Chapter 45
Two days after the letter arrived, a carriage carrying people from the capital passed along the Cypress Road and entered the gates of Oklama Castle.
Eleanore was waiting for Lydia and her friends in the first-floor drawing room. Because of the relentless rain, it was too troublesome to go out to greet them at the entrance.
From outside came the hurried sound of footsteps, and soon the butler knocked and entered the drawing room.
“My lady Eleanore, the guests have arrived.”
As the butler opened the door and stepped aside, two men entered.
Sinclair Tess and Ernst Lerner.
Eleanore quietly waited for more people to come in after them. But no one else entered, and the door closed.
Lydia was not with them.
“Where is Lydia?”
Eleanore asked, bewildered. Forget the other men—what was strange was that Lydia had not come in.
“She hurt herself right before departure, so she couldn’t come.”
Sinclair replied in a wearier voice than usual as he sat on the sofa. His curly hair, parted in the middle, had grown even curlier from the rain.
“…So it’s just the two of you?”
“Yes, sister. Since Lydia was injured, we came down on her behalf.”
Ernst answered with a gentle smile. Unlike Sinclair, his straight hair was calm and neat. He did not sit first on the sofa without greeting.
…They came without Lydia.
Still dazed, Eleanore sat opposite the two. It was unsettling enough that the male leads had come; she had never imagined they would arrive without the heroine.
“What kind of injury did Lydia suffer?”
In the midst of her confusion, Eleanore first asked about Lydia. To be hurt just before leaving—the thought worried her, regardless of Lydia being the heroine or not.
“You really do worry about your sister, don’t you, Eleanore Sticoff.”
Sinclair crossed his long legs arrogantly and raised his chin. His gaze was sharp and cutting.
It was probably because of the rain he disliked. Because he disliked coming all the way to this countryside estate to meet Eleanore, whom he disliked. Because he disliked everything about a situation caused by Eleanore.
“…Tell me how she got hurt.”
“She was rushing down the stairs and twisted her ankle badly. She insisted she was fine, but she couldn’t even walk.”
Ernst calmly explained in Sinclair’s stead.
The difference between them was stark: Sinclair sat with arms folded and legs crossed, while Ernst sat upright with his hands neatly on his knees. Even the way they looked at Eleanore—Sinclair’s eyes were like blades, while Ernst’s were as kind as ever.
“Vincent and His Highness Leopold stayed behind, and we came to persuade you, sister.”
…Persuade?
The word grated against her ears. Persuade her to do what? She was about to ask when the maid brought in tea.
Three cups of hot rooibos were placed on the table. Eleanore dismissed the maid, who lingered to refill the cups, so that only they remained in the room.
Once they were alone, Eleanore finally voiced the question she had held back.
“What do you mean, persuade?”
“Come back to the capital with us.”
“What?”
Eleanore asked in surprise. Go back with them to the capital? Sinclair repeated in his elegant, characteristic tone:
“Return to the House of Sticoff. We’ve come to fetch you, Eleanore.”
It wasn’t an invitation or suggestion—it was a command. Eleanore frowned. She disliked both the idea of returning and the way it was forced upon her.
“Why should I go back?”
“I hope you’re not asking because you truly don’t know.”
Sinclair’s cold voice stung her ears. Eleanore clenched her fists and stared at him.
Even in midsummer rain, he wore a sky-blue cravat with a matching vest and a light gray jacket. One loose curl fell across his pale, beautiful face.
He looked like a man who should love music and art, but instead enjoyed wielding a sword. A man who seemed harsh to everyone else but was gentle only to Lydia.
“I don’t want to waste words, so prepare to return to the capital.”
“…What right do you have to say that to me?”
Though her fists were clenched white, her voice was steady.
Eleanore had no reason to obey him. She could answer with confidence.
Sinclair gave a dry laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Irritation clouded his delicate, sharp eyes.
“If you want to claim rights, start with duties.”
“What duties?”
“The duties you must fulfill as an elder sister.”
Eleanore let out a short, incredulous laugh.
As if he were talking about the duties of an “extra sister” to the heroine.
She was sick of being forced into Lydia’s sister’s role again and again. Even though it had once been familiar, her time in Oklama had made it feel strange—so strange it now roused anger from deep inside her.
“That’s not for you to decide, Sinclair.”
Eleanore’s voice was cold, devoid of personal feeling.
“I’ll handle things between Lydia and me. It’s none of your concern.”
“And you dare say that?”
Sinclair glared icily. Ernst tapped the table in warning, but Sinclair didn’t hear him.
“You have the nerve to say that when all you did was run away?”
“I never ran away.”
Eleanore narrowed her brow and shot back. His words—cowardly, runaway—stung and unsettled her heart.
“How can you say you didn’t run? You left all the responsibilities of the Count’s household to Lydia without a word and came here. You even claimed you were here to recover at first.”
He crushed her rebuttal with scorn.
“You think running away will let you live in peace?”
Sinclair’s eyes pierced her like bars of iron.
It was a painfully familiar discomfort. Eleanore bit down hard on her lip.
“You can’t do that.”
“…You came to persuade me to return to the capital for Lydia’s sake, didn’t you?”
Sinclair paused, then nodded as if it were obvious.
“Yes. Because Lydia needs you.”
The heroine needs her.
That simple sentence was enough to push her back into the role of the “extra sister.” To accuse her of fleeing her post.
‘And why can’t I?’
Seeing his resolute teal eyes only made her feel more wronged. Her carefully built composure began to crumble.
“Don’t meddle in matters that don’t concern you.”
“What?”
“You’re nothing to Lydia yet. Not her fiancé, not anything. So what right do you have to interfere between sisters?”
Back in the capital, she had always watched her words around them.
She tried to keep her distance, to avoid them, and if she did meet them, to appear as the proper elder sister of Lydia.
That was in the capital.
But here, in Oklama—her words slipped out, sharp and unrestrained.
Sinclair’s pale face froze as if struck.
“How dare you say that to me…!”
“Sinclair, that’s enough. And sister, please stop too.”
Ernst finally intervened.
The taut rope loosened. Sinclair turned away with a grimace and held his tongue.
Eleanore too lowered her eyes and fell silent.
“We didn’t come here to fight. Let’s end this wasteful quarrel.”
Ernst was right.
Though to Eleanore, Sinclair looked as though he had come precisely to fight. Still, continuing the argument would do no good. After all, she was the extra, and they were the male leads.
“Sinclair’s words were harsh, but he’s not entirely wrong.”
Ernst spoke gently, as if to soothe her.
“If you unilaterally give up your position as heir, Lydia alone will bear all the burden.”
That much Eleanore couldn’t deny. She herself had declared she would succeed the minor barony of Pomfuri, so the Sticoff inheritance naturally fell to Lydia.
And if Lydia ended up with any of the male leads other than Vincent, the position of heir would become vacant.
Vincent might be an exception, but the Crown Prince, the Young Duke, or the Marquis would never step into the Count’s house.
“You may have thought deeply before deciding, but to Lydia it must feel sudden and one-sided. You’ve taken away many choices she could have had.”
He lifted his cup and drank. Silence filled the room. Sinclair turned away with a sullen look.
“If you stay here, Lydia will be lonely too.”
“…”
“That’s why we’ve come to persuade you. We know the Count and Countess gave their permission, but shouldn’t you discuss it with Lydia first?”
Ernst’s words were gentle yet rational. Eleanore had no reply.
Of course, even if Lydia abandoned the family, succession could still pass to a nephew or a grandchild in time.
But leaving that aside, Ernst’s point was not wrong. The heirs of House Sticoff were herself and Lydia, and she had silently withdrawn.
As the “extra sister,” it was her role to shoulder the burden so the heroine could be free.
“Do your duty as an elder sister to Lydia.”
Sinclair, silent until then, delivered the final blow. Eleanore felt suffocated.
In Oklama, she had almost forgotten the obligations of being the heroine’s sister. Now they pressed down on her again.
“Sister, we’re not saying you must leave immediately. You’ll need time.”
“…”
“We’ll wait. Prepare slowly.”
Ernst smiled kindly.
Eleanore returned to her room exhausted.
The day had dragged on unbearably.
At dinner, Sinclair had worsened matters by reacting with outrage when he saw Vanessa.
“A sponsored child? A commoner, an orphan?”
Those words alone had been enough.
Born the eldest son of the powerful House Tess, one of the Empire’s three great ducal families, Sinclair was raised as a perfect noble. He was exactly the kind of aristocrat who could never accept someone like Vanessa.
Thankfully, Ernst was of a similar temperament to the Maxil siblings, more open-minded. He had said nothing about Vanessa. If not for him smoothing things over, dinner would have been consumed by silence.
‘I’m so tired.’
Just a few hours with those two had drained her utterly. She could hardly lift a finger.
“Will you sleep already?”
“Yes. I’m tired.”
Lisa, though worried at how early Eleanore was going to bed, carefully prepared the sheets for her.
Eleanore lay down on the soft, though tonight somehow uncomfortable, bed. Closing her eyes felt like sinking into darkness.
From that darkness, pale hands appeared and seized her shoulders. The rough grip on her skin terrified her.
‘W-what? Let me go!’
She struggled desperately, but more hands emerged to seize her legs. Snake-like, they bound her fast.
Then a white face burst forth through the dark.
‘You can never escape this fate.’
Its grotesque grin opened into a black void. The face drew closer, mouth widening as if to swallow her whole.
‘In the end, everything will flow as fate decrees.’
The words fell like a curse.
‘You will never have anything. You cannot go back.’
Eleanore froze, unable to move. The gaping black mouth swallowed her. Her body was dragged into darkness.
“…!”
She awoke with a shock, as though falling from a great height.
Her body was drenched in cold sweat.
The eerie sensation of the dream still clung to her, leaving her trembling. After curling up and breathing heavily for a while, she calmed down a little.
“Haa…”
Everything will flow as fate decrees.
She rubbed her face with both hands. Remembering the words that pale face had spoken gave her a pounding headache. Lying on her side, she closed her eyes in misery.
She knew too well how cruel fate could be. Which was exactly why she wanted to escape it all the more.
Which is why you should have Cain next to you.. so he could have shooed these roaches off