IWEML 39

“It might be better for you to keep looking outside. I don’t get motion sickness myself, but I’ve heard it helps to look at something far away.”

That was what Damian, the Tower Master, said when I turned my head back into the carriage because my neck was starting to hurt from staring out the window too long.

“If your neck hurts, why don’t we switch seats?”

“Oh, that’s all right…”

“I’d also like to enjoy the scenery for a bit.”

“In that case, thank you for your kindness.”

I hesitated to accept—it felt like I was always taking and never giving—but then I realized switching seats would also make his neck less stiff.
It was a win-win situation.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Mm…”

Honestly, I hadn’t been staring outside just because the scenery was beautiful.
A carriage ride this long would tire anyone, but with my frail body, even a small change made me dizzy.

As Damian said, looking outside somehow helped a little.

Just sitting still takes more energy than people think, I mused.

Even though I tried not to show it, Damian noticed anyway.
It wasn’t like this was my first day being sick; I’d learned how to hide it.

Who would like a patient who complains every day about how ill they feel?
So I only ever allowed myself to truly be sick when I was alone in my room.

Yet for some reason, Damian always saw through me—just like my father once did.

“Miss Clotilde, do you know what that flowering tree is called?”

“I’m not sure.”

The white blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, like they were bowing in greeting.

Each bloom was lush and full, layered with petals—familiar somehow, but the name wouldn’t come to mind.

“I wonder if you’d mind if we stopped for a moment to take a closer look?” Damian asked.

“Oh? Sure, let’s.”

If he was asking me about a tree, I figured it must be some kind of magical plant.

We soon brought the carriage to a stop beneath the shade of the blooming trees.

“I only know pear trees, and this definitely isn’t one,” I said.

“Crabapple, hawthorn, viburnum… I know a few that bear white flowers, but I can’t quite tell either,” he admitted.

“I didn’t think the great Tower Master would ever say he didn’t know something. I’d help if I could, but I don’t think these trees grow in the capital.”

“There’s no need to trouble yourself. If we stay a while, the name will come to us naturally.”

That’s when I realized—he’d only stopped to give me a chance to rest.

“Besides, I could use a short break myself,” he added.

Right. It wasn’t like the name of some tree really mattered anyway.

“You’re right. Even if we never figure it out, who cares? Honestly, if I don’t know, then it’s probably safe to assume no one else does either.”

“Such confidence suits you,” he said with a small smile.

“Well, it’s good to have confidence in yourself!”

I was being careful with my body, yes, but… life could change at any moment.

In the novel, I was supposed to die next year—but after breaking up with Polyus, who’s to say I wouldn’t just collapse this very evening?

“The best thing is to do what you want while you can. Don’t hold back just because of what others think!”

“Do everything you want… huh.”

Damian repeated my words quietly, almost dazed.
Something in his tone sounded strange—heavy. Maybe I was imagining it.

I tilted my head but decided not to dwell on it.
It wasn’t my business unless he wanted to say more.

“Yes! After all, breaking off my engagement with Polyus was the first step in changing my life!”

“Impressive,” he said.

“So even if I don’t know the name, I can still think the flower’s pretty. I’d forget it soon anyway.”

Just then, a petal fluttered down in the breeze and landed right in my dimple as I laughed.

Damian reached out slowly and brushed it from my cheek.

“Yes, it really is beautiful,” he murmured.

For a split second, my heart skipped a beat.
He hadn’t said what was beautiful, so I thought he meant me.

Of course, I realized right away he was talking about the flower.

Flustered, I covered my embarrassment with exaggerated humor.

“Oh my! For a second there, I thought you were calling me beautiful, and my heart skipped a beat!”

“I meant the flower,” he replied, looking faintly exasperated.

“Still—you sounded like quite the flirt.”

His brows furrowed at that.

“I hardly think anyone has fewer scandals than I do.”

“Haha, you’re taking me way too seriously.”

My cheerful laugh made him let out a quiet, helpless chuckle of his own.

“I don’t usually lose verbal duels, but I always feel outmaneuvered by you, my lady.”

“Well, cherish the experience! Not everyone gets the chance.”

Since we’d stopped, we unpacked the sandwiches we’d brought.

Soft, buttery bread; sweet jam; savory, rich ham; crisp lettuce; and fresh tomato slices.

Above us, countless white petals drifted through the air—soon, they’d all be gone.

I must’ve timed my trip south perfectly.

“I’m really glad we came here today,” I said, taking a deep, refreshing breath of the clean air.

Ah, what a perfect day.

Later, when we reached our destination city, we headed straight for the theater.

My dear, this child is mine. From now on, she’ll be raised here.

Is she the child you had with Lady Leia?

And what if she is—does that bother you?

No. If she’s yours, she’s mine as well.

As expected… the play was underwhelming.

These days, the capital had already wrung dry every last drop of novelty from this script.

So yes—it felt outdated.

But… am I really that obsessed with trends, like Lady Ingrida said?

I quickly shook the thought away.

I did value the spirit of the times, sure—but still…

“The husband studies abroad, sires a child with another woman, while the wife stays home caring for his sick parents?” Damian scoffed beside me.

“And they even portray her thanking the mistress for looking after her husband—as if that’s what a wise wife should do. Quaint, in the worst way. Definitely a play from centuries past.”

“I agree,” I said firmly.

Glorifying a woman who raises her husband’s illegitimate child as her own wasn’t exactly my idea of a moral story.

It wasn’t just a matter of outdated trends—the acting and directing both fell short too.

The husband’s supposed to be a dashing young man, but that’s clearly just… an old man in makeup.

The casting was completely off.

You don’t have to match an actor’s age to their role, but a “grieving orphaned boy” shouldn’t look that mature.

Honestly, the man sitting beside me—Damian—was far more handsome than the supposed “romantic lead.”

Let’s see…

I looked up at him again.

At first, his sharp features and elegant jawline stood out most, but the more I looked, the more his composed intelligence caught my eye.

He had that unbothered, worldly calm that made people look twice.

Maybe that’s why everyone stares at him.

On our way from the theater to the restaurant, I noticed just how many people kept sneaking glances at us.

Sure, people often look at attractive men—but this was on another level.

Some couldn’t even help themselves—women staring openly, and their boyfriends catching them, only to get distracted too.

Excuse me, sir—are you really going to ogle too?

In the capital, people knew his face; the title of Tower Master carried enough weight to keep strangers at bay.

But here, where no one recognized his status, he drew unrestrained attention just by existing.

He really was unfairly good-looking.

That skin—smooth as porcelain. And those eyelashes—long, but not delicate-looking, just… refined.

I didn’t even realize I’d been staring until he suddenly said, defensively,

“As I mentioned earlier, I’ve never dated anyone. I have been confessed to, but I refused every one of them.”

“I didn’t say a word,” I replied, puzzled.

He frowned slightly.

“That comment you made earlier—calling me a flirt—it bothered me. I dislike unnecessary misunderstandings.”

Fair enough.

He wasn’t actually doing anything now—just being on the receiving end of unwanted attention.

Maybe he remembered my request not to get involved with anyone else while we were traveling together, even if we weren’t officially engaged yet.

“In that case, could I at least tell people you’re my fiancé?” I asked playfully.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Tch.”

So much for that. Still, I couldn’t resist one last tease.

“Then… have you ever dated a man?”

“…What did you just say?”