Chapter 61
Chapter 61
Translation: godsn
Peaceful days continued, so much so that the memory of that strange night felt like a fleeting dream.
Marquess Lindman had returned to his domain, and Matthias no longer sent letters filled with coercive commands or made sudden visits. In the meantime, the seasons had changed.
When she opened the window, the crisp winter air rushed in, carrying the sharp scent of the season. Leila breathed it in, momentarily forgetting the cold. The silvery winter sunlight bathed the forests of Arvis in its glow.
Only when her fingertips began to grow numb did Leila finally close the window and turn away. Today was the day of the charity performance prepared by the schoolchildren at the Public Hall in town, so her preparations for work took a little longer than usual. Though the children would be the ones on stage, it was an occasion to welcome the upper-class dignitaries of the region, so appearing as she always did simply wouldn't do.
"Let's show them the dignified appearance of a teacher. Understood, Ms. Lewellin?"
At the final meeting yesterday, the Principal had pointed directly at Leila while giving his instructions. He had even added, half-jokingly, that he trusted she wouldn't dare ride her bicycle there this time.
"What's wrong with my bicycle?"
Even as she muttered indignantly, Leila's hands were busy braiding her hair. After practicing daily throughout the semester, she had finally mastered the art of styling it elegantly.
"That hairstyle doesn't suit you."
When she examined the finished look in the mirror, the Duke's absurd remark from that autumn day on the beautiful Platanus Road suddenly resurfaced. Startled, as if she had just locked eyes with the man himself, Leila hastily averted her gaze from the mirror.
"Pretty. Your hair. Like wings."
Even more bewildering than his blunt critique, those words followed in her memory. Even in that moment, his face had been utterly expressionless.
Fidgeting with her hairbrush, Leila finally faced the mirror again after a long pause. The bruise had faded by now, but the memory of that night remained vivid.
The Duke had kept his promise.
That strange, unfamiliar moment—when he had pressed his lips to her wound—hadn't lasted long. After releasing her, he had treated her injury as if nothing had happened. His hands, applying ointment and wrapping bandages around her shoulder—which ached at the slightest movement—were as calm and skilled as a physician's.
And then......
Just as the memory of facing him again after dressing threatened to surface, Leila hurriedly stood up. She put on the dress she had saved her wages to buy, mustering all her courage, and even dug out a pair of heeled shoes. To think she'd have to endure a whole day in these. Her heels already throbbed at the mere thought.
"Pretty, Leila."
Bill Remmer chuckled as Leila stepped into the kitchen.
"You'll be the prettiest one at the Public Hall tonight."
"Young ladies and noblewomen from aristocratic families will be there too."
"What does that matter? Even if you lined up all the gold and jewels in the world, there wouldn't be a girl prettier than you."
"Only in your eyes, Uncle."
Giggling, Leila took a seat across from Bill.
"Say, Leila. That thing—what's it called—the necklace. How about wearing that?"
Bill Remmer, who had been subtly eyeing the bareness of Leila's neck, spoke up casually.
"Necklace? Oh! The one you gave me?"
"Yeah. The one you wore to the Duke's party last year. It'd probably suit that dress well enough. Not that I'm insisting you wear it, but it wouldn't hurt to try."
Bill knew next to nothing about women's adornments, but he remembered clearly how dazzlingly beautiful Leila had looked that day. Even if only for one night, seeing her transformed into a princess had been a proud memory for him.
Without hesitation, Leila retrieved the necklace from the depths of her wardrobe and fastened it around her neck before standing before Bill again.
"How do I look, Uncle?"
At Leila's shy question as she stood with her hands behind her back, Bill Remmer burst into another hearty laugh.
"Watch out for the crows, Leila! I'm worried they might snatch you up in one bite—you're shining so bright!"
It seems she's walking to work today for some reason.
Matthias's lips twisted slightly as he spotted a lone figure walking along the path from the hunting grounds, beyond the vast rose garden behind the mansion. Even though she appeared no larger than a speck in the distance, Matthias knew. There was no mistaking that woman—it had to be Leila.
Matthias took another step closer to the window. Leaning casually against the window frame draped with floor-length damask curtains, he watched the approaching woman with an air of leisurely appreciation. Whiik. He whistled sharply, and a small bird flew over without hesitation, perching on his outstretched hand.
Matthias moved his hand—where the canary now sat—closer to the windowpane, as if introducing the bird to the woman walking down the path. But the canary, seemingly uninterested, soon fluttered away back to its nest. Not long after, Leila too disappeared from view, turning onto a path no longer visible from his bedroom window. Yet Matthias lingered by the window for a long time afterward.
Since when had standing by this window in the morning become such a natural routine?
Here, by this western-facing window overlooking the path connecting the garden and the hunting grounds, basking in the sunlight while watching a certain diligent woman on her way to work.
Has she recovered by now?
The image of her small, battered body surfaced in his mind, and before he realized it, his brows furrowed.
He hadn't seen Leila since that night. If he was curious, he could have sought her out and seen for himself, but he found no desire to do so. It was an unfamiliar emotion, one he couldn't quite comprehend himself.
Eventually stepping away from the window, Matthias sat in the wing chair beside the fireplace and picked up the half-read newspaper. But the printed words dissolved meaninglessly before his eyes, failing to register in his consciousness.
That night, Leila had cried.
They were tears he'd seen countless times before, yet for some reason, her weeping felt as strange as if it were the first time—lingering stubbornly in his mind.
"Wait."
As Leila tried to rise from the bed, Matthias blocked her path with calm, deliberate movements.
"It's a painkiller."
Even as he held out the small medicine bottle, Leila only stared up at him blankly. Her face looked utterly vacant, as if her soul had fled her body.
Matthias uncapped the bottle and took another step closer. Gripping her chin, he parted her lips, and only then did Leila startle as if snapping back to awareness. Unfazed, he fed her the medicine himself. Though the pills were bitter, Leila simply gazed at him with her pale face.
With a faint smirk, Matthias fetched a handkerchief and wiped the traces of medicine from the corners of her lips. Then, from the medicine box, he retrieved a single piece of candy and placed it in her mouth. It wasn't until the candy had begun to melt—after enough time had passed—that tears suddenly spilled from Leila's slowly blinking eyes.
The unexpected outburst left Matthias slightly bewildered. For reasons he couldn't fathom, Leila wept silently, fat teardrops falling one after another. She simply stared at him, the candy neither swallowed nor spat out, held motionless in her mouth.
With stiff hands, Matthias cupped the crying woman's face. No matter how many times he wiped them away, Leila's tears continued to flow, thoroughly drenching his palms.
"Does it still hurt?"
At his question—asked with a helplessness born of not knowing what else to do—Leila nodded.
Finding no words to offer, Matthias pulled the weeping Leila into his arms. Though she struggled weakly at first, she soon went limp against him as if resigning herself.
Matthias held the sobbing woman in his arms for a long while, letting her cry. That hot, sorrowful weeping only ceased after thoroughly drenching the front of his sweater. Even now, merely recalling that memory was enough to plunge Matthias into the same helpless feeling he'd experienced that day. Just as he felt now.
Setting down the unread newspaper, Matthias leaned back deeply into his chair and lifted his gaze. The face of that crying woman floated up once more across the ceiling before him.
When Leila cried, Matthias generally found it pleasurable.
He even took delight in making her cry, simply because he enjoyed seeing that pretty face drenched in tears. Of course, there were times when those tears irritated him. It was never welcome when something other than himself became the reason for her weeping. In those moments, he wished those unsightly tears would stop.
It had always been that clear-cut. Not just her tears—everything about Leila, no, everything in life had to be that way. It simply had to be.
Like reviewing a lost game, Matthias slowly reconstructed that day's Leila in his mind.
It had been somewhat strange tears, though.
Leila usually cried when she couldn't control her temper, or out of shame and fear. And Matthias could calmly take pleasure in those familiar tears. That much was certain.
But those final tears...
At that moment, Leila had looked like someone who didn't even realize she was crying. Her eyes held neither anger nor fear—they seemed both utterly empty and yet filled with something incomprehensible.
He had wanted to stop those tears. But this feeling was subtly different from the rage he'd felt when facing Leila crying over Kyle Etman—that violent urge to strangle the tears out of her.
It was intensely unfamiliar and uncomfortable, yet... not entirely unpleasant. Like being drunk on fragrant liquor—lethargic yet simultaneously restless, as if chased by something unnamed. It was undoubtedly profound confusion, yet also overwhelming joy.
Joy. Yes, joy.
An incomparable joy, far beyond what he'd gained by making Leila cry and driving her to despair. Perhaps this was the very reason he'd lingered around this woman he could have possessed long ago if he'd simply willed it. To know this joy. To claim it.
He recalled the moment when he'd gazed upon Leila's exhausted face after her tears had dried.
As he wiped her damp cheeks and smoothed back her hair, Leila had surrendered herself completely. But like a faint light that had finally flickered out, all that remained in place of whatever had disappeared was the same old fear and resignation. No matter how long he looked, nothing changed.
Matthias wanted to reclaim that joy. But no matter how much he pondered, he kept returning to square one. The sensation of something he thought he'd grasped turning to sand and slipping between his fingers made Matthias abruptly furrow his brow. It was then that a polite knock sounded.
"Master, it's Hessen."
"Come in."
Matthias lowered his gaze from the ceiling and answered impassively. Hessen approached the chair where he sat and stood at perfect attention.
"Her Ladyship inquired about your evening schedule today."
"Mother did?"
"Yes. She had planned to attend the charity performance at the Public Hall this evening with Lady Norma, but given her cold symptoms, she believes an outing would be difficult. If you have no prior engagements this evening, she hoped you might accompany Lady Norma instead. What are your thoughts?"
"Charity performance?"
"It's a performance prepared jointly by several schools in Carlsbar. The children from our village school are participating as well."
Only then did Matthias understand why Leila had walked to work today. Now that he thought about it, she had seemed more carefully dressed than usual.
"I see."
Matthias readily agreed.
"Very well. I'll attend."