Chapter 6
From the time she was old enough to understand the world, Dalia had been buried under endless mountains of work instead of beautiful, entertaining storybooks. That had never changed, even after Viscount Borbon once again replaced his wife.
“……Well, yes. But I haven’t looked too deeply into it.”
“Ah, I see.”
Dalia nodded in understanding and poured tea into the Viscountess’s empty cup.
Seeing her daughter so dutifully attending to her eased the woman’s heart. She leaned back against the chair with a grumble.
“Really, a pregnant woman shouldn’t have to waste her time on such trivial matters.”
“Yes. Then, which part exactly?”
“Hmm?”
“Please tell me specifically which part you don’t understand. I’ll answer you. As for the little details, you can ask the steward.”
The Viscountess looked flustered. She had thought that if she handed Dalia this heavy stack of documents, her daughter would kindly explain every little detail as if spoon-feeding her.
And to be fair, her guess wasn’t wrong. Before her return, Dalia had indeed catered to her stepmother’s moods and tutored her patiently.
But now, Dalia had no intention of wasting her time like that.
‘That old steward probably only knows how to skim a little money. He hardly knows anything useful.’
The truth was that, then and now, the only person in the estate who did her work properly was Dalia.
“A-ah, well……”
Having never even read the first page, the Viscountess fumbled through the unfamiliar papers.
Dalia watched her flounder for a moment, then rose from her seat.
“W-why are you suddenly—! Ahem. Where are you going? A lady must mind her manners. You can’t just stand up in the middle of tea.”
The Viscountess hurriedly grabbed her sleeve, but when Dalia glanced down with lowered eyes toward the empty place she had been sitting, the woman fell silent with an awkward expression.
There wasn’t a single teacup set before Dalia. Since the Viscountess had started tea time before Dalia even arrived, etiquette demanded she serve Dalia properly—but she had chosen not to bother.
“……It looks like this will take you a while. Please take your time, write down your questions, and leave them. I’ll send back answers through Mary tomorrow.”
“R-right……”
“If you’ve nothing more to say, I’ll take my leave. I’m tired.”
Dalia gave her stepmother a polite bow and left the drawing room for her bedchamber.
Opening the window, she drew in the fresh air, and for the first time that day, the suffocating tightness in her chest eased a little.
Word quickly spread through the small domain that Dalia had begun putting her affairs in order before leaving.
“Where to today, my lady?”
“To the lawyer’s office.”
She stepped onto the carriage without an escort. Even the coachman had grown accustomed to this and immediately set off once the door shut.
‘Even if I declare myself a sacrifice, Father would never send me off so easily.’
The debt-ridden Viscount would certainly try to hand her over to Shiray one way or another.
So Dalia planned to make a public declaration, then vanish into the forest on her own. Once her trail disappeared, people would assume she had refused the marriage and sacrificed herself. Since the so-called evil dragon didn’t exist, there would be no way for the Viscount or Shiray to verify otherwise.
Preparations were nearly complete.
The woodcutters said that the mountain paths grew so narrow deep inside that no carriage could pass, but a single horse could manage.
On the night of the full moon, she would ride through the forest all night. If the Viscount’s soldiers tried to surround her, she would use the clock to stop time and escape.
‘And if I really do meet someone in need of help, as the god said, then I’ll save them.’
After that, she would hide in the capital until she was ready to act.
The night she chose was the next full moon—the same night as the eve banquet, when security would be slack.
“My lady, would you like a snack?”
Inside the carriage, Mary opened a basket and asked.
Mary had grown up with Dalia as her childhood maid. But when Dalia turned thirteen, the Viscount had declared she no longer needed a personal attendant and reassigned Mary to chores. Now, perhaps suspicious of Dalia’s recent behavior, he had once again stuck Mary at her side.
“No.”
Dalia refused instantly, then realized her mistake.
In the past, by order of the Viscount and Shiray, sweets had been strictly forbidden to her. For years, she had eaten only tiny, birdlike portions at meals, never daring to touch desserts. She had refused without even looking.
“Just one bite? I begged the chef to make this.”
Mary’s face fell. If Dalia didn’t eat, it would be awkward for her to finish it alone. Dalia quickly nodded.
“All right. Just a little, then.”
At once Mary’s face brightened.
“You won’t regret it! Look at this!”
She carefully lifted out a tart, neatly topped with peeled slices of orange.
“Thank you.”
Dalia took the plate and forked a piece into her mouth. The tang of citrus, the crisp crust, and the smooth cream blended perfectly.
“How is it?”
“It’s delicious. You should have some too, Mary.”
“Oh, I’m fine!”
“Hm?”
So it wasn’t because she wanted to eat? Dalia gave her a curious look. Mary shook her hands quickly.
“No, really, my lady. Actually, I can’t handle sour food very well.”
Dalia froze with the plate in her hand.
“Then why……?”
There had been plenty of other desserts in the kitchen.
Mary only smiled shyly.
“Because you used to love sour fruits when you were little.”
“Ah……”
“Ah—did your tastes change? I’m sorry! It’s just, seeing you again after so long, I got carried away with old memories. I shouldn’t have presumed……”
Dalia shook her head quickly. Her nose stung, and she stuffed another bite into her mouth to hide it. The tart tasted even brighter than before.
“……It’s really good. Thank you.”
Her voice caught in her throat.
“When you marry, you should eat as much delicious food as you like, my lady!”
So Mary knew, too—she knew how harshly the Viscount had treated Dalia. She was simply careful not to show it outright.
‘Of course she knows. All the maids know how little Father values me……’
“Yes, I hope so.”
“You will! You’ll leave this place, and with your husband you’ll eat whatever you want, only the best, most precious things!”
“……Yes.”
Dalia forced a smile for Mary’s innocent hope. But her intended, Shiray, was a violent and cruel man who would not even let her eat a single piece of chocolate.
“By the way, why are we going to a lawyer?”
“Oh. I want to pay off some debts for Father.”
Her answer wasn’t entirely a lie.
Dalia knew it was more important to build her own future than to seek revenge. But still, she remembered the countless beatings she had endured from the Viscount.
Would it be fair if, after her disappearance, he simply slept peacefully believing she was dead?
‘Simply cutting off Shiray’s money won’t be enough.’
And she was certain it had been the Viscount’s doing that made her mother disappear when she was still an infant. Once Dalia stood on her own, she would come back and uncover every sordid truth.
‘This much revenge should be allowed, right, my lord?’
She lifted her eyes toward the sky, as if seeking permission from the nameless god. Somehow, she felt that the god she remembered would not scold her for this but would simply smile and nod.
“Wait—you’re paying Viscount’s debts, my lady?”
Mary tilted her head in innocent confusion. Dalia stifled a laugh.
Mary would never serve as her father’s spy. The Viscount had foolishly assigned her here, unaware.
In truth, Mary had been Dalia’s only comfort in her previous life. Even after Dalia’s marriage, Mary had always found ways to secretly deliver small gifts and letters to her.
Dalia had often wept while clutching those tokens from her childhood friend.
‘I never realized how precious she was to me……’
Dalia reached out and patted Mary’s hair. Mary blinked in surprise, then, pleased, leaned into her mistress’s hand with a soft smile.
Her relationship with Latrice might be uncertain, but this sweet girl would never betray her.
“I’m sure your fiancé is better than the rumors, my lady. He must be a good man deep down!”
……Her thoughts were naïve, but her heart was kind.
