The Weight of a Final Request
Theodore hesitated for a moment.
Was there any point in tearing this open to read it? Everything he absolutely needed to know was already laid out in the will. Whatever was inside this envelope could only be personal, private musings.
A final, belated message from a father to his son. It wouldn't matter if he threw it into the fire without reading a single word. At this point, he couldn't even begin to guess what Pavel could possibly want to say to him.
During the ten years he had spent at the Nox estate, Pavel had never once come to fetch him. They had barely exchanged a single letter.
It was likely nothing more than an apology. The kind of thing people felt compelled to do when their hearts grew weak in their final days.
Even as he thought this, Theodore broke the seal. The letter was short, and the handwriting was terribly shaky—it was clear it had been written when his illness was at its peak.
To my son, Theodore.
I do not know how long it has been since I last wrote to you like this. I do not even know how to begin... but I am grateful that you have chosen to read this final letter from your father.
It seemed his father had known there was a chance he might burn the letter without even opening it. With a bitter heart, Theodore continued to read.
I know you have every right to resent me. I could not be a proper father to you. I am sorry.
When you left home, I cannot tell you how much it broke my heart. I am sorry. It would have been the right thing to go and bring you back, to beg for your forgiveness and explain the circumstances. You are a wise and sincere child; you surely would have understood.
My beloved son.
I have never once said those words to you. Yet, even while you were at the Nox estate, I was always watching over you, seeing how you fared. Despite all the wrongs I have committed, I cannot express how happy it makes me that you have grown into such a fine adult, a knight among knights.
And I am sorry. I know that I have done nothing but wrong, both to you and to your mother, and I have carried that agony my entire life.
Ah, I am still bound by my oath. If only I could have confessed all of this to you!
But please, believe me.
I have never betrayed your mother. As a knight, I merely swore an oath to protect Lady Peril, and Olivia, too, was a child I was duty-bound to protect.
Please, look after Olivia. I wish for you to inherit the duty that I could not fully fulfill.
Did you not love her? I believe that if you open your hearts to one another, you will be able to live happily. She will surely soothe your heart.
So...
In the end, it concluded with a plea regarding Olivia.
Theodore let out a sigh, folded the letter back into its envelope, and tossed it into the drawer. If the fireplace had been lit, he would have thrown it straight into the flames.
Even when he was young, Pavel had often said to him:
"Treat Olivia like your own sister and look after her well."
Thinking back on it now, it felt as though Pavel had been terrified that the rumors—that the Countess had died because of Peril and Olivia—would reach his son's ears.
When he was very young, he had nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He had been so small when he lost his mother that he hadn't understood most of the whispers among the adults. And so, he had come to think of Olivia as a child who had arrived in place of the sibling who had been in his mother's womb.
Pavel had raised Olivia without discriminating between her and Theodore. Lady Peril resided in the western tower, a short distance away, and rarely came to the main house, but the nursemaid, following Pavel's orders, would often bring Olivia to visit.
Theodore would take Olivia's hand and roam all over the castle, playing. Olivia was a kind and gentle child. No matter what Theodore said, she would widen her large eyes—a mix of green and blue—and nod in wonder.
Theodore would get excited, showing off and teaching her all sorts of things. On windy days, they flew kites; in winter, they rode sleds; on rainy days, he showed her the room that sounded like it was haunted; in summer, they went boating. Once, he even tried to teach her how to spell, only to knock over an inkwell and ruin all the furniture and carpets in the study.
No matter what trouble he caused, as long as Olivia was involved, Pavel never scolded him. The only time Theodore had been severely reprimanded by Pavel was when he had taken Olivia to the stables just as he was starting to learn how to ride, and they had nearly had an accident.
His memories of Lady Peril weren't all that bad, either. Occasionally, when he went to the western tower to see Olivia, Peril would stroke his hair with a gentle expression and offer him snacks.
But such childhood days were never meant to last. Theodore eventually learned who the woman called Lady Peril was, and he discovered the truth that Olivia might not be a "sister-like child," but his "actual half-sister."
He didn't know whether to be happy or angry. It wasn't because of his mother, whom he could barely remember.
At the time, he thought it was because of his father. He had known even then that his father worried about and loved Olivia more than him, but when he realized it was because she was his biological daughter, a rage flared up within him that he simply couldn't reconcile.
Looking back now, it was a ridiculous thing. One could be angry that a father loved a sibling more. But to be unable to accept the fact that a man loved his own daughter, rather than someone else's child—that made no sense at all.
He began to distance himself from Olivia.
"Theo, have you come to dislike me?"
Olivia, still young, had looked up at him with her beautiful eyes brimming with moisture and asked that question.
"I don't dislike you. I just resent you."
That was the truth. He didn't dislike Olivia. He disliked that fact, and so he didn't want to see her. He resented her even more for remaining in those simple, affectionate childhood days, unable to understand his complex heart.
Olivia had sobbed at his words. Theodore had felt the urge to comfort her, but he also felt that he shouldn't, and so he had walked away.
The sound of Olivia's crying was still etched into his mind, surfacing from time to time.
Feeling stifled, he stood up abruptly. The alcohol made his body feel feverish, and he thought the night air might clear his head.
It was already nearing midnight. He threw a coat over his shirt, not even bothering with a vest, and left his room.
Though the guests had all returned to their quarters, the servants seemed to be moving about the castle, cleaning and tidying up late into the night. Theodore used a shortcut he had often used as a child, slipping out of the castle without encountering a soul.
The night air brushed coolly against his cheeks. With the full moon hanging high in the sky, it was a perfect night for a walk.
Theodore let out a long breath, finally feeling as though he could breathe properly. His heart remained filled with complex thoughts, caught in the grip of contradictory feelings toward his father.
He had told him to treat her like a sister, and now, he told him to marry her.
Well. There was no reason for him to grant that request. Pavel had already ensured through his will that Olivia could live well without Theodore's involvement, so he could simply live the rest of his life without ever seeing her again.
Just as he had decided when he was fifteen.
But then again, there was no reason he *had* to do that, either. She was not his sister, nor was she anything else to him.
Just then, he sensed a presence and looked up. Olivia was standing in the garden where the small chrysanthemums were in bloom. Whether she had gone to bed and come out for a night stroll, she was wearing only a coat over her negligee, her hair loose and unkempt.
The white moonlight struck her golden hair, making it shimmer. The chrysanthemums, which reached up to her waist, were also entirely white, making it look as though she were standing in a wave of moonlight, her slender frame swaying.
He stood there for a moment, unable to say a word.
It had been the same back then. Even on the day he had decided to leave.
Olivia had been standing in this very chrysanthemum garden. It had been a day full of sunshine, and back then, it had been planted mostly with yellow and orange flowers. The sunlight had struck her hair, creating golden waves, and she had been smiling like a sunflower.