Chapter 14
“I used to exchange letters with Hera!”
A sudden flash of inspiration.
Since Emilia was Hera herself, pretending to be Hera’s friend wasn’t exactly difficult!
“…What did you say?”
“It was Hera’s only real hobby. Writing letters.”
The Count looked confused as he stared at Emilia Tolyn.
There had been no exchanges between the Tolyn family and theirs.
But the fact that Hera liked to write pen pal letters was something only someone who had communicated with her directly would know.
“The Sweet Adventures of Lime and the Cuckoo. That was always the return address.”
In Central Ivy Empire, writing letters as pen pals had been a small trend.
There were dozens of small groups that randomly distributed anonymous letters sent to a designated address.
Sometimes letters marked with special signs were exchanged for ones with matching signs—usually when pen pals liked each other and used coded messages to recognize one another.
Anyway, unless someone had directly participated in such exchanges, it would be hard to know all this.
So from the Count’s perspective, he had no choice but to believe everything Emilia Tolyn said.
“Hera often told me about herself. That she had a chronic illness, about her affectionate parents. That the lemon pie made by Laurel, the chef, was especially delicious—but it upset her stomach, so she couldn’t eat much of it. Just small daily stories like that.”
As stories only someone close to Hera could know flowed from Lady Tolyn’s lips, the Count’s harsh expression softened, and he nodded slowly.
Seeing that expression—like he wanted to hear more about Hera, even through someone else—Hera barely held back tears.
And then, borrowing Emilia’s name, she finally voiced the words she had always wanted to say to her father.
“Hera always said that if she were to die—which she believed would happen before long—she hoped her death wouldn’t bring pain to her parents. That she wanted both of you to be even happier after she was gone. She always said that. When I asked that inappropriate question in the salon earlier, it was because I thought Hera would’ve been curious. I thought she’d be blaming herself. So I asked in her place.”
“There are no parents who can be happy after losing a child.”
Count Larry Wintaile, now completely convinced Emilia Tolyn was genuine, let down his guard and spoke from the heart.
He felt gratitude toward Emilia for delivering the message that Hera had wanted to say.
So he easily opened up about Bellina as well.
“Bellina was deeply disappointed in me. Both she and I were so devastated by losing Hera that we had no room in our hearts to forgive others—or to seek forgiveness. That’s why… Hera…”
The Count’s voice trembled for a moment.
“I hope Hera doesn’t blame herself. I hope she isn’t hurt by anything anymore.”
At his words, Hera managed to smile and responded softly,
“I’m sure those words have been delivered.”
Feeling a little lighter, the Count wiped his reddened eyes and said,
“I never imagined Lady Emilia was Hera’s friend.”
Not wanting to lie anymore, Hera just smiled without answering.
The Count smiled back and stood beside her.
“It’s about time for dinner. Let’s head to Whale Hall together.”
Walking beside the Count, Hera couldn’t help but worry about Marriott.
She glanced back, and saw a shadow moving silently from the North Sea Room.
***
With Count Wintaile escorting her into Whale Hall, it was only natural that Hera drew the attention of all the nobles present.
The nobles, who had just been gossiping about Hera for supposedly upsetting the Count, gaped in shock.
They had no idea how to interpret this now—Hera and the Count walking in together with a much more affectionate air than before.
Hera wasn’t naïve enough to misunderstand what those looks meant, and the tension made her feel disoriented.
She didn’t have the nerve to stand proud under such obvious stares, nor was she used to being surrounded by so many others.
The unfamiliar unease clouded her thoughts.
“Lady Emilia. I’m sorry, but that seat is one my daughter used to love. I’d like to leave it empty.”
So much so that she reverted, absentmindedly, to her old habits as Hera Wintaile.
“Ah… I’m sorry.”
Startled, she quickly pulled her hand away from the chair. Count Larry Wintaile gave her a warm smile.
That smile was the only one today that reminded her of the father she used to know.
Then the Count moved to the head table, and the nobles—including Crown Prince Ron Arista—began to take their assigned seats.
A servant from the Count’s household led Hera to hers as well.
Her seat was appropriate for a baronet’s daughter—a position of low nobility and an outsider guest—which meant the very end of the table.
Hera, who had never once sat at this part of the Whale Hall table, felt both awkward and uncomfortable.
Then Cecilia, seated next to her, leaned over and whispered,
“How did you end up entering with the Count?”
Unable to tell the truth, Hera fumbled for words before replying vaguely,
“I got lost, and he helped me.”
“Ah.”
Satisfied with that answer, Cecilia nodded. Hera let out a quiet sigh and looked around.
To Hera, the familiar faces of butlers and attendants lined up along the hall’s walls in a formal posture.
That meant mealtime was drawing near.
‘The Duke of Laurent…’
Across from Crown Prince Ron, a seat remained empty—clearly reserved for Marriott.
Others didn’t seem to care about his absence, but Hera worried that maybe he couldn’t find his way to the hall.
What if he was discovered showing interest in Ezina’s sword…?
“Your Grace, this way.”
Just as Hera nervously clutched her skirt with both hands, the doors opened—and Marriott appeared.
He walked in with a calm expression, as if nothing had happened, and was shown to his seat.
“You almost missed a delicious dinner, Marriott.”
As Marriott gracefully took his seat and adjusted his clothes, Crown Prince Ron—resting his chin on one hand—spoke to him.
The tone was ambiguous—neither teasing nor serious.
Marriott blinked once, as if to collect his thoughts, then smiled brightly.
It was a dazzling, golden smile—as if gold dust might fall from it—even if it was forced.
“I lost track of time, deep in thought. Please forgive me.”
“Oh? And what were you thinking about?”
Not a question that required an answer.
He had apologized for being late. That should’ve been the end of it.
Even for a crown prince, pressing the issue was rude.
The atmosphere in Whale Hall instantly chilled. The nobles chatting with their neighbors began watching Ron and Marriott closely.
“Ah. You’re known to be quite the libertine. I’m sure you were thinking about women, right?”
It was Crown Prince Ron who casually broke the tension again.
With a mischievous expression, he even answered his own question.
Marriott didn’t hesitate to follow his lead.
With a more dramatic motion than before, he lifted his shoulders.
“Caught me. It’s inappropriate to say this in front of Count Wintaile, but I’ve heard Central’s women are quite unlike those of Mozene. Especially in private. I was lost in thought, wondering when I’d finally meet one.”
Marriott’s words, filled with crude innuendo, made some of the noble ladies let out forced coughs.
Then the Crown Prince leaned toward Count Wintaile with a mock-apologetic look.
“Count Wintaile, I must apologize on my nephew’s behalf. How shameful, to entertain such vulgar thoughts at a solemn memorial dinner.”
“It’s fine. No need.”
“Still, I never thought my nephew would grow up like this. Who would’ve imagined that little boy would turn into such a womanizer? I’m sure you remember, don’t you? Marriott as a child—he was very different then.”
“Marriott as a child” referred to his days as Arista.
Ron was subtly probing to see if the Count still remembered—or longed for—Marriott’s past identity as the imperial grandson.
“I hardly remember such old things. Over the years, the Duke of Laurent has become someone I’ve long since forgotten.”
“…Really?”
Ron narrowed his eyes.
It wasn’t a perfect answer, but neither was it a disappointing one.
“He’s not someone you forget after seeing him once.”
Hera, listening from afar, didn’t quite grasp the deeper meaning of Ron’s and the Count’s exchange.
But she deeply agreed with that one remark.
Marriott’s face really was unforgettable.
