my temples.

"We need to come up with someth—"

"AAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

A scream tore through the camp like a banshee being strangled by another banshee. Before I could even react—

SOMETHING SLAMMED INTO MY BACK.

"M–M–MY LORD!!!!!!!!!"

Sir Cedric clung to me from behind like an oversized, terrified koala, arms locked around my shoulders, legs dangling as if gravity had personally offended him.

"CEDRIC?!" I wheezed, feeling my spine cry for help. "What in the nine heavenly realms—?!"

He shook violently and jabbed a trembling finger toward Sir Roland’s armor.

"My lord—s-something huge and white is crawling on Sir Roland’s shoulder—it—it’s wiggling—IT’S WEIRD—!!!"

I blinked.

Roland blinked.

Then I followed Cedric’s shaking finger, mumbling, "I can’t believe you’re a knight."

And there it was. A big, white, wriggly-jiggly cocoon stuck to Roland’s pauldron.

Wiggling.

Squirming.

Judging me and maybe saying ’Hi.’

"...Sir Roland," I said very, very slowly, "why are you carrying a... wriggly-jiggly cocoon on your armor?"

Roland looked down with the grace of a man who has seen horrors and decided they’re not worth reacting to.

"Oh," he said calmly, plucking it off with his gauntlet like it weighed nothing. "I passed through the forest on my way here, my lord. I saw a few cocoons like this hanging in clusters. One must’ve... attached itself to me."

Cedric shrieked softly.

Roland continued, unbothered, "Do not worry, my lord. They are simple silk cocoons."

I shivered so hard my soul rattled.

"Simple?! Roland—whether it’s silk, cotton, or divine mucus—it’s still—IT’S STILL—"

I stopped.

My brain froze.

A single word echoed in my head:

Silk.

Wait.

Hold on.

SILK COCOONS?

I snatched the cocoon from Roland before either of them could blink.

He blinked. "My lord?"

I held the squirming cocoon up to the firelight. Its fibers gleamed—soft, shimmering, unnaturally pristine.

I grabbed Roland’s collar with my free hand. "ROLLLLAND—!!! WHERE EXACTLY DID YOU FIND THIS?!"

Cedric (still clinging to my cloak) squeaked, "M-my lord, don’t shake the captain—he’ll drop more terrifying cocoons—!"

But I didn’t care. Because if this was what I thought it was—

This wasn’t just a cocoon.This wasn’t just silk.

This was money.

A lot of money.