He already knew well that his existence had been beneath her notice. Now he had a rough picture of what she had asked Adollo and why she wanted to speak with him alone.

‘My name, the name is the problem…’

Agate was already fixing her gaze on Sion. It was as if she were calling him. Without anything to hide, he approached the bed with confident strides.

Sitting in the chair beside the bed, Sion immediately took the notebook Agate was holding. Though Adollo would have been outraged at the sight, he didn’t care.

The lady already knew his true nature to some extent. This behavior came after calculating that pretending would be useless to her.

‘As expected…’

Sion even snatched the pen from Agate’s hand. A glimpse of bewilderment could be seen in her expression as she docilely surrendered everything she had been holding.

Regardless, he wrote his words directly beneath her neatly written text on the blank page.

Then he held it out before the lady’s eyes.

[Was your fiancé’s name Daniel?]

Agate nodded without hesitation.

“Ha…!”

He was exasperated. What a nauseating coincidence. Of all names he could have casually thought up, why did it have to be the same?

While Sion was clicking his tongue, Agate carefully reached out her hand. She pointed to a part of the notebook.

[No. This person is different from Daniel. Very different.]

It was the sentence she had written earlier. Was she saying not to mistake him for a substitute just because the names were the same?

Of course, Sion hadn’t worried about that either. Though the lady was hopelessly fragile, she seemed capable of basic discernment. He was merely displeased at the uncomfortable intersection that had formed.

‘Rather… bold, I should say.’

She had a brazen side. That her first words after picking up a pen in three years were:

[Do you think I’ve come to my senses?]

“Heh.”

A laugh escaped him involuntarily.

Agate tilted her head. Sion quickly wrote a line in the cursive he had taught himself to infiltrate high society.

[I apologize. Something else came to mind.]

This time, Agate extended her hand. Recognizing that she wanted the pen, Sion gently placed it in her hand.

[But why are you writing instead of speaking?]

“……”

After exchanging a few written messages, the lady hit the mark. He was insisting on the cumbersome process of writing when he could simply answer verbally. His response to her question was the same.

He took the pen again. He thought he should start carrying a fountain pen in his front jacket pocket from now on.

[Because I want to converse with you, Miss.]

It was truly curious. His choice had been instinctive. Perhaps dialogue needed to be conducted in the same manner to reduce the gap between them. He wanted to fully read the meaning in her writing and convey his answers without any distortion.

Picking up the pen in the room filled with silence had been an unconscious action.

Perhaps this choice was partly due to his curiosity about her. While before it had been curiosity about a type of person he had never seen, now it was curiosity about this unknown figure trying to approach him on her own.

What kind of woman was “Agate Irone”?

If a mysterious woman trapped in a portrait walked out on her own, moved, and even spoke, who wouldn’t be interested?

To Sion, Agate was exactly that kind of shock. Like a painting fixed in a frame suddenly coming to life, he wanted to observe this situation a little longer.

He had become the only person to exchange written conversations with her, and it gave the feeling that a small secret had formed between them.

Agate kept her eyes on his answer for quite some time.

Sion observed her carefully.

Judging by the words from her hand, one might think the lady had finally healed almost all her festering wounds, but looking at her face revealed this to be an illusion.

Her expressionless face hadn’t changed at all. She neither smiled nor frowned.

Like someone who had forgotten how to make expressions. No, that’s not quite right. Expressions naturally emerge with moods and emotions, even without deliberate intent.

For most people, the problem was actually being unable to suppress those expressions.

She was still bound by the shackles of the past.

A new sentence appeared on the paper.

[I have a conversation partner now.]

She seemed to like his answer. A conventional smile might have been expected, but Agate’s lips remained frozen without the slightest movement.

Sion couldn’t gauge whether to believe her words or her actions. Just when he thought he had peeled away one layer, Agate Irone locked herself up again.

The pace was sufficient. It was impossible for the woman in the frame to escape her boundaries, roam the mansion, and venture into the wider world to mix with other people all in one day.

And Sion wondered how much of this mysterious drama’s plot he would be allowed to see in his allotted time.

Looking back someday, the lady of Ponten would become quite a memorable anecdote.

* * *

The lady made no mention of the rudeness he had committed. She didn’t seem to find it particularly unpleasant, and though Sion was curious about the reason, he had to let it lie rather than ask first and create unnecessary trouble.

As if responding to everyone’s hopes, once Agate had ventured outside, she didn’t burrow back into her hole. Though she never spoke aloud, she often wrote down what she wanted to say in her notebook and no longer confined herself to her small room.

She no longer refused grooming and adornment, and she ate her meals well, though in small amounts. To those unaware of her painful circumstances, the lady might still appear deeply troubled, but for the servants who had been by her side, even this much was tremendous progress.

“I still find it amazing that the young lady comes out to the garden for walks during the day.”

“It’s been a month already, so it’s time to get used to it. I heard the main house in the capital was turned upside down when they got the news.”

“Thankfully, the chief butler dissuaded them. The entire family was going to come down to Ponten—we nearly got sick from all the cleaning.”

News of Agate’s gradual recovery had reached the Irone ducal family, and Duke Irone had immediately sent word that he would come to see his precious eldest daughter.

“Why did you prevent the Duke from coming?”

“The young lady’s symptoms noticeably improved right after she came to Ponten. Originally, she had refused food and drink, but after coming here for treatment, she at least took her meals, even if just a little.”

This conversation took place about half a day after the villa had been thrown into a commotion by the news of Duke Irone’s visit, around the time Adollo had sent a reply declining the visit. Sion, who had nothing to gain from encountering the Irone family he had glimpsed at social events from afar, had casually probed Adollo’s intentions, and Adollo had readily answered.

“I certainly thought her condition was improving because she had left the bustling city for the good air and quiet countryside, but there was another reason.”

Adollo furrowed his brow as if recalling that time, then immediately smiled warmly when he looked at Agate reading a book in the sunshine, as if it had never happened.

“About a week after the young lady came to Ponten, the Duke, his wife, and the young lady’s siblings all came to see her. And that was the first time… the young lady suddenly had a fit…”

Adollo’s voice, trailing off at the end, trembled sharply.

At the end of their gaze was Agate, reading a book alone in the pergola.

“It wasn’t a coincidence. After that, whenever family members took turns visiting almost daily, the young lady would either stay in bed, have seizures, or be terrified as if seeing a monster.”

“…So that’s why. You prevented the Duke’s visit for fear it might worsen the young lady’s condition again.”

When Sion provided the answer himself, Adollo nodded his head heavily.

“We can only guess. Usually, the young lady’s meetings with her fiancé were accompanied by family members. Perhaps seeing her family revived those memories, making it difficult for her.”

Indeed, the lady who now occasionally threw light jokes to the servants through written notes hadn’t once mentioned or sought out her family in nearly a month. It was clear evidence that she was uncomfortable with reuniting with her family.