Chapter 68

 9 – Marianne’s Truth – 7

 

It was raining.

 

Looking out the school window, I saw a cloudy sky that looked as if the wind had blown away ashes. Below it stretched the humid garden.

I wondered if Ruby completed her journey safely. I couldn't even know if she was alright. With a feeling of my heart being gripped, I vaguely followed the raindrops.

“…Lady Marianne?”

My friend, who was walking beside me, noticed me stopping and turned around.

“Would you go on ahead?”

The next class was foreign languages. The academy invites teachers from various countries, and students can choose the language they want to learn. They can choose as many as time allows, so most choose two languages, but I believe Ilya attended many more classes. I've heard that members of the Marquis family can speak three languages, so she inevitably needs to acquire multiple languages ​​as well.

She, too, will eventually play an important role in governing this country. Diplomacy is one of the important duties of the Marquis family.

 

As for me...

 

I wonder what I’ll become. I thought of my friend who had to graduate from the academy earlier than anyone else around her. Although she was accompanied by bodyguards, she went alone to a place far away from here. To become someone's partner means to bear half of someone's life on your shoulders.

“...”

I stood frozen in the empty corridor. With a big sigh, the rain seemed to be getting heavier.

Then, I suddenly noticed someone standing in the corridor on the other side of the garden. It was hard to see because they were in the shadow of the pillars lined up at equal intervals, but they were definitely there. Several people passed by nearby, chatting, but no one noticed that person. It was just that their position made them easily visible from this corridor. They were undoubtedly hiding.

As I watched, I saw familiar black hair fluttering in the wind.

 

... ...Lord Soleil?

 

He was standing with his arms crossed and his head bowed. At first glance, he seemed to be hiding, but also waiting for someone.

The men who passed by earlier were from the Knights' Division, so if there was someone else he had to wait for, it would probably be Edward. I moved closer to the window to get a better look, but the pouring rain was obstructing my view. He was on the other side of the garden surrounding a small fountain, so I couldn't quite see what expression he was making.

And then, at that moment...

Turning the corner of the corridor, I saw a woman walking towards me. She was walking quickly, as if in a hurry.

“...Lady Ilia,”

I murmured, then stopped myself, swallowing my words.

Ilya probably hadn't noticed Soleil yet. She was standing tall, but her gaze was lowered as usual. The sheer number of books she was carrying in front of her chest made my heart ache, realizing she must have no time to rest. If it was like this even within the academy, it wasn't hard to imagine how intensely she worked when she returned to the mansion.

 

When did it all begin, and when would it end?

 

I worry whether it's really necessary to go that far, but no one knows the answer. If anyone knows, it's only her.

If only we had overlapping language classes, even just one, I could have found a reason to talk to her.

Unfortunately, we didn't have any overlapping classes. It's also a matter of my own motivation. Since it didn't seem like something I'd need in the future, I chose a language that was close to my native tongue and easy to learn, purely as a hobby.

“...,” Life doesn't always go as planned.

I've been thinking that especially lately.

The future I envisioned as a child must have been much brighter. But...

“Ah,”

While I was thinking that, someone approached Soleil and called out to him. It was Edward. As I thought, he was waiting for him after all. ...Although I understood that, they stayed there for a while, seemingly deep in conversation.

Soleil nudged Edward's shoulder and pointed down the corridor. He was probably telling him to go ahead.

It was only natural, as the next class was about to begin. However, he didn't move, as if resisting.

Just then, Ilya happened to pass by.

Of course, they called out to her, but it seemed the one who spoke wasn’t Soleil but Edward.

Ilya turned to face her fiancé and his friend, bowed slightly, exchanged a few words with them, and then quickly left.

Soleil and Edward watched her retreating figure.

 

... ... I didn't really understand what he wanted. As I tilted my head in confusion, Edward, apparently disappointed, shrugged his shoulders and walked away alone in the direction Ilya had come from. However, Soleil remained there for a while, continuing to watch his receding fiancée.

“?”

The strange thing was what happened afterward.

Soleil turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction from Edward. In other words, as if following Ilya.

But then, mercilessly, the signal for class to begin sounded. Ilya would definitely attend class, so it was clear that they wouldn't meet up or talk after this.

In conclusion.

 

“...He was waiting for Lady Ilya.”

 

Understanding the situation, I realized I couldn't afford to linger and hurried off to my next class.

Did Soleil have some business with Ilya? The mystery remained, but I would never know the answer.

I wasn’t their friend.

 

I couldn't become their friend.

 

**********

 

Does misfortune really come so quietly? Or was its shadow visible all along, and I just didn't notice it?

 

Even if we couldn't become friends, I at least wanted to escape the position of being complete strangers. With that thought in mind, I decided that my mother was the only one I could talk to, and that's when my father said to me:

 

“Your mother is ill.”

 

At first, I simply thought she had just caught a cold. I figured she'd be better soon. But my father seemed much more serious, his demeanor much more somber. The furrow between his eyebrows spoke volumes.

“What's wrong?”

Even when I asked, I didn't get a clear answer.

He hesitated, and his eyes, usually so sharp they would make me flinch, wandered, making me realize the situation was quite serious.

Come to think of it, she hadn't shown up for dinner lately. But that wasn't particularly unusual. As the mistress of our household, being in high demand for evening gatherings was actually quite an honor.

In any case, there was nothing I could do to help, even though I worried she might be tired.

I was always impressed by how she always fulfilled her duties late into the night.

And yet...

Could it be that she was feeling unwell...?

 

“Since when?”

As soon as I returned from the academy, my father, who was unusually home at that time, came out to the entrance hall, but it didn't seem to be out of love. He seemed to be in a great hurry.

He was so flustered that I had no choice but to accept, albeit with some skepticism, the fact that my mother was ill.

I looked up at him, clinging to his seemingly reliable chest, and he said,

“Actually, she's been sick for quite some time. But because she's the kind of person she is, she didn't want to show her weakness. So I kept it a secret from you.”

I knew my mother's character. That's why I understood my father's point of view.

But whether I could accept it was a completely different matter.

The steward, who was standing nearby, certainly knew about my mother, and presumably the higher-ranking servants were aware of it too. Anger welled up before sadness at the fact that I hadn't been informed of something so important.

And yet, my body temperature wasn't rising; it was dropping. My vision blurred, and my chest ached.

I was overwhelmed by an inexplicable emotion that I couldn't even explain.

“She'll get better, won't she? What did the doctor say?”

My father's large hands stroked my head, then moved to cup my cheeks. Those hands, usually so reassuring, somehow stirred up anxiety.

My father's handsome face, kind yet dignified, came closer and he brushed my forehead against his. I remembered him doing that when I was little and he took my temperature.

Even when I was sick, vulnerable, and lonely, it was comforting.

That's why, even without a clear answer from him, I understand it myself.

 

Mother is dying.

 

“Marianne. Come here.”

 

A voice called from beyond the canopy, and I quietly approached. Thinking about it, it had been two weeks since I'd even seen her face.

My mother, leaning against a large cushion and her body half-raised, was a little thinner, but still as radiant as ever, even the dimly lit room working to her advantage. Her beauty was so overwhelming I could barely look at her directly.

As I climbed onto the bed, her arms greeted me, and I leaned my face against her chest. On the bedside table beside the bed, which didn't budge even with our combined weight, a small but magnificent clock ticked away.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Each time I heard the sound, and with each tick, my mother's life was diminishing.

How much longer is left?

“You look so downcast,”

Her voice was hoarse. My father, sometimes joking with my mother who was surprisingly talkative, would say, “You're a little bird that sings a lot,” to which she would retort sarcastically, “You're a silent tiger, aren't you?” They would look at each other and laugh, seemingly enjoying themselves.

I’m going to lose that ordinary, unremarkable everyday life.

 

“Are you going to leave me behind, Mother?”

 

As I spoke, the words seemed to take shape and sink into reality. The world was fading, yet this wasn't a lie, nor a dream.

“Yes, that's how it usually is. Parents usually finish their lives before their children.”

I'm just leaving a little early. Her red lips curved softly.

 

“Why? Why would you, Mother?”

 

I feel like I could stomp my feet like a little child. I want to scream and cry, maddened by things not going my way. I won't allow this to happen. Absolutely, absolutely not. Why, why...

It's so painful, like my throat is being squeezed. I'm sobbing even though I'm not crying.

Then, unable to hold it in any longer, a single tear rolls down my cheek and falls onto the sheets.

“No. Absolutely not. It'll be alright, won't it? It'll be okay, won't it?”

I cling to her, sinking myself into her bony body. Then, “Oh dear,” the flower of high society, enveloped in the elegant fragrance of a collection of white lilies, smiled wryly. I believed that with her by my side, there was nothing I couldn't achieve.

I truly believed that if she taught me, I could even fly.

 

“You already understand, don't you, Marianne? In this world, no matter how much you wish, sometimes your desires just won't come true. Effort is certainly not wasted, and the process of what you've done is very important. But that doesn't mean you can have everything. Sometimes the results don't follow.”

“...”

She spoke as if she had seen me at the academy.

“I understand. I had a girlhood just like yours.”

Having said that much, she picked up the glass on the tray by the bedside, apparently thirsty. Her gesture was polite, but her fingers seemed to be trembling. She quickly gripped it again, pretending it was nothing, but she couldn't hide it.

 

“Marianne. You know, people gain a lot in their lives, and at the same time, they lose a lot of things. That's what living is all about.”

“---I don't want to lose anything.”

Ilya and Ruby's faces appear in my increasingly distorted vision. And in front of me is my mother's face, its outline blurred and indistinct. They're all gone.

 

“You have to connect with someone to have a relationship with them. If you live with someone, you can't do it without losing something. You give, you have things taken away, you lose, and then you receive. It's okay to lose things. Even if you lose, something remains,” my mother assured me.

“...What is that something that remains?”

 

“Even if I lose my life, I will always continue to love you.”

Even if you suffer in the future, don't forget. You are protected by my love.

Saying this, she kissed my forehead, as if bestowing a blessing.

“But I need mother's hands. Stay close to me and hold me.”

I must look utterly pathetic. I was truly unbearable to look at.

“In that case, Marianne, when the time comes, close your eyes. Even if I’ve lost my body, you will know that your mother is still by your side.”

It sounds like something out of a storybook. The reason why separation by death is so heartbreaking is because we know we'll never see each other again. Imagination can't possibly fill the void left by someone we've lost. Even so...

For now, all I can do is cling to my mother's words.

Even if our bodies perish, our hearts will never be separated.

 

“Mother,”

“Yes?”

“I love you. I adore you. ...Please don't go,”

 

Please don't go.

 

And so, a week later, my mother passed away.

 

Despite being such a flamboyant person, her funeral was conducted very solemnly. Only a small number of relatives and close friends gathered at the church. Apparently, this was my mother's own wish.

It was just like her, a proud woman. In a world where it's common to have extravagant funerals to show off one's authority, it makes sense that my mother, who insisted on something “unique” and “her own,” chose a simple funeral.

My father probably wanted an overly grand and solemn ceremony, but in the end, he granted the wishes of his beloved. I know that the reason he ordered such elaborate carvings on the coffin, at the very least, was because he wanted to prepare something that would suit my mother best.

 

“Marianne, have you said goodbye to your mother?”

 

After the funeral, the coffin, suspended by ropes, sinks into a deep pit.

She's all alone in a place like that. I wondered if she won’t be lonely.

 

“Father, Mother said she would always be with me. So I don't want to say goodbye.”

“Oh, is that so? That's a problem.”

“?”

“She belongs to me. She's always by my side.”

 

My father winked, and I wondered what kind of reaction he was expecting.

“You're a terrible father. I'm sorry, but mother loves me the most.”

“Oh dear.”

I sensed a faint laugh beside me, and after a brief pause, I heard stifled sobs.

“To leave father behind... That's not like you, Mother...”

After sand was dropped into the hole, mother fell into an eternal sleep. Those soft fingertips will never caress my cheek again.

Even so.

If I close my eyes, I can feel my mother there.

 

Some time later.

My father welcomed a woman and a boy into our home.

 

 

Chapter 67

Nocta's comment: 

The chapter begins with rain and ends with a funeral... and just when you thought it couldn't get any more depressing, surprise! Infidelity (Or not, wait for the next chapter, drama and mysteries incoming)