CHAPTER 9
During the mourning period, Julian rarely touched anything unless it was truly important. Isolette looked up from watching Layla’s graceful handling of her knife. The candlelight on the table cast a soft, ambient glow over the room.
Perhaps it was the color of their clothes, but dinner felt more somber than usual. Even after returning from the memorial and changing outfits, the deep, muted colors remained. Isolette took a sip of water to wet her throat.
The seating arrangement had completely changed. Julian now sat at the head of the table. On one side were Layla and Linton, and Isolette sat on the other. The reestablishment of the family’s hierarchy had occurred as naturally as water flowing downstream.
“How long has it been since the two of you got engaged?”
“It’ll be two years this coming summer.”
“I remember how much we worried—it rained until the day before the engagement ceremony.”
Isolette hadn’t attended the engagement, but she had overheard noblewomen talking about it at some gathering. The rain had poured until the day before, but stopped miraculously on the day of the ceremony, prompting jokes in the ducal household about controlling the weather.
“…Once things settle in the family, it might be time for a wedding.”
Julian dabbed at his lips as he spoke. There was no better event to shift the somber atmosphere of the house. Even a succession ceremony couldn’t bring about the same brightness as a wedding.
“Really?”
“If you’re uncomfortable, we can wait a bit longer.”
His consideration, of course, was reserved for Layla. Linton, who had also been wiping his lips, smiled ambiguously.
Isolette looked at the couple sitting across from her. Sensing her gaze, it was Linton who spoke first.
“We’ll definitely need to give my parents a sedative this time.”
“I still remember how nervous your parents were at the engagement. I was trembling myself.”
Though Linton had become a senior researcher at a young age, in noble society he was merely the second son of a minor viscount. To his family, an engagement to a duke’s daughter must’ve seemed like an impossible dream.
If his family all had the same character as him, then it would be a perfect marriage for Layla. Of course, no one would dare treat the duke’s daughter poorly—but people who have everything often desire more.
“We can discuss the details after the succession ceremony.”
“I’m not in a rush either.”
Layla looked genuinely happy. Had she dreamed of this ever since meeting Linton? It was a moment to be celebrated, yet Isolette felt a pang in her heart.
She knew they couldn’t mourn the duchess forever. The bitterness came not from the engagement itself, but from the regret—if only she had lived to see the wedding.
“Isolette, would you sing at my wedding?”
“Me?”
Isolette was startled by the sudden mention of her name.
“Of course we’ll have a choir from the temple. But for the wedding to be truly blessed, we need you. You know how much I followed you around.”
“Hard to forget,” Julian added with a soft chuckle. Just like they said, young Layla used to follow Isolette everywhere in the estate.
Refusing wasn’t an option. There was no reason to. Isolette nodded.
“If you’d grant me the honor, I’d be delighted.”
Cheered up, Layla gestured to the attendant by the wall. The attendant approached and filled everyone’s glasses with wine. Understanding the occasion, Julian smoothly raised his glass.
“A meaningful toast indeed. Ends and beginnings may be the same thing in the end.”
Isolette raised her glass as well. Perhaps this was how they chose to deal with the duchess’s death.
Those who couldn’t afford to remain still would busy themselves with what came next—creating meaning just to stay afloat.
The wine, under the gentle light, danced in a deep crimson hue. Its aroma was like nothing she had tasted outside the estate.
The engaged couple were the first to rise. Wanting to drink more in the lounge, they left the dining room.
Isolette answered their farewell and set down her utensils.
The empty corridor flickered like a play, the lanterns casting long shadows. Isolette stared at the two shadows swaying with their movements.
“I’m not drunk enough to need an escort.”
“I know.”
Julian walked with his hands behind his back, his steps light—reminding her of the boy he used to be.
“You said something similar on the way to the estate, didn’t you?”
“But that was in a swaying carriage.”
“Right. It was.”
His reply came easily but lacked affirmation. Instead, his tone was calming, and Isolette fell silent.
He had always been this way. Do people become gentle when they rise to power—or is it only the gentle who are allowed to rise?
“There will be many more inconveniences once we go down to the territory.”
“Would anyone even care about me?”
“That’s unpredictable. Before the will is read, everyone will be on edge. Isolette, suspicion and fear are hard to manage. One strategy to win is to shake the other person.”
The direct and collateral lines of the family would all gather in the duchy. They might care more about the will than even the funeral. Could she really be someone they couldn’t ignore?
Isolette couldn’t answer that easily.
“I already know what’s in the will. The heir is always the first to receive it—it’s part of the duty. But the others?”
Julian seemed certain Isolette would face difficulty.
Isolette stopped walking. The moonlight from the window made him shine pale and white.
“The unknown becomes fear, and fear turns into madness.”
“…Are you trying to scare me?”
“If fear alone can break you, then yes.”
This—this was why Isolette found Julian difficult.
Not because he was soon to be the duke, but because of the contradiction.
Like a velvet cloth concealing a blade—the brief flash of something chilling.
Her heart began to race.
Julian reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was careful, as though handling something fragile.
“What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to bear things alone. Just like when we dealt with Madam Collins.”
Isolette frowned at the name she had long forgotten. Madam Collins was once an etiquette teacher who visited the estate.
“You don’t look pleased.”
“She was a cunning woman.”
“Exactly. Submissive to the strong, cruel to the weak.”
She hadn’t just criticized Isolette’s mistakes—she had exaggerated them. She even spoke ill of the duchess, probably just looking for an excuse to unleash her anger.
She couldn’t accept that someone not from the Empire, someone in a noble position, was commanding her.
“But I couldn’t show anger.”
“Because your position was unclear?”
Isolette nodded. She thought it was something she had to endure. She didn’t want to become a burden to the duchess, who was struggling to secure her place.
It wasn’t something a child under ten should’ve had to think about—but life under scrutiny made you grow fast.
“Do you know why Madam Collins never returned?”
At some point, another teacher began visiting instead. Isolette had been relieved but never questioned why.
“Did she make a mistake?”
“I told her not to come back.”
Isolette blinked in surprise. His blue eyes glowed unreal under the moonlight. That was more than ten years ago.
“If you had said a word, everyone would’ve helped you. If you’d told Layla, she might’ve cried and begged our father in his sleep.”
Isolette was confused. How did Julian know what Collins did to her?
Again, Madam Collins had targeted her precisely because she knew she could get away with it. Unless one of the few maids present spoke up, no one would have known.
But that wasn’t the point anymore. Isolette didn’t take her eyes off Julian.
“The relatives will be wary of you. They’ll be anxious you might take something. They may even resent me for bringing you here. They might try to pressure you—tell you to give up any inheritance.”
Even though those attending the funeral were Julian’s own relatives, he was coldly realistic. While claiming he wasn’t trying to scare her, Julian had brought up the past just to say this—
“If you get into trouble, ask for help, Isolette.”
“Can I really do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you be able to?”
The lilacs in the room still looked alive, as if time had stopped. Isolette knew Julian had a kind side. She didn’t know which of his faces was the real one—but she knew one thing:
Everything she saw of him was what he chose to show.
Whatever his true intentions were, it seemed Julian had a purpose Isolette still couldn’t grasp.
