IWPVD 51

Chapter 51

Esat was walking along the corridor.

The faint light of the luminous orbs on the wall cast a sorrowful shadow across his face.

What he was gazing at was the portrait of a beautiful woman.

Silver hair, green eyes. Her cheeks were tinged pink by lively brushstrokes, and her lips were curved into a radiant smile.

Staring up at the large portrait, Esat remained silent for a long while.

“…Ervela.”

The name of the woman—his late wife. As if tracing her once more, he gently brushed his hand over the painted surface, smiling sadly.

In his youth, he too had been proud and cold. He believed the world would bend to his will, and as the duke’s heir, few things stood in his way.

But there was one thing that never went according to his desires.

Ervela.

They had both attended the Academy. A year younger, his junior, she was at once coy and spirited. It had taken only a few short months for her to melt the heart of cold, aloof Esat.

He had truly loved her. Loved her so deeply that no one else could ever catch his eye.

When she died, he had lost his way completely. But she had left him children—Edwin, Light, and Laila—three young ones who needed his hand. With no time even to breathe, he had lived busily for their sake, and somehow the years had carried him this far.

Edwin had grown into a fine man, not only an excellent heir to the merchant guild but also fulfilling his duties as heir to the duchy. Light was praised as a genius with the sword, serving as captain of the imperial guard.

But…

Esat sighed.

His daughter, Laila, was the one who weighed heaviest on his heart. The child he could not bring himself to let go.

The older she grew, the more she resembled Ervela.

Perhaps it was fear—fear of losing her as he once lost Ervela—that gripped his heart.

With a bitter smile, Esat once again caressed the portrait.

In his heart, he knew he should support his daughter’s independence. He should let her spread her wings and fly. But it was so hard to release her.

Maybe he was still an incomplete man, he thought with self-mockery.

How long had he been standing there, staring? From the far end of the hall came the sound of clicking footsteps.

Esat turned his head, puzzled—then froze in genuine shock. For an instant, he thought the woman in the portrait had stepped down and walked out into the corridor.

“…Er—!”

He caught himself, swallowing the rest of the name.

No, it wasn’t Ervela. Esat forced a wry smile.

Though the resemblance was uncanny, the figure before him was not his wife, but his daughter—Laila.

“Father?”

When he didn’t answer for a while, she tilted her head curiously.

She looked so sweet like that he wanted to scoop her up. A gentle warmth rose within him, and Esat smiled.

“Yes, Laila.”

She had known her father often came to the corridor to look at her mother’s portrait. But when she arrived, she realized how shallow her assumption had been.

Her father was gazing at the painting with such tender eyes.

It was only a portrait, yet he stroked it gently, as though touching a living person.

The sight pierced her chest. She could feel how deeply her father had loved her mother. For a moment, she even considered leaving, worried she was intruding on something private.

But perhaps because of her footsteps, her father turned. His eyes widened in surprise, and he murmured something she couldn’t catch.

Then he fell silent again.

“Father?”

She tilted her head. Her father blinked, as if waking from a dream, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“Yes, Laila.”

She had so much to say, but didn’t know where to begin.

Taking a step closer, she lifted her gaze to the portrait.

“…She was truly beautiful.”

“She was…”

Her father looked up at it with her.

“Um…”

“I know what you want to say.”

“….”

His eyes, full of gentle understanding, turned toward her. She felt her cheeks grow warm.

Was it because he had once loved so deeply? Was that why he could look at her with such warmth, a gaze that promised: No matter what dangers the world brings, I will always stand by you. That steadfast, tender look made her heart tremble.

“I’ve been too selfish, wanting to keep you always by my side.”

“That’s not true, Father. But… I’m fifteen now…”

“Yes. Time has passed so quickly.”

He seemed unusually thoughtful today.

“Have you ever waited for someone who will never return?”

The question struck straight through her. She flinched as if caught off guard.

Someone who will never return…

Yes, she had.

Even knowing they were gone forever, how desperately had she wished her family would come back? So much that at times she wished she could go to them instead.

She hesitated. But her father didn’t seem to expect an answer; he simply continued.

“I cannot say how long I waited. Even knowing it was a futile wish, I hoped, again and again.”

Her eyes trembled. She saw her past self reflected in him.

She understood. She understood his heart better than anyone.

“The moment I gave up, it felt like I would forget them. So I could never let go.”

After listening in silence, she finally asked,

“Are you… still waiting for Mother?”

“…Yes.”

It shocked her. She had never imagined the father who always seemed so strong could harbor such fragility. It hurt her to realize it.

Before she knew it, words spilled from her lips.

“I’ve always thought you were amazing, Father.”

His blue eyes turned toward her.

“You’ve always cared for us with such love. And you still keep your love for Mother alive.”

“….”

“But… from now on, I want to change the way I think.”

“…?”

She smiled softly.

“You can lean on us too, when things are hard.”

“…!”

“My brothers and I—we’re all grown now. When you miss Mother, don’t just stand here alone in the corridor. Talk to us about her. I’m sure the boys would want that too.”

“….”

“Because the memories with those who left are so precious, we want to keep waiting. But time flows on, memories fade, and love, too, can turn black with pain. I know how much it hurts. But…”

She spoke clearly, one word at a time.

“But I believe that the one who left would want me to be happy. Maybe it’s self-comfort, but I truly believe it. Mother would want that too. She would want you to be happy—so happy it almost hurts.”

Her father said nothing for a long time.

It was never easy to comfort someone’s pain; everyone needed a different touch. But she hoped her sincerity would reach him.

She loved him.

And because she loved him, she wanted him to be happy.

She didn’t want him standing here in the dark corridor with such sorrow on his face. She wanted him to laugh, to talk, to live in the light.

He had been the first to love her.

And because of that love, she had been able to take each step toward the light, out of a long, dark tunnel.

She wanted to be her father’s happiness.

Looking at her, Esat smiled.

“With children like you, how could I not be happy?”

“….”

“I still thought of you as just a child, but you’ve already grown so much, Laila…”

He stepped closer and embraced her gently.

“Don’t grow up too fast.”

“That’s impossible.”

Her sulky reply made him laugh aloud.

“Haha!”

His warmth spread through her.

“I’ll allow you to attend the Academy.”

Nestled in his arms, she snapped her head up in surprise.

“R-really?”

She hadn’t even started her explanation yet!

“I—I had plans, and arguments prepared, all of that—”

“I don’t need to see them. I already know they’re excellent. After all, you’re my daughter. But—on one condition.”

“…A condition?”

Her eyes rolled curiously. Her father beamed.

“From now on, call me Dad instead of Father.”

“….”

“Well? What do you think?”

“….”

With that, the serious mood shattered as he demanded she call him Dad.

“I’m fifteen years old, you know…”

“Exactly. Still so young.”

She couldn’t help but laugh softly. She knew, as always, her father was yielding to her.

After Dad’s decision, things moved swiftly.

But her brothers were not so easily convinced.

“You’re really letting Laila go?!”

“A whole year in a dormitory?! Absolutely not!”

At that, Dad groaned faintly. —Perhaps he regretted it a little, just then.—

“But I already promised her I’d let her go. What can I do?”

“But—!”

“Enough. Look—Laila’s staring at you both with that sad little face.”

“…!”

From behind, she looked up at her brothers with pleading eyes.

“I… I really want to go to the Academy, brothers…”

“That expression is unfair, Laila.”

“Exactly. And I keep telling you—it’s dangerous.”

Edwin and Light grumbled in turn. She smiled brightly.

“You don’t have to worry about danger. It’s a dormitory system, so security is extremely strict. You two went yourselves—you know how it is.”

“Still, but—!”

“I really want to study hard and learn a lot. You’ll understand, won’t you?”

In the end, unable to withstand her gaze, both could only nod.

“But you must come home on weekends.”

“And on holidays too!”

“And if you have time, stop by after classes.”

“Haha…”

She could only laugh.

No matter what, the fact that she would be going to the Academy filled her heart with joy.