Chapter 4.14

After Riven left with the servant, Solnia resumed her walk.  

The Duke’s bedroom was on the second floor, so she decided to finish exploring this corridor before heading back. If the mother and son were still talking, she could always go out to the garden.  

Her steps eventually brought her to a room at the very end of the hallway. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of golden hair.  

It was Haziel.  

The child seemed deeply absorbed in something, so Solnia tried to leave quietly. However, sensing her presence, Haziel turned to look at her before she could retreat. With the light behind him, Haziel’s expression was unreadable.  

With no other choice, Solnia knocked on the door.  

“May I come in?”  

“……”  

After a moment’s hesitation, Haziel nodded. Though the child didn’t seem particularly pleased, it felt necessary to exchange a few words now that they had encountered each other. Especially since she had just been advised to be mindful of her behavior.  

The room she entered was modest. A chair and a small desk where Haziel was seated, surrounded by piles of books.  

As Solnia approached, she couldn’t help but be taken aback.  

It wasn’t anything else—just that the boy in front of her looked so familiar.  

The sharp eyes, clear olive-colored irises, thick hair (though of a different color), and even the faint dimples that appeared when his lips were pressed together…  

Haziel was the spitting image of Luette Trovill, except for the hair color. Specifically, the Luette Trovill she had known from that time.

On the wedding day, she thought they looked alike, but seeing his face up close was truly astonishing. Haziel had grown so much in just a year, which played a part.

Solnia forgot to greet him and simply stared at Haziel in a daze.  

If she hadn’t seen the Duchess’s pregnant belly in the past, she might have believed he was Luette’s son just by his appearance.  

“Do you have something to say to me?”  

The slightly sharp and curt voice snapped her out of her thoughts.  

She belatedly noticed what Haziel had been scribbling. It was a large house. It seemed like he was drawing the ducal mansion, though it was hard to tell.  

“Did I interrupt you?”  

“No.”  

Although Haziel said no, his expression clearly said, “Can’t you tell?”  

“Just don’t tell the servants that I’m here, and it’s fine.”  

“The servants? Why?”  

“They come running as if I’ll faint just from walking a little faster. It’s annoying.”  

Solnia had a vague idea. She almost told him, “That’s because you’re unwell,” but she stopped herself. Perhaps Haziel wasn’t as sick as the adults thought.  

“I won’t tell them.”  

“Okay.”  

He didn’t even bother to say thank you out of courtesy, just bluntly throwing out a single word before returning to his work.  

Even his mannerisms resembled Luette Trovill.  

After scribbling for a while, Haziel looked up again, uncomfortable with her gaze.  

“Why are you staring at me like that?”  

“You really look a lot like your brother.”  

“…What?”  

Haziel frowned as if he had heard something deeply unpleasant.  

Wow. That reaction made him resemble him even more.  

“Don’t say that in front of my brother.”  

Haziel spoke firmly.  

“Huh?”  

“Don’t say that in front of my brother. He doesn’t like it.”  

“He doesn’t like it? Why?”  

“Because he doesn’t like me much. Didn’t you know?”  

Haziel turned his attention back to his drawing, as if he found the conversation tiresome. Solnia tilted her head, puzzled by his words.  

Luette Trovill doesn’t like Haziel? Why?  

Of course, she had never heard him mention Haziel, but in the past, he was a boy who vowed to be a dependable older brother.  

‘Lu, would you prefer a younger sister or a younger brother?’ 

‘I don’t care. I like both.’  

‘But you must have a preference.’ 

‘I really don’t care. I’ll be a good older brother either way.’  

She could still clearly remember him saying that while swinging a short wooden sword. She also remembered shaking her head, thinking he must really want to be a good older brother.  

“Don’t tell my brother.”  

Haziel spoke without even looking at her, the sound of his pencil scratching against the paper indifferent.  

Solnia, staring at his round, shiny golden head, spoke.  

“There’s no way he doesn’t like you.”  

“What?”  

“He said he’d be a good brother to you when you were still in your mother’s belly.”  

While swinging a clumsy wooden sword, he had said so. She even remembered the time he knocked over her book with that sword, leading to a big fight. Solnia swallowed down the memories she might have shared if she were closer to Haziel.  

The pencil stopped moving.  

“My brother said that?”  

“Yes.”  

“You must mean William.”  

“…”  

The scratching sound resumed.  

“William was kind to me. He’s been that way since I was in my mother’s belly.”  

“Luette—no, he also cared for you a lot when you were in your mother’s belly.”  

“Don’t take his side.”  

“I’m not taking sides…”  

The words, “Why would I take his side?” were on the tip of her tongue when Haziel suddenly started coughing violently, as if something had gone down the wrong pipe.  

“Are you okay, Haziel?”  

Solnia patted Haziel’s back, quickly looking around. As expected, there was a glass of water nearby.  

“Here, drink this slowly. Slowly.”  

Before Haziel could even take the glass, the maids rushed in, as if they had been searching for him. It all happened so quickly.  

“Young Master! What are you doing here?”  

“Please return to your room immediately!”  

The previously quiet room turned into chaos in an instant. Haziel was taken away by the maids, and Solnia was left standing there, holding the glass of water she hadn’t managed to hand him.  

*

Not long after the commotion, she was summoned to the drawing room. It seemed the Duchess had hastily wrapped things up due to Haziel’s condition.  

On the way back to the townhouse, the carriage was silent.  

Solnia looked at the man sitting across from her.  

When they had greeted the Duchess, his face seemed as composed as ever, but now he looked slightly uncomfortable. No, perhaps “upset” would be a better word.  

“…What did the Duchess say?”  

Her question was cautious. The olive-green eyes, which had been staring out the window without lowering the blinds, slowly turned to her.  

“I was wondering if there’s something I should know.”  

“We’ll have to share the bedroom for a while.”  

Solnia nodded. She had expected as much.  

“Did she say she would have the servants report to her?”  

“She’s not that kind of person. Times have changed.”  

Solnia nodded again. In the past, there were servants who witnessed a couple’s first night, but not anymore. A couple’s privacy was now respected. At least there wouldn’t be servants waiting outside the bedroom door to listen for their sounds, which was a relief.  

“We just need to endure until your mother’s anger subsides.”  

“…Yes.”  

Luette Trovill didn’t say another word after that.  

On the way back to the townhouse, Solnia stole glances at the unusually quiet man’s face several times.  

She couldn’t bring herself to ask the questions on her mind.  

Did something happen? Did the Duchess scold you? Why do you look like that?  

They weren’t close enough for her to casually ask such questions.  

Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t thought about it.  

The fact that she would soon have to share a bed with Luette Trovill.  

***

The atmosphere at the townhouse was even gloomier than before. The maids looked like they had been crying, their eyes and noses red. The butler and Lady Gwen couldn’t even look the master and mistress in the eye.  

Angie was no exception.  

“Madam, I… I was there…”  

“Enough.”  

Angie began to sob as soon as she tried to speak, and Solnia shook her head.  

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow. That would be better.”  

“…Yes, Madam.”  

“You don’t need to attend to me during my bath today. Just prepare the water.”  

Angie bowed her head deeply and left.  

The moment she sank into the warm water, a heavy sigh escaped her lips.  

Tea time with the salon members, the Duchess’s visit, the subsequent conversation at the ducal mansion, Haziel’s hostility toward Luette, and Luette Trovill’s unreadable expression.  

From start to finish, it had been an exhausting day.  

Solnia slid down into the water, submerging herself completely, then came back up, as if trying to clear her mind. Whenever her thoughts became muddled again, she submerged herself once more.  

How many times did she repeat this?  

“Madam…”  

Angie’s voice came from beyond the bathroom door.  

“The master is waiting for you.”  

Her brows furrowed at the cautious announcement.  

Luette Trovill is waiting for me? Why?  

“Why is he…”  

She stopped herself mid-sentence. Why else? Because they had to share a bed.  

Her mind, which had been spinning with thoughts, suddenly went blank.  

In the emptiness, the memory of the night at the hunting villa surfaced.  

‘Just sleep.’ 

The low voice. The comforting touch. The warm body heat.  

It was as if he had done it countless times before.  

Lost in thought about that night, Solnia eventually ran a wet hand down her face.  

There was no need to interpret it. No need to assign meaning to it.  

For him, that night was probably nothing more than cheap sympathy for her, struggling to sleep on the floor, or just a habit formed from countless encounters.  

“If you’re done with your bath, I’ll help you dress.”  

Taking a deep breath, Solnia rose from the tub.