Chapter 54
“Still, even if it’s just a dream to us, for someone else it must be reality. Young Master Lannon will get married someday too, won’t he?”
“Yeah. No matter how much he’s the second son and doesn’t have to carry on the family line, he won’t live his whole life single.”
“Ha, I’m jealous. I wish a husband who looks like that would just fall from the sky for me too.”
Daisy and Rachel continued chatting. Noxia set down her teacup and gripped the handle tightly.
Married?
Jade Lannon—getting married? To someone else, leaving me behind?
…Huh…?
What did I just think?
All of a sudden her mind went hazy and her forehead throbbed painfully. The hand holding the teacup trembled.
“But honestly, if we’re talking looks, I prefer Prince Elenen to Young Master Lannon. How should I put it—he feels more approachable. Bright and kind, and easier to get close to than the young master?”
As Daisy casually added that, Jade Lannon vanished from Noxia’s thoughts. Her heart stirred again, but in a different way. Rachel tilted her head.
“Easier to get close to? I don’t know about that.”
“I mean, comparatively.”
Daisy shrugged, then continued as if sighing.
“Of course, in some ways Prince Elenen is harder to approach. He basically already belongs to someone, doesn’t he? On the other hand, I’ve never once heard that Young Master Lannon has a lover.”
“Belongs to someone?”
Noxia asked sharply. She didn’t even hear the sentence about Young Master Lannon that followed. Daisy looked slightly startled by her urgent question.
“Huh?”
“You just said the prince has someone. What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, well… it’s not anything official. It’s just something that circulates quietly in high society. Lady Greta Beriton has her eye on the prince.”
“Lady Beriton?”
Noxia asked back in a daze. Carnen’s gaze returned to her, while Daisy continued speaking without sensing anything amiss.
“Yeah. They’re about the same age and attend the academy together, so I guess her goal is to naturally get close to him and secure the position of princess consort. It feels a bit wrong to talk about someone who isn’t here, but… you could say she’s obsessed with marrying into royalty.”
“She’s the only girl around the prince’s age among the three ducal families in the kingdom, so it makes sense she’d be ambitious. Duke and Duchess Beriton are famously ambitious too, aren’t they? She probably grew up being indoctrinated at home. She must think it’s only natural for her to become the prince’s wife.”
A faint sense of dislike toward Greta Beriton colored Daisy’s tone, while a trace of sympathy for the young lady showed in Rachel’s eyes.
Noxia, however, had no room to feel either dislike or sympathy. Hearing the rumor that a duke’s daughter was seriously aiming for the position of second prince’s wife left her mind completely blank.
I didn’t know.
It was understandable. No one had told her. Not Carnen, her closest friend, and not Elenen himself—the subject of the rumors.
That didn’t mean Noxia felt hurt that they had kept something from her. To begin with, this wasn’t really a secret, nor was it something she absolutely had to know.
The young lady and the prince weren’t formally engaged. They were simply close in age, attended the same academy, and her status was more than sufficient to become a princess consort, so such rumors naturally spread.
And even if genuine feelings were tangled up in those rumors, Noxia was certain it was Greta Beriton’s one-sided affection. Because the prince was—
Because the prince… toward me…
Ah, but can I really be sure? By what right?
Wouldn’t Greta Beriton, who had belonged to the central aristocratic society from the beginning, be far closer to the prince than I am—someone who only came up to the capital a month ago? Wouldn’t she know far more than I do? Compared to a mere country commoner?
Her confidence drained away endlessly. Her chest ached, as if someone had pressed a block of ice into the pit of her stomach.
The promise she had been eagerly waiting for tomorrow suddenly felt frightening.
“Still, no one knows how things will actually turn out. The prince is our age, and Lady Beriton is only seventeen, right? It’s not like they’re going to get married right away.”
“That’s true. And we haven’t even heard any news of an engagement yet. For now, it’s probably nothing more than the young lady’s wishful thinking.”
“Ugh, what’s the point of talking all day about other people’s uncertain love lives? I don’t even have a man by my side.”
“Hey, saying that all of a sudden is depressing, you know?”
Lively jokes resurfaced, and the topic flowed smoothly in another direction. Talk of young masters and young ladies, princes and romance, marriage—all of it was soon forgotten.
Noxia pretended to forget it all as well. But unless she split open her skull and cut her brain out entirely, there was no way she would truly forget.
The tea party ended without incident. The four girls spent a pleasant time full of conversation, enjoying fragrant black tea brewed in the kitchen of the Marquis Holby’s estate and sweet pastries fresh from the oven.
Before evening, the three guests each returned home. Daisy and Rachel had carriages sent from their own houses, and Noxia, unable to refuse Carnen’s insistence, rode in the marquis’s carriage.
After returning home, Noxia washed up, ate a simple meal, and lazed about reading until bedtime. When night came, she lay down on her bed in her nightclothes.
As she had the previous Sunday night, Noxia slept fitfully again today. She tossed and turned, thinking of Prince Elenen and Lady Beriton, and eventually drifted into a light sleep with a weary heart.
At some point, Noxia woke briefly. It was because she felt a chilling sensation, as if someone were watching her.
But when she startled awake and swept her gaze through the darkness, all she could make out were the familiar silhouettes of furniture.
Noxia let out a sigh of relief. Even so, a lingering, unsettling feeling clung to her skin, making her heart pound.
Even the familiar outlines of the furniture felt eerie the longer she stared at them in the dark. Noxia squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her pillow again. She soon fell back asleep.
The alien presence quietly watching her made not a single sound—not even a breath.
Sunday morning dawned. With a resolute feeling, Noxia ate breakfast and prepared to go out.
Up until Friday before leaving work, she had been thrilled at the thought of her appointment with the prince. Seeing him surrounded by people at the academy gates had dampened her spirits somewhat, and yesterday’s tea party had dealt her a decisive blow.
Only now did doubts creep in about whether agreeing to go to the festival together today had really been the right choice. She was afraid that if this continued, even the title of “friend” she had barely obtained might be taken away.
Wouldn’t the wisest course be to draw a line and maintain a proper distance, starting now? Rather than greedily trying to get closer and ruining even what she currently had—
…Let’s get through today safely first, and then think about it.
No matter how doubtful she felt, she couldn’t abruptly cancel an appointment that was already set. Accepting that fact, Noxia swallowed a sigh and straightened her outerwear one last time.
I used to say such things so easily.
Noxia reflected on her past arrogance. The eighteen-year-old girl, who had never once experienced love, had secretly looked down on her peers back in her hometown who talked of killing themselves or dying over romantic entanglements.
At such a young age, in that tiny rural village, how desperately could they really love someone to make such a fuss?
Even though she herself wasn’t yet twenty, Noxia used to click her tongue inwardly at others her age who suffered over love.
There was no one who particularly caught her eye, and seeing how others tormented themselves made her feel no desire to walk the same path.
At times, she even felt a petty sense of superiority. Rather than wasting time on emotions that would only leave regret and scars behind, she thought it better to focus on something even a little more productive.
Watching her village friends agonize over messy problems—unrequited love, heartbreak, love triangles—she had seriously wanted to ask them whether those feelings were really worth all that trouble.
Seeing them tear at their hair for days, weeks, even months over a problem with no real answer, Noxia had inwardly shaken her head like an old person who had already lived through everything.
Idiot. Fool. Arrogant Noxia.
She had mocked others so easily and confidently back then, only to end up floundering in a pit of suffering herself now. Calling it divine punishment wouldn’t be unfair.
Noxia had become quite humble. Since this was the first time she had ever liked someone like this, it was inevitable that everything she did would be clumsy and a mess.
I lived eighteen years without ever liking anyone, let alone dating, and just when I start to think I’ve developed something like romantic feelings for the first time, the object of those feelings turns out to be the prince of this country…
Even she found it absurd. These days, she was painfully realizing the immutable truth that the human heart does not move according to one’s will.
If the other person had grown up in a somewhat similar environment, she might have hesitated but still mustered courage. Instead, she found herself drawn to a prince she wouldn’t even have been able to make eye contact with a century ago.
What made it even more troublesome was that the other party seemed to feel the same way. If it had been her feelings alone, she might have somehow given up.
…Or would I have?
In truth, she couldn’t be sure. Noxia decided she would no longer jump to conclusions about anything the way she used to.
Because it feels so good.
Even while she was exhausted from the pain, anxiety, and inability to promise herself a future, thinking of his smile made her feel happy, and recalling his voice made the pit of her stomach ache.
If it had been one-sided, I might have foolishly clung to unrequited love instead of giving up cleanly.
If that were the case, perhaps she would have been even more pitiful in many ways. Imagining herself more tattered than she already was drained her strength, even though it was only a hypothetical.
