Side Story 1: Edgar's Spring Day
Translator: RaidenTL
Side Story 1: Edgar's Spring Day
Roughly a month and a half remained before Cedric and Harriet’s wedding when Count Dawson, Edgar’s father, paid a visit under the guise of discussing business.
Although the two met occasionally for professional reasons, today felt different. For one, the Count spent an inordinate amount of time rambling about a deal that had already been finalized.
Cedric humored him for a while, but when the aimless chatter stretched past twenty minutes, he finally cut him off.
"I believe we’ve exhausted the pleasantries, Count. Perhaps we can move on to the main topic?"
The Count winced as if a nerve had been struck. He cleared his throat unnecessarily, though his voice wasn't the least bit hoarse.
"Then... may I speak with you today not as a business partner, but as the father of your friend?"
It was Cedric’s turn to flinch. He knew from experience that no good ever came from a conversation with the father of a friend he was currently exploiting. He straightened his posture, bracing himself.
"Of course."
At that, Count Dawson’s brow furrowed, as if he had been waiting for the opening.
"Cedric. I’ve tried to look the other way all this time, but what in the world are you doing with Edgar?"
Sure enough, the man was thoroughly incensed on his son's behalf.
"I apologize. I cannot go into specific detail, but Edgar is currently assisting me with my affairs."
"Are you so short-handed that you need him to help you? I thought you, of all people, would know how utterly scatterbrained that boy is."
"He is loud and occasionally embarrassing, but he has never been truly incompetent. As Your Lordship well knows."
"You hold Edgar in such high regard? That’s surprising."
"He has always been a cherished friend. To be honest, he is my only friend."
"Good heavens, how did he ever manage to achieve such a status!"
"Some of the responsibility lies with Your Lordship," Cedric countered smoothly. "For seating Edgar next to me at the very first Imperial Banquet I attended."
Even in their brief exchange, the tension was palpable. It was a tug-of-war between a father who wished for his son to live a comfortable, safe life and an unscrupulous employer who considered it a crime to let capable talent sit idle.
As always, Count Dawson was the first to yield.
"What did you make him do this time? The boy seems utterly out of it."
A slight crease appeared between Cedric’s brows. He hadn't actually assigned Edgar any work recently.
"Could you explain further?"
"Sigh... Edgar has always been fickle, but lately, he’s been truly strange. It was fine when he suddenly showed enthusiasm for his training as the heir, but..."
According to the Count, Edgar—despite his exceptional natural abilities—had never shown much interest in inheriting the family title. Yet lately, he seemed intensely aware of his status as the 'heir,' more so than ever before. He was voluntarily shadowing his father to learn the business and was even beginning to look after the family’s collateral branches.
"I thought he’d finally come to his senses, but then one night, I stopped by his room and saw something unsettling."
The Count had knocked, but there was no answer. When he opened the door, he found his son staring blankly out the window in total darkness. It was the first time the Count had ever seen such a profound, sorrowful expression on his usually boisterous son’s face.
"I asked him, 'Edgar, tell me honestly! Are you ill? What did the doctor say?'"
The Count’s heart had sunk, fearing his son was hiding a terminal diagnosis. But Edgar, who had vehemently denied being sick yet couldn't manage his usual playfulness, had suddenly started grinning to himself a few days ago.
"It’s almost frightening. He seemed to be dabbling in <Angelic> before, and now I’m worried the boy might be addicted to that drug..."
Deep concern etched itself into the Count’s face.
Cedric, however, understood exactly what was happening. A few days ago, Edgar had come to them looking utterly miserable, seeking relationship advice from him and Harriet. That same day, Harriet—who had just met with Daphne—had predicted, "It will probably work out."
It seemed there had been progress.
"You must have been under a great deal of stress, but rest assured, it is not what you fear. In fact, you will likely hear some very good news soon."
"Good news...?"
"Yes. The exact news Your Lordship has been waiting for."
Ah, so this was the feeling Edgar had when he sang about spring finally arriving.
Cedric quietly offered his silent congratulations for the "spring day" that had finally dawned for his friend.
*
Edgar’s spring arrived on a day in May, when the world was in full bloom.
"Young Master Dawson!"
That evening, Daphne arrived to see Edgar without any prior notice. She was slightly out of breath, a testament to the urgency of her visit.
Edgar glanced at the setting sun and greeted her, his heart racing with nerves. If Daphne, who valued etiquette above all else, had disregarded protocol to see him, it meant this was no ordinary matter. Harriet had mentioned meeting her that afternoon; perhaps Daphne had come to deliver a final rejection.
"Miss Daphne, what brings you here at this hour...?"
He spoke awkwardly, but Daphne only hesitated, mumbling incoherently. For a moment, Edgar feared that James might have bothered her again, and his protective instincts sharpened.
"Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no. No... or perhaps..."
She seemed to reach a great internal decision. She reached out and gently took his hand.
"When James broke our engagement and I thought my life was over, there were words that lifted me up."
Was she starting a confession out of the blue? Edgar, who hung on her every word, listened intently.
"Miss Harriet said it. She told me my love wasn't the problem—he was. He was the trivial one. She asked why I was so sad when only one such man had disappeared."
"As expected, Miss Harriet is a wise woman."
"She is. And Young Master Dawson, when you confessed to me, those words came back to me. I wondered if I was truly the kind of person who wouldn't make your devotion and love seem trivial."
"Miss Daphne!"
Edgar started to speak in surprise, but Daphne squeezed his hand, silently asking him to let her finish.
"At the time, I lacked confidence. So, in a way that was truly cowardly, I pretended to take your feelings as a joke. I thought that if you truly loved me, you would wait until I became a more suitable person."
"Miss Daphne, you have never been anything but a wonderful person."
At those words, Daphne smiled through the threat of tears.
"You truly are that kind of man. I knew it, and perhaps that’s why I felt even less confident. I was afraid I would be someone who would tarnish your honor or reputation."
Daphne had been tormented by her own contradictions while waiting for Edgar to contact her. Even though she had moved past the pain of the broken engagement, the social stigma remained. Since she hadn't placed it there herself, she couldn't remove it on her own.
She had wanted to become a woman so perfectly suited for Edgar that no one could whisper against them. She had obsessed over her appearance, her words, and her every action—especially when he escorted her.
But all the while, her silence had been making Edgar anxious.
"I’m sorry for being so indecisive. I’m truly sorry for hurting you."
"Please, don't say such things. It pains me to hear them."
Edgar reached out to brush away the tears welling in her eyes. The droplets, reflecting the orange glow of the sunset, fell onto his hand.
"If someone like me is acceptable to you... will you be my lover?"
At Daphne’s whispered plea, Edgar froze.
"Don't make me such an unchivalrous man that the woman I love has to confess first."
"Young Master Dawson..."
"Will you wait just one month? I want this, your final love, to be flawless from beginning to end."
Daphne nodded, and the two shared their first kiss as the sun dipped below the horizon.
*
Less than a month after his previous visit, Count Dawson returned to express his gratitude to Cedric.
"I haven't done anything worthy of Your Lordship's thanks," Cedric demurred.
"What does it matter! My son is finally getting married! Hahaha!"
The Count was so overjoyed he couldn't stop laughing, his ears closed to everything else. Edgar had officially proposed a courtship with marriage in mind and had received permission from both Daphne and the Count and Lady Laurel.
The Count knew his son met with Daphne often, but since Edgar usually had a dozen "friends" he met in such a way, the Count hadn't dared to imagine this outcome.
"If you insist on expressing gratitude, you should direct it to Harriet, not me. She is the one who truly brought Miss Daphne and Edgar together."
Cedric seized the opportunity to elevate Harriet’s standing. Count Dawson, who hadn't thought much of her until then, paused. He soon nodded vigorously.
"It wouldn't do to ignore such a benefactor. What does Miss Harriet like? I must prepare a gift."
"Well, she is not one to be easily impressed by material things... However, she did mention an interest in the Dawson family’s orange groves."
"Huh? What?"
"She tasted the fruit Edgar brought last time and seems to have her eye on the market value of oranges. Just something I overheard."
Count Dawson was no fool. He clicked his tongue once, then nodded, signaling his understanding before taking his leave. He mused that perhaps the distribution rights for an orange juice venture would make a fitting wedding gift for the future Duchess.