Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Translation: godsn
As he turned the dial, music began to flow.
The aria from an opera, transmitted by the phonograph placed on the mahogany cabinet, instantly dispelled the heavy silence that had filled the annex's drawing room.
Matthias adjusted the frequency several times until a waltz began to play, then leaned back against the sofa. The melody was bright and lively. The long fingers resting lightly on the armrest twitched slowly in time with the beat. The table clock placed on the console opposite him pointed to five o'clock.
His gaze lingered briefly on the shabby rose vase beside it before turning toward the window. As evening approached, the breeze had grown cooler. The wind blowing in from the river rustled the robe draped over his shoulders before heading toward the forest.
Matthias stretched out his arm and opened the small silver box placed at the edge of the coffee table. As he lit one of the barely diminished cigarettes, the waltz came to an end. Listening to the boisterous string piece that followed, Matthias slowly exhaled cigarette smoke. The late summer afternoon was dull and quiet.
When that piece also ended, Matthias picked up Leila's glasses, which had been carelessly tossed aside near the tray. The world seen through the lenses was disorienting—her eyesight must have been quite poor.
So that's why she was always scowling.
The image of a child staring at him with round, squinting eyes came to mind. A shabby, unremarkable girl—yet her eyes alone shone unusually bright.
The child who was supposed to stay only briefly had grown into a woman within Matthias's world.
The small face framed by thin gold-rimmed glasses overlapped with that unremarkable girl's face. From this woman, whose eyes still sparkled just as unusually, came a fresh, sweet fragrance. The scent of flowers that filled Arvis's summer gardens—the very scent of roses.
Exhaling a long stream of smoke, Matthias stepped out onto the balcony facing the river, loosely holding the glasses. As he playfully tossed and caught the glasses, the shadows grew longer.
"Leila."
He whispered the name like the heat of midsummer.
"Leila Lewellin."
The name that rolled off his tongue with a tickling sensation was also slightly irritating.
Returning to the drawing room, Matthias placed the glasses he'd been tossing and catching into the console drawer. As the drawer closed, the memory of those green eyes seen through the lenses soon vanished as well.
Matthias went to the bathroom and took a long shower. He changed his clothes and groomed his hair. By the time he left the annex to attend the banquet, he had once again assumed the impeccable appearance of Duke Herhardt.
It was an uneventful midsummer evening.
"Did the ravens take it again?"
Bill asked, mixing in a bit of teasing. Leila, who had been sitting at the table with a serious expression, flinched and shrugged her shoulders.
"Um... I hope not."
"You never know. Those birds go mad for anything shiny. Remember? Your hairpin."
Bill burst into hearty laughter. The memory his words evoked softened Leila's stiff expression, and she regained her smile.
For Leila's thirteenth birthday, Uncle Bill had given her a shiny hairpin as a present. He had noticed the girls Leila's age each wearing something in their hair and, after asking Mrs. Mona for help, bought it as a gift.
Leila treasured that pin dearly. Had Uncle Bill not threatened to throw it away if she didn't use it immediately, it might have remained forever tucked away in a drawer.
But the pin met a cruel fate on the very first day she wore it. While tending to the garden, she had temporarily taken it off and placed it on the fence—only for a raven to snatch it away. It was the incident that made Leila, who loved all birds, develop somewhat unfavorable feelings toward ravens.
"If you can't find them, let me know, Leila."
Bill put deliberate emphasis into his voice as he spoke.
"It's just glasses—no need to make that face. We can always buy new ones. Understood?"
"Yes, Uncle."
Leila nodded readily.
"I will."
She could answer so breezily because she was certain the glasses would still be right where she'd left them at the dock.
But the next morning, arriving at the riverside at the crack of dawn, Leila was met with despair. She scoured every inch—the dock, the area around the annex, even along the riverbank—but the glasses were nowhere to be found.
Her apron remained exactly where she'd left it, but the glasses had vanished. She considered whether they might have blown away in the wind, but that didn't explain why the apron was still in place. She distinctly remembered removing the glasses first and placing the apron over them. The glasses couldn't have disappeared on their own.
Even so... surely not.
Leila shook her head as if dismissing an absurd thought while loitering near the annex. The Duke had no reason to take them, did he?
Shoulders slumped, Leila turned away. She should have come to retrieve the glasses sooner. The problem was she'd delayed out of fear of running into the Duke.
"Was it really you?"
Leila muttered, glaring at a crow perched on a branch. The bird tilted its head a few times as if feigning innocence before flying off toward the distant woods.
Clenching her fists as if steeling herself, Leila began walking with longer strides than before. Her plan was to return home first, have breakfast, and reconsider everything with a clearer head.
The suspects seemed to be one of two.
The crow... or the Duke.
A pigeon as white as snow alighted on the windowsill. Kyle, who had turned his head absently, smiled and opened the window.
"Hello, Phoebe."
Even when he reached out his hand, the pigeon didn't flee. Kyle naturally retrieved the letter tied to the bird's leg.
The wood pigeon Phoebe was Leila Lewellin's messenger. Ever since childhood, Leila had been obsessed with birds, and after reading a book about carrier pigeons one day, she'd conceived the grand ambition of raising her own.
'Yeah, sure. Go for it.'
Back when he'd chuckled and agreed, Kyle had never imagined in his wildest dreams that an ancient legend like a carrier pigeon would one day fly to his bedroom window. But Leila Lewellin, the girl of sheer determination, had made it happen. Despite repeated failures, she never gave up, and eventually succeeded in training a wood pigeon.
Phoebe had first flown to Kyle's window two springs ago. When he'd opened the window half in disbelief, there really was a pigeon staring straight at him with a letter—a beautiful bird with glossy white feathers and dark eyes.
Hello, Mr. Etman.
That day, Leila's letter contained nothing more than that brief line. But Kyle could read countless other things between the lines. Leila, thrilled at achieving her goal. Leila, eyes sparkling as she grinned mischievously. Leila. His precious friend Leila.
A carrier pigeon in this day and age.
It was laughably absurd, yet it made sense. To Leila, Phoebe was essentially a telephone. And in a cabin without a phone, a message-carrying pigeon was actually quite efficient.
Today, Leila's messenger brought tragic news. She'd lost her glasses. She wouldn't be able to keep their promise to visit the library together because she had to search for them. She was truly sorry.
While Kyle read the letter seriously, Phoebe, having completed her task, departed from the windowsill. After carefully folding the letter and tucking it between the pages of a thick book lying open on his desk, Kyle hurried out of his room.
"Kyle Etman! Are you going to see Leila again?"
Mrs. Etman frowned as she watched her son come clattering down the stairs, but Kyle smoothed it over with an easygoing grin.
"You should be studying, Kyle!"
"I'll do it at Leila's place!"
Leaving only that lively reply behind, Kyle stepped out through the front door.
His gleaming silver bicycle slipped smoothly out of the Etman residence. As he turned onto the Arvis estate grounds, Kyle grew increasingly impatient and pedaled frantically. The library didn't really matter anyway. He'd only made that promise because he wanted to be with Leila when she went there. More than anything, he was simply worried about Leila.
How could she lose the glasses she worked so hard for?
The thought of that foolish Leila Lewellin—who'd made and sold jam all by herself to save up money, afraid of burdening Uncle Bill—made his chest tighten painfully.
"Oh, Kyle?"
As his bicycle screeched to a halt, Leila, who had been hanging laundry, turned around with a startled expression.
"Did you find your glasses?"
"No. Not yet."
Leila's face fell.
"I'll buy you new ones!"
The words burst out before he could stop them. It hurt to see Leila so dejected.
"...You? Why?"
Leila, who had been quietly studying him, asked softly. Only then did Kyle realize his mistake. In his haste, he'd momentarily forgotten what kind of person Leila was.
"Thank you, Kyle, but you can't do that."
Leila smiled gently, as if to spare him any embarrassment.
"Besides, I really want to find my glasses."
Despite her smiling lips, her gaze was resolute. It was the look of Leila Lewellin that Kyle knew well—the stubborn, unyielding glint that wouldn't back down no matter what anyone said.
"I will find them."
Leila spent days combing through the forest. The doctor's son joined her.
Their futile efforts were so endearing that Matthias chose to turn a blind eye. Watching them rummage through random bird nests was rather amusing.
Whether he truly didn't know or simply didn't want to know.
Matthias paused halfway up the annex stairs and gazed at the vast forest stretching along the riverbank. Even Leila Lewellin and that boy's foolish antics were starting to grow tiresome. As was his own habit of carving out time from his busy schedule to come here day after day.
Matthias slowly smoothed his wind-tousled hair and continued up the stairs. Hessen, who had followed silently, opened the door and stepped aside.
Matthias went straight to the parlor. Instead of sitting on the sofa as usual, he leaned against the window overlooking the forest.
"Marquess Lindman is expected to arrive around noon today."
"Liet? That's earlier than planned."
"Her Grace has instructed special care be taken with the luncheon. She requests your presence as well, if you have no prior engagements."
"Yes. Of course."
The chiffon curtains, half-drawn, billowed slowly with the wind's rhythm. And when the curtains settled back into place, Matthias's eyes narrowed as he stared at the sunlit path. At the end of it, beneath a tree, stood Leila. She was spinning in circles, hands clasped together.
Perhaps she wasn't a complete fool after all.
Matthias chuckled soundlessly and turned his full attention back to Hessen's report. Meanwhile, a middle-aged maid brought in chilled lemon water. The clinking of ice in the glass was pleasantly crisp.
Once they had finished their duties and withdrawn, Matthias sipped from the tall glass while admiring the view beyond the window. Only after the butler and maid had completely disappeared did Leila begin making her way toward the riverbank.
Before long, the doorbell chimed through the quiet annex.
Matthias rose leisurely from his seat.