Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Translation: godsn
"That hairstyle doesn't suit you."
The Duke's abrupt remark was utterly absurd. After pondering deeply and finally understanding his words, Leila found herself even more bewildered. What kind of nonsensical conversation was this man having?
"I know. It's... a bit awkward," Leila retorted sharply, prickling at the sudden criticism.
"A bit?"
The Duke, who had been scrutinizing her leisurely, repeated the word mockingly.
To suppress the urge to flee immediately, Leila tightened her grip on the reins. But there was nothing she could do about the heat spreading uncontrollably across her face. Her cheeks must have turned red again—she hated looking foolish.
"You might as well let it down."
"I'd like to, but apparently that wouldn't be proper for a teacher."
"Says who?"
"The Principal."
Maintaining eye contact only made her face grow hotter, so Leila eventually turned her head away from the Duke.
"He said if I look too young, it undermines my authority as a teacher, so I shouldn't wear my hair like a student."
Afraid the silence would grow even more awkward, Leila hesitantly continued speaking. She heard the Duke's laughter, light as a passing breeze, but didn't turn to look. Now even the tips of her ears were burning. She must have looked utterly ridiculous.
"That clumsily pinned-up hair is supposed to represent a teacher's authority..."
Matthias gazed down at the small woman walking beside him, his eyes still tinged with amusement. Her pride seemed wounded, her expression sulky—and he found it rather entertaining.
"I'm practicing a lot, so I'll improve soon."
Even if it kills me, I won't admit defeat.
Leila's retort made Matthias chuckle again.
"Hmm. Do you really think so?"
"I believe I can. If I don't improve, I'll just cut it short."
"Cut it?"
The laughter faded from Matthias's eyes as they narrowed. Thinking it was just an audacious quip, he was surprised when Leila nodded quite seriously.
"Yes. That would make me look much more mature, and also—"
"Don't cut it."
Matthias's calm command left Leila dumbfounded. She turned to look at him again.
"Surely you don't think I need the Duke's permission to grow or cut my hair?"
"It's pretty, your hair."
Her indignant question was met with an infuriatingly casual reply. And above all... it was an utterly nonsensical answer.
Leila stared blankly at the Duke, doubting her own ears, but he simply gazed back at her with unreadable eyes.
"Like wings."
The Duke's voice was no different from when he had insulted and wounded her before.
Come to think of it, even when he had uttered those cruel words, his voice had always remained smooth and gentle. The realization brought back memories of that day—the summer day when she had first seen Duke Herhardt, the terror of nearly being shot, and yet how clearly his voice had carried. Low and soft, just as soft as it was now.
Vividly, from the depths of her memory, rose the image of her younger self scrambling down from a tree in a panic and running toward Uncle Bill's cabin.
"There—there's someone in the woods! A tall man!" she had gasped breathlessly."His hair was black, and his eyes were blue as ice, and his voice... it was just like a waterbird's feathers."
At the time, the comparison had come to her naturally. Those soft feathers she had collected while playing by the glittering waters of the Schulter River—treasures from her childhood.
Leila hurriedly averted her gaze from the Duke. She almost wished he would wound her with cruel words instead. That way, she could go on fearing him, feeling uncomfortable, disliking him—because that was the Duke Herhardt she knew.
But no matter how long she waited, the familiar, expected words never came. The Duke simply walked on, his eyes fixed on the path ahead where leaves were falling one by one. It was as if those strange words from earlier had been nothing but her own delusion or a trick of the wind.
Leila gently brushed aside the hair that had fallen over her shoulder, then furrowed her brow and jerked her head away. The sudden movement caused her hand to slip on the handlebars, and the wobbling bicycle lost its balance, toppling over. Even as she scrambled to regain control, Leila couldn't avoid being dragged down with the bike.
The sound of the bicycle hitting the ground and Leila's startled cry echoed down the quiet path.
Matthias looked down at the absurd scene with a faintly creased brow. The sight of Leila flailing on her own before getting pinned under the bicycle was so ridiculous that a dry chuckle escaped him.
"You really do fall over at the slightest thing."
As the Duke laughed, Leila bit her lip in humiliation. But in a way, it was a relief. If he would just mock her, torment her, and then leave—that would be fine. That was the Duke Herhardt she knew. Clenching her fists, she waited silently.
But instead, the Duke quietly righted the bicycle. He picked up the bag that had skidded far away, then returned to Leila and knelt before her.
"......It's my job. I'll do it."
When Matthias reached for the scattered belongings, Leila startled and snatched the bag away from him. The blatant hostility made his brow twitch.
"I'll... I'll do it myself."
Muttering with her eyes downcast, Leila began gathering her things. Though he hadn't done anything to frighten her, her voice trembled, and even her hands shook.
A flicker of irritation rose in Matthias, but he decided to watch in silence. The flush on her cheeks and the nape of her neck made him wonder if she was simply embarrassed. If that was the case, it wasn't so bad.
Matthias straightened and stood before her. Under his long shadow, Leila hurriedly scooped up the spilled items. She was even picking up stray pebbles and fallen leaves from the ground, as if completely out of her wits—a sight that thoroughly dispelled his displeasure.
Once she had packed everything away, Leila shot to her feet and faced Matthias. She seemed to have completely forgotten about the dirt staining her clothes and hands.
"I know it's rude, but Your Grace..."
Flustered, Leila glanced between the mansion gate in the distance and Matthias's face.
"If it's improper for me to walk ahead of you, then I'll wait until Your Grace has gone first."
I don't want to walk with you any longer. Even as she uttered such audacious words, her eyes flickered with unease and agitation.
Though her attitude was blatantly disrespectful, Matthias willingly conceded. He, too, knew well that walking side by side with Leila all the way to those gates was impossible.
"Go ahead."
At his permission, Leila looked slightly taken aback.
"Me first?"
Instead of answering, Matthias gave a slight tilt of his chin. Only then did Leila relax, bowing her head.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
That overly polite attitude somehow felt more insulting than anything else.
Scampering ahead of him, Leila glanced back just before mounting her bicycle. Even after his show of generosity, her eyes were still full of suspicion. She tilted her head slightly, frowned, then tilted her head again before finally pedaling away.
Maybe I should have made her cry after all.
The belated regret came, but Matthias resumed walking with a face that wasn't entirely displeased. That was when a glinting pen caught his eye.
With an elegant motion, he picked up the pen belonging to the woman who was always falling over and always losing her things. Leila was still close enough that she would hear if he called her name—but he didn't feel like it.
Twirling the pen between his long fingers, Matthias continued at a leisurely pace. Leila, pedaling diligently, soon disappeared beyond the gates of Arvis.
"That bird has come again."
Mark Evers spoke with a voice tinged with laughter. Matthias didn't need to turn his head to look out the window to understand what he meant. Phoebe. It was time for that pigeon—far more obedient and clever than its owner—to visit.
Leaning back in the chair by the fireplace, Matthias concluded the day's work by signing the last document. As the attendant gathered the papers and left, he found himself alone in the drawing room.
Matthias twisted the cap back onto his fountain pen and glanced outside. As always, Phoebe was perched on the railing, wholly absorbed in pecking at her feed.
Shifting his gaze from the bird, Matthias looked down at the slender pen in his hand. The cap bore the owner's name engraved in gold.
"Leila Lewellin."
Judging by its condition, it was a new pen, and it was unlikely the woman had bought it herself. Most likely a gift from the gardener.
Matthias sincerely hoped that was the case. If it was Bill Remmer's gift, she would move heaven and earth to get it back.
Would she have noticed its absence by now?
Lost in thought, Matthias studied the pen before uncapping it again. It wouldn't hurt to play the gentleman for a woman who had once praised him as the epitome of one. Besides, it was high time that carrier pigeon earned its keep.
After scribbling a single line on a slip of paper, Matthias folded it and stepped out onto the balcony. The messenger pigeon remained docile as he tied the note to its leg. The image of its owner pedaling frantically away on her bicycle flashed through his mind, and he smirked slightly.
Once the letter was securely fastened, Matthias released the bird into the sky. The pigeon immediately took flight, soaring straight toward the direction of the cabin.
Phoebe returned with the night.
Leila, who had been sitting blankly, staring at the empty desk, startled at the sound of a beak tapping insistently against the windowpane.
"Phoebe!"
Throwing off the shawl draped over her shoulders, Leila hastily rose from her seat. When she opened the window, a chilly breeze rushed in.
"You must be hungry! Just a second—... Huh?"
Leila's eyes widened when she spotted the note tied to Phoebe's leg. She rubbed her eyes, certain she must be seeing things, but the letter was undeniably there. It hadn't happened once since Kyle left—nor should it have been possible.
"...Kyle?"
Even though she knew it couldn't be him, the name slipped from her lips unconsciously.
Dazed, Leila stared at Phoebe before untying the note with trembling fingers. The single line written on it sent her expression shifting rapidly from confusion to shock.
Gasping sharply, Leila instinctively dropped the note and staggered back. The fluttering paper drifted gently to the floor by the window.
Blinking rapidly, Leila took another step back, then another, until her back hit the wardrobe. Only then did reality sink in.
"This can't be real."
Her voice shaking, she frantically rummaged through her bag. But no matter how hard she searched, the pen was nowhere to be found. The random pebbles and leaves that had somehow found their way inside only deepened her bewilderment.
Unable to deny the truth any longer, Leila hesitantly approached the window again. Her hands, now pale as moonlight, picked up the fallen letter.
Where might your pen be, Leila?
Reading the note once more, Leila groaned and clutched her head.
This can't be real.
No matter how many times she muttered it, nothing changed.
Coo-coo-coo.
Under the white glow of the autumn moon, the Duke's well-fed pigeon cooed nonchalantly.