Chapter 14

“It’s perfect weather for a walk.”

At the far end of the terrace railing, a small wooden staircase led down into the garden.

Rowena silently studied the Marquis of Windervane for a moment before descending the steps.

As she stepped off the final stair, the marquis draped the thin silk shawl he had been carrying over her shoulders.

Why was he carrying a lady’s shawl?

The question crossed her mind, but Rowena simply pulled it around herself for the moment. The silk was as light and soft as mist, and a faint violet fragrance clung to it.

Rowena drew in a deep breath.

“Thank you.”

“Moved?”

Rowena blinked and answered honestly.

“…More impressed than moved.”

“You had no idea I was such a thoughtful man, did you?”

“No. I didn’t realize you were this thoughtful.”

“At this rate, you’re going to keep being surprised.”

Chuckling softly, the marquis seemed to lead her toward the winding white stone path, only to guide her instead between the fir trees he had emerged from earlier.

Gathering up the hem of her dress, Rowena carefully picked her way through the trees, which grew as densely as a fence.

Thin branches snapped beneath her shoes, and clumps of soil crumbled softly underfoot.

Then, the moment she stepped onto a neatly laid stone path, her eyes widened.

Rounded shrubs and lovely daffodils filled the flower beds.

Candles protected by glass were scattered throughout the garden, dazzling enough to resemble the Milky Way spread across the earth.

Rowena murmured in wonder.

“I never heard there was a garden like this.”

“It’s a restricted area. No one sees it, so naturally no rumors spread.”

“A restricted area? Am I allowed to be here?”

“You’re already here.”

“…That’s true.”

“Since you’ve come this far, you may as well enjoy it.”

The marquis courteously bent his arm and offered it to her.

Rowena carefully rested her hand on his thick, solid arm.

Even through the layer of her glove, she thought she could feel his body heat, and for no reason at all, the back of her neck stiffened.

After they had walked for quite a while, Rowena suddenly stopped.

This was undoubtedly her first time in this garden, yet something about it felt strangely familiar.

“I think there used to be a garden like this at the Livros estate.”

“Was there?”

Rowena pointed toward a huge tree ahead.

A swing hung from one of its massive branches, gleaming white in the moonlight.

“I think I saw a swing like that when I was little, too…”

“I’m sure you did. Swings are everywhere.”

The marquis spoke as though it were nothing.

But Rowena could not dismiss it so easily.

She was certain she had seen this scenery before.

A fragment from the distant past hovered at the edge of her memory, close enough to torment her but not close enough to grasp.

“And this field of dandelions too…”

The marquis naturally guided Rowena to sit on the swing.

Then he suddenly leaned his upper body toward her.

“Do you like it?”

A sweet fragrance mixed with the night air drifted toward her.

The instant Rowena realized that the teasing, deep scent belonged to him, the tips of her ears grew hot.

“L-like what?”

“This estate.”

“How could I say whether I like it or not? It’s your residence, my lord.”

“I’d like you to like it. You’re going to become its mistress.”

“…Me?”

“Yes. You.”

The marquis finished with a smile.

Rowena knew that seductive smile was simply one of the habits he showed everyone, yet her heart trembled helplessly.

It felt a little strange.

Until now, whenever she saw the marquis, she had felt something close to admiration—the excitement of meeting a famous actor, or perhaps even the celebrated poet Rodems.

But now her heart was beating heavily, almost painfully.

Realizing that this nervousness was different from what she usually felt around him, Rowena quickly lowered her eyes.

“Would that… really happen?”

“Won’t it?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I simply lack imagination, my lord.”

The marquis gave a quiet laugh and moved behind her.

Is he going to push the swing?

She had just begun to regret sitting down when an unbearably sweet voice brushed against her right ear.

“That’s all right. I have enough imagination for both of us.”

Her heart dropped.

The instant Rowena squeezed her eyes shut, her feet suddenly lifted into the air.

“Ah!”

“Scared?”

“N-no.”

The night sky filled her tilted vision.

The black curtain scattered with stars was breathtakingly beautiful.

It looked almost as though the heavens themselves were smiling, and Rowena tipped her head back.

As her body rose and then descended in a wide arc, the thin fabric of her dress fluttered softly.

The cool wind that brushed against her skirts stroked her cheeks, while her thick black hair streamed behind her.

Then, suddenly, she realized something.

This was the first peaceful night she had experienced since returning to the past.

Every night, Rowena lay in bed staring at the sky.

Only after firmly telling herself, I can do this, was she able to fall asleep.

And then, when the next night came, she would make the same vow all over again.

Because everything felt overwhelming.

Because she was afraid.

But in this moment, she truly felt as though she could do it.

Confidence welled up inside her.

Each time Edric Bernhardt’s strong hand pushed against her back, something swelled higher and higher within Rowena.

For some reason, her eyes grew hot and her chest ached.

Yet the sound that escaped her lips was light as a feather.

Rowena laughed brightly, feeling free.

It was a long time before her feet finally touched the ground again.

“That was fun.”

Rowena placed her hand in his large, firm palm and offered her brief verdict.

“I am rather entertaining.”

“You’ve made me feel much better.”

“Why? Did your consultation not go well?”

“No. Count Lassen explained very clearly what I ought to do next. It’s just…”

The problem was carrying it out.

The thought of what she would have to do to establish grounds for fault weighed heavily on Rowena.

But if it had to be done, she had no intention of avoiding it.

So she planned to visit the temple first thing tomorrow.

There, before a confessor, she would have to speak of the pain of her marriage and confess her desperate wish.

And, to make it more effective, she would probably have to add a few tears.

How could that possibly be easy?

Just as Rowena’s mood was beginning to sink again—

“Just what?”

His low voice urged her to continue.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on her lips.

“I decided to secure a witness before demanding a divorce.”

“A witness?”

“I need someone who can prove that the marriage was never fully consummated.”

“The marriage was never fully consummated? What does that mean?”

Rowena shook her head.

She had agreed to cooperate with him in bringing Gerard down, but this was one thing she found difficult to say aloud.

Specifically, she had no idea what verb she was supposed to use to explain that Gerard had never once succeeded in marital relations.

Rise, stand, operate, function…

Every word sounded indecent.

Even the word succeed suddenly seemed embarrassing.

But calling it a failure felt downright miserable.

So she mumbled vaguely,

“…There’s something like that. It’s a secret requiring rather serious repentance, so I’d be grateful if you didn’t ask any further.”

“A secret requiring serious repentance? That’s remarkably cryptic.”

“You’ll find out eventually anyway, but for now, I’ll keep it to myself.”

The very next day, however, by some inexplicable workings of fate, Edric found himself visiting the temple.

And there, he learned the lady’s secret.

It began like this.

Early that morning, Edric sat in a wing chair reading the newspaper.

He had finished his physical training, shaved cleanly, showered, and now wore nothing but a robe over his freshly washed body.

Across from him, Sebas Charlton sipped steaming coffee while sorting through correspondence.

As usual, he summarized the long letters into concise reports.

“Bishop Ro says, ‘Please, do come and see me.’”

Edric lowered the Erisvale Tribune onto his lap.

Sunk deep into the chair, he gave a small laugh and shrugged.

Reading the meaning behind the gesture, Sebas Charlton nodded.

“Exactly. You don’t have time. We can tell him you’ll meet another day. Besides, we already know what Bishop Roan is going to ask, don’t we?”

“We do.”

“He’ll ask about the holy power of the mother Your Excellency doesn’t even remember, then bombard you with questions about the prophetic abilities on your maternal side, which you know nothing about.”

“Truly pointless curiosity.”

Edric lowered his gaze.

Spring sunlight glimmered brilliantly on his dense golden lashes.

His sky-blue eyes were fixed on the horoscope column of the Erisvale Tribune.

[Look beneath the walnut tree.]

A walnut tree…

“Do you know what people make from walnut wood?”

At the abrupt question, Sebas Charlton stared toward one corner of the ceiling before answering.

“The Scales of Truth?”

“The scales held by the Goddess of Justice. Yes. Then perhaps it means the courthouse?”

“…What? What are you talking about?”

“What else is made from walnut? Ah. Aren’t boxes of repentance made from it too?”

“Confessionals?”

“Yes. Confessionals. Spaces for repentance.”

A faintly mischievous glimmer appeared in Edric’s beautiful eyes.

“I already have plans to go out. Perhaps I should stop by the temple on the way.”

“Suddenly? Bishop Roan will come charging at you like a jackal. He’ll pester you with questions like, ‘What do you think the future holds? Don’t you see anything? Can you truly not see what lies ahead?’ Are you really going to the temple?”

Edric laughed.

“A pointless effort. If I could see the future, why would I bother reading the horoscope column?”

Of course, he did know the future.

He read horoscopes merely for light entertainment.

Yet today, for some reason, his curiosity had been unusually stirred.

One of the many truths he had learned over ninety years was urging him forward.

If you failed to act when your heart told you to,

you could spend the next sixty-four years regretting it.