10 – The person known as Soleil Van Nortis in this lifetime – 2
“Everything that happens around you is
your responsibility—the good and the bad alike. It all comes to pass simply
because you are there.”
Long before I was even born, a fiancée had
been chosen for me by my family.
Her name was Sicilia. She had pale, golden
hair—almost white—and always wore a gentle, smiling expression. She was a
precocious, talkative girl who truly listened to what I had to say. Come to
think of it, I believe she was my first love.
I remember being overjoyed when my father
told me, “In the future, you will marry Sicilia and uphold the Marquis house.”
I had looked forward to the life we would
share, filled with hope and expectation.
And yet... the ideals I held in my heart
and the dreams I had envisioned were destined to vanish like a fleeting mist.
It happened when I was six years old.
It took place during one of the regular tea
parties I shared with Sicilia.
*
It was my father who had the gazebo built
in a corner of the marquis family's expansive garden. My mother loved gazing at
the roses there, so he decided that if she was going to spend time in that
spot, she might as well do so in comfort under a roof; he had craftsmen come in
to construct it.
Although it was essentially a private
retreat for my mother, it was decided that the tea party with Sicilia would
take place in this gazebo.
We usually met indoors, but we chose to
follow the suggestion that, for a change of pace, it would be nice to enjoy tea
under the open sky. Naturally, it was my mother who had proposed the idea.
While her refined features gave her a stern
air, she possessed a flexible mindset and a cheerful side.
“It has been a long time, Lord Soleil.”
Sicilia offered a bow that was the very
picture of propriety, so I followed suit.
With maids and attendants looking on, we
sat facing each other and began by sharing news of our recent lives.
My fiancée told me in great detail about
her lessons, explaining how difficult things were now that she had just begun
her training as a lady. Though the information was of no practical use to me,
her lovely voice was a delight to the ears, and a smile naturally escaped me.
I felt as though I could listen to her
speak forever.
The thought made my expression soften once
more.
Before long, I reached for a cookie from
the plate set on the table. I remembered how much Sicilia loved these
particular treats.
She never simply bit into them—deeming such
a thing unrefined—but instead would gently place one between her lips to eat.
Her large, expressive eyes would reveal the irrepressible joy she felt the
moment the crisp cookie touched her mouth. I loved watching her face when she
did that.
So, I yielded my share and told her to go
ahead and eat it.
At first, she hesitated, but knowing just
how stubborn I can be, she eventually reached out.
Even then, she asked, “Are you sure?” so I
urged her to eat.
Being the heir to a marquis’s house means
people often show me a deference that isn't really necessary—something I find a
bit of a nuisance.
“I absolutely love this.”
Her rosy cheeks looked round and adorable.
Seeing her smile made me happy, too.
After all, life in a marquis's household was
bound by so many rules that, at times, it felt suffocating just to breathe.
“Then, if you'll excuse me...” she said,
and I watched her fingertips as she parted her lips slightly. Perhaps her nails
were rounded because she played the piano; I had heard her progress was so
remarkable that even her teacher was astounded.
“It smells wonderful.”
I had been watching her closely—waiting for
the day I might hear her play—observing every detail: the way a rounded edge of
the cookie broke off, the way Sicilia chewed it, and the way her throat bobbed
as she swallowed.
And then...
Her large eyes widened even further, and
the veins in her neck stood out.
“?”
Making a strange sound, she arched her
upper body back. Her chin tilted upward, and she let out a soft groan.
At that moment, I thought she was choking
on her food.
I realized otherwise only when an escort
knight—who had been standing several meters away—rushed into the gazebo and
scooped me up.
The steward knocked over the chair Sicilia
had been sitting in. In that instant, she spilled a pool of red liquid onto the
ground.
It was then that I realized she had vomited
blood.
Sicilia—I
tried to call her name, but no voice came out.
As I was shifted in my knight’s arms, his
shoulder blocked my view. Yet, the world spilling out from beyond that barrier
still forced its way into my sight.
Her hair fanned out across the ground as
she writhed in agony; her small, trembling fingers clawed at the earth—digging
in as if clinging to life itself—while her legs thrashed wildly.
She was trying to convey something, but the
people around us kept their distance, afraid to approach.
“It’s poison! It might be spreading through
her blood.”
I have to help her. Someone... save
her...
“You must not look, Soleil.”
I didn't know who had spoken.
“Someone! Call a physician!” That shout
from the steward was the last thing I heard before my consciousness faded away.
I call out to her in the pitch black
darkness.
Sicilia.
Don't die.
“----Lady Sicilia has passed away.”
My mother said this to me when I woke up in
my bed. Judging by the red color at the corners of her eyes, it was obvious
that she had been crying a while ago. Even so, my mother never showed any
weakness.
The sound of my heart was so loud that I
wanted to cover my ears, but my body didn't move at all. Even though I was
lying down, I could feel the blood draining somewhere.
“Everything that happens around you is your
responsibility.”
A cold voice rained down upon me.
It was true. After all, back then... I was
the one who urged her. Even though I was supposed to eat it first, I told her
she could go ahead.
“Good things and bad alike—everything
happens simply because you are there.”
That is both the responsibility and the
destiny of the Marquis family's heir. That is why you must never let your guard
down.
Even in the face of tragedy, she sought to
turn the situation to her advantage, demonstrating what it meant to be the heir
to the Marquis house.
“Yes,” I nod, my voice devoid of emotion,
sounding as if it belonged to someone else.
It’s my fault.
It was my fault.
Sicilia’s small hand grasping the
cookie—that image kept flashing back to me.
As did the way her lips had curved into a
happy smile.
In all likelihood, I was the one whose life
was being targeted. After all, there was only a single plate of sweets on the
table, and given the order of precedence, I naturally should have been the
first to partake.
In other words, she died in my stead.
“Then, Mother... Sicilia died because of
me, didn't she?”
There was no reply. There was only her
gaze, fixed steadily upon my face. She seemed to be biting her lip, as if
holding something back—though I did not know what it was she was suppressing.
“Sicilia died because I was there, didn't
she?”
And from that day on...
I was plagued by nightmares. Whether asleep
or awake, thoughts of her constantly crossed my mind.
So, I strove to distract myself by focusing
on using my mind as much as possible. I read countless volumes from the Marquis
family's library—working through them one by one, from start to finish. Of
course, there were many characters I could not read and words I could not
understand, yet the books served their purpose more than well enough to keep my
mind off things.
From before dawn until well past midnight—I
did nothing but hold my pen.
“Young Master, please take a moment to
rest.”
The steward spoke with a tone of concern.
It was perfect timing. He had promised that
if I expressed a desire to learn swordsmanship, he would arrange it with a knight—even
if he found the request puzzling.
True to his word, he brought a familiar
knight to see me a few days later.
There was still plenty of time before I was
due to enter the academy; I would use this interim period for training. If I
pushed both my mind and body to the limit, the resulting exhaustion would
finally allow me to sleep.
Without doing that, I simply couldn't
sleep.
I wonder what the last conversation I had
with Sicilia was about.
She loved paintings and enjoyed looking at
the art displayed in the Marquis’s estate. I remember how happily she spoke of
viewing every single painting in my family’s collection once we were married.
When I told her that—since some pieces weren't on public display—it would take
quite a bit of time to see them all, she simply replied that we had all the
time in the world.
That is what she said.
“It will be enough if I can see them all
before I die.”
Several paintings adorned the reception
room where she and I used to share tea, yet she passed away without ever truly
pausing to admire them.
The painting my mother cherished above all
others was a portrait of a young girl, painstakingly rendered by a renowned
artist. The girl stood with a multitude of shoes arrayed at her feet, unable to
decide which pair to wear—a depiction, I believe, of how an excess of choices
can leave one unable to choose anything at all.
Come to think of it, she reminded me of
Sicilia.
Sicilia had so many passions; every time we
met, her interests had shifted to something new. That was precisely why I loved
listening to her talk.
It was a year later that an end finally
came to those days spent merely whiling away the time, lost in such thoughts.
“……A fiancée?”
“That’s right.”
My father’s study. The master of the
house—with whom I had exchanged words only a handful of times—brought up the
subject while attending to his work.
The steward standing behind him handed him
a document—I could not tell what it was. Father glanced over it—or perhaps he didn't
really look at it at all—and set it aside at the edge of his desk. Then, he was
handed another paper. This time, it appeared he intended to sign it; he dipped
the nib of his fountain pen into the ink.
“Sicilia has only just passed away.”
I knew that speaking up would be futile,
yet I could not simply offer no resistance. Even though the final decision did
not rest with me—as was the case with this matter—that did not mean I lacked an
opinion of my own. To submit meekly would be no different from the behavior of
a mere servant; one could hardly call such a person an heir.
If I remained silent, a new fiancée would
be chosen for me in the blink of an eye. That, at least, was something I wanted
to avoid.
“We cannot simply leave the position of
your fiancée vacant indefinitely. You understand that, don't you?”
I gazed at my father’s neatly groomed black
hair; he didn't spare me even a fleeting glance. Since he was looking down at
his work, I couldn’t read his expression at all. Instead, I felt the steward’s
gaze pricking at me like needles.
“Yes,” I replied, all the while searching
for a way out—not a physical escape route, but a way to navigate this
conversation to a conclusion.
“There were several candidates, but it
looks like it will be the Mathis family.”
“The Mathis family?” The name sounds
unfamiliar.
“It is Lady Ilya. A meeting is scheduled
soon.”
“...Huh?”
It was so sudden
that I was left dumbfounded, unable to utter a word. It was far too soon. A
formal introduction meant that this engagement was already a settled matter. “F-Father...”
I had meant to ask for a moment, but instead, I was urged to leave with the
words, “That is all.” When I remained rooted to the spot, the command came
again, sharper this time: “Leave.”
It felt as though
my feet were nailed to the intricately patterned carpet. I could not move a
muscle; my mind was spinning in a chaotic whirl. Faced with such absolute
authority, I could not summon a single word of objection.
“Young Master...”
Eventually, I left the room, supported by the butler.
I was gasping for
breath.
It was
suffocating.
“Young Master,
please pull yourself together.”
The steward went
out of his way to kneel so that our eyes would meet. In a quiet voice, he told
me that while he sympathized regarding Lady Sicilia, our house had no time left
to spare.
He revealed that
this matter reflected the will of the King himself. Faced with this truth, I
found myself with nowhere left to turn; I realized that no escape route had
ever been prepared for me.
Sicilia hailed
from a noble lineage of the highest order—and for good reason. Her mother was a
distant relative of the Queen. The two women had been close since childhood,
and the Queen had evidently doted on Sicilia as well. The union between Sicilia
and myself had been arranged to strengthen the ties between the Marquisate and
the Royal Family—or rather, to bind the Marquisate firmly to the Crown—and to
solidify Sicilia’s own standing.
Yet, in an
unthinkable turn of events, she was murdered by someone within my own
household.
The poison had
likely been intended for me, but it was Sicilia who ultimately lost her life.
In short, this was a blunder on the part of
the Marquis’s house. The Queen was plunged into deep sorrow, and it is said
that His Majesty the King made no secret of his fury.
That my father was spared from having to
personally shoulder the blame was due entirely to his past achievements as
Marquis. His standing as a member of the Council of Elders also worked in his
favor.
However...
That did not mean there were no
repercussions.
It seemed that others were held accountable
for this incident—people whose fates were decided without my knowledge. Several
servants of our household were made to bear the blame.
The head chef, the cooks, the maid who
prepared the sweets and tea, the housemaids, the footmen present at the scene,
and the guards.
Every single one of them was executed.
I hadn't realized.
I had noticed that there were certain maids
and attendants I hadn't seen lately, of course. The Marquis's estate was vast,
and the servants were always bustling about; consequently, the same faces weren't
always around me—though that didn't apply to the senior staff. Only a few were
assigned to look after me, a child; the rest were occupied with duties for the
estate and my parents.
So, it hadn't struck me as odd not to see
them for a few days.
“If a fiancée is not secured for Lord
Soleil, bloodshed will inevitably follow as others vie for that position. My
master is deeply concerned about this. Should these blunders continue, he will
be forced to take responsibility.”
“...”
“The head of the Mathis family and my
master have long been close associates, so there will be no issues whatsoever.”
“No issues?”
“Yes.”
“I have heard that Lady Ilya is a highly
intelligent young lady. So, please set your mind at ease.”
“At ease?”
“Yes.”
No problem? ————— For whom?
Peace of mind? ————— For whom?
Sicilia died because of me. Why, then, was
I not required to take responsibility?
Wasn't I the one who should have borne the
guilt?
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