Ah, Today's Promise
The lights in the conference room of the Estella Countess Manor burned late into the night. Scattered across the table were transaction ledgers marked with red lines and stacks of overdue approval documents piled haphazardly to one side.
"The southern trading company is delaying their response," the first elder spoke up, flipping through the ledger.
"If we don't wrap this up within the month, we can consider the iron ore supply contract completely severed."
"The western textile guild is the same."
Another elder picked up gravely.
"These were key clients that the eldest lady managed personally, weren't they? They're still only asking about her recovery."
Elisiya. At the mention of that name, a brief silence fell over the conference room.
In the old days of the Estella family, problems like this wouldn't have even reached this level. Elisiya would have sent someone out herself, and if needed, gripped the counterparty's weaknesses to sort it all out in one swift move.
But the current Elisiya was in no state to stand before the family. And the one remaining—Serdia Estella, sitting in the family head's chambers receiving all reports—was leaving the family adrift without making a single decision.
"The family head delayed approvals again today."
"The knight order expansion proposal is still pending."
"The eastern warehouse sale is on hold too."
Finally, the eldest elder slammed his palm on the table roughly.
"At this rate, the Estella Countess will be just a name!"
No one could refute that.
Barden Estella, seated at the end of the table, had remained silent since the meeting began.
"We can't wait any longer."
One elder said in a resolute voice.
"We need to secure the family head's seal."
"The ledgers too. With all authority tied up in the family head's chambers like this, we're no better than missing limbs."
"We have to take command of the knight order that day as well."
That day. Barden's fingertips twitched faintly. Someone trailed off, but no one needed to finish the sentence—everyone knew. The anniversary of Lucia Estella's death. The day Serdia had never once missed leaving the manor for.
No one in the family was unaware of it.
The aged elder stated firmly.
"We'll open the family head's chambers once she leaves."
"What about the servants and the knight order?"
"We've already placed our people."
"Is this really okay?"
"We have no choice. It's a temporary measure for normalizing the family."
Temporary measure. In truth, it was no different from seizing control of the countess while the family head was away.
Only then did Barden slowly open his mouth.
"You've already made up your minds, then."
The elder replied without hesitation.
"Yes."
Barden closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
"In that case, give me a chance to act first."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll try persuading the family head and the eldest lady."
The room fell as quiet as if cold water had been poured over it. Barden continued quietly.
"If the two of them can stand before the family again, we won't need to go this far, will we?"
"Do you think that's possible?"
"It's what I must do as the adult of this house."
A few elders exchanged skeptical glances. They were clearly displeased, but they couldn't outright reject Barden's proposal on principle.
"Very well."
Barden looked at him quietly.
"But we'll prepare as planned."
"……."
"If you can persuade the two before then, we'll avoid any bloodshed."
Barden didn't reply for a long while. Then he slowly bowed his head.
"Understood."
The meeting ended there. The elders rose one by one. Barden remained seated until the last.
Alone in the conference room, he stared at the empty table for a long time.
Family head's seal. Ledgers. Knight order command. Lucia's anniversary. And the final chance.
Barden mulled over the words quietly.
Yes. This was the last chance. For Serdia. For Elisiya. And for himself.
A chance that would never come again. More than anyone, Barden knew that.
I thought it would be fine for a while. Really.
I'd noticed long ago that every time the family head looked at me, she was seeing another child beyond me.
Lucia Estella. The girl in the locket.
At first, I thought I could pretend not to notice. If it was just a little uncomfortable for me. If the family head could catch her breath even through me.
I rationalized it as part of the hefty wages—labor included.
The manor staff all said the same. That the family head had improved so much since I arrived. She stepped out of her room more often, and her expression looked much more at ease when she called for me.
I'd nod quietly each time I heard it.
But at night, my thoughts changed.
Empty liquor bottles appeared more frequently in front of the family head's door. The light in her room didn't go out until deep into dawn.
Once, I came out for water and froze before her closed door. A tiny voice came from inside.
"……Lucia."
The sound of stifled sobs leaking through the door crack. And again.
"Lucia……."
I couldn't move from that spot for a long time.
At night, she always returned to that name. Lucia. When the sun set, the truth always floated to the surface.
The family head hadn't improved. While I played the docile doll, she was just covering her festering wound with pretty cloth for a moment.
Pretending not to know this truth anymore wasn't endurance—it wasn't right. Not for me. Not for the late Miss Lucia.
So I started refusing, from the smallest things.
One afternoon, the family head pushed a plate of pretty pastries topped with heaps of white cream toward me.
"Try it."
The family head said affectionately.
"You'll like it too."
I looked down at the plate and shook my head.
"I don't like sweets much."
The family head's hand paused. Just for a moment. Then a soft smile returned to her lips.
"I see. Then have something else brought."
Her voice was kind, but her fingertips clearing the plate felt somehow off-kilter.
Next was clothes. The family head held a light blue dress against me, turning it this way and that. The cuffs had cute lace, and a pure white ribbon tied at the waist—a lovely outfit.
"This color would suit you so well. This is what suits you."
I'd never said I liked blue, never even tried it on.
"Um... could I try something else?"
This time, it took longer for the family head's smile to return.
"What's uncomfortable about it?"
"Yes." I nodded. "It just... looks hard to move in."
The family head stared at the dress for a long time.
"I see."
After that short reply, the fabric crumpled slightly in her fingertips.
The last was my hair. That morning, I deliberately tied it low. Much lower than the high style the family head usually tied so carefully—different from the girl in the locket.
Different from the style the family head liked.
My reflection in the mirror felt unfamiliar, but it suited me better.
"Ria."
The family head's voice came from behind. I didn't turn.
In the mirror, the family head was looking at my hair. Precisely, the ribbon.
"Your hair……."
"Pretty, right?"
The family head's words cut off. I spoke to her reflection.
"I think this suits me best."
The room went quiet. This time, the family head didn't smile right away.
"That doesn't suit you."
Her voice rumbled low. I slowly turned to face her.
"It's not that it doesn't suit me—it's that you don't like it."
The family head's face hardened.
"Ria."
Her hand reached toward my ribbon. Her fingertips trembled.
Yet she tried to fix it. Like someone correcting a mistake.
"Stay still."
"No."
"Ria."
"I like this."
Her hand hesitated, but soon approached obsessively again.
"No."
"This side is more……."
Before her hand could touch, I untied my ribbon. It slipped free softly, and my silver hair cascaded down my shoulders like a waterfall.
The room fell unnaturally quiet. Clutching the loose ribbon, I said,
"I don't like sweets either."
My voice was calmer than I expected.
"I don't like those clothes."
The family head's lips trembled faintly.
"Enough."
It was almost a plea, but I didn't stop. The thorny truths I'd swallowed silently for days rose to my throat.
"I want to tie my hair how I like."
"Stop."
"It's not me you like."
The family head's eyes shook.
"Stop it."
"What you're seeing is my hair, the ribbon, the parts that look like Miss Lucia."
"Ria."
Her voice lowered further. I crumpled the ribbon in my hand.
"I'm not that girl."
The expression vanished from the family head's face.
"Sit quietly and eat what you give me."
I stepped back.
"Wear the clothes you pick."
Another step.
"Have my hair tied the way you do it."
The family head said nothing. I swallowed.
My chest burned hot. I didn't know if it was anger or frustration.
But I had to say this. If I stopped here, everything would go back to how it was.
The family head fixing my ribbon. Me sitting still again. Lucia's name leaking from behind the closed door every night.
Like that. Nothing ending.
"I'm not Miss Lucia."
The family head's breath seemed to stop. I didn't back down even seeing her face.
"I'm Ria."
A short silence fell. The expression vanished from the family head's face.
"Can't you look at me?"
And a low voice dropped.
"Enough!"
The next instant.
Slap.
My head snapped to the side. The room went instantly quiet.
The stinging pain arrived a beat late. It took a surprisingly long time to realize what happened.
I froze, unable to even clutch my throbbing cheek.
The family head didn't move either. Neither the one who raised her hand nor the one struck.
Both rooted in place.
The family head wasn't looking at me. She stared at her own right hand—the one that had just slapped my cheek.
The hand that had tried to fix my ribbon moments ago. The one that had gently brushed my hair.
The one that hurt me.
Its fingertips trembled ever so slightly.
"Ria……."
The family head's hand slowly, so slowly, reached toward my reddened cheek.
But just before touching, she flinched back as if burned, hastily hiding her right hand behind her.
As if afraid it might hurt me again.
"I'm sorry."
The family head's voice cracked.
"I'm sorry, Ria."
I couldn't say anything. The family head reached toward me once more but ultimately couldn't.
That night, the family head's door closed. And no sound came from inside.
Even after the door closed, Serdia stood motionless in the darkness for a long time.
Serdia looked down at her trembling palm. The hand that had struck Ria's cheek moments ago.
Serdia slowly looked down at her hand. Nothing stained it.
Yet she couldn't bear the lingering sensation.
It was just like that day. The day Lucia vanished.
The manor was chaos. Maids were sobbing, knights rushing out. Some called names, others collapsed silently to the floor.
Elisiya, covered in dirt, stood lost. The small hand she had held so tightly going to Lucia's was empty.
"Mother……."
Elisiya gasped through sobs.
"Mother, Lucia……."
Serdia looked at her eldest daughter's tear-streaked face. Her mind knew it wasn't Elisiya's fault. What could that child have done?
But in that moment, nothing reached Serdia's ears. Only the fact that Lucia, who had giggled in her arms that morning, would never return.
"Why."
Her voice felt unfamiliar. Not like her own.
"Why on earth."
Elisiya's eyes shook wide.
"Mother……."
Before the pitiful call ended, her hand rose.
Slap.
The sound rang out. Elisiya's small head snapped aside with stark clarity.
The child stared up at her mother blankly, unable to clutch her reddening cheek.
The moment their eyes met, Serdia realized what she'd done. What her right hand had done.
Too late.
"Elisiya……."
She reached out, but couldn't touch. Elisiya flinched instinctively. Just a little.
That tiny movement froze Serdia's hand in midair.
After that, she couldn't reach. Days of no reply even to calls piled up. Days of not entering even at the door stacked.
It wasn't lack of love. Nor resentment toward her daughter.
Fear that this hand would rise again. That it would hurt the child once more.
So she stayed away.
But today.
Serdia slowly clenched her hovering right hand.
The hand that struck Ria's cheek. The one that bruised Elisiya.
The hand unchanged after all these years.
"……I didn't want to."
Her voice scattered softly in the room.
"I tried so hard not to ever again……."
Serdia gripped her right hand tighter. Nails dug into her palm.
Still, the heat didn't fade.
After that day, the family head's door didn't open easily. She didn't call for me. I stood before it a few times, but no reply came from inside.
Nothing.
Days passed like that. Maids quietly began carrying black cloth and white chrysanthemum bundles from the storage room.
No one said it aloud, but everyone in the manor knew. Miss Lucia's anniversary was approaching.
Barden visited Elisiya Estella's room the evening before that day.
In the darkened room, Elisiya sat by the bed with unfocused eyes.
"Elisiya."
Elisiya slowly lifted her head.
"Uncle."
"Lucia's anniversary is soon."
At the name, Elisiya's shoulders twitched faintly. But Barden didn't miss it.
"You know, right?"
"……Yes."
A cracked voice leaked out weakly.
Barden stepped a few paces further into the room. His gaze passed the closed curtains and cluttered desk, returning to Elisiya.
"Serdia has never missed that day, not once."
She knew. That her mother went to Lucia every year on that day. No matter how unwell. No matter how backed up the work.
She never missed it. Always.
"No plans to go this year?"
Elisiya's lips parted slightly. As if to speak. But no words came.
It was always like that. So many things she wanted to say to her mother. Sorry for letting go of her hand that day. Sorry for failing to protect Lucia. Sorry for coming back alone.
She didn't mind if her mother hated her—just look at her once. But the words always froze in her throat.
Her hands shook at the door. Her breath caught after a few steps toward her mother's room.
So she never said anything.
"Planning to hide and avoid it your whole life?"
Barden looked down at Elisiya steadily.
"Never speak your whole life?"
Elisiya's eyes shook.
"I……."
Barden's voice remained gentle.
"You don't plan to live with the door closed forever, do you?"
"……."
"It's not too late yet."
Not too late. The words stabbed Elisiya's chest.
Elisiya always thought she was too late. Too late to grasp Lucia's hand again. Too late to say sorry to her mother. Too late to admit she was scared that day, that she wanted to cry too.
"If words are hard, what about a letter?"
Barden pulled a folded sheet from his breast and placed it on the desk. Plain white paper. Blank.
Elisiya stared at it for a long time.
"If you hide without a word again this time, Serdia will never know your heart."
Elisiya reached out as if entranced. Her hand holding the pen trembled.
At first, no words came. Black ink beaded at the nib, splattering on the paper like tear stains.
So much she wanted to write. Sorry. Sorry for letting go that day. Afraid approaching would make her mother relive painful memories. Still, just once, she wanted to go to her sister's side with her mother.
But with pen in hand, she couldn't write long sentences.
After long silence, only short phrases remained on the paper.
Mother.
Tomorrow, I'll wait at the place where Lucia sleeps.
This time, I want to go together.
Elisiya couldn't set the pen down for a while. Afraid tears would fall before the ink dried and blur the words, she couldn't even lower her head.
And the next morning.
Elisiya waited for Serdia at Lucia's resting place from early dawn, clutching white chrysanthemums.
But past noon, as the sky turned red, and thick darkness fell, Serdia never appeared.
Elisiya looked down at her right hand before Lucia's resting place.
Elisiya couldn't leave in the end.