Chapter 52
Chapter 52
Translation: godsn
Liet von Lindman arrived at the ducal residence late in the afternoon. The marquess, who had decided to stay at Arvis for the time being, came with a carriage piled high with luggage.
"Welcome, Liet."
Elise von Herhardt greeted him with a face full of smiles.
"I wish your sister had come with you."
"Mother is preparing to depart on a trip soon."
"I suppose she'll spend the winter in the south again this year."
"Yes. She's always hated the cold."
With an easygoing tone and laughter, Liet conveyed his mother's well-being.
"Where is the Dowager?"
"You can pay your respects later. She's taking her afternoon nap."
Elise von Herhardt naturally guided Liet to the drawing room. As Matthias's cousin and friend who had frequented Arvis over the years, Liet was something of a familiar presence to the Herhardt family, almost like kin. His demeanor toward them reflected this closeness.
After finishing tea with his aunt, Liet set out for a leisurely stroll through the woods of Arvis. Matthias wouldn't return until evening, and it would take the servants quite some time to unpack the luggage. Above all, he was curious about the girl living in the woods—Leila, who had sent ripples through Matthias and Claudine's perfectly ordered lives.
Of course, Liet had known of the girl, but he'd never paid her any particular attention. She was just one among many servants. He'd felt some pity for her pitiable circumstances and thought her quite pretty, but that was all. Which was why his surprise had been all the greater when he learned that the woman who had captured Matthias's interest was none other than Leila Lewellin.
Scandals between nobles and maids were so common as to be trivial, but when the noble in question was none other than Duke Herhardt, the story changed. Even if it was nothing more than a fleeting desire.
"Duke Herhardt lied."
As the gardener's cottage came into view in the distance, he recalled the words Claudine had uttered calmly one evening toward the end of last summer.
"He lied to separate Leila from the doctor's son."
Turning her head slowly to look at Liet, Claudine had smiled. With terrifyingly calm eyes and only her lips.
"Matthias von Herhardt—lying and scheming just to have some lowborn orphan girl. Can you believe it, Brother Liet?"
Claudine had even let out a light laugh. What exactly had he lied about, and how? No matter how Liet pressed, she offered no further answers.
"Honestly, the sooner he takes her, the better."
With a face as though nothing had happened, Claudine gazed at the horizon beyond the window. The long summer sun was setting beyond the lands of the Brandt earldom.
"Because then he'll discard her all the sooner."
Claudine's quiet murmur carried the expression of someone watching a dull, lowbrow third-rate play. There wasn't a trace of jealousy toward Leila Lewellin—only a faint disappointment and derision at the fact that her noble fiancé had stooped to such behavior. Liet knew this was Claudine's true sentiment.
Had Claudine been suffering from jealousy, he might have spoken up. Don't chain yourself to a marriage that will make you unhappy. The one who can make you happy is right here. But the happiness Claudine desired still lay with Matthias. And Liet knew that fact all too well.
That day, the two had sipped tea and chatted as though nothing were amiss. The evening banquet, too, passed in a pleasant and comfortable atmosphere. And the next morning, Liet left the Brandt estate. Claudine stood stiffly in place, watching until the carriage carrying him had disappeared from sight.
Why do such memories remain so vividly, turning into stubborn regrets?
Just as a hollow laugh was about to escape him, Liet reached the front of the cabin. The hunting lodge cabin, lacking even a proper fence, blended seamlessly into the forest path.
Though the sun was lazily beginning to set, the interior remained dark. Reluctant to leave empty-handed, Liet decided to wait a little longer. Leaning against the porch railing and lifting his gaze, he saw tree branches half-bare with fallen leaves.
Liet von Lindman had fallen for a woman who would never be unhappy because of love. Even if his own unhappiness lay precisely in that fact.
A man who cherished a simple and carefree life, he accepted even this truth with the same lightness. So there was no reason he couldn't indulge in a prank just as simple and frivolous. Especially if it would bring him amusement and Claudine happiness.
Just as Liet, growing bored, pulled out a cigarette, the sound of footsteps began to echo from the far end of the forest path. Murmurs of conversation soon followed.
Exhaling a slow stream of smoke after a deep drag, Liet fixed his gaze in the direction of the approaching sounds. Before long, a bear-like man and a petite woman—no taller than half his size—came into view. Spotting him, the two halted abruptly at the edge of the yard.
With a smile playing on his lips, Liet approached them. The gardener recognized him and gave a gruff greeting, while the woman beside him bowed her head slightly.
"Hello, little bird of the forest."
Just as casually as the day he'd seen her weeping and burying a bird Matthias had killed, Liet greeted her.
"Ah, should I call you 'Bird Miss' now? Or perhaps 'Bird Teacher'?"
Behind her glasses, her pupils flickered with confusion. Her expression twisted as if she couldn't believe the absurdity of what she was hearing.
Liet's opinion of Leila Lewellin remained unchanged. Pretty, yes—but not so breathtakingly beautiful as to enchant every man in sight. Still, he could vaguely understand why the doctor's son and his noble cousin had lost their heads over her. Well, a woman of her caliber.
"Anyway. Good to see you, Leila."
"Be wary of Marquess Lindman."
Bill Remmer, who had been glaring at the far end of the table, spoke in a grave tone. Leila, setting down the freshly finished stew at the center of the table, burst into a sudden laugh.
"This isn't something to laugh about so lightly."
"Uncle."
"That lazy good-for-nothing didn't come all the way here just for a stroll—I refuse to believe it."
With rough movements, Bill tore into the bread laid out before him.
"Cornering you and rambling nonsense is one thing. Either way, it's suspicious. Be careful."
"Yeeees."
Knowing his warnings would never end unless she responded, Leila answered cheerfully. Unhappy with her attitude, Bill's frown deepened.
"You need to take my words to heart, Leila. Don't assume every noble in the world is as composed and dignified as Duke Herhardt."
"Yes... Wait, what?"
Leila, about to nod absentmindedly, furrowed her brow instead. She was flabbergasted but couldn't refute it. After all, the Duke Herhardt everyone else knew was exactly that kind of man.
Reluctantly nodding, Leila bit into a piece of bread as if stifling the words she wanted to say. Yet the memories of that utterly undignified man only grew sharper in her mind. The infuriating greeting and the beautiful pen delivered to her school resurfaced, and before she knew it, Leila choked, coughing violently into her sleeve.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Finally catching her breath, Leila shook her head frantically.
"I was just—hungry. Ate too fast. That's all."
She took off her glasses, wiping away the tears that had sprung from her coughing fit. Bill, who had been watching silently, let out a gruff laugh of relief.
"See? This just proves you're still a kid."
Though his tone was chastising, Bill's face was filled with a satisfied smile.
"Eat slowly, and eat plenty."
Bill fished out a large chunk of meat and plopped it onto the plate in front of Leila. Once. Then again. With each movement of Bill's hands, the pile of food grew until it was heaped high before her.
"This is too much!"
Though Leila was aghast, Bill remained as stubborn as ever.
"You know me, Leila. I like kids who eat heartily, like cows."
"I'm not a kid anymore," Leila protested, but Bill's only response was to add yet another piece of meat to her plate.
That was how their evening went. Though eating like a cow was difficult, she still managed to eat her fill—enough to make Bill happy—laughing and chatting through a warm, affectionate time together.
While Bill Remmer fixed the creaky desk chair, Leila cleaned the kitchen. They each took a mug of coffee and sat side by side on the porch, watching the forest shed its leaves. Though the wind had grown chilly, both Bill and Leila made it their routine to end the day there, sharing quiet conversations until winter arrived.
"Sleep well, Leila."
Before heading to his room, Bill tossed out a gruff but affectionate farewell.
"You too, Uncle."
The gentle smile that rose to Leila's lips was no different from the countless ones she had worn on all the days before.
"Goodnight."
Her voice, too, carried the same warmth as the lamplight spilling through the curtains.
Back in her own room, Leila sat in the chair Bill had repaired and graded her students' exams. She read a bit of the mystery novel she had borrowed from the library and wrote replies to letters from friends who had become teachers at other schools.
It was only as she finished the last letter and capped her worn-out pen that she remembered the one the Duke had given her.
Staring blankly at an empty spot in the air, Leila finally steeled herself and opened her desk drawer. Though she had reluctantly brought it home, the pen still sat untouched in its box.
I knew it would be like this.
Whenever Leila made even the smallest mistake, people would click their tongues and say,
What do you expect from a child raised without parents?
Their words always carried a hint of scorn and pity.
For a while, she found it strange—why was she criticized like this even when she made the same mistakes as other children? No, even when she behaved far better than most? But as she grew older, Leila came to understand. The world's standards were not applied equally to everyone.
And so, she wanted to do better.
Even if she couldn't be perfect, at the very least, she refused to live a life where people could say I knew it would be like this. Every time she faced the world's harsh judgment, she resolved to try harder. For Bill, who had raised her with love and care—never letting her feel lacking—she wanted to live a life that proved them all wrong.
With that thought, Leila pulled out the box containing the pen without hesitation. Next, she picked up the wrapping paper used for parcels.
After carefully packaging the box, Leila dipped her old, freshly inked pen and neatly wrote out the address. The recipient: the master of Arvis, Duke Matthias von Herhardt. And for the sender, she wrote the name and address of the stranger who had sent her the parcel in the first place.
At dawn, Leila placed the box in her bag and set off for work earlier than usual, stopping by the post office in the neighboring village along the way.
Returning the gift lifted a weight from her heart, as if a heavy stone had been removed.
Leila thought the matter was settled now. Surely, it had to be.