<Chapter 15>
“Huh…?”
“I’m not asking about the letter’s contents, but I was worried it might be something sad.”
Benedict twirled his eyes for a moment, chewing over Lucien’s words.
“Hmm, I honestly don’t really understand the part about my brother.”
He rested his chin in his hand and sighed before briefly explaining his situation.
“So I wrote a letter to my grandmother. I asked if she could act as my guardian.”
There was no need to ask to know the answer had been a rejection.
“Well, I didn’t expect her to say yes right away. She’s a cold person.”
“Maybe… she has her own reasons?”
“That’s unlikely.”
Benedict gently dropped a ripe tomato from his plate onto Lucien’s, as if to say, ‘Here, eat more.’
Lucien in turn transferred a cooked eggplant from her plate onto Benedict’s. After eating it, he continued the conversation.
“She didn’t even respond to the letter telling her that my father had passed away.”
“Oh…”
Lucien’s expression crumpled in sympathy.
“It’s okay. I’m not sad at all. I didn’t expect anything to begin with.”
“Still…”
“She probably doesn’t care about what’s happening here.”
Lucien wondered if maybe the woman was so deeply engulfed in grief that she couldn’t bring herself to write a reply.
But that was just her guess, and she couldn’t say it aloud recklessly—especially since Benedict was clearly hurt.
“So, what are you going to do about the guardian?”
“Well, since I need to resolve this, I’m going to visit her in person. I can’t keep writing letters forever.”
Not “grandmother,” but “that woman”… Lucien felt a pang in her heart at the term he used.
“It all feels… kind of lonely.”
“Well, there’s no other way.”
Maybe feeling guilty for dampening Lucien’s mood, Benedict gave her half of his dessert that evening.
* * *
The next day, Lucien made another paper flower and went to the grave.
Since she went at the same time as yesterday, she again encountered the kind lady who had brought purple flowers.
After exchanging a few words with the woman and returning to the mansion, she happened to run into Benedict just getting off the carriage.
From the way his footsteps thudded heavily from the first step, it was obvious things hadn’t gone well.
Did his grandmother reject being his guardian again today?
Curious, Lucien quickly asked what had happened.
“I went there, but I didn’t even get rejected—I didn’t get to meet her at all.”
“You didn’t meet her? Then what, you just waited in the drawing room?”
“If I had even had a cup of tea in the drawing room, I wouldn’t be this angry.”
Lucien found it a bit surprising to see Benedict so openly furious and followed beside him, curious.
“I at least informed a maid that I had arrived. Honestly, I wanted to stomp in, but I didn’t.”
True to his words, he stomped up the stairs slightly.
“But despite my polite approach, the maid bluntly refused to let me in.”
“Without even checking with the Lady?”
“Yeah. She said the Lady was out, but it was obviously a lie! My grandmother…”
Benedict raised his voice in frustration, then let out a heavy sigh. Seeing how deflated he looked, Lucien couldn’t help but feel sad too.
“She hates me.”
No, she doesn’t.
Lucien swallowed the words she wanted to say and instead tightly grabbed his hand. His fingers were cold, perhaps from just returning from outside.
“It’s fine.”
He smiled and gently withdrew his hand.
“My grandmother hates everyone. I hear she barely ever leaves the house. Plants and newspapers are her only friends.”
“So what now?”
“If peaceful methods don’t work, there’s only one thing left.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly and grinned. It was a smile that clearly said, “I’m going to do something mischievous.”
“I’m going to go through my grandfather’s belongings.”
“W-Wait, are you even allowed to do that?!”
Startled, Lucien asked—but Alfie, who had suddenly appeared, answered instead.
“Of course you can. Master owns everything in this mansion! Including… me, as well.”
Benedict shot a mild glare at Alfie, who was pretending to be bashful, then extended his hand.
Apparently they had discussed this already, because Alfie handed over a bunch of keys.
“Well then, shall we open the storage room?”
It was a bold idea to search the storage, but not much came out of the shelves marked with his grandfather “Roscoe Winfield’s” name.
Perhaps because he’d suffered from a hereditary disease since childhood, the man had lived frugally and kept few possessions.
A promising-looking box did show up, and Benedict hoped to find something interesting inside, but it only contained small envelopes of seeds.
“Plant names and dates are written on them.”
Lucien couldn’t read most of the plant names, but she could at least read the numbers.
“They all have the same date. The years are different, though. Ah, this one’s from this year. What day is it?”
When Lucien handed the envelope to Benedict, he replied casually.
“It’s the day my grandfather passed away. Looks like he left instructions to plant them on that day each year.”
“Then why are they here?”
“Maybe he forgot to include it in the will. Or he changed his mind. Hm?”
Benedict’s gaze shifted from the envelope to a sheet of paper lying at the bottom of the seed box. He quickly picked it up.
The rustling sound of unfolding it was followed by his eyes widening as he tapped Lucien’s arm—look at this.
But the handwriting on the letter was nothing like the tidy print of a book—it was messy and cramped.
“I can’t read this handwriting.”
“That’s okay. You don’t need to understand this ugly script.”
Even if she couldn’t read the words, Lucien was confident she could read Benedict’s heart better than anyone.
And from the way he spoke, she could tell the letter was from his grandmother.
“To Duke Winfield.”
As Benedict read the first line aloud, Lucien jumped in alarm and tried to stop him.
“You can’t read that!”
“Why not? I’m also Duke Winfield.”
“W-Well, yes, but…”
Despite Lucien’s protests, Benedict ignored her and continued reading.
The contents were as follows:
[You know better than anyone that there was never any sanctity in our marriage.
You married me seeking something else entirely—take only that and be satisfied.
I too will be content with what I’ve gained: freedom from my family, thanks to marrying you.
For that, I am deeply grateful.
As repayment, I bore you the heir the royal family demanded, so I believe I’ve fulfilled my duty.
Please, leave me alone.
Or… have you found a use for me after all?
You told me the truth of the family’s secret.
People believe your condition is simply the “hereditary illness” of the duchy, but it is something entirely different.]
At this point, Benedict paused.
“Why… did you stop?”
Lucien, who had been nervously listening, asked cautiously.
“A… curse?”
He muttered quietly.
“Huh?”
“N-Never mind! It’s nothing special, we should just clean up and go.”
He hastily placed the still-open box back on the shelf.
“Benedict?”
He grabbed Lucien’s arm, still bewildered, and pulled her out of the storage room.
“Come on, it’s almost dinner time.”
“But just a moment ago…”
Lucien was still hung up on the rest of the letter, but seeing the troubled look on his face, she decided not to press further.
“Okay.”
Without insisting, Lucien quietly followed him out of the Duke’s room.
* * *
After parting from Lucien, Benedict quickly descended the stairs and entered his room.
He barely managed to shake off Alfie, who had tried to follow him, and closed the door with his back before collapsing onto the floor.
He had bolted from the room because he needed time to think.
Curse.
He mouthed the word slowly—it felt surreal.
Who in their right mind would curse the ducal family that began with the king’s own brother?
“Don’t overreact, Benedict.”
He scolded himself in a deliberately strict tone as he pulled the letter back out from his pocket.
