Chapter 13
“Strange.”
Bellia stared at the glasses placed on the table in front of her.
Milk, juice, and several other drinks.
There was only one person, so why so many options?
“Ah, my lady. Are they not to your liking? Shall I bring something else?”
“No, it’s fine.”
Bellia smiled gently and shook her head at the fidgeting attendant.
Since she hadn’t sent word ahead to her father, she had to wait a bit.
Waiting wasn’t a problem—but this atmosphere had been off from the beginning.
The knights guarding the office had flinched as soon as she arrived. That was just the start.
The moment the door opened and they saw her, the two attendants who had worked by her father’s side for a long time turned pale.
As if they’d seen something they shouldn’t have.
Their faces were as white as their hair, pretending to work while obviously sneaking glances at her.
Even while their pens moved, their eyes were on her so intensely she could feel it prickling her skin.
‘What’s with them?’
When Bellia glanced their way, the pens began to move faster.
They were familiar faces, having worked beside her father for a long time. They had always smiled kindly when passing each other in the halls.
So she couldn’t understand why they were acting so nervously now.
Bellia took her gaze off the attendants and began to look around the room.
‘This room was supposed to have been kept in the state it was in under the first marquis.’
She nodded to herself.
The ornate pattern on the ceiling was overwhelming.
She knew that pattern very well as the marquis’s daughter—and it had brought her disappointment more than once, branding her as a fake.
The memory of standing atop that pattern during her coming-of-age ceremony and failing to awaken made her chest ache.
The ancient inscription in the center meant “The Power of Rebirth.”
It was said that in the early days of the Empire’s founding, this power had been passed down, though now it existed only as a form of awakening.
In the current generation, no one could properly wield the “Power of Rebirth.”
Many scholars had studied it, but the conditions under which it could be used remained unknown.
Ancient records had all supposedly been lost in fires long ago.
‘I thought the Power of Rebirth meant regression…’
Yes.
Honestly, the reason she had clung to the idea that she might be real after her regression was because she thought the regression might be an aftereffect of that power.
‘But I guess not.’
Bellia let out a bitter smile.
Shaking her head to clear the sinking thoughts, she tried to refocus.
“Are you feeling unwell, my lady?”
“No, I’m fine.”
She smiled faintly at the still-concerned attendants and continued looking around the room.
‘Maybe the first marquis really liked the antique look.’
The strange decorations and wall designs were quite eccentric.
Now that she thought about it, this was her first time seeing her father’s office.
Even though she was his daughter, she had never visited his workplace. That thought felt oddly foreign as she scratched her head.
Even if they weren’t especially close, she might have come at least once. How had she managed to avoid this place through four regressions?
As she wondered, she felt someone approaching from behind.
“You’ve arri—”
Assuming it was her father, Bellia quickly stood, then flinched.
“Did you run here?”
Her eyes widened at the sight.
She’d heard he was briefly at the training grounds, but looking at him now, anyone would think he’d just finished a session himself.
His shirt was unbuttoned, his hair tousled—it was clear he’d rushed.
The marquis muttered as he stared at her in shock.
“…It’s real.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, no. Never mind.”
He quickly shut his mouth and gestured to the two attendants standing to his right.
They exchanged subtle hand signals that Bellia couldn’t decipher.
Still confused, Bellia was shown to a seat by her father.
“Sit down for now.”
“Ah, yes.”
The marquis stiffly walked over and sat across from her.
A drink was placed in front of him as well.
Bellia got straight to the point.
“Father, I just wanted to ask you about the textile business we talked about during our last meal. I’m sorry for dropping in like this.”
“No need to apologize.”
He shook his head firmly, as if to say she had no reason to be sorry.
“Right, so—”
“Are you okay?”
They both spoke at the same time, then paused.
“…What?”
“If you feel like screaming, go ahead. You don’t have to hold back.”
“…Pardon?”
Bellia tilted her head, not understanding.
The attendants behind her gestured frantically to the marquis.
“I mean, I’m just asking if you’re really okay. Are you breathing alright?”
“Breathing?”
Bellia blinked in confusion.
Of course she was breathing just fine.
“Ah… well… hmm…”
Seeing how restless he looked, Bellia asked cautiously.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“No! I mean—what did you say you came about?”
“The textile business.”
“Textiles?”
“Yes. I was wondering when the materials might arrive.”
“Ah, that should be tomorrow,” said the attendant behind him.
“Tomorrow? That soon?”
“They’ve already docked at the port. The issue was just deciding which family would handle them. As of yesterday afternoon, our house was confirmed, and they’re now on the way.”
“Once they arrive at the mansion, we’ll call in the merchants for a joint meeting. I was going to invite you too. Is there a problem?”
“Well… would it be possible for me to see the textiles first, before the meeting?”
“You want to see them?”
“Yes. Since it’ll be my first time participating in something like this, I thought it would help to look at them beforehand and organize my thoughts.”
“Ah, that might be a bit diff—”
“It’s not difficult. If she wants to, then she can.”
The attendant seemed ready to refuse, but the marquis nodded quickly.
“Really?”
She’d been worrying about the limitations of making prototypes using only leather available within the Empire.
But if she could make a bag directly from the textile, she could speed up prototype production—and Bellia’s face lit up.
Now that she had decided to start a bag business, she had no intention of dragging things out.
Thinking of the defeat she’d deliver to Barun and the mountain of gold she’d gain, her mood naturally improved.
“Then when the sample arrives tomorrow, I’ll just take a small portion. Thank you, Father!”
Bellia smiled brightly and picked up the juice in front of her, deep in thought.
The marquis, watching her, curved his lips into a rare smile.
The attendants blinked in surprise.
“You must be busy. Please go back to your work! I’ll be heading out!”
After checking the time and realizing she might be late for her appointment, Bellia quickly left the room.
Click.
As the door closed, the attendants immediately approached the marquis.
“What a relief.”
“Indeed.”
The marquis loosened his cravat.
“I was nervous something like before might happen.”
Even after eight years, just thinking of that day still brought a cold sweat.
“Was everything okay while I was gone?”
The attendants nodded swiftly.
“Yes. Thankfully, there were no issues with the young lady.”
“It seems she doesn’t remember the incident in this room at all.”
“That’s a relief.”
The marquis had purposely avoided seeing her, afraid that his presence might trigger her memory.
He hadn’t even tried to make eye contact or get close.
Yet today, he’d looked her in the eyes as she smiled joyfully—and she seemed completely unaffected.
“The court physician said she’s likely forgotten everything, right?”
“Yes. Not only the accident at age eight, but everything that happened in the mansion afterward as well.”
“I see…”
“More importantly, my lord, are you certain we should give her the textile samples? This is an imperial-level business, and security may be an issue. Though the goods are arriving tomorrow, we still need to file paperwork with the palace…”
“It’s fine. As her father, I can at least do that much. And since the business has already been assigned to our house, there’s no problem with Bellia receiving it.”
* * *
“…That’s the report.”
“Is that so?”
Barun’s gaze remained fixed on the documents in front of him as he gave a terse reply.
“And the next report—Lady Bellia visited the marquis’s office.”
His pen stopped.
“Bellia?”
Barun lifted his head.
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“It seems she discussed the textile business with the marquis.”
“Textiles…”
Barun fiddled with the rim of his glasses.
“I’ll do it.”
He’d sensed a change in Bellia ever since she had boldly spoken up at the dinner.
“What exactly did they discuss?”
“I didn’t receive the details, but shall I look into it?”
The timid girl had suddenly changed overnight.
