Chapter 84
Chapter 84
Translation: godsn
Teacher Greber's house was located slightly away from the town center. It was a neat and charming village, with clean wooden houses lining both sides of a well-maintained road—none of them very old.
Leila carried a bouquet of flowers she had bought in town and a jar of jam made from the fruits harvested last summer at Arvis, heading toward the green-roofed house midway down the avenue. Not long after she rang the doorbell, Teacher Greber swung the front door open with a bright smile.
"Welcome, Teacher Lewellin! I was just waiting for you with bated breath."
"Has everyone already arrived?"
Leila checked her wristwatch with surprise. There were still ten minutes left before the invited time.
"Don't worry, you're not late. Everyone just arrived early because they couldn't wait to hear Teacher Lewellin's stories about Their Highnesses, the Crown Prince and Princess."
With an expectant smile, Teacher Greber led Leila into the dining room. The young teachers seated around the table turned toward her in unison, their eyes gleaming with the same excitement as their host's.
"Did you really see His Highness the Crown Prince? What was he like? And Her Highness the Crown Princess?"
"Was their child with them too? There was an article in the newspaper about it."
"I'm so jealous, Teacher Lewellin! You actually got to see the Crown Prince in person—someone we can only glimpse in newspaper articles!"
The barrage of questions the moment she took her seat left Leila momentarily dazed.
"I only saw them from very, very far away—just a passing glimpse. The photos in the newspaper would be much clearer than what I saw."
A slightly awkward smile rose to Leila's lips.
"Even so! The fact that you saw them with your own eyes, even from a distance, is what matters!"
"Exactly. By the way, isn't Duke Herhardt close friends with the Crown Prince?"
The Duke's name surfaced as a new topic at the table.
Leila fiddled with her water glass and lowered her gaze. Her thoughts spun with the comparisons being tossed around—Duke Herhardt, Marquess Lindman, and the Crown Prince—weighed against one another.
"Even so, I still think Duke Herhardt is the most impressive."
Teacher Greber, who had just finished setting steaming dishes on the table, declared firmly.
"What do you think, Teacher Lewellin?"
"Huh...?"
Only then did Leila snap out of her thoughts and lift her head.
"Duke Herhardt, I mean. Surely he's the most striking, don't you think? That's how I see it."
"Now that I think about it, Teacher Lewellin is the only one here who's seen all three in person! What do you think? What's your opinion?"
"I..."
Leila's pupils trembled slightly. It was just an idle joke, but why did that name have to—
"Oh, come on. Of course Teacher Lewellin would side with Duke Herhardt."
One of the teachers smirked as Leila hesitated to respond.
"After all, he's her benefactor. It's not a fair question."
Just as her heart felt like it might plummet, the teacher added that lighthearted remark. The casual tone finally allowed Leila to exhale properly. She nodded along appropriately as the conversation shifted to praising Duke Herhardt's magnanimity—how he had generously overlooked the gardener's mistake.
Benefactor.
Even in the face of that word, which coiled around her heart like thorny vines, Leila smiled. The pain only made her hate the Duke even more.
The food was delicious, and the conversation was pleasant.
On her way home after leaving the Greber household, Leila stopped by her usual grocery store to pick up some supplies. As always, today's newspapers were displayed near the checkout counter. When her gaze drifted over them, her pupils wavered.
A large photograph showed the Crown Prince and Duke Herhardt shaking hands with smiles. Standing beside them were the Crown Princess and the young Lady Brandt.
After several days of lively parties and banquets held in honor of the Crown Prince and Princess, the atmosphere at Arvis had finally settled into calm. Today, the Crown Prince had announced that he would not attend any further gatherings or events until the evening banquet, choosing instead to remain in the Herhardt family's study after lunch. Matthias and Liet were with him.
"Still, surely things won't escalate to the worst-case scenario, Your Highness."
Liet von Lindman parted his lips after listening attentively to the Crown Prince's remarks about the continent's current political climate. Despite his posture—lounging on the sofa as if lying down—his tone was impeccably polite.
"After all this back-and-forth, in the end, countless royal families across the continent are bound by blood ties, aren't they?"
Though his demeanor was carefree, Liet's gaze was grave. The Crown Prince seated across from him let out a hollow laugh as he flicked off the lengthening ash from his cigarette.
"You know this well, Liet. Family feuds are always the most vicious and brutal."
The Crown Prince, who had been staring blankly into space for a moment, turned his eyes toward Matthias.
He was leaning deeply into the wingback chair, watching the fireplace flames. The way his foot tapped lightly to the rhythm of the waltz flowing through the study made him appear like someone leisurely enjoying music. But the Crown Prince, having observed Duke Herhardt for years, knew better. The deeper his contemplation, the quieter he became.
"What are your thoughts, Captain Herhardt, with your experience on foreign battlefronts? If this escalates into full-scale war, will we emerge victorious as everyone predicts?"
Liet, who had straightened up to sit properly, asked. Only then did Matthias turn his head to look at them.
"It won't be easy."
Though the answer was bleak, his expression and tone remained eerily serene, like an optimist.
"If it's a war between Berg and Lovita, we stand a fair chance. But if hostilities break out, it won't remain confined to that scale."
"Yes. That's likely true."
The Crown Prince sighed wearily in agreement.
The tensions between the continent's kingdoms were growing by the day. As Liet had said, tracing back their genealogies would reveal that calling all royal families blood-related was no exaggeration. Yet the interests at stake were far too substantial for such sentimental reasons to broker reconciliation. With countless alliances and treaties tangled in the current political landscape, a war between two nations would inevitably engulf the entire continent.
"Don't fret too much, Your Highness. These concerns have persisted since our grandfathers' era, yet they've never materialized. And if our luck runs out and they do—well, this might be our chance to become war heroes."
At Liet's jest, a smile finally surfaced on the Crown Prince's face.
"True enough. By the way, Liet, act as you usually do. Your excessive formality is making me uneasy."
"How could I dare adopt a casual demeanor before the Crown Prince, who is currently engaged in official duties touring the empire?"
Despite his words, which sounded like those of an unparalleled loyalist, Liet had already half-reclined again. The Crown Prince, who had momentarily forgotten his dignity, snickered, and Liet, feigning innocence, burst into laughter. They had always gotten along like this since childhood. Even after years passed and they each acquired lofty titles, their essence remained largely unchanged.
Matthias shifted his gaze from the two men chuckling like boys to the window. In the late morning light, he spotted Leila heading out somewhere. Her neatly dressed appearance was lovely—enough to momentarily make him forget their last conversation, which had thoroughly grated on his nerves.
A mistress who didn't even know how to rejoice when given gifts.
If a mistress's utility and value lay in providing pleasure, then Leila Lewellin was a downright terrible one. Yet Matthias had no desire to examine too deeply why he still didn't want to discard her.
He had longed for her for so long and finally obtained her.
That was enough. Whether she hated him or found him detestable, Leila Lewellin was his woman.
Mine.
Matthias picked up his teacup, his smile returning.
My little bird.
The memory surfaced—the sensation of her golden hair, soft as downy feathers, and the way her body fluttered beneath him. The more Matthias learned that body, the more beautifully his bird sang.
It had already been days since he last heard that song.
The reminder made his grip tighten imperceptibly around the teacup. He couldn't comprehend this madness of desire within himself, yet here he was, consumed by it.
Ever since that first night—tangled and ruined on the floor—every one of Matthias's senses had been honed to a razor's edge, fixed upon Leila. The slightest provocation set his blood boiling and his mind clouded. In those moments, that small woman seemed like the entirety of his world. The absurdity of that thought was so intoxicating he couldn't bring himself to deny it.
My beautiful little bird.
Blinding the bird's eyes and clipping the delicate feathers of its small wings no longer held any difficulty for him. By the time the fluttering feathers touched the floor as he folded away his handkerchief, the bird would tremble faintly. Though it would flutter wings that could no longer carry it far, soon enough it would gaze at him with clear, docile eyes and sing.
At times, Matthias was seized by the impulse to crush that very bird in his palm during those moments. To eternally preserve the instant when it sang most beautifully—solely for him.
He often felt the same when holding Leila. If only time would stop and linger forever in that moment when the woman who once only resisted and fled now writhed, filled with him, weeping solely for him.
Leila, with her unfocused, dazed eyes, her entire body flushed and trembling as she accepted him, was terrifyingly beautiful—so much so that he sometimes wanted to strangle her slender neck right then. When she clung to him, swept up in primal pleasure, her sweet moans spilling forth, he wanted to devour her whole, from the tips of her hair to the soles of her feet.
"Matthias?"
Following the voice that insistently called his name, he turned his gaze to see Liet standing there. The Crown Prince stood beside him as well. Only upon noticing the attendants waiting by the open door did Matthias realize his mind had been wandering elsewhere for some time. It was hardly a welcome realization.
Setting down his teacup, Matthias rose as if nothing had happened. It was nearly time to prepare for the banquet.
Before leaving the study, Matthias unconsciously turned his head to glance out the window. Had Leila returned? The sudden curiosity amused him. What a ridiculous thought. He knew full well there was nowhere else in this world for that woman to go, yet here he was, entertaining such meaningless musings.
As if brushing away idle thoughts, Matthias turned to leave. But as he walked down the long corridor bathed in the fading evening light and entered his bedroom, her name surfaced in his mind once more. Leila. A woman who, though already possessed, never quite felt entirely his—a woman who stirred a peculiar unease.
What if she doesn't return?
The unpleasant question nagged at him the entire time he changed. Leila was a woman who could never abandon Bill Remmer, whom she valued as her own life, but knowing that fact made no difference.
Would you leave?
Would you... leave me...?
Matthias's hands, fastening his cufflinks, abruptly stilled.
Faced with that hypothetical, what Matthias felt was less anger or impatience and closer to sheer absurdity. The very impossibility of it struck him as almost laughable. A day without the sun or a night without stars would have felt far more plausible.
"E-excuse me, Your Grace...?"
An attendant standing nearby cautiously called to him. Only then did Matthias finish fastening his cufflinks and turn around.
As the attendant smoothed his evening jacket with a clothes brush, Matthias quietly studied his reflection in the mirror. The day he first clipped Canary's wing feathers surfaced in that mirrored image. Unable to gauge the proper limit, he had cut too deep, and blood had flowed from the wing as the bird writhed in agony.
But soon the bleeding stopped, and his canary was unharmed.
Matthias cherished that pitifully beautiful, flightless bird all the more. It was after that the bird began approaching him without hesitation, singing freely. Even when its clipped feathers regrew, it no longer fled from him. His bird had come to love its cage—and him.
Leaving the dressing room, Matthias approached the cage in his bedroom. The bird perched on its stand cocked its head, watching him.
Had it been rendered permanently flightless, he could have cherished it even more.
Without the cage, in a far wider world, giving it so much more to enjoy.
"The time has come, Your Grace."
The attendant, checking the watch on his wrist, informed him.
Matthias gave a slight nod and cast his gaze out the window. Beyond, the shadows of trees stretched long across the path as the sun set. Leila was still nowhere to be seen.