“Do you love her?”
Eric answered my question, “…She’s sick, Brote. Ariel is sick. She doesn’t have much time left. She… needs me.”
I always knew his kindness would someday return to me as poison. Yet knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Just one day. She asked me to stay with her for just one day. That’s all.”
“…Alright.”
You surely noticed the long silence that stretched between us before my answer came. Yet when you grasped my hands and said, “I knew you’d understand,” what could I possibly say?
That one day became a week, then a month.
Just like in the book, you left my side. Like it was predetermined, like fate. So easily. So casually.
Father was furious about the meaningless seven-year engagement that never reached marriage.
Before rumors could further diminish my value, he decided to sell me off.
“You will marry Duke Winter.”
To the seventy-year-old Duke who had devoured five wives.
And unlike Brote in the book, I accepted my father’s wishes.
***
“Brote Veritatis. Have you completely lost your mind?”
A twisted voice, as convoluted as his curled hair, reached my ears. Oscar had rushed in, training sword still in hand, likely after hearing the rumors.
Whether irritated by his sweat-dampened curls or simply angry, he roughly pushed his hair back and slammed his hand on the table where I sat.
“Is it true?”
“…If you barge in asking if something is true—”
“The marriage. Is it true? And what about Eric…?”
Eric.
I cut off Oscar’s words at the mention of my former fiancé’s name. I didn’t want to hear Ariel’s name that would surely follow.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What?”
It was actually quite amusing when I thought about it. Oscar, my half-brother. The irony of you rushing here in anger over my marriage news.
You, who were destined to reveal your true identity someday and corner me, are now concerned about my marriage.
The entire situation felt like a farce.
“Don’t tell me that rumor—”
“Oscar.”
“…What?”
“Is that all you came to say?”
I looked at his stupidly gaping mouth and trembling brown eyes, then lifted my teacup to wet my throat.
“You…”
The roses blooming profusely outside the window were as red as the tea. Like they would never wither, like flowing blood. Red and deep.
I should make my bouquet from those roses, I thought.
“…You said you loved him. You called it love. You said it was love even if it meant death—”
“Love.”
What a sweet word. You cannot know how tender and fragile your brown eyes look when you speak of love.
There was a time when I envied you for being able to nestle freely in Madame Poporani’s embrace. I too had a fragile, foolish time when “love” was everything, when I couldn’t accept anything that wasn’t “love.”
But to live on love alone, well…
“I thought so too. But looking back, it doesn’t matter who it is. I realized I’d gladly endure marriage to an old man if it meant escaping this mansion.”
My innocent, childish brother Oscar. My immature sibling. He dropped his training sword and stepped backward, seemingly shocked by my words, while I calmly sipped the remaining tea.
Until the door slammed shut. Until his long shadow completely disappeared beyond the door.
Until the tea leaves at the bottom of my cup dried up, resembling the shape of a dog.
***
‘Brote.’
It was a warm voice, like sunshine settling down. Moderately deep, flowing smoothly without fluctuation… familiar and unforgettable…
“…Miss?”
“Ah, Butler.”
Had I dozed off? My fingers holding the pen were numb. I pushed aside the invitation with its round ink stain to the corner of the desk and stood up. The red sunset was already visible through the window.
“…How long…”
Had time passed?
“Miss?”
“Yes, Butler. What is it?”
“Well… that is…”
The butler’s hesitation was unusual.
No, what was more significant was that the butler had come to find me “directly.” Without my father’s orders, the butler rarely sought me out, so this must be important. Yet I couldn’t imagine what it could be.
Unlike Brote in the book, I had been spending my days quietly in the mansion without causing any incidents. I planned to continue this way until my marriage.
…As for the circulating rumors, there was nothing I could do. They would surely disappear once I married and left for the North.
Father must know this, and yet…
“Why… is Father… looking for me?”
Even as I was certain he couldn’t be, I asked anyway.
Habits can be so dreadful.
“No, that’s not it. It’s just that…”
I felt slight relief at the butler’s answer, but was puzzled. If not Father, then why? Why was the butler so nervous and hesitant to speak to me?
“Brote.”
I soon discovered the reason. Behind the butler, a man with hair as brilliant as the rising sun appeared.
No wonder the butler was so flustered—the person who should have been most pleased to receive my father’s letter of broken engagement had suddenly appeared at the mansion.
I waved my hand toward the butler, who had already hidden his expression and stepped back behind the man.
“Butler… you may leave.”
“Brote.”
The door closed with a thud, and the butler left. Only Eric and I remained in the room.
“Brote, I…”
His hair was completely disheveled like an autumn field in the wind, and he was panting as if he had run here. I led him to the table, poured the remaining water from the teapot, placed it before him, and took a seat across from him.
“This isn’t what I wanted, Brote. I never meant for you to…”
I stared at his trembling eyes, still like lost dawn, and interrupted his words.
“…Lord Colin. We are hardly on familiar enough terms to use first names anymore.”
“Brote—”
“Please maintain at least basic courtesy, my lord.”
“This is strange…”
Why?
Why do you make such a face now, Eric?
When you first mentioned “Ariel” to me, I refuse to believe you didn’t know our fate would unfold this way. You had to have known.
Not just anyone, but you who stayed by my side for seven years.
You, of all people, shouldn’t have done this.
You, especially.
“Why?”
When Eric asked why, I momentarily couldn’t answer. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps the depth of your kindness was even shallower than I had imagined.
Otherwise, how could you possibly…
“Brote, why… why did you make such a ‘choice’?”
“……”
I was speechless. ‘Choice’? Was I ever someone who could make a ‘choice’ in this mansion? Did I ever hold that kind of power?
“Is it because of me?”
If I were the Brote who didn’t know the book, perhaps. If I were the Brote who believed that ‘pity’ was also ‘love,’ who had to believe that to survive. Then I might have endured anything to hold onto Eric.
Even if that choice ultimately meant drinking poison and ending my life.
Just to receive a small glance of ‘sympathy’ from Eric—
“…Is it because of me? Don’t do this, don’t do this, Brote. You deserve someone better. Not the cursed Duke, not me… someone who can love you more—”
See, Brote? In the end, Eric doesn’t say he loves you. That one month with her meant more to him than our seven years together. You knew this would happen. The moment Eric asked me for time. No, even before that.
“Anyway, not him. Not him, Brote. He’ll make you unhappy. Why did you make such a choice? Why—”
“My lord.”
I called out to the man who kept repeating the same words without understanding what he was saying. Just saying it wasn’t right, telling me not to do it.
His face had turned pale, with only the corners of his eyes flushed pink. Diamond-blue eyes reflected my image. I carefully examined his face, which might be the last time I’d see it.
“Eric.”
Eric. This would be the last time I could call him this way. The playful tap of my tongue against the roof of my mouth, the long anticipation and excitement it brought—all would end today. I placed his name on my tongue one last time, having consciously avoided it since he left a month ago.
“Eric.”
And I smiled.
As if I knew nothing of unhappiness. Yet not happily.
“Will you congratulate me? It’s the last time, after all.”
Whether you smiled or cried at my words.
Unfortunately, all I remember clearly is the sound of the door slamming shut.
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SadBeech
Lol what a piece of sh*t. The audacity to spew those words when it’s his fault she’s in that situation. I can’t stand these men.
Excited for more <3 Ty for uploading!