Chapter 95…………………………..
It was a bright, cloudless day.
Noah sat in a chair in the mansion’s courtyard, idly playing with a pen. On the table before him were an ink bottle, several sheets of paper, and a thick book. Resting a thin wooden board and paper on his lap, Noah lifted his gaze slightly.
The trees, now mostly bare as autumn drew to a close, looked rather desolate. Even so, the sky remained high and clear—so much so that he almost wished he had brought out a canvas to paint.
“What are you doing out here?”
At the sly voice, he glanced back and, of course, found Tyraine standing there. As Tyraine dragged a chair over and sat beside him, Noah gave a small bow before looking back down at the blank page.
“Aren’t you busy?”
“The urgent matters are mostly wrapped up. The rest is for my subordinates to handle. Were you out here to get some sun?”
“No, I was just… thinking about what to draw.”
“Even after being injured like that, you still have the energy? Shouldn’t you rest more?”
“Just sitting still doesn’t suit me. I suppose I’m not cut out for a life of leisure.”
Moving around helped him push away unwanted thoughts. If he stayed still, too many of them surfaced.
Perhaps something about Tyraine sparked inspiration, because Noah dipped his pen in ink and began to draw—no sketch, no hesitation, just confident strokes. Before long, a rabbit appeared on the page, standing on its hind legs and doffing its hat in greeting. It was both funny and endearing.
“What’s this?”
Noah hesitated for a moment before answering honestly.
“My uncle.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Tyraine looked at the drawing again. After staring at the rabbit’s black eyes for a long time, he finally said with a faint grimace,
“Don’t you think it’s far too cute to be me?”
“Well…”
“Come to think of it, this reminds me of the first painting I ever bought from you.”
With a touch of nostalgia, Tyraine recalled the artwork still hanging in his mansion’s parlor—a depiction of a gentle afternoon. Everyone who saw it said it filled them with a strange longing.
Noah had titled the piece “A Dreamlike Moment.”
“The rabbit, squirrel, and crow were all over the place in that one. This one kind of looks like that rabbit too.”
“Oh, that one.”
Noah fell silent for a while. Tyraine thought the pause unusually long.
“…Yes.”
“Pardon?”
“The rabbit in that painting—it was you, Uncle.”
When Tyraine turned, Noah was hiding his face behind the drawing board, though his red ears were still visible.
“If that was me, then the others…”
“The squirrel holding the jeweled hairpin, and the crow with the brush?”
Noah hesitated, stammering slightly.
“Well… I just thought… I wished the three of us could have those moments again. You used to visit often, at least until I turned nine.”
It had been a time when Noah was confused—unable to resent him fully. He had poured all those feelings into that painting. When Tyraine said he wanted to buy it, Noah had been surprised but ultimately relieved.
If Tyraine kept it near, he would keep being reminded. Better, perhaps, if it were out of sight. He thought he had purged those emotions completely.
“Dreams are harmless enough, aren’t they?”
He mumbled, almost defensively. Tyraine sensed that something had shifted in Noah’s heart but only nodded as if unaware.
“I suppose they are.”
Noah propped the rabbit sketch against the edge of the book and fixed another blank sheet onto the board. Tyraine thought he was simply deciding what to draw next, but then Noah looked up at him.
Tyraine tilted his head.
“Something on your mind?”
“Um… Lady Cordelia—is she very busy these days?”
“That young lady? Why do you ask?”
“I haven’t heard from her at all since I returned to the mansion.”
It had been nearly a week since the incident—and since he regained consciousness. He hadn’t gone outside, so he had no idea what was happening beyond these walls.
Even if she couldn’t visit, she could have at least sent a letter. Normally he would have waited patiently, but there were things he wanted to say—and the way they had parted last time weighed on him.
“I feel like she might be angry with me…”
Maybe he was just being dense, but he couldn’t guess why. He had written, yet she hadn’t replied. Still, he wasn’t well enough to go see her in person. If he forced himself to go and fell ill again, he’d only make her worry.
“That young lady, angry?”
Tyraine burst into hearty laughter, and Noah frowned.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Sometimes you seem so grown up, and then you remind me you’re still a child.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“Of course, of course. But I assure you, that’s definitely not the reason.”
He had a fair idea of what was really going on, but he chose to stay vague. Better for Noah to hear it directly from her.
“If it bothers you that much, focus on your recovery. I think she’d be happiest about that.”
“Do you really think so?”
Noah asked glumly, still unconvinced. Tyraine reached out and brushed aside the bangs that hung over Noah’s eyes. Those sky-blue eyes reflected his smiling face.
“Maybe you should get a haircut while you’re at it. You know what they say—charm can be a weapon.”
He meant it as a joke. But while Tyraine took it lightly, Noah pondered it seriously and then spoke softly.
“Then…”
“I can’t reach him.”
Cordelia frowned deeply. Beside her, Liam casually cut into his pie with a fork.
“It’s been a week today, right?”
“Yeah.”
A week was long enough. The servant had confirmed that the letter had been delivered properly—and this was the third one. Unless he was ignoring her on purpose, this didn’t make sense.
“Then there’s only one thing left to do.”
She had wanted to settle this quietly, but it couldn’t be helped. Cordelia flicked the invitation in her fingers—the one she had secured in advance for an upcoming ball.
Then she turned to glare at Liam beside her.
“Wait, why are you even here?!”
“I came because I was worried, and this is the thanks I get? You’re as cold as ever.”
Liam clicked his tongue and sipped his milk. Cordelia rolled her eyes. He was in his thirties now, yet somehow acted more childish every year.
“Come on, stop bickering. How old are you two, still acting like that?”
“Honestly, you haven’t changed a bit since you were kids.”
Gerania and Calia each added a comment. They were all sitting around a round table in the ducal garden. The teapot, cups, and the pies, tarts, and cookies spread across the table looked delicious.
It was supposed to be a rare tea party with her sisters—yet somehow Liam had invited himself. Cordelia shot him a glare, but the shameless man just avoided her eyes.
What was a man who didn’t even drink tea doing here anyway? Ignoring the bottle of wine in front of her, Cordelia grumbled.
“You know, I think I’ve met someone even scarier than you two…”
“Who?”
“Miss Jasmine. The nagging is no joke. Honestly terrifying.”
Cordelia shuddered at the memory of Jasmine visiting a few days ago and lecturing her for two whole hours.
The kidnapping incident ten days ago had ended safely. They had finally captured the culprit who’d been at large for nearly a year, and even the one who’d pushed Cordelia down the stairs was arrested. All the hostages were rescued unharmed—it was a relief, really.
Since the first case had been so serious, the rest hadn’t drawn as much attention, which suited Cordelia just fine. She didn’t want to be the center of gossip any longer.
Being the main character of her own life was more than enough.
“I heard you were a big help in solving it?”
“Mm-hm. Thanks to that, they caught the one who pushed me right away.”
Cordelia answered calmly. Tyraine had told her that Jacques Horel, once interrogations were complete, would face trial. His crimes were severe and his victims numerous, so even with the lightest possible sentence, he would likely spend the rest of his life behind bars.
Emilia Brodin’s case, on the other hand, would likely end more leniently. She had been cooperative in her statements, and though guilty, her actions hadn’t been premeditated nor as grave as the others’.
Still, she would serve a few years in prison—no small punishment for a noblewoman raised in comfort. Her marriage prospects were ruined, but it was fair. At least her family hadn’t been destroyed entirely.
Cordelia had played a small part in that leniency. It wasn’t out of pure mercy—there had been a price, of sorts.
She had met with Emilia once, secretly, to confirm a certain suspicion—without Noah knowing.
And that meeting had confirmed her theory. Which was why she was making such a fuss now.
Gerania’s green eyes sparkled.
“She sounds like a fascinating lady. Wouldn’t she make an interesting addition to my salon?”
“Are you serious? She’d clash horribly with Esther.”
“That’s what would make it interesting.”
Gerania’s breezy tone made Cordelia stare, puzzled. Her sister’s mind was as unreadable as ever. And that reasoning… she’d heard that somewhere before.
“Oh, by the way—Viscount Owen asked how you were doing. What’s that about? Do you two know each other?”
“Viscount Owen?”
Gerania blinked, thinking for a moment before realization dawned. Slowly, she spoke.
“Hmm… perhaps. Maybe he’s… a comrade who recited a tribute to a distant future yet to come.”
“What does that even mean?”
Her sister was brilliant but had a knack for saying things that made no sense.
“If you see him again, would you tell him this? ‘I traded my mask for wings.’ He’ll understand.”
“Alright.”
Cordelia nodded obediently, not really understanding but not seeing any harm in it.
“Anyway, are you seriously going through with this plan? It could hurt your reputation.”
Calia’s gaze flicked toward the invitation lying on the table.
