Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Translation: godsn
Kyle Etman standing in front of the main gate of Gillis Girls' Academy was as commonplace as the brick walls or street lamps."Here again," people would think, glancing at him with only that much interest before moving on.
Kyle hummed to himself as he peered beyond the school gates. In the distance, he spotted a girl pulling her bicycle along. Just by that elegant yet spirited gait, Kyle could recognize her instantly.
Well, of course. As if it were just her walk.
Her expressive face, her graceful movements—to him, all of it was Leila. There was no one else like Leila Lewellin. It had been that way ever since that summer day when he'd approached the small girl sitting beneath the willow tree.
"Leila!"
When he called her name energetically, Leila stopped in her tracks. She had been squinting slightly, but now she quickened her pace toward him. Kyle loved that moment—when Leila's steps sped up upon seeing him, when she approached lightly and flashed him a grin.
"Why'd you come here? It'd be easier to just meet at home later."
"What's the big deal? I was heading back anyway anyway."
Of course, that was a lie. To walk home with Leila, Kyle had stood up the entire tennis club. But even the seniors waiting with their rackets held like weapons didn't scare him now.
Tomorrow's problems could wait. Whatever happens, happens.
The two walked side by side through the bustling streets. They bought ice cream while passing through the shopping district. They browsed a bookstore where the faint scent of dust lingered in the air. Leila laughed often. Aside from Uncle Bill, Kyle Etman was probably the only person in the world who knew Leila Lewellin laughed this much. That fact pleased him too.
As they turned onto the road leading to the Arvis estate, the breeze grew cooler. When the conversation drifted toward exams, Leila's expression darkened. A hint of despair crept in when geometry came up. Kyle paid close attention to each subtle shift in her expression.
Not yet.
He swallowed back the words itching at his throat. He didn't want to recklessly confess and make things awkward between them. Did they really need to be lovers? They could just skip straight to being married.
Leila Etman. Nice. Very nice.
"Why are you smiling?"
Leila frowned as she asked. She had been venting about geometry, her scores stubbornly refusing to improve, while Kyle was grinning at something unknown.
"Uh... well, ah! Isn't Duke Herhardt coming back?"
Kyle abruptly changed the subject.
"It's been ages. When is he returning?"
"I'm not sure."
"Everyone's always singing praises of Duke Herhardt, but you seem completely uninterested."
Leila's grip tightened on her bicycle handles.
There was hardly any connection between Leila and Duke Herhardt. At most, they occasionally crossed paths in the woods, or she'd be summoned by Claudine and end up seeing him. Even then, Leila made every effort to avoid the Duke. When she had no choice but to face him, she kept her head bowed as low as possible.
She didn't want to see him.
Ever since that evening in her childhood—when she had run clutching a gold coin, tripped, and dropped it, only for Duke Herhardt to step on the coin and stop it—she had felt this way.
It was Claudine who had arbitrarily summoned her, left her waiting, and then bestowed the money, but it was the Duke who had made her feel utterly wretched. Perhaps it was because he was the one who made Leila Lewellin acutely aware of how insignificant she was in that strange, dazzling world.
That incident left a different kind of wound than the contempt and oppression Leila had endured before. It was a memory she wanted to forget, yet whenever she faced Duke Herhardt, that day inevitably resurfaced. Leila disliked the Duke for it—for constantly reminding her of that day, that memory, that pain.
As Leila caught her breath, a black automobile passed by. Since the Madam would never ride in a car, it was likely the Young Madam returning from a social gathering.
"With the Duke's return, Arvis will be in chaos for a while."
"Yeah."
"Hey, Leila. What if I became an officer too?"
Kyle began walking backward to face Leila as he spoke.
"Like Duke Herhardt, I'd become an officer and earn medals. Captain Etman, the sharpshooter who plants bullets straight into the enemy's heart."
Making a gun-shooting gesture, Kyle grinned like a mischievous boy.
"Listen here, Mr. Etman. You couldn't even kill a single chicken."
Leila burst out laughing. Though his pride was wounded, Kyle couldn't refute her.
Was it around this time last year? Boasting that he'd earn his keep at the cabin by doing any chore asked of him, Kyle had been tasked by Uncle Bill to slaughter a chicken for dinner. He'd stepped forward bravely but ended up not even plucking a single feather. That was the day he earned the humiliating nickname "the Etman family's insect."
"My dear friend Kyle Etman. That's exactly why I like you."
Leila smiled as she studied Kyle's sulky face.
"I'd rather those hands save lives. Not shoot guns."
"Uh... Well, of course. I'm going to be a doctor anyway."
For some reason, Kyle grew awkward and began rubbing his cheek.
"Then should I be a military doctor? Do they give medals to military doctors too?"
"Wouldn't they if you save enough lives? That's far better than killing many."
"You think so?"
As they exchanged meaningless banter, the two reached the fork in the road. The Etman residence lay at the end of the path to the left.
"Ah! I left the geometry notebook I was going to lend you at home!"
Suddenly remembering, Kyle frowned.
"Then come by around dinnertime. Bring the notebook without fail."
"Hey. Are you waiting for me or the notebook?"
"The notebook."
Leila answered shamelessly before bursting into mischievous laughter moments later. Kyle laughed back before hurriedly breaking into a run toward his house.
"No need to rush! Dinner will take time anyway!"
Leila shouted after Kyle's retreating back.
"None of your business! It's my choice!"
Kyle's retort was even louder.
Shaking her head slightly as if giving up, Leila now pedaled her bicycle toward Platanus Road leading to Arvis Manor.
Matthias stopped his car at the beginning of the manor's entrance. Both the chauffeur and the butler wore bewildered expressions.
Duke Herhardt's return had been abrupt. Arriving a full week earlier than scheduled, the servants of Arvis had been scrambling all day in frantic preparation. As a result, only a minimal welcoming party had been dispatched. And now this breach of protocol? Butler Hessen swallowed nervously.
"Your Grace, we haven't yet prepared for your arrival—"
"I'll walk for a bit."
Matthias's tone was calm as he cut off the butler. The hesitant chauffeur quickly stepped out to open the rear door.
"No."
Matthias gave a brief shake of his head toward Hessen, who was about to follow.
"We'll meet at the manor."
With a faint smile, he turned to leave. Hessen, left standing awkwardly, obeyed the order and reentered the car. The chauffeur likewise scrambled back to the driver's seat. As they drove away, the road fell silent once more.
Holding his officer's cap loosely in one hand, Matthias began strolling leisurely beneath the shade of the trees as if taking a walk. The sound of his boot heels and the rustling leaves in the wind created an odd harmony.
Matthias von Herhardt had been a perfect child, a perfect student, and had now become a perfect officer. And soon, he would marry a perfect woman to become the perfect Duke of Herhardt, the perfect father. All of it was so excessively predictable that it bordered on tedium.
Matthias's footsteps gradually slowed. The shafts of light filtering through the leaves accentuated the reddish hue of his sharp eyes. The sunlight slowly cascaded downward, making the decorative tassels and the metal buckles of his belt glint against his formal grayish-blue uniform.
I should get engaged this summer.
He had readily agreed to his mother's suggestion. Marrying at an appropriate age and producing an heir was, after all, an obvious duty.
I believe Claudine is the most suitable lady to become the next Duchess.
He had also accepted his grandmother's announcement without protest. Claudine von Brandt was a bride of impeccable lineage and qualifications.
Matthias had never desired anything.
Before he could even want anything, everything had already been prepared for him. There was nothing left to yearn for—desire was a concept from some distant world. Marriage was no different.
Matthias wanted a perfect marriage.
A marriage that would serve as a stepping stone to further solidify his world, one that required no unnecessary emotional expenditure. Claudine von Brandt was the most fitting candidate for that, and that was enough. He had never felt any particular interest in anything beyond that. He had never seen the need.
Matthias paused for a moment in the middle of the path. When he lifted his head, the fragmented sunlight stung his eyes. It was around then that he sensed an unexpected presence.
Turning his slightly narrowed gaze, he saw a woman approaching on a bicycle. As Matthias slowly clasped his hands behind his back, the woman brushed past him on his left. Her vivid golden hair rippled like waves.
Leila Lewellin?
The moment the name crossed his mind, the woman suddenly turned her head. Her green eyes widened into perfect circles when she saw him.
As they stared at each other, the unbalanced bicycle toppled over. A scream followed as Leila tumbled to the ground alongside it.
Even after the fall, the bicycle's wheels continued spinning noisily out of inertia.
Matthias slowly approached the woman sprawled on the road. Beneath his looming shadow, the face that looked up at him was unmistakably Leila Lewellin.
That little bird-obsessed brat.
"...I'm sorry, Your Grace."
Leila hastily apologized, bowing her head deeply. She seemed to be waiting for him to simply walk past her.
Matthias changed his mind about leaving and instead gazed down at her leisurely. Her school uniform was ruined with dirt, her stockings torn, and blood trickled from her knees.
As the spinning bicycle wheel finally came to a stop, silence settled once more.
Leila raised her slightly furrowed eyes to look at Matthias again. Her expression remained as audacious as ever, yet it carried a strangely soft impression.
So even this brat is growing up.
For some reason, the perfectly natural fact that time passed and children grew unsettled him.
To Matthias, Leila Lewellin had always been a little girl. A child who desperately avoided and fled from him—an irritation, but nothing more. Yet the Leila Lewellin before him now bore no resemblance to that memory.
The contours of her body, visible beneath the thin fabric of her summer uniform, were no longer those of a scrawny child. Her fresh cheeks and lips, the soft fragrance carried by the breeze—none of it matched the past.
As he mulled over the strange discomfort this realization brought, Leila staggered to her feet. Taking a step back, she adjusted her shoes and brushed the dust off her uniform. Even as a grown woman, Leila Lewellin remained so petite that she wouldn't even reach his chin.
"Leila Lewellin."
When he impulsively called her name, Leila flinched and hunched her shoulders. Her head remained deeply bowed.
"I apologize, Your Grace."
Repeating the same words, Leila crouched at his feet and began gathering her scattered belongings.
Her bag. Books. Notebook.
Matthias's gaze followed her small hands, smeared with dust and blood, until it abruptly stopped on the pen her fingertips had just reached.
Slowly, Matthias took a step forward and planted his foot on the pen. Only then did Leila raise her head to look at him. Her eyes were utterly incredulous.
"Leila Lewellin."
He called her name again.
"I'm calling you."
His tone was as deliberate as the motion of crushing the pen beneath his shoe.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Leila answered after tightly shutting and reopening her eyes. She strained with all her might to tug the pen free, but Matthias didn't budge an inch.
"Speak. I'm listening."
Though trembling violently, Leila managed to sound remarkably bold. Her summer-forest eyes met his directly, glittering with a mix of bewilderment and anger. The image of Duke Herhardt smiling as he stepped on a coin surfaced in her mind. That day too, the Duke had looked down at her with this same expression, these same eyes.
Matthias let out a soundless chuckle before calmly brushing past Leila. He lightly donned the hat he'd been holding and strolled leisurely down the path as if nothing had happened.
Leila blankly stared at Duke Herhardt's retreating back.
If he wasn't going to say anything in the end, why had he done all this?
Her grip automatically tightened around the retrieved pen.
Would the people of Arvis even believe that the impeccably noble Duke Herhardt could commit such an act?
Leila would have wagered every penny she'd painstaking saved for glasses that no one would believe it. They'd all think she was strange for making such claims.
Pressing her lips tightly together, Leila hurriedly righted her bicycle. She meticulously wiped the trampled pen before stowing it in her bag.
Following the slowly walking Duke Herhardt, Leila walked while pulling her bicycle along. Her scraped skin stung painfully. Though she knew he wouldn't turn around, Leila maintained perfect posture as she walked. She gritted her teeth through the numbness in her legs, forcing herself not to limp.
If only he'd put those long legs to good use and walked faster.
Just as frustration threatened to draw a sigh from her, Duke Herhardt—who had been gradually slowing his pace—turned around. Leaves rustled in the gentle breeze. The dappled sunlight filtering through the foliage swayed in lazy rhythms across the summer path.
Startled, Leila stood frozen, forgetting even to avert her gaze. Matthias's eyes traveled slowly downward along her loosened long hair. Her rapidly rising and falling chest, the white hands gripping the bicycle handles. The impossibly slender ankles and small feet.
And then back to her eyes.
For a long, quiet moment, Matthias simply gazed at those clear green orbs.
Leila Lewellin was still just an orphan living on his estate, but at least one thing seemed to have changed completely.
Time had passed, and the child had grown.
Only upon accepting that fact did Leila truly come into view.
No longer a little girl—but the woman Leila Lewellin.