The Weight of Regret
Since the Empress had been deposed, high society had lost its luster for some time. Many of the luminaries who usually led social gatherings were keeping a low profile, either because they were attending Lady Laila’s salon or simply because no one was foolish enough to host lavish banquets or balls in the wake of such a monumental scandal.
The news that Lady Zilke had been attacked, stabbed, and ultimately failed to recover from her wounds was relegated to a mere footnote in The Sunday News.
In such a climate, the announcement that the new Count of Lutgarth would be holding his swearing-in ceremony was like rain during a drought.
People had been growing restless, as the new Count had arrived in the capital, made a single appearance at a salon, and then vanished from the social circuit entirely.
"The late Count of Lutgarth was strictly neutral. Given his long-standing traditions and associations, it wouldn't have been strange for him to belong to the Royalist faction. Doesn't this imply that the current Count himself is leaning toward the Schwaben Duchy?"
"Sir Theodore didn't have a good relationship with his father. If the late Count had been leaning toward the Schwaben faction, wouldn't he have drawn closer to the Royalist nobles out of sheer defiance? Even the Knox family, his maternal relatives, were on poor terms with the aristocratic faction."
"Whatever the situation within Lutgarth might be, the Count himself must have his heart set on the Schwaben Duchy. If not, why would he have accepted the celebratory banquet held at the Imperial Palace?"
Considering the time it took from his arrival in the capital until the ceremony was scheduled, and the fact that the Imperial side had initially tried to have Princess Roella officiate the swearing-in, it was likely that complex negotiations and deals had been struck behind the scenes. But ultimately, the Count of Lutgarth had accepted the banquet hosted by Princess Roella.
From the perspective of the aristocratic faction, the source of anxiety regarding the Lutgarth family had vanished. Lutgarth was a house that had always focused on guarding its own territory and borders rather than encroaching on central politics. As long as they didn't turn their blades, there was no reason for the Schwab faction to purge them.
"I was worried because this year's social season has been so tumultuous, but there is some good news for the young ladies, at least."
"It’s rare for a figure as prominent as the Count of Lutgarth to enter the marriage market. Though, I suppose that’s because of the poor relationship between father and son..."
"I heard he was engaged due to the late Count's will."
"He refused it. A very close friend of mine is a relative of the Marquis of Asencio, who served as the executor of the will. The Count even gave up a significant fortune because of it."
"Oh my."
"The late Count was simply too much. It seems his mind must have clouded in his final years."
In tea parties and ceremonial visits, snippets of information circulated, gradually taking on a concrete shape. These stories eventually gathered in one place—through the minstrels in taverns frequented by servants, the piano players in gentlemen's clubs, and the ushers at the theater—before finally reaching Olivia’s hands.
She would burn the notes containing these rumors in the fireplace with a bitter smile. It seemed that the identity of Laila had yet to be publicly revealed.
'Well, it doesn't matter.'
She still hadn't managed to enter the Schwaben estate. If possible, she wanted to enter the annex as Laila and get her hands on the jewelry box before her true identity was exposed.
'It should still be fine for now.'
Stirring the ashes, she lowered her head and sank into thought.
Even if she appeared as the 1st Imperial Princess, she didn't think Ezekiel would simply discard his desires and treat her as a mere rival. Searching through her memories, he had always been consistent—in the sense that he wanted to lock her in his bedroom and use her as a slave.
For now, she had to focus on what she could do. She couldn't afford to think about failure.
Yet, whenever she was lost in deep thought like this, she found herself dwelling on failure rather than success. It was the same now. Because not everything had been entirely satisfactory, the thought of 'next time' was relentless.
Perhaps, if she had been holding the jewelry box, she might have shed more blood to achieve a more perfect outcome.
Just then, a large shadow fell over her.
"It must be hot."
Theodore said, looking at the fireplace. Thinking it fortunate that she had been looking down, Olivia quickly composed her expression and raised her head.
"It's not that hot."
The season was now in the full heat of summer. Theodore’s suit, complete with a shirt, vest, and jacket, must have been far hotter than Olivia’s thin chiffon dress.
Since the work requiring the fireplace was finished, she poured water over the embers and asked, "Is there something important?"
"Lady Sophia has entered the capital."
"Is that so?"
Regardless of the importance of Sophia as an individual, the news itself wasn't particularly significant. It was enough that she had arrived safely.
"You rewarded her sufficiently, didn't you?"
"I allowed her to meet her family."
Olivia nodded.
Sophia’s information had been truly helpful. She had pointed out who could be bribed and who could be threatened, and she had even succeeded in making contact with a secret private organization within the Imperial Palace.
She couldn't release the hostages immediately, but it seemed safe to believe that Sophia had defected.
She looked up at Theodore. He wouldn't have come in person just to report such trivial matters.
But just before her gaze could meet his, Theodore lowered his eyes. Their gazes split in the air, never touching.
Olivia had to struggle not to bite her lower lip. She suppressed the urge to stand up and embrace him. She wanted to be comforted, but her mind was filled with the thought of what meaning there could be in receiving comfort while keeping her true feelings hidden.
In the end, she asked in a voice that was almost cold.
"Anything else?"
"There is nothing else of particular note to report."
Theodore replied.
He could have sent someone else to deliver such a minor report. He had simply come in person because he wanted to see Olivia.
In the conference room, she had calmly and coolly outlined the past events and the work ahead, as if nothing were wrong.
But Theodore was curious if her heart was truly alright. He wondered if she had been hurt by meeting her biological father, if she had been dwelling on sad thoughts. He wanted to know how she felt about visiting her mother’s grave.
Sitting before the fireplace, Olivia looked as fragile as if she might fly away with the ashes. It wasn't that she looked pale or weak; she looked exhausted, as if she had been burned away.
But he couldn't reach out his hand. He couldn't even guess what thoughts were swirling inside her heart.
"Don't you think I'm doing something cowardly?"
Olivia asked first, breaking the silence.
"Trapping one woman in a snare to humiliate her, letting another die..."
She muttered under her breath.
"As a result, many people were punished, and I used my own body to seduce Ezekiel Schwaben..."
"..."
"I’ve made you dirty your hands with such filth, and now I’m even trying to use my own father..."
"His Imperial Majesty would not think so."
Theodore replied, his voice low but firm. Olivia let out a dry laugh.
"Well. Perhaps. Or perhaps not."
She spoke in a voice heavy with regret.
"I don't even know if I missed His Majesty or not."
The tears she had shown before him were not a lie. Her heart had been moved, she had been swept up in tender sentiment, and she had felt affection as she watched the old sorrow melt and form a pool at her feet.
But at the same time, Olivia was prepared to use him. During the last three lifetimes, he had proven nothing to her. Therefore, she did not trust him completely.
That was unfair. It was likely just because she hadn't known.
Theodore, eyes cast downward, spoke in a low voice.
"I do not miss my father."
Olivia paused, looking at him in surprise. Theodore was gazing at her with black eyes filled with deep shadows. She couldn't tell what emotions were steeped within them, but at the very least, they were not cold.
Theodore continued.
"Even now, knowing that my father did the right thing and that I must inherit it... the time I spent resenting him was too long to simply miss him."
"..."
"That does not mean I hate him, however."
He whispered, his voice sounding like a sigh. "Even admitting that is not easy. Do you understand what I mean?"