Chapter 91
Yulia trembled even up to the moment she stepped onto the stage, which had been raised by one platform at the emperor’s introduction. Seeing Yulia’s delicate shoulders stiffen as she left his side, Cayente endured the urge to shout at her to stop the performance altogether. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t just run away if she was so scared.
“Thank you for the introduction. I will now begin, so please enjoy it comfortably.”
As Yulia climbed onto the stage, still trembling, her gaze changed the moment she held the cello. After a brief introduction to the piece, Yulia played a composition that started as a gentle breeze but gradually built into a strong, stormy atmosphere—as if she herself were the wind she was expressing.
“The Hill of the Storm.”
As the title suggested, anyone listening quietly would feel as though they were being swept into the heart of the storm. As the performance progressed, the slight murmuring of the audience disappeared, and everyone held tightly to the arms of those next to them, as if resisting being carried away by the fierce wind.
It was needless worry… Yulia seemed utterly free within the very wind that others struggled to avoid. Cayente felt a simultaneous desire to soar alongside her and a certainty that, if he tried, he would inevitably crash back down to the ground.
It was something only Yulia could do. She had been many times stronger than him since childhood.
―Kai, are you afraid of thunder?
―…Yes.
―I’m not scared. Do you want me to hold you?
―Yes.
Thunder wasn’t necessarily frightening only to someone like Cayente, tied to certain experiences. Even Yulia, younger than him, couldn’t help but be scared by the sky-splitting roar. She had gathered the courage to comfort him because she loved him.
She loved Cayente. The heart of a small child could be no less significant than that of an adult. Loving him, she embraced someone bigger than herself and faced the thunder.
Yulia’s current ability to overcome fear was likely also due to her love for the cello.
Cayente felt a sudden nausea twist his insides, hastily covering his mouth.
―Don’t even think about bringing a cello like that into my house.
He shouldn’t have touched the cello.
Regret surged like a tidal wave, twisting his stomach. The floor beneath him felt unstable.
What had he done? He had tried to touch Yulia’s cello—nothing else mattered.
Cayente’s breath shortened, and his vision narrowed. Experiencing the same deathly fear he had felt upon hearing Yulia play the cello, but now for a completely different reason, he met Yulia’s eyes—and she gave him a small, gentle smile.
That single smile brought back all his breath.
As his vision expanded again, Cayente saw more than he had before: the green of the low trees surrounding them, the vivid colors and shapes of the flowers swaying in the breeze, the harmonious arrangement of tiny white flowers embroidered on the arching topiary of the stage…
And below it all, Yulia holding the cello, continuing her performance, her golden eyes shining.
No scenery in the meticulously designed garden could outshine the brilliance of her gaze. Cayente realized:
He wanted those eyes to belong entirely to him, and he wished for nothing but Yulia’s happiness.
The applause told Yulia her performance had been a success, but she had known even before the clapping began. It was the first time she had played completely absorbed, as if only she and the cello existed in the world.
“That was the most beautiful performance I’ve ever heard in my life.”
A young noble standing near the stage wiped tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. Yulia felt like dancing for joy but restrained herself, thinking it might be too much. She was happy knowing she could now send invitations to the upcoming charity concert without embarrassment. Receiving the praise, she stepped down from the stage.
“To have such rare talent lying dormant in your household—it’s inconceivable. Please come to Casad anytime. I will ensure the concert hall is prepared for your performance.”
Approaching Cayente, who stood a little apart holding the cello, Yulia smiled in gratitude. Before long, tears flowed freely from her eyes.
“Well done.”
Cayente patted her head. Yulia was moved more by his words than by any other praise, because the same person who had refused to allow the cello now acknowledged her.
As Yulia’s tears streamed, unlike the flustered Cain, Cayente reached out as if it were natural, drawing her into his embrace.
“Crying like this will make those who usually never spare praise uncomfortable. Stop now.”
Even his blunt voice sounded gentle.
Could it be a delusion? Perhaps Cayente had shared not only her body but also a piece of his heart.
“Did you enjoy the performance?”
“How could I not? I even cried during the last piece.”
“I plan to hold a charity concert soon. You will, of course, attend?”
“Of course. Tell me when—it’s a promise!”
Cayente took the lead, introducing the charity concert to the nobles nearby on Yulia’s behalf.
Yulia felt that if Cayente treated her like this, all the words and wounds from before their marriage could be forgotten. She could forget everything and live loving him for the rest of her life.
Burying her face against Cayente’s chest and listening to his steady heartbeat, she wished this moment could last forever.
After this dreamlike time, where Cayente wiped her tears and watched her every step, Yulia stepped toward the carriage with him, and Lucy ran up immediately.
“Milady! You’re out! Has the party ended? Hurry, I need you to check something with me.”
“How could the hats not have been delivered to the cotton farm?”
The hats, which were expected to arrive at the ranch last week, had been completely canceled at the order stage. Even Lucy had just learned this. A maid had visited the general store by chance today and heard from the owner that the order had been canceled. The store owner returned the payment with a letter explaining why the cancellation had been necessary. Even Yulia, who had checked the letter carefully, had no knowledge of it.
“I thought perhaps you had received and checked it, but apparently not.”
“I never received such a letter.”
While Yulia, flustered by Lucy’s words, was trying to figure out where things had gone wrong, Cayente placed Yulia in the carriage first and asked:
“So, why was the order canceled?”
“Ah, well… the day after I placed the order, someone appeared willing to pay double for the hats. Since the store couldn’t cancel an already received order, they asked the workshop if they could make the same amount quickly. But the buyer wouldn’t wait—he said he would buy all the hats for the summer with that money. They had no choice but to sell…”
The store had initially refused to double the price out of loyalty. But when the same buyer offered double for everything, it became impossible to refuse.
If the hats were urgently needed for summer, they could have looked for another store or negotiated directly with the workshop. Cayente found it suspicious that the buyer spent so much money unnecessarily. The behavior reminded him of how the same buyer had overpaid for the trade company he intended to acquire.
“I’ll need to stop by the market before going home.”
“Do so.”
As Lucy finalized the footrest and took her place beside Yulia, the carriage departed. Yulia resolved to investigate herself. Cayente gave a small nod and cast a meaningful glance out the window.
If they could find out who bought the hats, they might also get answers regarding the still puzzling trade company issue.
However, upon arriving at the hat shop and hearing the details, Cayente’s mind only filled with more questions.
“The buyer didn’t give a name. Payment was made in gold on the spot.”
The identity of the person who bought the goods was completely mysterious. Wearing a hooded robe pulled low, the shopkeeper only knew the buyer was a woman, but not her hair or eye color. Not knowing where to start, Cayente continued the questions in place of Yulia.
“And the delivery? Where did they want it sent?”
