Chapter 2. First Love

For the first time in years, I thought of the older student I had my first crush on when I was twenty.

The one who would somehow always find out whenever I went on a blind date or spent time with another man, and would call me up in tears. When I finally confessed my feelings, he looked genuinely taken aback.

Yes, he had worn that same sheepish expression Ivan wore just now, and said:

[I appreciate it, but I’ve never thought of you that way.]

There are people like that in the world. People who pine desperately for you the moment you’re out of reach, only to lose all interest the instant you’re within their grasp.

“Katerina Vladimirovna?”

I snapped my head up. Across the carriage, Rodion was watching me with a puzzled expression. Apparently I had been grinding my teeth out loud.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Rodion was looking at me quietly.

“I feel rather bad that you were needlessly dragged into an unpleasant situation because of me.”

That didn’t seem like something he ought to be saying to me.

At most, my coat had gotten a little wet. It was Rodion who had jumped into a frozen river.

“I was startled, I’ll admit…… I didn’t expect you to leap into the river like that.”

“If I startled you, I apologize again. But I hope you won’t think me reckless for it.”

“How could I not? Jumping into a river in this weather could kill you from cardiac arrest.”

The current had been strong, and there was every chance a panicking drowning man might have pulled him under as well.

Rodion was quiet for a moment, then said in a low voice with his eyes cast down.

“Even so. It was the right thing to do.”

The right thing to do.

While I was still searching for a response, the carriage stopped. Rodion had brought me all the way to my door. I called out to him on half an impulse as he turned to leave.

“Um, Rodion Nikolayevich. About the proposal you made earlier.”

Rodion turned back to look at me.

“Would it be all right if I…… took some time to think it over?”

A brief silence followed.

“Katerina Vladimirovna, if I have insulted you, please forgive me. Had I known you were already engaged, I would never have made such a proposal.”

His manner was, as always, excessively formal. Then again, a request to play the role of a fake fiancée could easily be taken as an insult depending on the person, especially when that person was already promised to someone else.

The problem was that my fiancé Ivan Ivanovich was not, by any measure, an ordinary sort of madman. I thought back to the flustered expression on Ivan’s face just now.

[Then…… then what was that letter? Don’t tell me…… was it all…… a joke?]

What on earth had Katerina written in that letter to make Ivan say things like asking for forgiveness and offering to let her go?

I had no idea. What was certain was that the moment I said I had no interest in Samsonov, Ivan’s entire demeanor had shifted. Yes, that explained everything.

In other words, to Ivan, I had been a “caught fish.”

I knew little about Ivan’s usual approach to romance, but I knew his twisted, wounded soul better than anyone. And the Ivan I knew was absolutely capable of something like this.

So if he were to hear that I had fallen for someone new, a somewhat frightening but handsome officer from the capital, for instance…… wouldn’t the thought of losing me to someone else make him want me back?

But I couldn’t say that to Rodion. I took a short breath and said what I had prepared.

“I don’t want a loveless marriage, Rodion Nikolayevich.”

Love was not a prerequisite for an arranged marriage. Even if free courtship was said to be fashionable in the capital, to my modern eyes it looked less like genuine feeling and more like a kind of performance.

A show designed to make two young people of marriageable age believe they had fallen in love, when in reality their parents and families had simply placed them in the right time and place.

“I don’t want to spend my life with someone who doesn’t love me. So it may be a foolish thing to want, but…… I’d like to test his feelings.”

I lowered my eyes with a forlorn expression. Rodion watched me without a word.

‘……He’s not angry, is he?’

But if what Rodion had said earlier was true, this was a perfect arrangement for both of them. He needed a fake fiancée, and I needed a fake love interest.

Just as Rodion finally opened his mouth to say something.

“Miss!”

Mariya burst through the door and came running out. She stopped short at the sight of Rodion, but quickly grabbed my arm and pulled urgently.

“What, why, what is it.”

“The master is inside.”

Mariya whispered.

“What?! Why is the old man back already?”

“I don’t know. Something about a killer on the loose, so he came home early.”

“……”

I turned and said goodbye to Rodion.

“Well then, Captain, I’ll be waiting for your letter.”

I kept it as polite and brief as possible. Katerina’s father might be watching from somewhere.

Rodion gave a slight bow in return. Before turning away, he leaned in and murmured to me with just a trace of amusement in his voice.

“My instincts were right.”

……What? What instincts?

It wasn’t until after Rodion’s carriage had gone that I realized he had called me a liar again.

“……Insufferable.”

But somehow, he felt just a little less frightening than before.

My heart was still beating a bit faster than usual, though.

* * *

I came downstairs to the dining room around ten the next morning to find someone had already claimed the table.

“My, Katya, don’t tell me you’re only just getting up?”

Olga. This woman with her deep brown hair and a beauty mark that gave her a sultry air was none other than the mistress of Katerina’s father, old Shatov.

She was only eight years older than Katerina, yet she had been flaunting the affair without any attempt at discretion even before Katerina’s mother passed away.

Now she seemed to be strutting around the Shatov residence as though she were the lady of the house.

Had I truly been Katerina, I would have been seething from the moment I woke up. But unfortunately, I was not Katerina. So whether Olga was carrying on with the old man of this house or coveting my share of the inheritance was none of my concern.

He wasn’t my father, after all, and it wasn’t my inheritance.

I walked past her and took the seat at the head of the table.

“You’re certainly up early, Olga. Bursting with energy, are you?”

Olga’s lips twitched. She had always hated the way I called her by her name alone, without any title.

Not wanting to be put on the back foot first thing in the morning, she managed a bright smile.

“My, our little miss is in quite a mood this early, isn’t she?”

“Not as much as you. But there’s something I want to ask.”

“……Hah.”

“Do you know who Samsonov is?”

[I’m not a fool. The one you love isn’t me…… it’s him. Samsonov, isn’t it?]

Ivan had said exactly that.

I couldn’t remember the names of the minor characters who had drifted through the novel. Up through the third loop I had tried to memorize all those impossibly long names, but it had been a futile effort in the end.

Any notes I left behind were useless once a life ended, and I had no way of knowing which of them might be useful to me.

As far as I knew, Olga had a thorough command of every notable figure in this town, down to the number of socks in their dresser drawers.

“Who doesn’t know Samsonov, miss.”

Mariya cut into the conversation with a bread basket tucked under her arm.

“Is he well known?”

“Very! He’s quite a famous wealthy man. Originally a merchant from the capital, but it seems he’s settled here for good now. Lives alone in an enormous estate on the outskirts of town, and apparently throws grand balls every Saturday.”

A ball every Saturday? A Russian Gatsby?

“Speaking of which……”

Mariya gave a little cough. She always did that when she was angling for something.

“What now?”

At my question, Mariya leaned down and whispered in my ear.

“Who was he, miss? That handsome gentleman yesterday?”

……Oh, this one.

“Gentleman?”

When I played dumb, Mariya grinned. She glanced sideways at Olga.

If this got to Olga’s ears, it would reach Katerina’s father, old Shatov, soon enough.

Getting caught sneaking out without permission was bad enough, but being escorted home by a strange man on top of it would bring the roof down on my head.