The Curtain Falls
As the curtain fell on the play, Yulken eventually excused himself, refilled his wine glass, and returned to his seat. Edgar’s glass had emptied sometime during their conversation as well, so he offered to pour him another, but the boy declined, instead crunching on the salty biscuits set out as a snack.
He has quite the nerve. Most people who faced him one-on-one, whether in a good way or a bad one, could not behave normally. They often couldn’t even bring themselves to touch the refreshments placed before them. In that sense, Edgar was a remarkably bold young man. He neither clung excessively to etiquette nor came across as frivolous; he simply did what needed to be done. Yulken found that quality genuinely appealing.
That’s a conversation for another time. His wife seemed quite taken with the boy, and even to Yulken’s eyes the lad left no unpleasant impression, but now was not the moment to dwell on such matters. He swept the thoughts cleanly from his mind and addressed the boy sitting across from him once more.
“Ariel tells me you are her one and only friend. In that case, shouldn’t you be directing your anger at me?”
“Yes. If I had anything in my hand, I would have stood up and swung it without hesitation.”
It was no exaggeration. Even to Yulken’s eyes, Edgar’s hand resting on his thigh was trembling faintly. He was clearly suppressing genuine fury. Yet Yulken’s response was ice-cold.
“How refreshingly honest. Do you even know who you’re speaking to?”
“Even if you are the master of the Grand Duchy, does that change the fact that you are the one who made my friend cry?”
It was a courageous reply, but not enough to move Yulken. He had seen countless loud-mouthed youths like this on battlefields and in political arenas—dozens, hundreds of times.
“One word from me and your head could roll.”
“Yes. That is precisely why I am holding my anger in check.”
“Hah.”
So his life mattered after all. Concluding the boy was nothing more than another blustering coward, Yulken exhaled in disbelief. Watching him, Edgar spoke again.
“If I died, she would surely blame herself and be consumed by guilt.”
In other words, it wasn’t his own life he valued, but Ariel’s peace of mind. Yulken felt a momentary tremor but quickly steadied himself and let out a cold laugh. Edgar continued.
“I came here to make my friend smile again, not to drown her in guilt.”
“Even without me, it wouldn’t greatly affect that child’s life. You know that better than anyone.”
“...Are you truly saying that because you don’t know?”
The question was so frigid that even its tone felt flat. This time it was Yulken who flinched.
“If Ariel truly saw you as someone irrelevant whether you existed or not, why would she have reacted that way this morning?”
“It must have been a mere whim. Such things are common at that age.”
“So Your Highness speaks even to stones lying by the roadside on a whim.”
“......”
Yulken silently took a sip of wine, chewed another biscuit, and tasted the lingering acidity on his tongue. Observing him, Edgar let out a small sigh and spoke once more.
“I’m not asking for anything grand. As I said, simply do not cast Ariel aside.”
“Do not cast her aside? That alone is already an unreasonable demand.”
“Did I ask for an apology? Or did I ask you to approach Ariel first and embrace her?”
He wasn’t wrong. Yet he wasn’t entirely right, either. Accepting this proposal would essentially mean Yulken intended to restore his relationship with Ariel. That, in turn, would create the moment when the truth would have to be told. Yulken did not want that.
“...It is better if that child remains unaware. A foolish, resentful father and a kind, warm mother. She need only remember those two and live on.”
At those words, Edgar’s eyes widened. Did this man truly believe Ariel knew nothing and had simply asked for time alone with a father she had barely spoken to for years?
“Your Highness, if I may ask… do you honestly believe Ariel knows nothing?”
“Believe? Surely you don’t mean—”
To Yulken’s ears, the boy’s tone suggested Ariel knew the entire story.
“Yes. Ariel knows everything. Of course, it is only what I inferred from Lady Helene’s words and my own reasoning.”
Only then did Yulken’s crimson eyes snap wide open. This was something even his wife had not told him. She had merely relayed that she had spoken with the boy named Edgar and that he wished to meet. Yulken had assumed Ariel’s “wish” meant she was acting in ignorance. But she had learned the whole truth? And still chosen to behave as she had this morning?
“Why would she do such a thing?”
“I simply told the person who needed to know the truth. Is there a problem with that?”
“It would have been better if she never knew! Have you even tried to imagine how that child must feel right now?”
To Ariel, the only trustworthy person had been her mother. Yet hearing the full story would make her believe even her mother had conspired to exclude her. That was the worst scenario Yulken could envision.
Despite hearing the roar directly in his face, Edgar’s expression remained calm. A truly steadfast young man. But precisely because of that, he seemed unable to see. Then it was time to point it out—the child’s true feelings.
“Your Highness, did you not face her yourself today?”
“What are you saying?”
“I will answer your earlier question once more. Ariel’s actions this morning were not the result of Lady Helene and me pushing her from behind.”
Thud. The moment Edgar repeated the words he had spoken earlier, something inside Yulken’s chest sank. At the same time, the eyes that had always seemed unshakable began to tremble. Now that he thought about it, the boy had indeed said it. That Ariel had suddenly suggested the hunting trip, that she wanted to go alone with her father without even her friend. All of it had been her own wish.
So that was what respecting the child’s wish truly meant.
Yulken, who had risen from his seat, collapsed back down. His hands shook violently. It was the same situation, yet the single added condition—that his daughter had done it while knowing the entire truth—changed its meaning completely. Now the direction of the conversation, the roles of questioner and answerer, all had to shift.
Why? Just why?
“Does that child truly wish to face me even after learning the whole truth?”
“Did you not see it for yourself, Your Highness?”
“No, that cannot be. Knowing a truth like that, why would she…”
It was not a truth a fifteen-year-old should have to bear. She would have been justified in collapsing, resenting her father, pouring out her fury, and hurling curses at her mother. Yet why did she want to look straight at this pathetic father once more? What reason could she have for feeling neither anger, nor sorrow, nor even emptiness? This went beyond mere integrity or mental strength.
“...What is this?”
“Please open it.”
A single envelope was held out before the bewildered man. When Yulken looked up in confusion, Edgar placed it directly into his hand and returned to the sofa. The words on the envelope read To Father. The moment he saw them, Yulken had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill.
“How could I possibly read this?”
“If Your Highness cannot read it, she asked me to read it aloud for you. Would that be preferable?”
In the end, there was no choice but to hear its contents. With trembling hands, Yulken opened the envelope and drew out the letter inside.
To Father
I love you, Father.
— Ariel
The letter was not long. In fact, it was so short and simple one might wonder if such words even needed to be written in a letter at all. Yet the moment Yulken read that brief sentence, he could not hold back the tears that burst forth.
I love you, Father.
How long had he yearned to hear those words? Yet they were words he should never have hoped for. The choice made by his daughter who now knew the entire truth, her sincerity—everything was contained in that single sentence.
She must have agonized over how to convey it to the father she had never truly spoken with. No matter what flowery phrases or declarations of understanding she added, something would have felt wrong. So she had simply written it. That she loved him. Even if she had once resented him, even if he feared facing her. Nevertheless, she would reach out to him. She had poured that noble resolve into these few short words.
“Originally I intended to settle this with you myself. But when I told Ariel yesterday, she said she must be the one to tie the knot and asked me to step back.”
“......”
“She gave me this letter, made one request, and then offered you that suggestion this morning.”
Yulken struggled to control his emotions. He did not want to stain the letter. He could not let the precious sincerity his daughter had conveyed blur and vanish. Edgar carefully produced a handkerchief and offered it to him. It was his firm belief that tears should be shed fully when the time came, but today there was a reason he must not.
“Could you convey these words to my daughter?”
“I do not know what you mean, but I believe you should tell her yourself.”
“Myself…?”
It was far too late to visit his daughter now. Did he mean they should speak during tomorrow’s hunt?
Knock, knock.
As if to answer Yulken’s unspoken question, a knock sounded from beyond the study door. Edgar smiled softly, rose from his seat, and walked slowly to the door. He opened it with care.
“Ah… Ariel?”
“Have you read the letter, Father?”
The one standing beyond the door was none other than the author of that brief letter—Ariel herself.
“Ariel, Ariel…!”
“Father……”
Lifting his gaze to the face of the daughter he had longed to see, Yulken rose and called her name. Ariel, matching his emotion, hurried to his side and threw her arms around him. The broad, steadfast embrace of her father that had nearly faded from memory. Feeling its warmth, Ariel wept together with him.
In the end, a father is a father, and a daughter is a daughter.
Watching from a distance, Edgar gave a small, quiet laugh, slipped out of the study, and gently closed the door so it would make no sound.
In the end, he had accomplished almost nothing. Ariel had not been pushed by anyone; she had chosen to face her father with her own strength. He had merely offered a small catalyst to those who could not take the first step.
Yet perhaps this was the finest ending of all. People who wished to choose their own path had come together, joined hands, and finally begun walking the brightest road. Even so, he thought he might at least be remembered as a supporting character in a beautiful story.
Tomorrow should be interesting.
That father and daughter would go hunting together for the first time. What conversations would they share? How would they convey the sincerity they had left unsaid? Among all the days he had lived, he was certain none had ever left him looking forward to the next one quite so much.