Chapter 69

 9 – Marianne’s Truth – 8

 

Seeing the boy with his smoky, golden-brown hair, I felt a sense of déjà-vu.

 

“He looks just like you, father.”

 

A woman, probably around my mother's age, looked flustered and hastily waved both hands in front of her face. She seemed to be trying to deny it.

 

“...What can I say, Father? Is it alright to say I'm disappointed, or that I'm furious?”

My father had strictly instructed me to make time for him on my days off, so I thought he had something important to tell me, but this is what I get.

 

In the first place, the household servants had been acting strangely since morning. They were restless and uneasy.

The steward, in particular, was like that. He stayed by my father's side during breakfast, but as soon as the serving began, he left and didn't show his face again afterward.

I thought everyone was busy with matters related to my father's work, so I strolled around the garden to wait, but when the appointed time arrived, no one came to call me.

When I asked the maid, she replied that father had instructed me to wait in my room. I kept myself busy by doing some embroidery while checking the clock. I had decided not to read a book today, as I wanted to rest my mind.

By the time the attendant finally came to fetch me, it was half an hour past the agreed-upon time.

“I wonder if my father is busy?”

“It seems so.”

I had fully expected to be led to my father's study or office, but the attendant led me into the reception room.

“Are we awaiting a guest?”

The room was tidy, but no one was there yet.

As I was tidying myself up, assuming they must be important guests, two figures peeked out from behind a screen at the back of the room. It was a mother and son, clearly invited from the common people.

When our eyes met, I swiftly tensed my body and stepped forward.

The woman's clothes, which seemed hastily prepared, suggested their arrival at the mansion was unexpected. They didn't fit properly; the waist was a little loose, and the hem was too short. The boy's clothes were new, but his shoes were dirty. There was something oddly mismatched about them.

Just as I was about to step forward to offer my greetings, father entered the room.

 

“Now, now, calm down, Marianne. I'll introduce you properly, so please sit down first. You two, it's alright, so don't be scared.”

As my father, maintaining his composed demeanor, sat down on the sofa, the woman followed, bowing her head and timidly sitting beside him. Then the boy sat down.

“You look just like father and son,” I muttered, half sarcastically, half honestly, as I sat down opposite them.

The woman was undoubtedly a complete stranger, so of course she didn't resemble my father. But what about the boy? Being the same sex, he resembled my father far more than I did. It was hard to believe they weren't related by blood.

“Marianne,”

I turned my head to the low, critical voice, and father pointedly said, “That's not the behavior of a lady.”

However, it was difficult to act pleasantly in this situation. Putting my true feelings aside, I thought I should apologize, and just as I was about to open my mouth, a voice so small it was almost a whisper came from directly in front of me: “...I'm sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize,” the master of the house said, turning a sour face towards the woman beside him. From the tone of voice, it seemed they weren't strangers. Yet, they didn't seem particularly close either.

“Father is right. The problem must be with me.”

While we were having this bland conversation, the maid, with a nonchalant expression, placed a plate of sweets and a teacup on the table. Seeing her glance, as if she was observing the guests' movements, I could tell that this hospitality hadn't been prepared in advance.

 

What would my mother have said if she were here?

 

“Actually, there's something I've kept from you all this time.”

After sending all the servants out of the room, he suddenly became serious and began.

The air was so tense I could barely breathe. It had been a long time since I'd felt this kind of atmosphere. Since my mother's death, my father had been incredibly tolerant, almost to the point of being frightening.

I wish my mother were here. I'm sure she would have been on my side.

 

“---I'm not the official heir to this house.”

 

I was so taken aback by what he said that I forgot to even nod and just stared at the head of my household.

“Marianne?”

“...I was so surprised I couldn't speak. ...What did you just say?”

“I'm not the official heir to this house.”

“...Eh, oh...I thought so. That's what you said, right? I didn't mishear you.”

I picked up the teacup with trembling fingers. The tea, with berries at the bottom, calmed my slightly turbulent heart.

My father, who had probably been waiting for me to calm down, began to speak slowly after a moment.

“I have an older brother, two years older than me.”

“...That's the first I've heard of it.”

“Yes, I never told you.”

“There is no such person in the portraits in the mansion. I have never met him either.”

“That's right. You have never met him. However, as for the portrait...it's not that there isn't one.”

“There is one?”

“Yes, there is. It's just hidden.”

“...Is that so?”

My throat tightened, and I was unable to speak.

“And besides...”

I answered "Yes," wondering what he was going to say, when he suddenly announced, “There's a possibility that the portrait you think is of me isn't actually me.”

“Huh?” I let a foolish exclamation escape my mouth.

 

It was such a strange story. Disturbed, I glanced beside my father. The woman with simple features tilted her head. Her earnest attempt to smile was almost pitiable. Her amber hair fell softly onto her shoulders, and for some reason, the image of my mother appeared there. The woman with the same hair color as mine.

 

Seeing my lack of concentration, he prefaced his story by saying, “It's not that difficult,” before continuing what could be called the misfortune that had befallen this house.

“I was fifteen when my brother disappeared. At first, we suspected it was a kidnapping. But no one came forward to ask for a ransom, no matter how long we waited.”

“That's terrible.”

“It was. ...Well, we later found out that he had run away of his own free will.”

“...To think such a thing happened?”

“This is a huge blunder and a scandal for our family. It's unprecedented for an heir to run away when we're entrusted with the territory by His Majesty the King.”

“Yes.”

“After much thought, my parents, panicked by the situation, came to the conclusion that they should put a stand-in in place.”

“Huh...?”

I knew my reply was rather clumsy. But right now, I didn't have the luxury of trying to save face.

 

“Perhaps he wasn't thinking straight when faced with the possibility of losing his heir. My father came to talk to me. He said, “The one who had disappeared is you.”

“...I don't understand.”

“Of course not," the man nodded deeply, and urged my (prospective?) younger brother, who was huddled at the edge of the sofa, “There are cookies too. You like them, don't you? Have some.” “Y-yes,” the boy replied and reached for the biscuit on the table. Father watched him protectively, then rebuked me, “Don't stare at him like that, you’ll scare him,” so I looked back to the center of the sofa.

“I was just looking because he was so cute,” I blurted out, and I heard a gasp, but I didn't know who did it.

 

“And then, Father? Please continue.”

“Ah, yes. Right... In other words, I took my brother's place.”

“...What do you mean, 'in other words'? I don't understand at all. So, if you're impersonating your brother, then what about you, Father? Does that mean you yourself have gone missing?”

“Well, that's about it. For the time being, we made up a story that I was secluded in a separate residence, supposedly recuperating from an illness. ---I think my father originally intended to find my brother eventually. At first, he suspected it was a kidnapping, and he apparently searched frantically. After about a year, my father finally gave up.”

If he had a son whose whereabouts were unknown, could he really give up so easily?

Perhaps my doubts were visible on my face, because my father replied, “Yes.”

 

“My brother’s diary was found. It chronicled the struggles of a child born as the heir to a count's family. And it also mentioned his plan to run away with the help of an acquaintance.”

 

The last page apparently contained farewell words to his parents (that is, my grandparents).

 

“In the end, I remained under my brother's identity. The real me died at the place where I was recuperating.”

“---,”

Is that even permissible?

 

No, it's not permissible. That would be a betrayal of His Majesty the King. But if the legitimate heir is lost, a succession dispute is inevitable. My grandfather had two younger brothers, and frankly, he didn't get along well with them. As far as I know, they had repeatedly asked for money, and they had argued over the inheritance. They've been excommunicated now, though.

“But surely, if people switched places, those around them would notice, right?”

A two-year age difference in their teens is significant. If their faces were different, their physiques would have been different too.

“Well, you see, my brother and I look so alike, like twins. For some reason, our height and weight were about the same. That must have been a burden for my brother.”

If he had the same physique as his younger brother, who was two years younger, he must have been considerably more slender and smaller than the other young men his age. It wouldn't be surprising if he felt inferior.

 

“May I say something, Father?”

“What is it?”

“Father and Uncle... I don't know if I should call him that, but putting that aside, even if switching places was unavoidable considering your circumstances, isn't it still a bit too much?”

The fact that my father's existence was erased because of it seems incredibly cruel.

To be alive, yet dead...?

 

“But you know, I... I was fine with it. In fact, I was more pleased to be able to take my brother's place.”

“What do you mean?”

Because my brother's fiancée was your mother..

My father smiled, a smile that seemed to show embarrassment, or perhaps a wry smile, or maybe he was just shy.

 

The fiancée of his brother who he had secretly longed for all this time became his partner.

“I had never considered my own birth to be unfortunate, but I had envied my brother's circumstances. Compared to me, who still didn't have a fiancée, my brother had someone chosen for him from birth.”

“They got along well, so I had met her many times. She was strikingly beautiful and proud. She was intelligent, and while not kind to everyone, she was incredibly sweet to those she trusted. At the time, her extraordinary beauty was already the talk of society, but that wasn't what attracted me to her. What drew me in was her inner self.”

 

He spoke of her in a singing voice, as if he were flaunting his devotion.

 

“Um, so, what exactly am I being told?”

When I couldn't help but interrupt, my father smiled.

“I'm saying that I chose this myself.”

“...I see,”

“I desperately wanted your mother. I wanted her so badly that I could practically reach out for her. So even if it meant my existence would disappear from this world, it didn't matter to me. Compared to her becoming mine, my own disappearance was insignificant."

 

This was an unbelievable story.

I no longer understood what he's talking about. I might just be listening to the story of how my parents met. I should be hearing a story about someone disappearing from this world, yet my father is processing it as if it were just small talk, as if it were nothing significant.

Since this isn't getting us anywhere,

 

“So? How does that story connect to these two people?”

 

I asked directly. Silence fell immediately.

“It's hard to imagine father, who cherishes mother so much, doing something disloyal, but that boy's face proves it.”

The mother and son exchanged awkward glances.

“Um," the boy began, speaking first. “It seems you've misunderstood, so let me correct you.”

I was impressed that he spoke so clearly, given his timid demeanor, when the woman sitting beside him subtly but firmly flicked his knee with her fingertip and said, “...Stop it!”

Indeed.

His words and actions might be inappropriate in this situation.

Putting me aside, my father holds the title of Earl, so disrespectful behavior from a commoner is punishable.

However.

If he were my father's son, that wouldn't be the case.

 

“Yes, you be quiet.”

I looked at my father's face as he said this sharply. He was usually incredibly lenient with his family, so this was a very cold response.

“Father?”

When I called out to him, his face suddenly softened into a gentle smile. It was a frighteningly two-faced nature.

“Well, there's no point in keeping you waiting any longer. I'll tell you the truth.”

 

This child is my brother's child.

 

“And he is the legitimate heir to this house. The reason this child and I look alike is because my brother and I look alike.”

 

A breeze suddenly sweeps across my back. It feels like I've been thrown onto the cobblestones in the bitter cold of midwinter.

Mother.

Unconsciously, I call out the name of my beloved mother and search for her.

I didn't often come to this room to entertain guests, but I know where my mother used to sit. She would sit on the sofa, politely entertaining her guests and chatting with them.

She laughed like tinkling bells. Everyone was captivated.

Now, a woman I didn’t know sits there.

 

“I understand now.”

 

My mother is nowhere to be found anymore. Even when I close my eyes, only darkness spreads. She always told me she was by my side, but I know she's not really here anymore. That's why I have to face this alone now.

 

“Why is my fiancé Eva, from a Baron’s family?”

 

I don't dislike Evan. I thought we got along well, but he's a little lacking as a partner for the daughter of the Earl's first-ranking family. This isn't so much my own feeling, but rather something I'd heard repeatedly from others, so I vaguely felt there might be some truth to it.

 

My dissatisfaction grew, fueled by their comments.

 

The more my parents cherished me, the more I wondered “why?”

If they truly cared for their daughter, they would choose someone more suitable for the Earl's family. That would be better for him too, wouldn't it? Dealing with a higher-ranking family is difficult, after all.

And yet...

My father said there was no one else more fitting than Evan.

 

“Yes, I thought you, being so intelligent, would understand that soon enough.”

Chapter 68

 

 

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                                                           Chapter 69

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)