FEFR 26

Chapter 26

It was only after the door closed that Lange realized why Erna had reacted that way.

Petra and Lenart, flustered by the sudden situation, looked at the frozen Lange.

“…Baer is the family name of Ludia.”

Lange eventually confessed as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“In other words, she’s Erna’s real mother.”

Even Petra couldn’t hide her shock. It was no wonder Erna had run off in distress. The real issue was Lange’s attitude.

Though Lange had given them a ridiculously short summary, the story between the sisters wasn’t so simple.

Still, Lange appeared merely troubled—far calmer than the other two.

Lenart actually thought it would be more natural if Lange got annoyed.

Even if what happened in the past wasn’t Erna’s fault, Lange wasn’t obligated to consider her feelings. If she were extremely kind, maybe she would feel guilty, but Lange wasn’t that kind of person.

Lenart held back a sigh and spoke.

“…First, we need to find your sister.”

Though he was closer to Lange, at this moment, Erna was the better person to talk to rationally.

As expected, Lange gave an unexpected answer.

“Please tell her I’m sorry.”

It was hard to say whether she could even explain what exactly she was sorry for. Instead of questioning her, Lenart simply nodded and left the room.

They found Erna in a corner of the garden.

By now, the sun was setting, and the garden facing the sea was bathed in gold.

Erna stood with Calissa. Her complexion was still pale like when she ran out, but the physician remained calm, as if recognizing it was a psychological matter.

“I was surprised to see you running like that. At this rate, I’d believe you’re fully recovered. Still, don’t skip your medication or exercise.”

“Yes…”

“Lady Petra told you, didn’t she? That you’ll need to return to the capital soon. I’ll accompany you, of course, but I won’t be by your side all the time, so you’ll have to take care of yourself.”

He seemed to deliberately avoid asking why Erna had run out.

Lenart approached without bothering to soften his footsteps. Erna, noticing, flinched slightly before calming herself and asking,

“Did Lange… get mad?”

“Not at all. She asked me to tell you she’s sorry.”

He expected Erna to feel relieved. After all, Lange had reached out first, and she wasn’t the type to hold grudges. Surely, they could move on like nothing had happened.

But instead, Erna looked terrified.

Her hands clenched tightly at her chest, the knuckles turning white. Her eyes, which had been wandering, dropped to the ground again.

Calissa, who didn’t seem interested in interfering until now, finally opened her mouth, as if she could no longer stay silent.

“It’ll get chilly once the sun sets. Why don’t you finish this conversation indoors?”

The two accepted the suggestion and returned inside.

While Lenart had been looking for Erna, Petra had left and Lange had also gone somewhere. The room now held only an awkward air. Though the fishing gear and cut hair had been cleared away, a strange messiness remained.

“She didn’t mean any harm.”

As soon as Erna sat in the chair, Lenart returned to the earlier topic.

“If she wanted to blame you, she would’ve said it more directly.”

Lange wasn’t someone who was always positive. She chose to keep a cheerful demeanor because being blunt was easier than sulking or being passive-aggressive. Or, sometimes, she’d simply forget things.

Having observed her through the changing seasons, Lenart could describe her character with certainty.

“I know. I know Lange didn’t say that to hurt me.”

Erna agreed with his assessment.

“I just misunderstood and got scared. I don’t even have the right…”

She shifted uncomfortably, as if unsure what to do with herself.

“But in moments like this… I just get scared.”

“Scared?”

“How can Lange not hold a grudge? How can she treat me so normally, even be kind to me? Why doesn’t she abandon the surname that must be unbearable to even hear?”

Erna poured out the questions she had been suppressing.

“What if… what if I mean nothing to her? Actually, that would be better. But then, why is she so indifferent to what she’s been through? I don’t understand what I mean to her…”

Tears dripped from her chin. Erna began to cry softly.

Lenart could relate, to an extent. Still, instead of continuing the conversation, he chose to bring it to a close.

“Don’t overthink it. That’s enough for today.”

Though he wasn’t one to talk in that regard, Lenart advised her to stop thinking.

Erna nodded as she accepted the handkerchief he handed her.

“Yes. I must be overreacting. I’ll do as Your Highness said…”

“I’ll talk to her myself. You should rest for now.”

Unlike with Erna, finding Lange wasn’t easy.

Since he couldn’t use magic freely in Petra’s mansion, Lenart had to search every corner by foot.

“Don’t tell me she actually went outside?”

Just as that thought crossed his mind and he reached for his pendulum, Lenart spotted Lange in the garden. Or more precisely—perched on the roof.

He climbed up again through the attic, just like before, and Lange greeted him casually.

“What brings you all the way up here?”

The sun had long set, and though the air was chilly, it wasn’t quite winter-level cold.

Lange’s outfit reflected that—light, with just a loosely draped shawl fluttering with her hair.

“What do you mean? After everything that happened, it’s only natural to talk to you after your sister.”

“I guess it must’ve been awkward for you too.”

Lange replayed the earlier scene in her mind. She knew well enough how terribly insensitive her words had been. Erna had even run away in shock.

If Lenart had been the type to just return to his room and enjoy a peaceful evening after witnessing such a scene, he would’ve left them behind at the station long ago.

He stared at the quiet Lange for a long time. Truthfully, he didn’t know where to begin.

Sensing this, Lange asked,

“Was Erna very angry?”

“…Not at all.”

Lenart took a deep breath. Maybe this was the kind of fear Erna had mentioned.

“She was scared because you weren’t angry.”

“…Huh?”

Lange touched her cheek thoughtfully and replied after a beat.

“But I really am fine. Why should I be angry at Erna?”

“Because that’s what’s normal.”

“That doesn’t make it right. And it’s not like the past was her fault.”

“No matter how noble your outlook is, it’s still not typical.”

As Lange blinked, Lenart pointed out something even he found difficult to admit.

“You said Ludia Baer, right? That woman robbed you of the right to know your birth mother, and she let you grow up in unsuitable conditions. Yet you don’t even seem to resent her.”

His words mirrored what Erna had said just before leaving Swanhild.

Lange realized she couldn’t avoid or deflect this time.

She gently placed her hands together on her lap.

“What’s your earliest memory, Senior?”

Startled by the sudden question, Lenart searched through his mind for a distant memory.

Three or four years old? Maybe a bit older. He remembered looking up at someone much taller than him.

It wasn’t his mother or father—but a young-faced half-sister.

While he was still puzzled by the randomness of it, Lange began her own story.

“As for me… I remember being carried on my mom’s back. Tightly wrapped in a quilted sling, and hearing that it was snowing… Then the next memory is her—Ludia—telling me to always be strong, as her last words.”

She stared into the dark sky.

“Until a few months ago, I believed Ludia was my only mother. Even now, all I can recall are good memories. So how could I possibly believe she ruined my life? I… did my best to live.”

Ludia’s actions weren’t justifiable. She had been a decent caregiver, as Lange put it, but she wasn’t an ideal mother—and she had swapped babies. That was an undeniable wrong.

But Lange didn’t want to negate her entire life out of resentment for someone who couldn’t even be held accountable anymore.

She didn’t have the emotional space to hold onto hatred—not now, and certainly not for the complicated days yet to come.

“I can even guess why she did it.”

Lange continued in a tone of reluctant defense.

“If she hadn’t switched us, Erna might have died before turning ten. She only survived this long thanks to consistent—if unqualified—medical care. But if she had grown up as Ludia’s daughter, would Grandfather have supported her the same way? Would he even have known she was sick?”

Lange stretched her legs out from their curled position.

She had avoided explaining this for so long out of laziness, but now that she’d said it, she felt unexpectedly relieved.

“But I know Erna won’t see it that way.”

She circled back to her original concern.

“It’s not a simple matter for her. I didn’t understand that earlier. I hope she doesn’t get hurt…”

It was an unexpected display of sensitivity from Lange. Lenart cautiously spoke.

“…That’s exactly what your sister was worried about.”

No matter how reasonable Lange’s logic was, people sometimes had to hold onto their pain to protect their hearts.

“No matter how much you say it’s okay now, it doesn’t erase the fact that you were hurt. And that part of your past, if ignored, would make anyone close to you uneasy.”

After a moment of hesitation, Lenart added,

“I’m worried too.”

Lange looked at him with wide, surprised eyes.