Chapter 30
What’s her plan?
I sat alone at the tea table in my room, resting my chin on my hand.
In front of me lay a light-brown letter, containing only one short line.
The servants from the Duke’s mansion had just brought it to me.
The letter was addressed directly to me, Sophia ta Bartoli.
Startled, I had asked the servant,
“Are you sure this was meant for me? Here, at the duke’s estate?”
“Yes, m—milady.”
Who knew I was staying here? How? Who could it be?
When I checked the sender, my mood immediately dropped.
Leonie ta Bartoli. My younger sister.
So she wasn’t even bothering to hide that she was keeping watch on me anymore.
The servants couldn’t have recognized Owen. And I hadn’t told anyone where I was staying. That meant I’d been followed.
She probably knew I had come to the duke’s mansion and that I’d sent all the staff from the marquis’ estate away on holiday.
Not that it was shocking—our relationship was already like this.
And Leonie also knew that I had placed spies in her palace residence.
Still, for her letter to reach me this quickly… she must be in a hurry.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
My fingers tapped the table rhythmically.
Now the problem was—what should I write back?
[I have no ulterior motives.]
No, she wouldn’t believe that.
[I just want to leave the marquis’ estate and live my own life.]
But if she thought that “my own life” meant becoming Empress, it would backfire.
“…”
People don’t change easily. No one knows that better than I do.
Rather than claiming that I’d changed, it might be smarter to give her an excuse she could actually accept.
After all, I wasn’t the Sophia who had already lived her life and died. I was just the spirited 21-year-old Sophia.
Alright. I’ve got a good excuse.
I dipped my quill into ink.
Hello, Leonie. How have you been?
Then I dipped again, and wrote a single short reply—just one line.
I guess I’m weak against handsome men.
Perfect. Satisfying.
I was just folding the letter and slipping it into an envelope when—
“Sophia—”
A voice came from outside the window. I stood and threw it open.
Down in the garden stood a man with dirty-blond hair, looking up at me and waving.
Ah, Owen.
The smile tugging at my lips was proof enough that my letter’s contents were true.
I remembered that night. When Father had slapped me and locked me in my room. I’d stepped onto the balcony, staring at the lonely moon above, and down below, in the garden, he had appeared.
But this time, things were different.
“Owen!”
I could shout his name out loud now.
From the second floor, I saw him clearly. He cupped his hands around his mouth and answered.
“Let’s go.”
His calm voice was the same as when he’d proposed marriage.
“…”
Before my return, all I’d ever received was pain. I had clung to those wounds and fought desperately.
Yes, those scars had made me grow stronger.
But maybe… maybe I could have grown just as well without all that suffering.
With this man, everything felt easier. As if nothing in the world could hurt me anymore. Even if I touched a cactus, the sharp thorns would melt away.
It was unbelievable.
Smiling brightly, I waved back.
“Yes, let’s go down!”
“Is… is this all?” I muttered blankly.
The journey would take five days each way. Ten days on the road just for travel. And this was the Duke’s house—an old and proud family.
Naturally, I expected rows of baggage carts trailing behind us, piled with supplies.
But no. There was only one cart. And even that was carrying some of the servants!
For camping, we would need tents, food, cooking tools, firewood, spare clothes, medicine, soap, towels—where was all of it?
“Do you wish to bring anything else?” Owen asked casually.
“No! Owen, have you never traveled before? Never gone camping?”
Even to my own ears, the question sounded strange.
It was like asking a beggar, “What, you’ve never been to a royal ball?”
“Camping?” Owen repeated, genuinely shocked. His eyes widened.
“Sophia, you didn’t think I’d drag you over mountains, light a campfire, cook rough meals, sleep on the ground, and take turns standing watch, did you?”
“…Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
Owen slapped his forehead.
“If that were the case, you should have refused to marry me from the start.”
But… that was how I had lived in my last life. That’s why I assumed long journeys always worked that way.
“Then… how are we going?”
“By stopping in cities along the way. We’ll eat in restaurants, stay in hotels, and do a little sightseeing. There are some nice trade cities on the route—we can shop there too.”
My jaw dropped.
“That’s… that’s just a vacation!”
“Exactly.”
A trip for fun.
“…Are we really allowed to?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“…Fair point.”
Good. This was very, very good.
Just then, Arne came out of the townhouse. After being carefully cared for at the duke’s estate, he looked healthier than ever. Popo the white fox padded proudly at his side, strutting like a guard dog—though to me he was nothing but cute.
When Arne spotted me, his face lit up.
“Mom!”
“Come here, Arne!”
And he was wearing the exact same navy jacket as Owen! The servants must have prepared matching outfits.
He had a tiny backpack on his back too. How adorable. He ran toward me, brimming with excitement.
“Did you pack your things?”
“Yes! The butler helped me. But… are we really riding this carriage?”
“Of course.”
His eyes went wide. It was impressive, after all. Even I had rarely seen such a fine carriage. No family crest, but clearly belonging to a wealthy house.
But apparently, Arne wasn’t fascinated by the carriage itself.
“Wow! Black horses! I’ve never seen them before!”
“Hm?”
Black horses?
I turned my head toward the front—and froze.
The horses pulling the carriage, their coats gleaming dark as ink—
“Daggadagg!”
“Neeigh!”
It had been so long!
I rushed forward to the horse’s side. The handsome black steed pawed the ground and snorted.
I reached out and scratched his chin. He lowered his head to lick my palm, just like old times.
“There, there, you missed me, didn’t you?”
“Neeigh!”
“You’re still as handsome as ever. Have you been well, Daggadagg?”
Arne came closer, eyes sparkling at the horse. But Daggadagg didn’t even glance at him.
I remembered how Owen once said the horse had a bad temper.
As I was fussing over Daggadagg, someone stepped up beside me.
“Owen?”
At that exact moment, Daggadagg snorted loudly and turned his head away.
My hand was now covered in horse slobber.
Owen immediately took my hand, wrapped it in his handkerchief, and scrubbed it clean so firmly I heard the fabric creak. Then he tugged me along.
“Let’s depart.”
“Yes, alright.”
I had to stifle a laugh. Honestly—was he jealous of a horse?
The inside of the carriage was spacious and soft.
Arne pressed his face to the window, pointing and asking questions non-stop. A child’s pure excitement.
Owen pretended to be annoyed, but answered every single one.
“People make mistakes too.”
Remembering what Owen had said last night, I felt a strange warmth. The two of them got along better than I expected.
Popo stuck his head out the window, enjoying the wind too.
I gave both Arne and Owen embroidered handkerchiefs I had made back at the marquis’ estate.
Arne was delighted. He clutched it in both hands, whispering,
“How can I ever use this? It’s the only one in the world.”
“Yes, Arne. So treasure it carefully.”
Wait—that wasn’t me!
“Owen!”
I spun around. He too was holding the handkerchief tightly in both hands. A navy square with his name stitched in white, and a tiny flower embroidered beside it.
“Why are you holding it like that? Handkerchiefs are for using, not just keeping!”
“That’s my choice.”
With a solemn air, as though he were a priest folding vestments, Owen carefully placed the handkerchief inside his jacket pocket.
As I watched him, I suddenly remembered something. I’d meant to do it right after my return, but with so much happening, it had slipped my mind.
Now that we were on the road, it was the perfect time.
“Owen, do we have a little time?”
“Of course. Why? Do you have something to do?”
He looked puzzled.
Not something for inside the carriage. I smiled faintly and answered,
“There’s a place I want to stop by.”
