Chapter 19
The maid’s gaze, laced with obvious hostility, lingered on Rosé as if to make sure she noticed the sneer. And it wasn’t just her—every other maid around looked at Rosé the same way.
Hostility.
And envy, jealousy.
Things Rosé had no choice but to endure. If it meant staying close to the child, she would willingly bear it.
“Hmph! Let’s go.”
The maid who had sneered at Rosé earlier snorted and took the lead. The others who had been talking followed after her.
Even the one who had earlier asked if they should help Rosé wore an awkward expression, then quietly turned away.
“……”
Rosé watched them for a moment, then gave a bitter smile. She tightened her grip with both hands and began dragging the heavy luggage again, struggling with the weight.
“This way! Hurry up!”
“We need to be ready before the Count comes out!”
Outside the building, the area was chaotic with carriages and servants. Each person was rushing to finish preparations before their master emerged.
“Your Grace, it seems preparations are not yet complete. It may be best to wait inside…”
Fedwin, standing at the entrance, looked troubled as he glanced at Heivan. But Heivan stared indifferently at the bustle and then took a step forward.
“I’ll wait outside.”
“…Yes, Your Grace.”
Damn those old geezers. Fedwin barely managed to swallow the vulgar curse that had risen to his lips. He knew exactly why his master had been forced to come out instead of resting inside.
“Your Grace, the throne cannot remain vacant any longer. It’s been six years already. And Her Majesty the Queen Dowager waits so earnestly… For the glory of Gwenters, please reconsider…”
The elderly nobles loyal to Duke Theclen had brought up the matter of succession—or more precisely, marriage to the Queen Dowager—with great persistence.
They were determined to get a definite answer from Heivan this time. And so, he had no choice but to leave early, leading to the current mess.
While Fedwin silently cursed the elders again, Heivan gazed blankly at the scenery.
In truth, it couldn’t even be called “gazing.” Nothing that passed through his blue eyes actually registered with any true emotion.
Then, something caught his eye. Amid the endlessly shifting scene, something—or someone—entered his line of sight.
It was the slender back of a small figure. And just by looking at her back, he had a strong feeling of who it was.
‘Rosé.’
Heivan almost muttered the name, then quickly shut his mouth. It was rare for someone like him to remember the name of a mere maid. Though, considering she had saved his daughter’s life, perhaps it wasn’t too strange.
Still, anyone familiar with his usual cold and indifferent personality would find it odd.
So how must he feel?
Heivan frowned, unsettled by this unfamiliar reaction of his own, and tried to look away. But what he saw of Rosé tugged again at his nerves.
She was swaying under the weight of luggage larger than her body, struggling to carry it with both hands.
Without a word, Heivan walked toward her. It happened so quickly that Fedwin didn’t even have a chance to stop him. He reached her and took the bags from her hands.
“…!”
Surprised by the sudden relief of weight, Rosé turned around in shock. Her green eyes widened.
Heivan saw his own reflection in those eyes. Strangely… familiar.
‘Familiar?’ he thought, frowning.
“Y-Your Grace?”
As Rosé cried out in panic and reached toward him, Heivan responded.
“I’ll carry it. Is that the carriage over there?”
Something stirred deep in his chest. But he couldn’t place what it was. It was just… a feeling.
A feeling that made no sense. Familiar? He chuckled quietly to himself and strode toward the Grand Duke’s carriage where the servants were loading the luggage. Flustered, Rosé hurried to follow him.
“Your Grace, please let me—”
“Your Grace!”
Before Rosé could insist, Fedwin’s voice called from behind her. He must have finally come to his senses after the unexpected turn of events.
“Please, give it to me, Your Grace.”
Fedwin rushed over and reached to take the luggage from Heivan. Rosé, who was pushed aside, stood a few steps back, watching them. Meanwhile, the head maid nearby turned at the commotion, caught sight of what was happening, and ran over, horrified.
“Heavens! Your Grace!”
She had come in such a rush that her usually neat uniform was in disarray. Reaching them, she cried out.
“How could… Your Grace…?”
Seeing the master carrying a servant’s burden left her speechless. Then her eyes turned sharply toward Rosé, whose body instinctively shrank at the look.
“What do you think you’re doing! Why is His Grace carrying something you should be carrying?!”
“I-I’m sorry, Head Maid. I just…”
“Don’t scold the wrong person,” Heivan interrupted, frowning at the shrinking Rosé. “You too, Sir Fedwin. You’re making too much of a fuss over nothing.”
“But Your Grace, how is this nothing? You carried a maid’s luggage—”
The head maid objected, and Fedwin nodded in agreement. Heivan’s eyes shifted to Rosé again—who stood there, looking lost and small.
“That’s enough.”
His voice dropped noticeably. Both the head maid and Fedwin flinched.
“Making a scene over a few bags is more embarrassing.”
“But the others are watching. It might damage Your Grace’s dignity…”
The head maid tried again, hesitating. Heivan let out a small laugh.
“You think my dignity is so fragile that this could damage it?”
“N-no! That’s not what I meant at all…”
“Then it’s fine, isn’t it?”
Heivan looked straight at the pale-faced head maid as she fumbled for words, then bowed deeply with both hands folded.
He turned away and resumed walking toward the carriage, still carrying the luggage he’d taken from Rosé. Fedwin looked torn, but finally shrugged and followed after him.
“……”
Tears welled up in Rosé’s eyes as she watched Heivan’s retreating back. Her hair, disheveled from the heavy load, fluttered in the breeze. And as if carried by that breeze, a soft laughter echoed in her ears.
“Give it to me, it’s heavy.”
“Ha! This? It’s not heavy at all.”
A man’s voice echoed in her mind—teasing her as he took her basket of herbs and ran around laughing. She saw herself chasing after him, reaching up on tiptoe.
“I won’t let you carry a thing.”
“Do I look that weak to you?”
“No. I know you’re a strong young lady.”
His blue eyes had been gentle as he looked at her. Rosé remembered his smiling face, the one that used to tap her nose playfully. And then, with the same eyes turned serious, he’d said:
“But… you’re the one I love.”
Because you’re the one I love.
Words she’d never hear again. A voice that would now exist only in memory.
Rosé forced a smile. Still, wasn’t it a good thing… that she had the memory?
Because she could remember.
Because at least she still remembered.
“If you couldn’t carry it all, you should’ve asked for help. What were you thinking, dragging it all by yourself and causing this mess?”
The head maid’s voice snapped her out of it. Rosé stared at Heivan’s disappearing figure and bit her lip. Then, forcing her eyes away, she turned and bowed deeply to the maid.
“I’m sorry, Head Maid.”
There were many excuses she could have made. She could’ve pleaded that no one had helped her. But Rosé only spoke the simple words of apology and then fell silent.
Memories were just memories.
It was time to return to reality.
As she didn’t have much time left.
