Chapter: 40
Listening to Claude’s story, Jacques had already guessed part of it. The moment Jeanne’s name left his lips, the Grand Duke’s demeanor softened noticeably.
Surely, when he said he “liked” her, he didn’t mean friendship, but affection.
Even so, hearing it directly from his mouth was a considerable shock. The Grand Duke harbored feelings for Jeanne, and Jeanne was here as well—so if things went the way people usually said, it was only a matter of time.
The crown meant for a dignified Grand Duchess would be placed on another woman’s head, and Jeanne would become a mistress, forced to hide in the shadows for the rest of her life, pointed at and whispered about.
My daughter would really make… such a choice?
“Just so you know, Jeanne doesn’t know—so please keep it a secret.”
Just as despair threatened to overwhelm him, Claude spoke lightly.
“Pardon?”
“Jeanne has no feelings for me. She doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend. I’m the one who’s in love with her—unrequited.”
He let out a shallow breath, confessed with a bitter expression, and shrugged, as though lamenting his own words.
“……Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought I should clear up the misunderstanding. Jeanne has not forgotten your teachings, sir. And I have no intention of letting any disgraceful label be attached to her. I also have no intention of breaking her will with power.”
At Claude’s confession, Jacques closed his mouth and lowered his gaze.
During his days as a royal knight, Jacques had encountered many nobles. In the end, he had concluded that nobles were people who could never truly walk alongside others.
An inefficient breed that piled on useless metaphors and allegories, spouting words that were hard to understand.
To them, marriage was a union between families, calculated coolly with the head.
After such marriages, they would brazenly take pretty or handsome mistresses and cheat without shame.
Among them were not a few pieces of trash who forcibly took women.
But Claude’s attitude just now was far removed from any noble Jacques had known. A man standing at the pinnacle of nobility had, for a moment, looked like an ordinary young man in his twenties.
Even the way he said he loved her felt like it had been forged straight from his heart. His eyes and voice trembled the entire time he spoke of Jeanne.
It reminded Jacques of himself when he had first gone to meet his father-in-law in his youth—his voice tense as he cried out sincerely, “Please give me your daughter. I will cherish her for the rest of my life!”
That he would see his younger self overlapped with Claude. The very thought was absurd.
‘No… no matter what, there are limits.’
His belief that he must not betray the royal family’s grace clashed violently with the intuition that this place might actually be where his daughter could become happier.
It felt as though an angel and a devil were fighting inside his head. His vision spun.
From the moment he heard news of Jeanne back home until now, it felt as though he’d been beaten without pause—his body heavy as lead. He couldn’t stay here any longer.
“……I should be going.”
“Now? Please, at least rest for a few days before you leave.”
“I don’t think talking to my daughter right now would do any good.”
Jacques slowly pushed the wheels of his wheelchair toward the door. The sword Jeanne had thrown aside caught his eye, but he didn’t pick it up.
It was a sword that had long since left his hands.
“I’ll escort you back.”
“I’m fine. His Highness Alexis sent companions with me.”
Declining the offer, Jacques left the drawing room. The Grand Duke followed him out to see him off.
“Then at least allow me to push you to the carriage.”
Claude reached for the handles of the wheelchair. Jacques turned the wheels harder, putting distance between them.
“It’s easier if I do it myself.”
“I see.”
After Claude’s awkward reply, no further words passed between them. Jacques moved forward in silence, and Claude followed quietly behind.
From the wheels came an unpleasant screeching sound. Old, warped, misaligned—the grinding noise continued relentlessly, scraping at his insides.
Every time he hammered the thought I am not wrong into himself, the sound seemed to grow louder.
At the same time, Jeanne ran out in a daze, as if in a dream. She had no destination. For now, she just wanted to slip into somewhere unseen, somewhere dark, and hide the abyss that had surfaced within her.
That was when she noticed the laundry yard, filled with freshly washed white linens.
The white cloths hanging limply from the lines swayed gently, soaked in the glow of the setting sun.
Staring at them vacantly, her churning heart seemed to calm a little. By chance, no one else was there.
She stepped closer and stopped in front of a wide blanket. It smelled softly of soap and of fabric that had basked long in sunlight.
As if collapsing, she buried her face into the soft blanket, pressing in and wrapping it tightly with both arms. If it was a white blanket full of light, it felt like it could cover everything—the voices leaking out from the past, the claw marks her father had left behind, even the emptiness at her waist where her sword used to be.
It was obvious who must have spoken. Alexis, surely, on the way back to the royal palace from Cassis. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to mix lies and distortions.
She had been prepared for this from the moment she first lied to her father. She knew he would be angry, that he would be disappointed. She knew—but knowing didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. Understanding didn’t mean it wouldn’t feel cruel.
She needed to persuade him before it was too late, yet she didn’t want to see him.
As if to cover her heart, cracked and splintered, she buried her face deeper into the blanket and hugged it harder.
“Isn’t that a bit too big to use as a handkerchief?”
At the sudden question, Jeanne flinched and lifted her head.
Claude was standing beyond the blanket, arms crossed. She’d been startled by the sudden voice—but even more by the fact that she hadn’t noticed him come so close at all.
“I didn’t bring a handkerchief today. Want me to lend you this instead?”
As he said that, Claude tapped his left chest, signaling that she could lean on him if needed.
But Jeanne recoiled in disgust and stepped back.
“No need. And I wasn’t crying.”
She brushed her cheek lightly. It was dry, without a trace of tears.
“……How long have you been standing there?”
“Since about your twentieth sigh?”
“What are you talking about?”
Her mood was terrible, but the absurdity of it made her let out a hollow laugh.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Because I know that when Jeanne Leclerc is upset, she hides somewhere with no people.”
Answering as casually as if stating common sense, Claude lifted the blanket and came over to sit beside her.
“Your father left.”
Something about the way he said it felt odd. Why was he using such polite formality—your father? Normally she would’ve picked at that, but she didn’t feel like it now.
“Did you… hear anything?”
“What do you mean?”
“My conversation with my father.”
It wasn’t a conversation so much as a huge fight.
“No.”
Claude shook his head.
“I just heard that the guest who arrived in a Brienne royal carriage was your father and went out. By any chance… are you and your father Brienne royalty?”
“……As if.”
For a moment, the ridiculous joke loosened her tension, and a small laugh slipped out.
But it quickly faded into emptiness. After all, it wasn’t exactly normal for a commoner to come to Loren with the help of royalty.
At this point, even Claude must find it strange.
She wanted to hide it as much as possible—that Alexis wanted her, that he might demand she be handed over under the pretext of sponsorship funds.
But hadn’t she already damaged her relationship with her father once by hiding the truth? She didn’t want to be misunderstood again over things that weren’t true.
“There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Even if she couldn’t talk about regression, she decided to be honest about everything else—Alexis’s obsession, even her own cowardly intentions.
“I came to Loren by deceiving both His Highness Alexis and my father. I didn’t want to go under his command, but His Highness wouldn’t let me go, and my father would never have allowed it.”
“……”
“But somehow, he found out and chased me all the way to Cassis. The reason I fell off the cliff was because I was trying to avoid him.”
“So when things didn’t go his way, he told your father. Is that it?”
Jeanne nodded heavily.
“I said I slipped and fell because I thought that if His Highness demanded I be handed over to him under the excuse of sponsorship funds, my father might actually send me. I didn’t want you to get dragged into it either.”
“……”
“I used you, Claude. I came to Loren hiding behind you, trying to avoid His Highness. Not because I wanted to be loyal to Loren.”
Revealing a secret you want to hide can feel like dumping your burden onto someone else.
And even if it lightens your own heart, you can’t help but measure how much the other person can bear.
“I’m sorry if you’re disappointed. But I don’t want to go back.”
The wind blew. The white laundry fluttered, brushing against each other loudly, as silence settled between them.
What was he thinking? Was he angry at being used?
Unable to bear the silence, Jeanne was about to call his name—when Claude spoke first.
“Even if you said you wanted to go back, I wouldn’t let you.”
Jeanne frowned at the unexpected words.
“What?”
“If you want to use me, then use me. If you want to hide behind me as a shield, hide as much as you want. That much, I can do easily.”
Claude said it breezily, as though it were as simple as breathing.
It was reassuring—but still.
“Why would you go that far for me?”
Did people normally say things like that even to friends… or subordinates?
