CHAPTER 73………………..
00073 Ailhardt Snain
Considering all the things Ailhardt had done, it wasn’t incomprehensible. Running around with Kant, committing all kinds of crimes in blatant violation of imperial law wasn’t enough—he even took drugs on top of it. Of course, the son had plenty of problems himself, but it was equally clear the father was not the kind of parent to trust, embrace, and support his child until the end.
“Do I have to suffer this kind of humiliation because of you?!”
The sound of blows rang out again and again. Who had set everything in motion, and why had their relationship fallen to such ruin? With only fragments of clues, it was like asking whether the chicken or the egg came first. But I was lucky—Haula had told me about a terrible incident that had taken place in the Snain household. He had heard it from a girl at the Academy, and then passed it on to me.
While I held my breath in silence, Haula, crouched beside me in the same hiding posture, whispered at my ear.
“But do we really have to sit like this? The gates are shut anyway, they can’t see us from over there. And look, Yulises is giving us that death glare.”
I stopped what I was doing and glanced back. Yulises, who was standing before the little bookshelf in my room, flinched noticeably when our eyes met, then pretended he hadn’t noticed and went back to selecting books. Only after seeing that awkward reaction did I realize how conspicuous I must have looked: hiding behind the wall by the window, peeking out with a grim, intent expression. Who wouldn’t find that suspicious?
It was far too late to act refined. My face burning, I went back to sit in the chair. Haula trailed after me, whispering.
“You’re weak to cute stuff, you know that? Bet he thought you were cute.”
“You were crouched right there with me.”
“Me? I’m adorable and lively 365 days a year. Yulises probably befriended me because I’m cute.”
It’s said that people who train in the sword grow especially sharp senses. Not like demons, of course, but with enough discipline they can even feel the presence of someone approaching. Which meant Yulises had heard every word of Haula’s nonsense. Still facing away, he said in a dry voice:
“Too tiresome to respond to every little thing.”
He pulled out a book—The Aesthetics of Laughter. That was the very first book I had chosen from that shelf when I came to this mansion. Such a small, trivial thing, but it made my heart race to think we might share even a sliver of taste. I wanted to ask him about it, to share more of the same world with him. To apologize for all the years I had answered with silence, to ask if it had been painful, lonely—and to comfort him.
But those private feelings were separate from this matter. I focused again on the Duke of Snain cursing at Ailhardt, and said:
“Haula, I know you’ll get involved whether I stop you or not—but why drag Yulises into this? He… he has nothing to do with me.”
My words trailed into a mutter. Haula, unusually solemn, shook his head and mouthed words carefully so Yulises couldn’t see. I could read his lips as clearly as if he’d whispered them into my ear:
‘Sister. Don’t say things that wound yourself.’
I glared at him for striking right at the heart. Yes, it stung—but my hurt was trivial. What mattered was that Yulises, without his own will, had been pulled into this filthy business. I was just about to tell him he didn’t have to stay when Yulises snapped his book shut with a sharp clap.
He shelved it, turned, and came straight toward me. His dark eyes, steady and intent, left no room for doubt.
“You’re making me repeat myself. No one forced me.”
“But this is—”
“I won’t move at another’s command. Every moment since my sister’s death has been by my own will.”
At the first utterance of the word sister, my shoulders trembled. With him speaking so firmly, I could say no more. Haula snickered, poking Yulises in the ribs—only to have his wrist twisted in return, yelping.
“Argh! My hand—hey, ow!”
Yulises spoke evenly, without loosening his grip.
“I already bore them deep resentment. And yet, all I could do was watch. Truthfully, I’d like to challenge them to duels and kill every last one.”
Kill them… His words were saturated with murderous intent. My breath caught. When he finally released Haula’s hand, I managed to whisper:
“Why do you hate them so much?”
It was a question I’d long held. Did he know that my death—Eily White’s death—was deeply tied to the five heirs and the White family head? If he knew, how much did he know? I tried to mask my unease.
His answer came calmly.
“Then why do you, Lady, wish revenge on them?”
“…”
As I stayed silent, he continued.
“I hate them because my feelings have nowhere to go. I do nothing, because I know you would not want me to end everything with my own hands out of disgust for this world.”
We had hardly spoken properly before, yet he said he had felt a deep bond with me from that alone. His smile was youthful, innocent—and unbearably sorrowful.
Did he really know everything? Surely. Otherwise, why would dutiful Yulises have run away from home at all? He must have known that the one who ordered a sibling’s death was another sibling, and that it all stemmed from tangled interests.
I could not fathom the depth of his loss. How much must his heart have hurt, how deeply must he have grown weary of the world. If only I had realized sooner that someone cherished the “monster heiress” so dearly. If only I had taken his hand, offered even one kind word. Again and again, I sank into regrets of an irretrievable past.
But then something unlike the past happened. Just as Lupian had embraced me when I broke down in the plaza, now two hands—one soft, the other rough—gripped my trembling fingers firmly.
The boys glanced at each other with awkward grimaces. Then Haula, with a mischievous grin, reached for Yulises’s hand—only to be coldly shaken off. Yulises flicked his hand away with a sharp snap and said:
“So I have waited, until I gain enough strength. Yet perhaps, like Elly, I may simply watch their downfall. Though it frustrates me to do nothing, I feel somehow this is what my sister would have wanted.”
His calloused fingers fidgeted, then he gently released my hand.
“So when it’s all over, tell me. I’ll wait.”
What did he want to hear from me? On the surface, it was about why I sought revenge—but I felt there was more behind his words. Bowing politely, he returned to the bookshelf to select another book.
Haula and I both stared at his back in a daze.
Such a good child. Yulises was. However the world tried to stain him, he remained crystal clear, never sullied. Always upright, always kind, always putting others before himself. In my past life, I had shouldered every misfortune and turned away from my one path to happiness. My lips twisted in bitterness—I truly had no eye for people.
Haula finally broke the silence, his voice unsteady.
“It would’ve happened anyway, Sister. I’m just moving it up a little. For you, yes, but also for that poor commoner girl who had to live with her voice silenced. You don’t need to feel guilty. Got it?”
“I know.”
His words quickly pulled me back down from swelling emotions.
Soon after, the carriage carrying the Snain father and son departed. The creaking wheels faded into the distance, and I counted the days left. Our chosen stage was the Academy’s closing ceremony in the auditorium. Barely half a month away—yet it already felt unbearably long.
Haula propped his legs on the table, leaning back with a yawn.
“Professor said if my suspension lifts, I must attend class. Guess he thought he’d give the top student a scholarship or something. But if he puts it like that, obviously I won’t go. Where else would I find a chance like this?”
“You’re such a model student.”
I pinched his cheek. He grinned shamelessly.
“Looking forward to these two weeks, Sister? Get along with that stone-faced guy, too.”
His eyes sparkled with excitement. Even pretending otherwise, he was clearly scheming to bring me and Yulises closer. Seeing his giddy expression, I couldn’t help but laugh. Just as he had done earlier, I leaned in close and mouthed the words:
This is enough.
Truly.
Whatever I did, everything would unfold according to plan. Haula and Yulises both shared my conviction. And so, I thought it would be wasteful to simply let the remaining time slip away.
I obtained a map, memorized the path to the Snain estate, and set off—at night so dark you could not see an inch ahead, just as Ailhardt had once done. Unlike at the banquet, Lupian had bristled openly, emphasizing again and again that this would be the last time, before reluctantly letting me go. Not without one more chilling threat, though: if I touched him physically, he’d cut off the part of his body that had touched mine.
“Hello.”
At my sudden greeting, Ailhardt flinched violently and spun toward me. If you’re slumped in your room, unguarded, and someone suddenly speaks, I suppose that’s a normal reaction. I waved with a generous smile, taking his shocked face as a welcome. He even rubbed his eyes, as if wondering if it was a dream. His exaggerated reaction made me laugh aloud.
“Going to scream? I don’t mind if you do.”
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“Is that important?”
He reached for a weapon to defend himself. Though not a knight or swordsman, he kept a blade by him. Drawing it with trembling hands slick with sweat, he aimed it at me.
“Damn it. What kind of sickly girl climbs through windows?”
His snarl didn’t carry much threat. His grip shook pitifully. Surely he wasn’t trembling from fear of me—he must be unwell. As I stepped closer to check, he scowled.
“Hey. Can’t you see I’ve got a sword? Think I won’t stab you?”
“No. You like stabbing people.”
I quickened my pace and snatched the weapon. It was laughably easy—perhaps because of his condition. Like an adult taking a toy from a child.
The leather grip was damp with sweat. Kant would have lunged to reclaim it—but Ailhardt only glared, face contorted. Just as when he had intruded on the Cabre estate, I could tell he knew something.
“They say you’re weak?”
He muttered bitterly.
“It was you, wasn’t it? Who screwed Kant up like that. He was a wreck. What’d you do, feed him drugs and treat him like a dog? Teach me—I should share in the fun.”
“…”
“What the hell do you want? If it’s because I called you a whore, fine—I’ll kneel and apologize right now, bitch.”
So he knew. Which meant only Kant could have told him. I’d thought Kant would keep quiet, fearing his own weakness being exposed. But maybe he feared Ailhardt too much? No—more likely, he feared the one who truly stood at the center, always hidden, pulling strings. Someone who never moved themselves, only manipulated others.
Lydia—was it really you? You, who had been my salvation, my gentle angel—were you the one orchestrating this, driving me to my death? The terrible truth I had hesitated to face resurfaced. I could no longer cling to sweet dreams and ignore reality. I could never complete my revenge without unmasking who stood behind it all.
I reached toward him. Up close, it was clear—he was suffering withdrawal. After his scandal, his father had surely locked him up and cut off his constant drug supply. Since he hadn’t completely broken down, the drug couldn’t have been too extreme—just enough to keep him from leaving the room on his own.
My hand brushed his forehead. He tried to bat it away, but I caught his hand instead, meeting his eyes. His string of curses faltered, his gaze went hazy.
Was it my illusion working like a drug? He relaxed, reaching out toward me.
“Lydia?”
“Yes. It’s me.”
Ever since doubts had taken root, recalling her face had been agony. That shining golden hair, that bright smile beneath the sun. The dainty bench in the greenhouse—the most beautiful spot in the White family garden, she had said, chosen especially for me since I could not go outside. Her lovely face had chattered cheerfully. In her tender eyes, I was reflected wholly. When she looked only at me, calling my name, I had felt truly alive.
Lydia.
I mimicked that girl’s smile, and smiled sadly.
