Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Translation: godsn
Kyle led Leila to the terrace facing the rose garden. As the boisterous and dazzling atmosphere of the party faded, Leila finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Kyle. Really, truly thank you."
Leaning against the marble railing, Leila smoothed her dress and bowed slightly. Kyle, who she expected would smile as usual, wore an uncharacteristically stiff expression.
"Kyle?"
"Why are you putting up with that?"
"Huh?"
"Why are you just standing there while they treat you like some spectacle to drag around? The proud, sharp-witted Leila Lewellin I know."
"What does it matter?"
Unlike Kyle, who was unusually angry, Leila responded with a breezy smile.
"Nothing they said was wrong. I'm an orphan, indebted to Uncle Bill, and destined to become a teacher."
"I'll never understand you."
"People are multifaceted by nature, Mr. Etman."
"You always have a clever retort, don't you?"
At Leila's playful reply, Kyle finally cracked a smile.
"You should go now, Kyle. I'm really fine."
"Go where?"
"You have so many people to meet here. And plenty of friends."
"I'm good."
Waving his hand dismissively, Kyle leaned against the railing beside Leila.
"Don't be like that..."
"Leila, I came here today as your partner."
Kyle slowly turned his head. His gray eyes gleamed warmly even in the dim light.
"So I'll stay by your side."
A slow smile spread across his lips and the corners of his eyes.
"That's what I want."
The breeze from the garden carried the sweet scent of roses. Leila pressed her lips together, swallowing whatever words she had been about to say, and absently ran her fingers along the railing.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
Kyle coaxed gently. Leila, who had been staring at the pointed tips of her shoes, lifted her gaze awkwardly.
"...I don't know."
"Are you suddenly feeling shy in front of me?"
"It's not that!"
"Your face looks red."
"No, it's not!"
Flustered, Leila raised both hands to touch her cheeks.
"Got you."
When she saw Kyle chuckling mischievously, Leila deflated and burst into laughter. It was then that Mrs. Etman, who had been searching the hall for her son, spotted the two on the terrace.
"Kyle. What on earth are you doing out here?"
She approached with a deep sigh.
Leila hastily straightened her posture and bowed her head in greeting. Mrs. Etman acknowledged the gesture with a brief glance before turning her attention back to her son.
"There are many people waiting to see you."
"They're waiting for Father, not me."
Though Kyle grinned, Mrs. Etman's expression grew even sterner.
"Kyle Etman, are you mocking me?"
"Mother, you know that's not what I meant."
"Let's go. The Dowager is looking for you. Surely you don't intend to keep her waiting?"
Her tone left no room for further argument—her resolve was unshakable.
"Come back soon, Kyle."
Leila, who had been holding her breath, cautiously spoke up.
The Dowager of the ducal household was fond of the family doctor's only son. Leila knew exactly how proud and gratified Mrs. Etman was of that fact.
"I'll wait here for you."
To reassure Kyle, Leila even offered a bright smile.
"Thank you, Leila."
Only then did Mrs. Etman smile at Leila. Though her gray eyes were nearly identical to Kyle's, the way she looked at Leila always carried a certain chill. Leila was well aware of that, too.
Reluctantly, Kyle took heavy steps away. As he kept glancing back, Leila gave him a small wave.
"Wait!"
Kyle frowned and called out.
"You have to wait for me, Leila!"
She wanted to answer cheerfully, but Leila couldn't part her lips. All she could do was smile and wave her hand even more vigorously.
Once Kyle and Mrs. Etman had left, the terrace regained its tranquility. The music and laughter flowing from the hall blended beautifully with the soft glow of the lights, creating a leisurely atmosphere. Though she had left her glasses behind, making the lights blur and bleed together, the scenery felt even more dreamlike and enchanting because of it.
Now, Leila Lewellin's role was over.
Relieved, Leila let out an innocent sigh of admiration. With her mind at ease, she finally took in the sight of her unfamiliar reflection.
When she shifted her legs slightly, the ribbon at her waist and the hem of her dress fluttered delicately. A playful impulse took hold, and she carefully rose onto her tiptoes before lowering herself again, watching the voluminous fabric ripple like waves.
The white dress embroidered with gold thread was as beautiful as this dreamlike night. The fabric was so soft against her skin that at first, it almost tickled.
And then, the necklace.
Leila's shy smile faded as she quietly touched the pendant.
Why had the Young Lady Brandt said such a thing?
Perhaps it had been another refined way of expressing disdain or pity, but Leila didn't care. Uncle Bill's gift was dazzlingly beautiful. No matter what anyone said, to her, that was enough.
Just as Leila lifted her head with a smile, a tall man stepped onto the terrace. Her face, which had brightened at the thought that it might be Kyle, froze in an instant.
It was Duke Herhardt. And with him was the Young Lady Brandt.
"The night air is quite refreshing, isn't it?"
Claudine inhaled deeply, her voice sweet as she posed the question. Her demeanor was so shamelessly innocent that one might have believed she had truly brought Matthias out here just for the breeze.
"I love summer because the nights are so beautiful. How about you, Duke Herhardt?"
Leaning lightly against the marble railing, Claudine beamed. Her gaze, which had drifted from Matthias's face, now settled on its true target—Leila Lewellin, standing at the far end of the terrace.
"I don't particularly care for summer, Young Lady."
Matthias stopped beside Claudine. His eyes, which had been surveying the rose-filled garden, flickered briefly over Leila's face. She looked utterly flustered and uneasy at the intrusion of these uninvited guests.
"Oh? I always thought you liked summer."
Now turning her back to Leila, Claudine faced Matthias fully.
"Come to think of it, Duke Herhardt, you really do seem rather indifferent. Not that I mean it as a reproach, of course."
Claudine, her hands clasped behind her back, took another step closer. The distance between them had narrowed enough for their breaths to mingle.
"Actually, I like that indifference of yours. A dignified composure, unswayed by fleeting emotions—it's very noble and elegant."
"I'm glad it pleases you, Young Lady."
Matthias didn't retreat, meeting Claudine's gaze head-on.
"Kiss me."
Claudine, staring boldly at him, made the brazen demand. Matthias studied her in silence.
"I may like the indifferent Duke Herhardt, but don't you think even we should share at least a little passion?"
Tilting her head, Claudine's thick, curled brown hair bounced with playful elasticity.
"If we're to be engaged, then married, and spend our lives together, I mean."
"At least a little passion..."
Matthias narrowed his eyes slightly before giving a small, conceding nod.
"A reasonable point."
Without hesitation or reluctance, Matthias cupped Claudine's cheek. Though she looked momentarily surprised, Claudine soon closed her eyes naturally.
Matthias's gaze, which had been fixed on the shadow of her long lashes, drifted unconsciously toward the opposite end of the terrace. Leila, who had been fidgeting and pacing in place, happened to look up at him at that very moment.
Keeping his eyes locked on Leila, Matthias slowly lowered his lips onto Claudine's.
Leila Lewellin, the spectator Claudine had wanted, dutifully played her role. She stood frozen stiff, staring blankly at them. Neither the considerable distance nor the darkness could hide the deep crimson flush spreading across the woman's cheeks.
Throughout the restrained kiss, Matthias's gaze never left Leila. Her green eyes, paralyzed and helpless as they stared back at him, looked as guileless as they had on that moonlit night.
By the time Leila finally averted her eyes, the chaste kiss between the two had also come to an end. As Claudine slowly opened her eyes, a peculiar smile curled at the corners of her lips—just as Leila fled down the steps leading to the garden.
"Shall we go?"
Matthias extended his hand courteously. Claudine took it as if nothing had happened.
"I'm certain, Duke Herhardt," Claudine said with a laugh as she stepped inside alone.
"I'm certain we'll make quite the fine couple."
Leila stumbled down the stairs in a daze. Even though she knew they wouldn't chase after her, her steps only grew faster.
The clatter of Leila's heels against the garden path disturbed the quiet of the night. Only when she reached the large fountain at the garden's center did she finally come to a stop. Gasping for breath, she became acutely aware of the pain in her feet—a pain she had forgotten in her frantic escape.
"Ah..."
Peeling off her shoes slightly, Leila winced and let out a sigh. The new high-heeled shoes had left raw blisters all over her feet. Her heels were scraped raw, even bleeding. She wanted nothing more than to run straight back to the cabin, but in the end, she turned around.
She had promised Kyle she would wait. At the very least, she ought to say goodbye before leaving. But she couldn't muster the courage to return to that brightly lit mansion—to that strange, uncomfortable world.
Hesitating, Leila limped toward the path branching off to the right of the walkway. It led to the rose-covered pergola. She decided to wait in the garden first, then head to the mansion when Kyle returned.
But... was she even allowed to sit here?
Leila stared at the bench, conflicted. Though she had helped Uncle Bill carefully prune and tend to the rose vines, she had never lingered beneath them. It wasn't a place permitted to the servants.
But tonight, she was a guest of Arvis. Surely it would be fine?
Only after a long, long moment of deliberation did Leila finally perch tentatively at the edge of the bench. It took even more courage—and time—before she dared to slip off her shoes.
Leaning back against the armrest, she wrapped her arms around her knees. The cool touch of the marble soothed the throbbing in her feet. How cruel beautiful shoes could be. She couldn't fathom putting them back on.
If only she hadn't run, she might have spared her heels.
Gently tracing the worst of the wounds with her fingertips, Leila suddenly shuddered at a sudden, unbidden memory.
The man who had kissed his fiancée while staring straight at her—Duke Herhardt. The mere thought made her face twist involuntarily. And Claudine, who had accepted that kiss so effortlessly despite knowing full well there was someone else watching—Leila couldn't understand her either.
"Why would they do that?"
Muttering to herself, Leila unconsciously scrubbed at her lips.
"...Disgusting."
This time, she rubbed harder, even pressing the back of her hand against her lips, as if trying to erase the memory—the sensation—of that moonlit night, the one that had flashed through her mind as she stood frozen, staring at him.