Chapter 39
“Young Master, it’s time to depart.”
Having prepared everything for his journey to the North, Jerome, his attendant, addressed him. Herwin nodded weakly, his face clouded.
Just a few days ago, he had left the mansion in high spirits, saying he was going to meet Lucia. But ever since he returned, he had been acting strangely.
At times, he would sit absentmindedly as if lost in thought, and several times a day, heavy sighs escaped him.
Even now, he sat there with a listless expression, barely paying attention to Jerome’s words.
“What on earth happened with Lady Agnes?”
At last, Jerome couldn’t hold back and asked. He clearly saw Herwin’s shoulders tremble.
“Nothing happened…”
“Please stop with the obvious lie that nothing happened.”
Jerome cut him off rudely. Even when Herwin shot him a sharp glare, Jerome remained unfazed.
“Hah, I must’ve gotten too lax these days if even you dare to interrupt me like that.”
“To serve you properly, I have to be shameless sometimes. Besides, haven’t you noticed you’ve been acting strange these past few days, Young Master?”
Jerome scoffed, showing he wasn’t intimidated. Clicking his tongue, Herwin ran a hand through his messy hair.
“Really, nothing happened. Lucia simply confessed again, as she always does.”
“And you rejected her again, I suppose?”
Though the guess was correct, for some reason, Herwin couldn’t bring himself to nod.
Jerome studied Herwin’s sour expression and let out a sigh.
“I’ve always wondered—why won’t you accept Lady Agnes’s feelings?”
Herwin’s eyes turned cold in an instant. This was the type of question he despised most.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Jerome hurriedly added, “I didn’t ask out of pity or sympathy for Lady Agnes. I’m simply curious about your true intentions.”
“…”
“Just pure curiosity, nothing more.”
Confirming that Jerome meant no harm, Herwin’s frown eased a little.
“I’m not obliged to explain that to you.”
“Well, of course not.”
Jerome gave up probing further. Still, seeing Herwin’s reluctance to answer made him think.
You’re the one rejecting her… so why do you look as though you were the one turned down?
Herwin looked unmistakably like a man who had been dumped. That’s why it was baffling. Why wouldn’t he accept Lucia’s feelings? From Jerome’s perspective, Herwin clearly liked her.
“Still, it might be better to let her down gently. One day, Lady Agnes will tire of it all.”
“Silence. Worry about your own love life instead. I hear rumors you got drunk and went to your ex-lover’s house the other night.”
“Who on earth is spreading such nonsense?!”
Jerome bristled, furious at whoever had leaked the embarrassing story.
Herwin smirked faintly at his flustered servant but couldn’t shake Jerome’s earlier words from his mind.
Lucia… will grow tired?
Perhaps that would be best. For her… and for himself.
Throb—
As he began walking, his chest grew heavier. But the feeling was faint, so he only tilted his head slightly.
“Young Master, it really is time to go now.”
Jerome, now composed, stood by the waiting carriage, holding the door open. Herwin quickly boarded.
“Safe travels, Young Master. We’ll guard this place in your absence.”
All the servants of the capital mansion gathered to see him off.
Herwin’s eyes landed on the elderly butler with graying hair, and he parted his lips.
“If a letter arrives for me here…”
“As always, we’ll forward it to the North.”
The butler’s knowing smile eased his heart a little.
The carriage soon rolled forward. Herwin closed the window, watching the capital’s scenery slowly recede, his hand absently touching the pocket near his chest.
Inside was the handkerchief Lucia had given him.
“When I return, things will be as they always were.”
Her confession this time had been fiercer than usual, but surely, once he came back from the North, they would return to their comfortable friendship.
That’s how it had always been.
Three days had passed since Herwin’s rejection. In those exact three days, Lucia never once stepped out of her room.
On the first day, her sorrowful sobs echoed through the mansion from dawn until dusk, casting a shadow over everyone.
On the second, no sound at all came from her room; the door was locked tight. Everyone feared she might do something dangerous.
On the third, they finally heard the sound of her bell string, and only then did they breathe a sigh of relief.
But even on the third day, Lucia allowed no one inside except her maid, Sein. She even refused her mother, Julian.
Then, on the morning of the fourth day, Lucia finally emerged from her room and came down to the dining hall.
Johan and Julian, eating with gloomy faces, stared in shock.
The lifeless blue eyes she had carried when she returned to the mansion now held a faint clarity.
“Did you sleep well?”
“…Yes.”
“Lucia, darling! Aren’t you hungry?”
Unlike Johan, who managed only a stiff greeting, Julian immediately pulled her to sit beside her and hurriedly ordered breakfast for her, all the while nervously watching her daughter’s face.
She wanted to ask a mountain of questions—are you all right, are you sick, are you still in pain?—but she couldn’t bring herself to voice them.
It had only been three days, yet Lucia’s presence felt different.
Her bright smile was still there, but an invisible wall surrounded her now.
Even Johan sensed the change.
Soon, Lucia’s food arrived, and the three of them ate quietly.
“…My dear, does the food suit your taste? If there’s anything you’d like, tell me, and I’ll have the chef make it.”
Julian finally found the courage to speak. Lucia paused, then looked at her mother.
Her eyes, expected to be hollow, were clear as always.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll let you know. Thank you for worrying, Mother.”
Relieved, Julian eagerly kept talking, and Lucia responded sincerely, even playfully at times.
“Then… are you really all right now?”
Johan’s deep voice rang out, dragging the dreaded topic into the open. Julian turned to him in alarm, but Lucia met his gaze calmly and smiled faintly.
“Yes, I’m all right now. I’m sorry for making you worry.”
Despite her answer, Johan frowned.
“…If you say you’re fine, then I’ll believe you.”
“Yes, Father.”
Julian, terrified that father and daughter might fall into conflict, exhaled in relief when tension eased.
“Father, when can I begin the marriage meetings?”
Johan froze, water glass halfway to his lips. He hadn’t expected her to bring up the subject herself.
After a long silence, he finally said, “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Then please arrange one starting tomorrow.”
“L-Lucia, isn’t that too soon?”
Julian tried to stop her, but Lucia’s eyes were fixed only on Johan.
“That’s possible, isn’t it?”
“…Very well. If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes sank slightly.
“However, it will take time to notify the families. There are four candidates, as you saw before. Would you like to meet just one, or all four?”
“I’ll look over the documents again and let you know.”
“Good.”
Johan rose from his seat. Just before leaving the hall, he stopped.
“…Don’t push yourself too hard.”
His voice, usually stern, softened with paternal concern.
Lucia suddenly felt a swell of emotion and nodded.
After he left, a brief silence lingered. Julian squeezed her daughter’s hand warmly.
“Lucia, there’s no need to rush. Take things at your own pace. We’ll always be here for you.”
“…Yes, Mother.”
With her mother’s comfort, Lucia quietly resumed eating, her eyes shadowed.
Tears threatened but she forced them back, lifting her head and steadying her heart.
Back in her room, Lucia sat at her desk and reviewed the candidate documents Johan had prepared.
There were four men in total, ranging from viscount’s sons to a marquis’s heir, varying in age up to five years older, and even one younger by a year.
Each profile contained exhaustive details—family members, positions in their household, occupations, wealth, even distant lineage.
The sheer thoroughness made her shake her head in disbelief.
“…Father must have put great effort into this.”
It showed how much he cared for her. She remembered him playing gently with her when she was little.
But as she finished reading, she leaned back against the chair and looked up at the ceiling.
None of them truly appealed to her. She had heard of them in passing but had never met them, and they all seemed much the same.
Perhaps it was because she no longer expected love. These were political matches, not born from affection.
“Since they’re all similar, I should just meet each one.”
A brief meeting would reveal more than any written document.
Marriage meant spending a lifetime together; she had to at least see who they were.
She wasn’t asking for much. Just someone with a decent temperament, someone sincere.
As for love—she no longer believed she could ever love anyone again.
Lucia shut her eyes tight, then opened them, her gaze falling on her desk.
There lay Herwin’s portrait, a music box holding her treasures, and the diary she had taken out while drinking wine days ago.
Just seeing them brought Herwin to mind.
She had thought she’d poured out all her feelings in those three days, yet her chest still ached.
What had once been her most precious treasures were now too painful to look at.
If she left them there, the emotions she worked so hard to bury would resurface. She quickly began gathering them.
At times, the urge to keep them flared up, but she steeled herself and shoved everything into a box.
“If I just call Sein to throw this away…”
She reached for the bell cord but stopped.
Throwing them out would mean severing her last lingering attachment—something she couldn’t bring herself to do.
So she bit her lip, took the box, and carried it to a place she rarely went: the depths of her dressing room.
There, among outdated gowns and clothes that no longer fit, she tucked the box deep into the wardrobe.
She stared at it buried beneath the garments for a long time, then finally closed her eyes with a long sigh.
Her blue eyes, once brimming with emotion, gradually calmed.
The wardrobe door shut.
It was the moment when a woman who had loved only one man for thirteen long years finally began to let go.
