After Violetta departed, visitors began pouring into my office one after another from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and various other departments. Most of them were people I already knew well, so I gave them a very warm welcome and ended up spending a fairly pleasant afternoon.
What pleased me most of all was that Isabel never came to see me. In the past, her absence on a joyous day would have left me deeply hurt, but finding joy in her absence now felt bitter.
The day passed in a flash, and when I returned to our townhouse in the capital, Mother unexpectedly greeted me. I say unexpectedly because she was an extraordinarily busy woman who usually returned home very late at night. In fact, I rarely saw her on a daily basis. I fell asleep before she came home and woke up later than she did.
The chef was beaming with pride beside a dinner spread lavish enough to break the table's legs. I was slightly taken aback by an extravagant feast meant for just the two of us, but Mother was already sitting quietly at one end, so I settled into my seat as well.
Dinner passed in utter silence. Mother and daughter rarely spoke during meals. It was so quiet that not even the clinking of cutlery could be heard, but already accustomed to the quiet, I felt no particular awkwardness and instead enjoyed the tender tenderloin that the chef had clearly poured his very soul into preparing. The melt-in-your-mouth beef paired so wonderfully with the sauce that I was moved almost to tears. Yes, this was what food was supposed to taste like. What I had eaten in Sorel was hardly fit to be called a meal.
The quiet meal continued. Unlike her usual self, Mother looked over at me several times throughout dinner as if she had something to say, yet she never uttered a single word until we were finished.
Once the meal was over, however, Mother summoned me to her room. Ever since Father passed away, I had rarely set foot in her bedchamber. In the past, I used to squeeze in between Mother and Father to sleep—though looking back now, I feel terribly apologetic toward my parents—and every time, Mother would gladly take my pillow from my arms and lay me down on the bed.
After Father died, however, Mother told me I was no longer a child and forbade me from casually bursting into her bedroom. It was a rule strictly applied both at our ancestral estate and at our townhouse in the capital.
Thus, entering Mother's bedroom was something I hadn't done in a very long time. As I opened the door, the pleasant scent of her favorite lavender wafted through the air.
“Come and sit.”
Mother's calm voice carried its usual low, soothing cadence. In stark contrast to her typically neat, austere appearance, she was dressed in thin nightwear beneath a draped shawl, which startled me a little. She had never treated me loosely just because I was her daughter. Between Mother and me, there had always existed a thin, unbreakable barrier that must never be crossed.
Only after taking my seat did I notice that two glasses and a bottle of wine were set on the table between us.
Oh?
I could not help but look slightly surprised. Was today the day I would witness new sides to Mother? She had always abstained from alcohol completely to keep a clear head. She might have had a small glass when I wasn't around, but she had never let a single drop touch her lips in front of me. To see such a mother bring out wine made me pull my chair slightly closer while studying her calm expression.
Once I was seated, she poured the wine, and I suddenly recalled a conversation I had shared this afternoon with Countess Amber, one of the countless visitors who had come by my office.
“Her Grace was terribly alarmed.”
“Pardon?”
“I have served Her Grace for a very long time, but I have never seen her face go so pale before.”
“Mother… was like that?”
“Not since Marquis Area passed away have I seen Her Grace shed tears. The moment the Lord of Sorel finished speaking, she rushed out of the room, so I couldn't see clearly, but… she was worried sick about her only daughter.”
Countess Amber was someone who had assisted Mother for many years. Her words carried weight, but hearing that Mother had cried was something I found nearly impossible to believe, so I had dismissed it as a mistake on her part. Looking at Mother's face now, however, made me think that perhaps it had been true after all.
Most people assumed I did not know, but I had once overheard the adults whispering when I was small that she had suffered three miscarriages before giving birth to me. When the midwife told her to give up on delivering me to save herself, she went so far as to ignore the desperate pleas of His Majesty the King and Father, who could not bear to lose her precious life. She had literally risked her life to bring me into the world.
“My Lady, you are Her Grace's treasure, irreplaceable above all else.”
I had heard words of that sort from those around me since I was young. The crown's treasure, the ducal house's jewel. After growing up, I rarely heard such things and had forgotten about them for a while, but there was no way I didn't know what I meant to Mother. That was why I never felt resentful when she treated me with constant strictness. I understood to a certain degree the burdens she carried in her heart after losing her husband.
Yet, as was often the case between parents and children, perhaps I too had failed to grasp the full depth of her love.
As my thoughts reached that point, I watched Mother pour the wine in silence and bit my lip. I had been in the wrong. It wasn't as if I didn't know it. Even if I hadn't harmed Mother directly, putting my own life on the line was a wrong against Mother, if against no one else.
Overcome by a sudden swell of guilt, I was about to call out to her with a tight throat, but Mother spoke first. She was the youngest daughter of the late king, the pampered jewel of the royal family. Seeing how even my second maternal uncle, who had wandered off in search of freedom, and my aunt, who had entered the clergy, still visited the ducal manor every so often just to see her, she had certainly grown up showered in love as a daughter and sister.
“I'm sorry.”
When I spoke up, my voice heavy with emotion, Mother remained silent for a moment before replying.
“No. You did nothing wrong. You merely made the most splendid choice. His Majesty the King praises you exceedingly.”
“Scarlett, I am proud of you.”
At Mother's words, I lifted my head. She brought her wine glass to her lips. Her expression was profoundly serene, yet a faint smile graced her lips. Looking at her face, I wasn't sure what to say or how to reply.
“Even so, please take care of yourself from now on.”
“You may be the successor to the Dukedom of Dirnant, but even so—”
Her lips parted slightly as if she had more to say, and finally, she spoke.
“You are my dearest, most precious daughter, after all.”
I could do nothing but nod, swallowing back my tears.
“It seems I've been quite loved all along.”
“Naturally.”
The prompt reply made me snap my head around. My gaze fell upon an impeccably organized desk and neatly arranged documents, far neater than anything I had imagined. And seated among them was Khalid, writing something down.
Unlike his time in Sorel, he was clad in uniform, and the deep wine and black knight order uniform gave him an inexplicably alluring edge compared to standard military attire. Slumped on his sofa, I stared up at the ceiling and spoke.
“Then why didn't I realize it before?”
“Realize what?”
“That I was so deeply loved.”
My words sounded a bit like childish whining, and I felt my cheeks grow warm despite myself. Khalid, however, let out a soft chuckle at my remark. Before I realized it, he had walked over, casting his shadow softly over me.
He took a seat beside me. I was hardly short myself, but this man was truly massive. When he reached an arm out toward my shoulders, I unconsciously rested my head against his outstretched arm, feeling an inexplicable wave of relief wash over me. Turns out I had quite the weakness for physical affection. Well, I had known that for a long time anyway.
Whatever he found so amusing about me, Khalid kept a faint smile on his face the entire time. Ah, but it didn't bother me at all. If someone else had sat in front of me grinning away like that—not that his smile could ever be called a simple grin—would I have minded? Was it just because he was so ridiculously handsome? Truly a blessing. I hoped he would keep smiling like that.
“You simply grew used to receiving far too much love.”
He whispered softly. His answer made me pause in thought. Was that it? Did I receive too much love? But in the end, I had to agree with him. Most people around me had always been kind and generous to me. Almost everyone, including Mother.
“The people around me have always been remarkably indulgent with me.”
“They had no choice.”
“Why?”
“Because you are lovely.”
Wait, what did this man just say?
I lifted my head and looked at Khalid with an utterly dumbfounded expression. Did those cringeworthy words really just come out of that mouth? Did his character just completely break? Are you kidding me? Was this really the same man who greeted me with an icy chill like a midwinter gale when I first arrived in Sorel? How could a person change so much in such a short time?
Then again, maybe he hadn't changed at all. Right before I came in, the aide-de-camp standing in front of him had looked utterly terrified. The look Khalid had given him was frosty enough to give someone frostbite. At the realization that this affection was reserved entirely for me, my mood soared, and I decided to let whatever cheesy lines he uttered slide. Of course, the fact that my face was burning so hot I couldn't bear to meet his gaze played a big part in that too.
What good was having plenty of dating experience when every new person was completely different?
“Yet, ridiculously enough, I ended up obsessing over someone so strange.”
“Someone… strange?”
Isabel.
The moment her name surfaced, my brow furrowed. For twenty years, I had cared for her. I had clung to someone who betrayed me at every turn. In a way, it truly had been an obsession. Looking back on it now, I must have been out of my mind, but who can ever truly fathom the human heart? With so many people around me who cherished me, who loved me, what on earth had I been thinking? Was it imprinting? Had we been together since we were so small that she simply became an everyday fixture of my life?
In the end, people only change once they've been through it themselves. In my case, that realization had come late. Very late, in fact.
