“I heard people talking when neither you nor your brother were around. They said I was pitiful. And that your brother was unfortunate.”
“Why would they say you’re pitiful? And why is His Lordship unfortunate?”
“Why do you think!”
Frey suddenly sprang up, reacting to Roxana’s feigned ignorance.
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re not stupid.”
“……”
“It’s true that I begged my brother to bring me here because of what you said… but more than that, it was out of curiosity and pride. I’m the precious lady of the prestigious Russell frontier family, you know. Even if I’m blind… I didn’t want to miss out on what I rightfully deserved. But…”
“My lady…”
“Those people said… the Marquis remains unmarried to care for his blind sister. A sister who can’t even marry and is of no use to the family, just consuming wealth…”
Frey’s voice choked, and she took a moment to steady her breath. Roxana stood up with her. Frey clutched her left chest with a flushed face.
“Want to know a secret, Roxana?”
“…What is it?”
“There’s a huge hole in my chest. You can’t see it… but I live ignoring it. Right now, it feels like cold wind keeps flowing in and out of that hole.”
It was the first time Roxana had heard something like this. Frey, though prickly and arrogant, had a lovable side. She seemed more open with Roxana than with others, but she had never spoken so deeply. Without a word, Roxana gently guided Frey to sit back down. Frey slumped onto the bench, looking dejected.
“You said you don’t have parents either, right?”
“Yes.”
“But… do you remember what they looked like?”
“…Yes.”
“I don’t. They died when I was very young. There’s no way to see them again now.”
It was true. Aside from her blindness, the entire Russell estate had been burned down when the family was destroyed—along with the family records and portraits. No images of the previous marquis and his wife remained.
Roxana quietly bit her lower lip, recalling something Curtis once told her.
“She saw her parents die in front of her. The trauma blinded her, and she’s never recovered. That happened when she was five.”
Frey and Curtis had been children when the Russell family was annihilated. Curtis was only thirteen; Frey was just five.
What kind of trauma must a five-year-old have experienced to go blind? It was unimaginable. That gaping hole in Frey’s heart probably began then. And Roxana had a part in causing it.
“Did you know? All children resemble their parents. Even if not completely, at least one feature—eyes, nose, or lips—will always resemble them.”
“…Really?”
Frey looked intrigued, not expecting that. Roxana smiled and gently put her arm around her.
“Of course. I’m the same.”
Looking at Frey’s jet-black hair, Roxana continued.
“For example, your hair is a beautiful shade of black. Your eyes are as dark as obsidian. And…”
“And?”
“Your brother Curtis has the same black hair as you. His eyes…”
Roxana suddenly paused. She remembered the first time she saw his eyes. That image had appeared often in her dreams for over a decade. Those gray eyes approaching her in the middle of a deep navy sea.
“His eyes?”
“…They’re a mysterious gray. Sometimes they appear pitch black inside, but outside, under sunlight, they shimmer in various hues. It’s a beautiful color.”
“I see… Yes. I remember now.”
Frey smiled faintly as she searched her memory.
“I believe your parents had the same features.”
It wasn’t a guess—it was fact. Roxana had seen the former marquis and his wife. They were as beautiful as a painting. Curtis and Frey resembled them exactly.
“Yes… I can imagine it.”
Frey nodded, eyes glistening with tears. Roxana gently held her hand.
“My lady. Not being able to see doesn’t mean you can’t see everything. Not remembering doesn’t mean you weren’t loved.”
“……”
“There are people who can see yet understand nothing, and people who are loved but never realize it. Those are the kinds of people who go around saying you’re pitiful or your brother is unfortunate.”
Her voice trembled. Roxana herself was someone who had seen but understood nothing, who had been loved but couldn’t accept it. If only she had sensed her father’s intentions before he ruined the Russell family. If only she had warned Curtis. She also regretted not believing the nuns’ love at the convent. She’d thought herself a sinner’s daughter, unworthy of love, destined to be alone.
“So don’t be heartbroken if you can’t recall your parents’ faces. You can always imagine them. And one more thing…”
Roxana gently smoothed Frey’s tousled hair.
“My lady, you’ve always been loved. You’re still loved. Your brother Curtis loves you. And I love you too.”
“…What?”
Frey muttered something softly. Roxana blinked, not catching it.
“What did you say?”
“…Even though I acted so horribly?”
“Even so.”
“No. No one could love someone like me. I’m a nuisance and so selfish. My brother, the maids, the servants—they all hate me.”
It was a cute pout. Roxana smiled gently and replied without hesitation.
“That’s not true. At least two people love you.”
“You’re not saying anyone else does.”
Roxana chuckled at the teasing tone and knelt before Frey. It was the same posture she had taken when Frey once dumped breakfast on a young girl. Holding Frey’s hands tightly, Roxana said,
“I don’t know other people’s hearts. I can’t walk in them. But does it matter? It’s impossible for everyone to love you. That’s true for anyone.”
“You’re so cold. You’re kind and gentle, but sometimes you’re sharp as a knife.”
“You’re not a baby or a child, my lady. Just as you said yourself.”
That was what Frey had told her brother when she begged him to bring her here. Stung into silence, Frey changed the subject.
“…My brother loves me because I’m his only sister. But why do you love me? I wasn’t even nice to you.”
This time, Roxana was the one who fell silent. Her lips trembled slightly.
Why did she love her?
Though she now genuinely found Frey lovable and cute, the origin of that feeling was guilt, responsibility… and selfishness. She bore responsibility for Frey’s situation. If not for her father, the Russell family wouldn’t have been destroyed, and Frey wouldn’t have gone blind.
So Roxana had vowed to be her eyes and feet as a form of atonement. Seeing Frey’s happy face helped soothe her guilt. It was a selfish reason.
“I don’t know.”
After a long pause, Roxana gave an ambiguous answer.
“You don’t know?”
Frey frowned, displeased. Roxana held her hand tighter and whispered.
“But, my lady. This is true: Love isn’t about being nice. Loving someone only if they act a certain way—that’s not real love.”
“……”
“True love is loving despite everything. Even the flaws. And praying for that person. Just like your name, ‘Frey’—which means ‘prayer.’”
Frey, stunned by the calm response, soon broke into tears, her shoulders trembling.
Roxana silently patted her back. Loving Frey. Being her eyes by her side. That was how Roxana chose to atone.
A distant gaze that had been quietly watching the two of them slowly turned away.
—
* * *
After a flood of tears, Frey soon fell asleep, lulled by fatigue. In the end, Curtis had to carry her to the carriage. Even in her sleep, she clung to Roxana and wouldn’t let go, so Roxana gave her a lap pillow.
Curtis silently took off his coat and laid it over Frey as a blanket. He remained quiet, lost in thought or deep in worry.
While gently stroking Frey’s head, Roxana watched Curtis’ expression. Frey, like a baby in its mother’s arms, clung tightly to Roxana’s waist.
“I saw you leaving with that young boy.”
Curtis suddenly broke the silence during the long ride.
“…Yes.”
She hadn’t gone out to flirt with a man. Yet he had seen her leave with the boy—and probably misunderstood. Roxana lowered her eyes.
