CHAPTER 2
As the carriage slowly moved, the two fell into silence. It was already late, and truthfully, they weren’t close enough to share every thought aloud.
They had merely shared the same space briefly during childhood.
Amid the intermittent vibrations of the moving carriage, Isolette thought of Julian’s mother, the Duchess. It had always felt like a death she would one day have to face.
Her life had been far more arduous than most, even if she’d lived to an ordinary age. When rumors spread that the Duchess was retreating from public life due to nervous exhaustion, most people had simply nodded—they’d all expected her to break down eventually.
“A news article will probably be out by tomorrow,” Julian said, rubbing his brow with one hand. The death was still unofficial.
Until the article was published, Julian wouldn’t leave the estate. He would refer to the will she left behind, prepare the inheritance proceedings, and arrange for the funeral.
“How long has it been since you left?” he asked.
“Seven years.”
“That’s longer than I thought.”
It was enough time for many things to change. Isolette looked at the man in front of her, thinking so. A man constantly written about in gossip papers and whispered about by society ladies.
Julian had bloomed as brilliantly as any flower.
She remembered how everyone had anticipated the day he’d first appear in high society—he’d always been shrouded in mystery. When she first joined the theater troupe, the most frequently asked question was what he looked like in real life.
So it was no wonder she couldn’t look at him casually. He was, simply put, the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Her eyes slowly blinked.
The inside of the carriage was definitely smaller than her room, and the fig-like scent began to grow thicker.
There was a time she had lived wrapped in that scent. It was a distant memory now.
“The funeral will take place in two parts—once in the capital, and once in the duchy.”
Isolette nodded. That was typical for the nobility: a memorial with priests and fellow nobles in the capital, followed by a private interment with family in the duchy.
“And you’ll be attending both,” he added.
“…I suppose I should thank you first.”
It was a great honor for someone like Isolette—without a title or family name—to attend even the family-only burial. Julian looked up from his documents. His brilliant gem-like eyes caught hers like a prism.
Julian smiled faintly at her response.
“You’re the one showing me understanding after I barged in out of nowhere. I should be the one thanking you.”
But no matter what he said, Isolette knew she was the one who owed gratitude. After leaving the duchy, she had come to believe—perhaps selfishly—that things between her and the Duchess were over.
And so—chilling as it was to admit—amid the numbness at hearing of the Duchess’s passing, she felt something like relief.
It was proof, wasn’t it? That even through death—even through an invitation to a funeral—it meant she and the Duchess hadn’t completely severed ties.
Suddenly, the future flashed in her mind. She had followed Julian after hearing of the Duchess’s death, but there were still things she needed to take care of.
Noticing the slight tension in her face, Julian asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“…The theater troupe.”
The debut performance was just around the corner. She shouldn’t have left so suddenly. Still, once the obituary hit the papers tomorrow, everything would be postponed.
With the Duchess’s funeral, most nobles would quiet their social schedules. During such a time, any form of entertainment would take a pause.
Her performance would be postponed too.
Would Maya be upset if she learned their debut show was delayed? Isolette imagined her youthful, frustrated face.
“You’re definitely drunk,” Julian said out of nowhere. He didn’t seem angry—rather, amused. Isolette stared at him blankly.
“How much did you drink?”
“Not that much. It was just beer, and not even strong…”
She trailed off. Somehow, beer and Julian didn’t seem to go together at all. He likely had never even tasted beer. The thought of Julian and beer together made her stifle a laugh.
Julian tilted his head. “What’s so funny?”
Perhaps it was the leftover alcohol and laughter that lowered her guard. Isolette replied honestly—but thankfully, delicately.
“It just… really hit me how much time has passed. You’ve changed in your way, and I in mine…”
She didn’t know what Julian saw in that glance they shared.
Isolette admitted to herself she was still drunk. There was no way she would say something like that to the young Duke in her right mind.
She suddenly felt embarrassed at being the only one tipsy. She must look pitiful. When would they reach the estate? Isolette looked out the window.
Even then, Julian’s gaze didn’t leave her.
“You were on night duty yesterday, right? Did you see her?”
Anne looked up. She had stayed up all night and wanted nothing more than to eat quickly and sleep, but going straight back to the quarters didn’t seem likely.
She already knew what the others were asking. Anne nodded.
“The real Isolette Harper?”
“Yes.”
She was the most famous actress in the capital. Even if she weren’t, everyone working in the Duke’s household knew the name Isolette Harper. The Duchess’s story was legendary.
Anne recalled last night. Even though she’d been told in advance by the butler, she still couldn’t hide her pounding heart.
“What was she like?”
“Well…”
Anne pictured her. She looked like someone painted in pale tones with delicate strokes.
Like a finely carved sculpture. Like a lily of the valley swaying softly in the breeze.
She swallowed all of that. These people weren’t interested in poetic metaphors—they wanted gossip.
Still, there was only one thing she could truthfully say in front of those eager to chatter.
“She looked like a real actress.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
Anne stood up.
Since early that morning, she had been assigned as Isolette’s personal maid during her stay at the townhouse. Considering Isolette was currently the most talked-about person in the Empire, Anne supposed she should be honored.
There would even be a bonus, so from a maid’s perspective, it was definitely a good thing.
Out of respect for the Duchess’s passing, everyone working in the estate had to be especially mindful of their attire until the funeral was over. Anne straightened her clothes and headed off.
In the quiet upper floors where no noise from downstairs could be heard, the family and their guests stayed.
Anne stood quietly before a door and knocked softly. When she opened it, she was immediately met with a gaze.
“You’re Anne, right?”
A quiet yet firm voice, already perfectly modulated despite the early hour. Do all actors speak like this? Anne had assumed Isolette would still be asleep, so she was caught off guard.
Isolette Harper was already fully dressed and made up.
“I’m used to getting ready by myself,” she said with a shy smile, covering her embarrassment.
Anne managed a polite reply.
“Shall I bring your breakfast?”
Isolette nodded. Offstage, she was just a cautious young lady.
“In the afternoon, a designer will be coming from the wardrobe department.”
Isolette nodded. Most likely to prepare the outfit she’d wear at the funeral. She’d expected that—Julian hadn’t given her time to pack.
Even if she had brought something, it probably wouldn’t have met this household’s standards. So this was better.
After Anne left, Isolette stood up.
The mansion had changed a lot over the years. There were many new faces, and most of all…
The biggest change was that the person she always thought would be here—was gone. Isolette thought of the Duchess. In her memories, that face was always stiff and cold.
Now she understood. To survive under such scrutiny wasn’t something just anyone could do.
While Isolette ate, Anne sat nearby and chatted gently, explaining how preparations for the funeral were progressing. Despite the sudden assignment, Anne performed her duties gracefully.
When Anne asked if the previous night had been uncomfortable, Isolette quickly shook her head. The room had been perfectly prepared, even though she’d arrived so late.
There are things you only realize after you leave a place.
Only after she left the mansion did Isolette understand how extraordinary it was. It was foolish of her not to have realized sooner.
The butler had introduced Anne to her the previous night, saying Anne would assist with her daily life during her stay. Anything she needed, she could ask Anne.
As she looked at Anne’s neatly tied brown hair, a thought came to her. She spoke it aloud without thinking—it’s better to say things right away or you’ll forget later.
“I need to write a letter.”
“I’ll get the materials ready. Where will you send it?”
“To the theater. It’s the largest building on Bennett Street, number 3… Do you think it could be delivered today?”
“Luckily, we’re already sending obituaries to other noble families today. If you write it before noon, it’ll be possible.”
Then she’d better finish her meal and write the letter right away. Performances for nobles would likely be on hold during the Duchess’s funeral, but she still had to notify them she’d be absent.
Isolette finished her meal earlier than usual out of a vague discomfort.
At home, there had always been small noises nearby. Here, in this mansion, the vast silence was overwhelming. She rose from her seat as if in a trance.
By the bright window, the garden outside bloomed with lilacs and roses.
The Duchess had loved lilacs. She’d never said it aloud, but every spring, on clear days, she’d always spend time in the garden—everyone knew that.
“What’s outside?” Anne asked.
Isolette gazed at the garden and softly replied, “Nothing.”
Now, there was no one left to stroll those paths. Not the Duchess who loved her garden, nor the little girl who used to chase butterflies and birds there.
Perhaps only Isolette still carried those memories.
Just like back then, she could only watch the garden from behind the glass—unable to step outside.
