10 – The person known as Soleil Van Nortis in this lifetime – 2
Outwardly, ties were severed with Sicilia’s
family—her death having been officially attributed to illness. It seemed the
royal family’s wishes played a role in this; the move was likely intended to
spare her parents—already devastated by the loss of their child—from being
further entangled in political affairs. In any case, while there were
undoubtedly complex circumstances involved, I remained unaware of the specific
secret agreements reached between the two families.
However, if the gossip of the loose-lipped
servants was to be believed, our family paid a substantial sum in compensation.
In effect, we acknowledged at least some degree of culpability.
Yet, it would be incorrect to say that this
was a bitter or painful ordeal for us.
The reason was simple: Mother was very fond
of Sicilia. I suspected she was actually relieved to be able to offer a gesture
of condolence, even if it took the form of a settlement payment.
I recalled how she doted on Sicilia and
indulged her—treating her with even more affection than her own son. Mother was
the sort of woman who would openly declare that she had truly wanted a daughter
rather than a son. I lost count of how many dresses and pairs of shoes she
bought for her.
Finding it a joy to select items for a
young girl, she had eagerly summoned merchants.
Sicilia had accepted these gifts without
hesitation; smiling with delight, she wore them and cherished them. To my
mother, she must have truly felt like a daughter of her own.
Yet, Sicilia died in our home. I couldn’t
even begin to imagine the depth of the wound inflicted upon my mother, who
could only stand by helplessly, unable to do a thing.
She conveyed the magnitude of that pain to Sicilia’s
parents through the sheer weight of the gold coins she gave them.
It was an event that casted a dark shadow
over our household.
And yet—as if to sweep away the memory of
that tragic incident—preparations for the meeting with the Mathis family were
proceeding without a hitch.
Our fathers were already on friendly terms,
and our mothers were acquaintances within social circles. Since we all knew one
another, it was decided that—rather than a stiff, formal meeting indoors—we
would enjoy a conversation over light refreshments in our garden.
Although the event centered on Lady Ilya
and myself, it was ultimately an interaction between our families, so our
parents' schedules naturally took precedence.
In any case, the preparations for such
gatherings with other families were typically spearheaded by the women, so I
simply had to wait for the day to arrive.
“Let's use this vase for that spot.”
Mother had the regular merchant bring a
selection of vases so she could handpick the perfect ones. She chose
tablecloths in subdued tones and floral arrangements that were elegant without
being overly showy; the tea set featured intricate craftsmanship—neither drab
nor ostentatious. She was meticulous about every detail, ensuring the
atmosphere upheld the dignity of the Marquis’s house without appearing
frivolous. Yet, there was a certain businesslike detachment to her manner.
Watching her, I felt a sense of relief; I did not want her pouring her heart
and soul into an occasion for anyone other than Sicilia.
And so, the day arrived.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is
Ilya il Mathis,” the new fiancée said with a modest greeting; she was a girl of
a completely different nature than Sicilia. Her downcast eyes were veiled by
long lashes, making it impossible to even discern the color of her irises.
Her cheeks appeared pale because she was,
quite literally, drained of color. It was painfully obvious just how nervous
she was.
It was a curious reaction, given that the
occasion was hardly a stiff or formal one—yet, considering the disparity in our
noble ranks, perhaps it was only natural.
When this engagement was first decided,
there were apparently those who voiced concerns about the vast disparity in our
noble ranks, but my father dismissed such objections. Admittedly, if one
factors in court rank, it could be considered a mismatch in status; however,
looking strictly at peerage titles, a union between a marquess’s family and a
count’s family was hardly unusual. In truth, there were few families of a
suitable standing with children of my age, so considering the various
circumstances, I was surely fortunate that things had progressed to this formal
introduction.
“It is a pleasure to meet you; I am Soleil
van Nortis.”
Her parents exuded a somewhat cool,
detached air. Given how well they seemed to get along with my own parents, I
surmised that they were individuals whose interests lay more in politics than
in family life—people deeply committed to their loyalty to the royal house.
As I idly observed Ilya’s parents, my
mother remarked, “What a lovely young lady she is.”
Calling her a “young lady” might be
considered a rather presumptuous way of speaking; furthermore, the
Marchioness—with her lips painted a vivid crimson and curved in a way that
could almost be intimidating—was a figure of imposing presence. Yet, the young
girl herself could not hide her delight, a blush rising to her cheeks. Seeing
her lips soften ever so slightly, I realized once again just how different she was
from Sicilia.
My former fiancée, who possessed a strong
sense of self-worth, was both beautiful and hardworking; consequently, she was
highly regarded by others. One might say she was accustomed to being praised.
She accepted compliments as a matter of course, gratefully making them her own.
There was no need for false modesty.
After all, the praise was simply the truth.
Sicilia would smile and say, “Thank you,” in response to any compliment. Such
behavior might easily have been labeled arrogant, yet her distinguished lineage
ensured she was forgiven for it all.
Perhaps she had possessed that haughty air
from the very moment she was born.
“You should eat too, Soleil.”
Perhaps because I had been sitting in stony
silence, seemingly lost in observation, I looked at the table when my mother
prompted me—only to find a plate of pastries there. Unlike that day, there were
no cookies arranged on it.
Suddenly, my gaze met that of Ilya, who was
sitting across from me.
In that fleeting moment, I clearly made out
her eyes: a pale green hue with golden floral patterns blooming within. It was
a rare coloration. Catching the soft sunlight, the light in her eyes seemed to
shimmer and shift whenever she moved her face.
I must have stared too intently; the girl
tilted her head in bewilderment, murmuring, “Um...” I smiled back at her, then
turned my gaze toward the pastry topped with stewed fruit. I had meant to
signal that it was alright to eat, but it seemed my intention hadn't quite come
across. So, to show her how it was done, I tore off a piece of the pastry and
put it in my mouth.
Before long, Ilya was stuffing a sweet bun
into her mouth, seemingly imitating my own actions. I found myself
imagining—however impossible the scenario—whether I might have guided a younger
sister in just this way.
It was immediately apparent that she was
unaccustomed to a setting like this; she seemed bewildered by everything around
her.
Even for someone born and raised in a
Count’s household, it was only natural to feel intimidated by the sheer scale
of a Marquis’s estate and mansion.
Amidst the adults animatedly discussing
high society, she didn't even seem to know the right moment to lift her teacup.
I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.
Ilya likely never wanted this engagement in
the first place; bewilderment and confusion clearly outweighed any sense of
joy.
Yet, the match was proceeding rapidly,
completely disregarding her feelings. Even though the decision had effectively
been made, the adults maintained an air of uncertainty—acting as if nothing
were truly settled—merely to gauge the other party's reaction.
They were, in truth, utterly self-serving.
“You are truly composed, Lord Soleil. You
are a far cry from my own daughter.”
“Oh, not at all.”
“As for Ilya... well, she wouldn't
embarrass us in public, but she still has plenty of room for improvement.”
There was no need to worry about adults who
appeared to be enjoying the conversation while actually just killing time with
empty chatter. Yet, despite this, Ilya kept glancing at her parents with a look
that betrayed a hint of fear.
She had surely been given strict
instructions regarding this tea party.
A marriage proposal involving a marquis’s
family carried that much weight. It was only because Sicilia was an exception
that things were different; in the presence of my parents, most people reacted
just as Ilya and her parents did. They heaped praise upon the Marquis and his
wife, extoled the virtues of the House, and strived to prove that they were
obedient and posed no threat.
Yet, considering our family's social
standing, perhaps that was only to be expected.
Just recently, my father had been summoned
by His Majesty the King; the extent of the trust placed in him was truly beyond
comprehension. As a Marquis, he currently oversaw a wide range of duties, with
a primary focus on diplomacy—a role his own father, my grandfather, had also
held. The House of Marquis Nortis was one of the few families that formed the
very core of the nation. Furthermore, because the Marchioness frequently appeared
in public alongside the Marquis, she inevitably became involved in politics as
well.
I looked at Ilya’s uncertain expression and
wondered: was she truly capable of such a task?
I had never felt a moment’s worry about
Sicilia, who always exuded confidence. She had been preparing herself with the
clear intention of eventually shouldering the full burden of the Marquis
family’s social obligations. Moreover, she enjoyed the Queen’s protection; with
the Royal Family backing her, there was simply no need to fret about the
future.
My family lost a great deal along with
Sicilia.
“Well then, we shall take our leave now. A
meal and some wine have been prepared for you in your room.”
With that said by my father, the gathering
broke up. After seeing the adults off as they returned to the mansion, I set
out for a stroll in the garden with Ilya. Thanks to the gardener’s meticulous
care, there were no overgrown weeds, making it easy to walk; the grass crunched
pleasantly underfoot. It was a shame, really—when the roses were in season, the
view was nothing short of spectacular.
I still hadn't made it to the gazebo. I
wondered if I would ever be able to enjoy tea there again.
Though, for the moment, I didn't feel up to
it.
As I walked along, lost in thought, I
spotted the patch where medicinal herbs were grown. Thinking it a good
opportunity to show it to Ilya, I turned around—only to find that a
considerable distance had opened up between us. Her long, voluminous skirt
seemed to be making it difficult for her to walk.
I started to go back to her, but hesitated.
Sicilia’s words echoed in his mind: “For
a woman, everything takes time.”
By nature, I was somewhat impatient, often
tending to rush others—and that was certainly the case with Sicilia. Precisely
because of her unique position as my fiancée, I had harbored a desire for her
to see things from my perspective and to stand on equal footing with me. I had
wanted her to walk at the same pace and with the same stride as me.
Though, it seems Sicilia was dissatisfied
with that.
—Ah, I shouldn't.
I’m thinking about her again.
“I... I apologize.”
Ilya’s cheeks were flushed pink from
finally catching up to me; she seemed a little out of breath. Yet, it was clear
she had hurried just to reach me.
“We supply some of the medicinal herbs
grown here to apothecaries.”
I went on to explain the specific
properties of each leaf.
“It was my grandfather's wish to contribute
to the advancement of medicine.”
“...Medicine?”
Ilya’s eyes widened, and she listened
intently. She gazed steadily at my face—as if determined not to miss a single
word—and asked questions on the spot whenever something wasn't clear.
It was a strange sensation.
I wondered how I looked reflected in Ilya’s
sparkling eyes.
For the first time, I found myself curious
about that.
Had there ever been anyone before who
listened to me with such evident delight?
I slowed my pace, trying as best I could to
match hers. Even so, a gap would open up now and then—and each time, my new
fiancée would hurry to catch up, unwilling to let me get away.
I see.
It seems that even if I turned my back on
her, she would follow me no matter what.
“Look, Soleil. It’s a white bird...!”
Although the Marquis’s garden was a
familiar sight to me, walking through it with a different companion revealed
new discoveries. Before I knew it, we had reached the pond located at the far
end of the grounds. Several waterfowl were floating there, playing by splashing
their wings against the water’s surface; the leaping droplets caught the
sunlight, shimmering with a rainbow of colors.
I rarely ventured this far out. Seeing her
point with a small finger—her cheeks softening into a smile as she excitedly
exclaimed, “I’ve never seen such a big bird before”—eased the tightness deep
within my chest.
As I drew in a breath, the clear breeze
seemed to flow through me, reaching all the way to my fingertips.
For the first time since losing Sicilia...
I felt like I could breathe easily again.
“...Oh.”
My eyes were captivated by the majestic
sight of birds taking flight. It seemed Ilya, standing beside me, was struck by
the same view. Watching them fly off together in a friendly flock, I saw a
reflection of our own future.
When Ilya’s fingertips unexpectedly brushed
against mine, I gently interlaced them with hers and spoke.
“Let's walk this path together.”
That’s right.
We’ll stay close and get along, from here
on out.
It was a childish vow, yet for me, it was a
solemn promise.
If I stay by her side, I can protect her.
To do that, our hearts must be truly connected. I have to stay close and keep
her safe from harm.
This time—without fail.
I will protect her.
I swear I won’t let her die.
