Chapter 23
Was it because the day was so beautiful?
Or was it because, in that fleeting moment, the child’s golden eyes shimmered unusually brightly in the sunlight?
Words he had never spoken to anyone else welled up inside.
“Do you think there’s such a thing as a life without regrets?”
Kalz began, almost murmuring.
“You know I had a daughter, don’t you?”
“The lady’s mother?”
“Yes, her.”
Kalz’s face, as he mentioned Isela, was softened—none of his usual intimidating air remained.
“She lost her mother young, yet she was the one who took care of me instead.”
Kalz, who had been absentmindedly gazing at the child across from him, stopped short.
Perhaps because Vivian’s situation was similar to Isela’s, the girl’s figure overlapped with the image of his young daughter.
That face, now blurred in his memory.
Staring at the vision blankly, Kalz spoke again with a bitter smile.
“She was so precious, so dear, that I only wanted to give her the most precious things in the world.”
To his precious daughter, he wanted to give the position of crown princess. For that reason, he supported Orphen.
But…
“But what she truly wanted wasn’t wealth or splendor. Always, it was small, ordinary things.”
Isela loved Leofried, not Orphen who could make her crown princess.
“I forced into her hands what I thought was best. Believed that was love. …Foolish, wasn’t it?”
For her to become crown princess, he condoned Leofried’s death as Orphen’s aide.
Not knowing that in her womb already grew a child who carried Leofried’s blood.
“And yet, that daughter of mine, who still called such a father her own, eventually left my side to protect those small, precious things.”
He finally secured the crown princess’s seat for her—but the very person meant to sit there had disappeared.
What, after all, had I lived so fiercely for my whole life?
For whom?
At first unbearable remorse surged, followed by searing regret.
And only then did he realize.
He hadn’t lived for Isela’s sake, but for his own selfish desire.
If he had only spent his life regretting and longing for her, perhaps that would have been happiness of a sort.
“But then, one day, she came back. Stricken with a cruel illness.”
And by her side—someone he had never even imagined. His grandson.
His frail daughter, having tried to protect the child of a man branded traitor, had fallen ill. The boy had lost his father before even being born.
Only then did Kalz realize what he had done. His heart was ripped to shreds.
And still, even now.
Whenever he recalled that day, his chest ached so fiercely he had to swallow down his grief.
“If I had respected her wishes, she would never have had to run away.”
“……”
“If I had, that wretched illness might never have taken her away.”
“……”
“…Even now, I regret that day.”
Every moment of every breath, painfully so.
When he finished speaking, Vivian, who had quietly listened all along, carefully began.
“Of course, I’m sure the lady’s mother wasn’t happy when you forced her to do things she didn’t want.”
Yes. Surely she had resented him.
Kalz, resigned to hearing Isela’s voice through Vivian’s words, suddenly froze at what came next.
“But, Duke… dads are all like that, aren’t they?”
“……”
“My dad makes me take medicine even when I don’t want to, because I mustn’t get sick. He won’t let me climb trees even when I want to, because I might get hurt.”
“……”
“But still, I love my dad very much. Because I know he does it out of love.”
“……”
“So I think the lady’s mother must have loved you very much too.”
At that, Kalz’s expression twisted as if he were both laughing and crying.
In truth, it wasn’t nearly as simple as Vivian thought.
Isela had begged him to save Leofried, but Kalz had done nothing.
No—he chose not to do anything.
There was no evidence to clear Leofried’s name, and Kalz didn’t want to risk being branded a traitor himself by helping him escape.
Because Isela was more important to him.
Now, he knew those were just cowardly excuses…
“And for that very reason, if the father she loved stays bound to the past, it will only make her sadder.”
Suddenly, he recalled what Isela had said before she breathed her last.
[I used to resent you a lot, Father.]
[…]
[And if I said I completely forgave you now, that would be a lie.]
[…I’m sorry, Isela. I…]
[But after becoming a mother myself, I understand. Back then, you had no other choice…]
[…]
[So, Father… please, forgive that version of yourself too.]
Vivian’s words felt as though Isela herself were speaking to him.
As if she were once again whispering that it was okay.
Or maybe—it was only that he so desperately longed for her forgiveness that he heard it that way.
At the same time, he realized.
That forgiveness would never come from Isela, who was gone.
The only one who could forgive him… was himself.
Kalz gazed blankly at Vivian, then let out a bitter smile and murmured:
“…Yes. It’s time I let her go.”
It was time to step out of the past.
Just as his beloved daughter had once asked him to.
In her room, Sally was drawing alone. When one line went astray, she lost her patience and hurled her colored pencil.
“Ugh, so annoying!”
Sally had been irritable more often lately.
It had started ever since Vivian began coming to the mansion.
When Vivian joined Rachel in her lessons, naturally Sally’s time with Rachel dwindled.
Some of the servants, pitying Sally for being left alone, brought her snacks and advised her to try playing with Vivian too.
Even Margaret had coaxed her:
[Sally, instead of sulking, try getting close to the young lady and that girl. You know, keep your enemies close, find their weaknesses.]
[You want me to play with that beggar? Ugh, no way! Just make her leave, Mom! Hurry!]
But Sally had no intention of listening.
To wedge herself between Vivian and Rachel now was more than her pride could allow.
Mom will get rid of that brat somehow.
Until now, it had always been her mother who chased away Rachel’s playmates.
So Sally believed this time would be the same. Yet strangely, Vivian’s time in the mansion only grew longer.
Along with it, Sally’s anxiety and sense of crisis deepened—her tantrums grew more frequent.
When her coloring went awry again, Sally even hurled the sketchbook and stood up.
“I want a snack.”
But no matter how she pulled the bell cord, no maids came.
Strictly speaking, as the nurse’s daughter, she had no right to command maids to bring her treats. But until now, they had done so out of deference to Margaret.
Having grown used to their service, Sally had forgotten her place. Rage boiled up.
“Are they all ignoring me?!”
Shaking with anger, Sally finally stomped off herself toward the kitchen.
As she clattered down the stairs, she passed the second floor, where the Duke’s study was. Just then, she caught sight of a familiar figure emerging.
That brat Vivian? What’s she doing coming out of the Duke’s study?
Vivian exited the study with Owen, who was seeing her off, and began descending the stairs.
“Today, the Duke and I talked about this book called…”
Vivian’s cheerful chatter and Owen’s occasional low laughter drifted faintly to Sally’s ears.
She couldn’t make out exactly what they were talking about, but one thing was clear—
That brat’s managed to win over even the Duke!
First the servants, then Owen, then Rachel—and now even the fearsome Duke himself.
What was so special about her? Sally couldn’t understand why everyone coddled Vivian so.
Her teeth ground audibly.
So that’s why Mom hasn’t gotten rid of her yet. That infuriating brat!
At last, a sense of crisis struck her—she couldn’t just leave this to her mother.
As Vivian’s voice grew fainter, Sally made up her mind.
Before it’s too late, I’ll have to drive that brat out myself.
