Chapter 10
To someone logical and rational, there is no such thing as an emotion without reason. Appropriate empathy and understanding—acknowledging someone’s feelings and offering comfort—were things Edmund could execute most perfectly. Every emotion and action had a cause, and Edmund knew each one clearly.
A faint furrow appeared in Edmund’s brows.
Finding the source of this displeasure would not take long. As always, he would uncover the perfect answer.
He had never once arrived at the wrong conclusion, which gave him full confidence.
Edmund moved forward.
In the glass greenhouse, his grandmother was waiting. To delay any longer would be a grave discourtesy.
Vivian, having finally shaken off her severe fever, first headed to Grandfather Len’s bookstore.
“Grandfather! Grandfather!”
Her call, like that of a lark, echoed through the shop as she ran in, leaving the sea of Tannick behind her. It roused Len from his drowsy reverie. The book he had been halfway through reading had already leapt ten pages ahead. Supporting his chin with his hand, he opened his once-gently closed eyes, now fully alert, and watched the child before him, panting from her run.
“Vivian?”
“Grandfather!”
“…What brings you here?”
An uninvited but welcome guest. She had always appeared unexpectedly, yet Len was surprised today due to the widespread news of her fever throughout Pover.
Fortunately, there were no signs of illness left on the child who had dashed here in such haste. Len exhaled lightly, then awkwardly followed her as she tugged at his hand. After seating Len at the table, Vivian sat opposite him, her lips pressed firmly together as though they might not part easily.
“Are you fully recovered from your cold?”
Len’s gruff voice made Vivian pause, then nod. Yet she kept her lips sealed for a while longer. After two waves of hesitant silence, she finally parted her lips calmly.
“It’s probably because the weather was so hot, isn’t it?”
Many people in Pover caught fevers during the summer, so Len nodded in agreement with Vivian’s explanation.
“You were in a hot place for too long, so you caught a severe summer fever.”
“But I only went out when it was hot.”
Len assumed their conversation was simply about a summer cold. Vivian was naturally curious and never left questions unanswered. Besides, Pover’s summers were unusually hot, and it was very common for children to fall ill.
Yet Len sensed an unusual, subtle energy. It was understandable—Vivian’s expression was more serious than he had ever seen.
“So you mean it wasn’t the heat that caused your fever.”
“Yes. I think so.”
Vivian shook her head and became certain that her illness was not simply caused by summer temperatures.
Then what could it possibly be?
The flowers in full bloom.
The low voice that drifted between them.
The subtle sway of her dangling legs as she sat in the chair came to a gentle stop.
Why?
The strange symptoms that had begun several days ago continued to unsettle her mind at random moments. The blue blossoms, the animals approaching while wagging their cute tails, the gentle waves of Tannick—among the things she loved, there was always a rude intruder slipping in.
Vivian concluded that the fever that tormented her was undoubtedly connected to the memory of that day.
“Fevers usually come from a sudden rise in temperature, but…”
“…….”
“…sometimes, they torment people for other reasons.”
Vivian’s ears perked up at Grandfather Len’s words.
“At first sight, the floating moments seemed to slow down.”
Perhaps the very cause of her fever.
“And in every careless moment, they stir up your thoughts.”
Vivian’s eyes glazed over.
“Just thinking about it makes your chest feel tight.”
The symptoms Len described were exactly those Vivian had experienced. As she watched the elderly man’s eyes narrow slightly while he lingered on each word, she swallowed hard.
“Then… what is it?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Eh?”
Vivian slammed the table and jumped up. At this moment, Grandfather Len, leisurely sipping coffee and turning the pages of a book, was thoroughly exasperating.
“Why?”
Suppressing a foolish laugh, Len read on, indifferent to the child’s wide-eyed, puffed-cheeked expression. It seemed the heat covering Pover had reached even her. What shape would this child’s future take, he wondered. Surely bright and lovely. Yet Len had no way of knowing whom this child might hold dear.
There was a reason he couldn’t readily tell such a curious child the answer. The happiness that would explode the moment she discovered it on her own—Len did not want to steal that. To the child just beginning to grow, the words of an old man were merely dull and tedious, irrelevant to her future.
Len loved the child more than anyone.
Beyond status, she had the power to bring warmth to others. Anyone who met her would inevitably be moved by love. Len hoped that whoever captured this child’s heart would love her in the same way. He whispered softly to Tannick.
Something was wrong.
Purin thought so as she observed Vivian, unlike her usual self. News that the young lady had been bedridden with a fever for three days had spread throughout Pover. What about that fever had left her acting strangely?
“Is this… right, madam?”
Vivian, wide-eyed, had lifted her teacup with a delicate, almost clumsy air, mimicking a noblewoman.
“Indeed, it’s strange.”
“Huh?”
Puzzled, Vivian glanced at her own teacup, which she lowered slightly under Purin’s sharp gaze, yet she couldn’t tell what was wrong.
“Wh-what do you mean by strange?”
“Why, naturally, it’s not the manner of Vivian herself, is it?”
Vivian scratched her cheek awkwardly and averted her gaze. Yet she couldn’t ignore the persistent stare. With a deep sigh, she continued.
“Is it that noticeable?”
“Noticeable? What do you mean?”
“My utterly terrible etiquette.”
Purin, reading the worry in Vivian’s voice, sensed the little girl’s frustration. Surely, this was yet another change brought about by Pover’s visiting guest. Why else would a mischievous child, who had resisted her ladyship’s strict guidance, come seeking to learn proper etiquette on her own?
“Luckily, you understand the subject matter.”
Yet Purin had no intention of letting the girl off easily. This opportunity would help Vivian become a true lady, to her benefit as well as Purin’s.
Recalling her clumsy encounter with the young viscount at the summer villa—trapped in a door—Vivian buried her head in shame. The contrast between her flustered, red-faced self and the perfect composure of the young viscount was mortifying. It was the first time she had felt true embarrassment.
“To make up for my rudeness, I will devote myself to learning proper etiquette from now on!”
“That’s a commendable resolution.”
Vivian, flushed, jumped up indignantly at Purin’s nonchalant response.
“Please believe me!”
“A true lady does not speak so loudly,” Purin said.
Vivian froze, realized her mistake, and immediately softened her voice. She sat back down and begged earnestly, eyes wide.
“Please help me. From now on, I will never be lazy. I promise!”
“Since you beg like that, I will trust you. But remember, compared to the other young ladies, you are already behind,” Purin said.
“Yes, madam.”
“Nevertheless, there is one admirable trait.”
“Yes?”
“Admitting your shortcomings. Other young ladies have yet to grasp that. So have confidence, Vivian.”
Vivian beamed and nodded vigorously, grabbing and shaking Purin’s hand. At the same time, a sharp gaze shot toward her. Only then did Vivian offer a sheepish smile and return to her seat.
“There is still a long way to go, though.”
Ignoring the remark, Vivian renewed her resolution. When she met the young viscount again, she would atone for her previous shortcomings. Only then would this tightness in her chest, caused by shame and embarrassment, finally ease. To show a perfect demeanor was the solution.
