CHAPTER 59
“I mustn’t cry.”
“Why not? Because it’s embarrassing?”
“…Forget it. Why am I even talking to a kid?”
“Oh! Should I stand watch for you? You can cry here. I’ll make sure no one comes!”
“Where did you even learn about standing watch…?”
“It’s okay. Crying isn’t embarrassing.”
The silence gradually faded, replaced by the familiar sound of a child’s cheerful chatter.
The bright laughter that had started to feel familiar brought focus back to Raphael’s once-lifeless blue eyes, and a flush of color returned to his pale face.
“I hate people.”
“Why? So… do you hate me too?”
“…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know…? Did I do something wrong?”
“…You didn’t do anything wrong. I just hate not having anyone I can trust.”
Raphael stared blankly at the ground with a vacant expression. Louisa, who had been quietly watching the side of his face, suddenly spoke.
“Do you really have to trust someone?”
“Huh?”
“You know, I don’t believe the nanny when she says my mom went to heaven happily after giving birth to me. She died because it was hard to give birth. How could that be happy? Even my dad isn’t happy. But… I still understand the nanny.”
“…You understand?”
“Yup. I don’t believe her words, but I understand them. And I trust myself for being able to understand them.”
“…”
“How’s that? Pretty smart, huh? My brother gets surprised every day. Says I’m a total genius!”
A faint smile flickered on Raphael’s lips as he listened to her seriously. It was a subtle upward curve, but to Louisa, it was an incredible expression she’d never seen before.
Her eyes widened in amazement, but then she frowned as Raphael’s face darkened again.
“Do you have to trust someone? In the end, the one who stays with me forever is me, isn’t it?”
“…You’re right. Louisa, you’re really smart.”
“Huh? You said my name! That’s the first time. Say it again—again!”
It was a harsh and bitter winter, but the cold didn’t reach their hearts.
Though it may have been a place of hardship for others, for Raphael, it was nothing short of comforting. That long, yet fleeting, winter quickly passed.
Having successfully exterminated the monsters and returned to the capital, Raphael went straight to his mother, with a look suggesting a burden had finally been lifted.
But upon returning to the palace, he learned that the mother he had sent away had passed—and the news plunged his soul into darkness once again.
Years later, when he met Louisa again, she had erased every memory of the past—
And with that, Raphael’s heart fell into an abyss.
Perhaps it had all been petty resentment.
Disappointment that the one person who once understood him couldn’t even remember him—
Maybe that’s why he judged her changed self so harshly and acted even worse.
The childhood memories he had tried so hard to forget now tugged even deeper at his heart.
“Will I fulfill an old wish… or create something new?”
A faint smile of Louisa’s flitted through his mind. Raphael paused in his tracks, his face lost in thought as he gazed toward the distant sky. A wild, chaotic wind blew across him.
***
Guests were rare at the Duke Blake residence in their northern territory, but they were even rarer at their townhouse in the capital.
Duke Blake himself mostly stayed in the north and had little interest in politics.
The only Blake family member who occasionally showed his face in high society was Damian—and even he never invited guests to their home.
And as for Louisa, she had no reason to invite or be invited.
Yet lately, people had begun coming and going in this once desolate home.
And not just anyone—guests who were least expected to visit Louisa of all people.
“So it’s finally been released…”
“That shameless man! How could he release someone else’s creation as his own…!”
The visitors were none other than Countess Dalio—who had never once visited before—and Albert Rosé, who had only come a handful of times.
They all held the same morning newspaper in hand.
Countess Dalio stared down at it with a hardened expression, while Albert Rosé had buried his face in both hands, overcome with emotion.
Their reactions were different, but they both radiated the same fury.
Meanwhile, Louisa calmly stared at the front page of the newspaper with a detached expression.
“‘Pink Wine’? What a terrible name.”
She leisurely set the newspaper down, mentally mocking the utter lack of taste from whoever had come up with that ridiculous name.
Countess Dalio, who had clenched her fists tightly over her lap, finally spoke.
“Even if plagiarism is hard to prove and rarely punished, Rosé Wine is a one-of-a-kind product. Normally, copycats wait and observe for years before releasing a knockoff, but launching at the exact same time in the same year? That’s just brazen.”
“Exactly. And considering the scale of Rosé Wine, most investors would have done their homework. Either they knew and did it anyway, or they didn’t bother checking at all. Both are incredible.”
Louisa recalled every detail of the report Brown had recently brought her about the plagiarist.
Name: Farda George.
From a declining noble family, considered practically ruined.
His family had run a small winery, but after his parents died of illness, it all passed to Farda, the only son.
His gambling addiction destroyed the family business in no time.
After wasting away in gambling dens for over a decade, there were even rumors he’d soon be dragged off by creditors.
Then suddenly, this year, he came into a large amount of money and moved to the capital.
Untraceable wealth. Enormous scale beyond his means.
It was obvious—there was no way he’d done this alone.
“There’s clearly someone backing him, but they’ve covered their tracks well. No close acquaintances, no known relatives—hard to get any detailed info.”
“We’ll investigate the backer later. For now, we need to deal with this thief first.”
“Yes, but legal action won’t work. We’ll have to appeal to His Majesty… and that would require the Lady to step forward. But if we’re not careful…”
If Louisa were a well-connected noble, it wouldn’t be an issue.
But as a low-profile aristocrat with a poor public image, stepping into a dispute like this would only fuel rumors that a high-ranking noble was bullying a provincial family—ruining her product’s image.
Or worse: a greedy old noble might use the excuse of “mediating” to seize it all for themselves.
In truth, “appealing” to the current emperor would amount to handing it over on a silver platter.
Countess Dalio trailed off, unable to continue. Louisa gave a slow nod, signaling she understood.
A heavy silence followed.
As the oppressive atmosphere stretched on, Countess Dalio opened her mouth as if to speak—only to let out a sigh of resignation.
“I’m so sorry… If I had been more cautious, this never would have happened…”
Albert Rosé trembled as he lowered his head, tears brimming.
“To think I’ve brought such shame upon my benefactor… Please, I will make it right, no matter what it takes… even if it costs me my life…”
“…Don’t say that. If you die, who’s going to make the wine?”
“L-Lady Louisa…”
“How’s the sparkling wine coming along?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“Wait—are you planning to release a new product?”
His sorrowful apology was drowned out by Countess Dalio’s voice, filled with shock. Her composure snapped in an instant.
“Yes. Once it’s ready, let’s do a tasting together. I think you’ll really like it.”
“I’m sure we will, but… in the current situation, releasing a new product might be too risky.”
Both of them looked at Louisa with concern.
They didn’t say it outright, but clearly hoped she would delay her plans at least until next year.
Louisa gave a calm, soft smile. Her eyes said, don’t worry—as if she were reassuring them.
Seeing her like this began to ease the anxiety that had been gripping the two guests.
As if responding to the hope that maybe, just maybe, she had something planned, Louisa’s coral lips parted.
“It’ll be fine. Good news is on its way.”
And that “good news” was first received… by Farda George, who was popping champagne in his new townhouse in the center of the capital.
***
From early morning, Farda George had been popping champagne.
He was celebrating his transformation from a lowborn country noble to a successful man of the capital.
“Ahh, this is what success tastes like!”
His loud laughter made his belly jiggle, and his tiny eyes—barely visible—crinkled like folding fans.
He set down his champagne glass and picked up a bottle of his “Pink Wine,” admiring his creation.
“This is why life is so unpredictable.”
The day he met a rich investor who offered a massive sum had been the luckiest day of his life.
He’d never seen the investor in person, but their representative clearly worked for someone powerful—
and Farda figured it was just some rich noble who wanted a bit of fun or wanted to sabotage a rival.
It wasn’t uncommon for nobles to throw money at petty schemes.
“Hahaha! I’m rich now!”
