Sorting the Past and Present (2)
Louis Apparte had arrived in the royal capital. Accompanied by only a single servant, he first visited the house where his son, Maxim Apparte, was staying.
“Maxim.”
“Father.”
Maxim looked at his father standing in the doorway. Louis was shorter and slighter than Maxim. Since Maxim took more after his mother, his appearance did not closely resemble his father’s. Their light brown hair was the same shade, but Louis’s eyes were a deep, near-black brown—different from Maxim’s golden ones.
“You received the letter, I trust?”
“...Yes. I read it all.”
The moment they met, Louis Apparte brought up the letter without preamble. It was the same as asking whether Maxim had properly received the one he had slipped in among the blank pages. Maxim nodded in confirmation. Louis raised an eyebrow slightly, his expression one of quiet satisfaction.
“Good. Then shall we take this rare chance for a proper father-son talk?”
Louis Apparte dropped heavily into a chair at the living room table.
“My lord, is there anything you require…?”
At the servant’s question, Louis clapped his hands as if the thought had just occurred to him.
“We’ll be heading to Baron Bourdin’s residence shortly, so prepare a carriage and wait. I’ll have a word with my son and then join you.”
“Understood.”
The servant bowed his head and left the house.
“That fellow is fortunate enough to be from our territory. His background has been verified, and his family as well.”
Louis Apparte turned his head toward the closed front door as he spoke.
“Still, one can never be too careful. Caution upon caution is necessary.”
Maxim watched his father shrug. The man’s usually light eyes had sharpened with focus.
“...Yes, associating with high nobles is never entirely a good thing.”
His father let out a sigh.
“I asked in the letter as well… Do you have any suspicions about what might be happening?”
Maxim looked at his father’s face. He did not want to drag his family any deeper into this. That was what Maxim thought. He had no desire to share half-truths only to watch everyone become even more miserable. The matter between him and Theodora had to end between him and Theodora alone—even if what waited at the end of that road was his own destruction.
“No.”
Maxim shook his head. Louis Apparte nodded as if he understood and did not press further. It seemed he had decided not to ask for details.
And then there was one more person—the one who worried Maxim more deeply than anyone else.
“And… I have a favor to ask.”
Louis Apparte’s eyebrow twitched. Maxim was not the type of son who often asked for things. That was precisely why Louis could not help but feel concerned when his usually reserved child approached him with such a serious expression.
“What favor?”
“After the engagement ceremony ends, could you take Marion back to the territory with you?”
Louis Apparte burst into hearty laughter at his son’s words.
“What’s this? You like her that much?”
“And while I’m away, I’d like you to look after her well.”
Maxim continued the request without smiling, his tone grave. Seeing his son’s demeanor, Louis stopped laughing and nodded.
“I’ll speak with Baron Bourdin. Don’t worry.”
“...Thank you, Father.”
Maxim expressed his gratitude in a small voice. Louis Apparte did not reply, only offered a gentle smile.
A subtle tension hung in the air of the reception room. It was quite different from the usual nervousness that arose when the parents of a marrying couple met for the first time.
Emil Bourdin received Louis Apparte, head of the Apparte family and Maxim’s father.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.”
The difference between a court noble and a minor provincial lord was clear. Emil Bourdin addressed Louis with casual superiority as if it were only natural, and Louis accepted the lower register without complaint.
Louis sat in a chair so plush it was almost uncomfortable and looked at Emil Bourdin.
“This is only the third time we’ve met face to face, isn’t it?”
Emil Bourdin stroked his chin as he spoke. Louis Apparte nodded quietly.
“Indeed. Even though we’ve promised our children’s future to each other, we haven’t met very often.”
“There was neither reason nor leisure to do so, was there? Your son has always been so busy.”
There seemed to be no malice in Emil Bourdin’s words. Louis let out a hearty laugh.
“It must be because my son is rather shy. He’s always been the type to avoid strangers.”
At Louis’s light jest, Emil Bourdin snorted.
“I see. Your son certainly doesn’t speak much.”
Whether he was saying it knowingly or not, the remark—similar yet different in tone from his own son’s personality—left Emil Bourdin wearing an expression of mild disbelief.
The two men sat in silence for a while.
“...There is one matter I would like to propose.”
“What is it?”
It was Louis Apparte who broke the silence.
“After the engagement is announced, would it be acceptable to bring Marion to our family’s territory?”
Upon hearing Louis’s suggestion, Emil Bourdin gave a meaningful smile. His cold blue eyes fixed on Louis with an unsettling intensity.
“That is something we’ll have to consider carefully. I appreciate the offer, but our family will need time to think it over. Besides…”
Emil Bourdin’s eyes looked as though he were holding back laughter.
“The opinions of the prospective couple themselves are far more important, wouldn’t you agree? I’ll ask Marion directly later and let you know.”
Louis Apparte stared at Emil Bourdin. He could not read what thoughts lay behind those deep, lightless eyes.
“Well then, I’ll take my leave here. I must prepare to greet the guests who will be arriving soon.”
Emil Bourdin rose from his seat.
“By now, both Marion and Maxim should have finished their preparations.”
Whenever Marion removed her mask, the gazes that followed were always the same. She did not take it off often, and few people had ever seen her without it, yet they invariably looked at her with pity.
At first came instinctive revulsion. That, she was used to. She could understand it. After all, she herself almost never looked in the mirror without her mask. The sight of a face where nearly half was grotesquely twisted.
After they instinctively swallowed that disgust, what came next was pity. Pity was acceptable. She could understand that too. It was only natural. She did not mind. She was not hurt. The wounds on her body were more than enough.
“My lady?”
Even so, Marion hesitated to remove her mask. What bothered her was not their initial reaction, but the fact that they never grew accustomed to her face and always wore the same expression.
Sitting before the vanity mirror, Marion raised a hand to her mask. It felt stiff. The plain white mask covered her from her right cheek across the bridge of her nose.
“Yes. I’ll take it off.”
Marion removed the mask. Her jet-black hair fluttered, revealing the twisted features beneath. In the mirror, her hideous right profile was reflected. Behind it, she could see the maid’s eyes.
“Then I shall begin.”
The maid stepped behind Marion and stood there. She carefully placed her fingers beneath Marion’s chin. Marion lifted her chin in accordance with the maid’s touch. The maid began to apply makeup—lightly, never excessively. Her hands moved with practiced grace, naturally enhancing Marion’s appearance. All of it was done with businesslike efficiency, without a single word of idle chatter.
The maid finished adorning her. There were no common pleasantries: You must dress beautifully for the engagement ceremony. Shouldn’t you look even more lovely in front of your fiancé? None of that. She simply performed her task with mechanical repetition, as if it were just another chore.
Marion closed her eyes rather than look in the mirror. All she felt was the maid’s touch and the soft rustle of fabric.
“It is finished, my lady.”
Marion opened her eyes. Only half of her face was beautiful. The grotesque half stood in stark contrast to the left side.
“The engagement ceremony will begin shortly, so please wait here. I will return soon to escort you.”
Marion nodded weakly. The maid stared at her for a moment before leaving the room.
I should be happy.
Marion repeated the words to herself as she looked in the mirror. Maxim was the first person she had ever liked. The first person she had ever wanted to be with. Those feelings had felt so foreign that she had denied them for a long time. How long had it taken her to accept them? The emotion she had once dismissed as mere sympathy had grown far too large to be called that.
How nice it would be if she could simply feel joy. If she could set aside all thoughts about why Maxim had become her fiancé or what circumstances had led him here, and simply go to the man who had told her they were the same.
Marion fiddled with her mask. She knew nothing about him, and she could not understand him.
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded at the door. Marion composed her expression and lifted her head. Just as she was about to say “come in,” a familiar voice came from beyond the door.
“May I enter?”
Marion’s body flinched at the sound. The voice was low and cautious. In a fluster, she grabbed for her mask.
“J-just a moment…!”
Her voice trembled. The mask slipped from her fingers with a clatter. Marion inwardly cursed her own hands as she quickly snatched it up. The left side of her face reflected in the mirror was slightly flushed.
She hurriedly put the mask back on. Unfortunately, it only covered the right side of her face. Marion hung her head low, avoiding her own reflection in the mirror. It seemed the heat in her face would not cool before she let Maxim in. The fact that she had unintentionally raised her voice in panic only made her cheeks burn hotter.
“You… you may come in now.”
At Marion’s permission, the door opened. She cautiously raised her head and looked toward the doorway. She decided to forget, for now, that her face was flushed red.
Maxim was wearing the same clothes he had worn the first time they met. A white shirt, a vest the color of dark red wine. He wore no frock coat—it was summer, after all—but everything else was identical. Only the atmosphere around him was entirely different. His calm eyes held not coldness but a faint warmth, and the corners of his mouth were relaxed rather than stiff.
“Are you ready?”
Marion gave a faint nod. In truth, she wanted to say that she was not ready at all, that she still had a long way to go in preparing her heart.
“Is it all right for me to be here right now…?”
Seeing Marion greet him so hesitantly, Maxim asked in a voice lacking confidence.
“...If it’s uncomfortable, should I leave?”
“No.”
Marion hurriedly stopped him. Maxim paused mid-turn, then walked over and sat beside her.
“It’s… all right for you to stay.”
Marion spoke with a voice full of embarrassment. Maxim smiled faintly.
“All right. I’ll stay for a little while.”
Marion looked at Maxim’s face as he sat beside her. He wore a gentle smile, and there was no tension in his expression. Yet Marion sensed something familiar in his demeanor. The quiet suffering that had always lingered beneath the surface when he faced her was no longer visible.
“Maxim…”
She called his name without thinking. The change did not seem entirely positive. His expression looked not only like warm regard for her, but like that of someone who had let go of something.
“Yes?”
Maxim looked at her. Those eyes that seemed untroubled—Marion was worried by them.
“Are you… all right?”
“All right?”
Maxim sounded genuinely puzzled. But Marion caught the brief tremor in his voice. She knew there were many things Maxim could not tell her. That was why his attitude worried her even more. It was a question she would not have asked before, but she could not overlook the look on his face.
“If it’s something you can’t tell me, you don’t have to…”
In the end, Marion stepped back. A shadow briefly crossed Maxim’s face.
“Marion.”
“...Yes.”
Maxim looked at her as if he wanted to say something. But the words never left his lips. How could he reassure this person who carried wounds as deep as his own, yet different? Maxim took Marion’s left hand in both of his. Though anxious, Marion clung to the warmth he offered, grasping the hand he had placed over hers.
“After the engagement ceremony, would you come stay at our territory for a while?”
Marion’s eyes widened. Then, as if forcing them down again, her blue eyes sank. It was a small act of defiance against the way Maxim was blatantly avoiding answering the question she had posed.
“...I want to go. But…”
The eyes she turned toward Maxim were not demanding an explanation. They were filled with worry. Eyes that asked whether she had done something wrong, whether she was being sent far away.
“...”
Marion lowered her head. Maxim endured the guilt that twisted sharply in his chest. Marion continued to blame herself for being unable to hold onto him or cling to him. If only he could have placed her first above all else. If only he could have forgotten everything—the past, the truth, the tangled web of resentment—and simply put Marion first. How wonderful that would have been.
“...I’ll go.”
Marion’s words reached him. Because they carried her resolve, Maxim felt the sting of guilt even more vividly.
“Someday, when everything is over and I can return completely…”
Maxim’s words touched her. He did not know whether it was an empty promise.
“At that time.”
Maxim squeezed her hand as he spoke. Marion listened with eyes that saw only him.
“...Yes. At that time.”
They promised each other a future—one that was not even certain for either of them.
A knock sounded at the door. A servant was calling for Marion from outside. The engagement ceremony would begin soon. Maxim stood and offered Marion his hand. She looked at the hand he extended, then placed her own upon it.