WBESFL 46

Chapter 46

The atmosphere at Oclama Castle was gloomy, with new guests arriving in the rain.

It was the second time Eleanor had received visitors, but she was far less concerned than with the first guests.

Though technically Eleanor’s guests, in reality, they were more like visitors of Lydia, who was currently recovering from injuries in the capital.

Eleanor continued her relief efforts for the rainy season. In the morning, after hearing that water was still flowing down from the mountains near the farmland, she went to inspect the area herself.

She was worried about the risk of a landslide, given the heavy rain that had poured down a few days ago.

On the way back from inspecting the farmland with Vanessa, Eleanor remembered something she had forgotten to mention.

“Vanessa, Ernst apologized yesterday for Sinclair’s attitude. I’ll apologize too.”

There were countless ways to hurt someone’s feelings and pride without saying anything directly. Sinclair’s brief expression of discomfort during yesterday’s meal had been one of them.

“That’s fine. For a minor noble like him, it’s manageable.”

Vanessa, hardened by her interactions with the Duvar sisters, took it in stride.

The Maxeil siblings and Ernst were very gentle and calm, so even Sinclair’s minor rudeness could be overlooked.

“Are they your friends?”

Vanessa asked, curious. She had only heard their names and family titles the previous day. The atmosphere was completely different from when she met the Maxeil siblings, so if they were friends, it seemed a bit odd.

“Hmm.”

Eleanor hesitated before answering. Friends? Them as my friends? Technically, one could stretch the definition. Ernst’s family was friendly with hers, and Sinclair had been a classmate at the academy.

But she could never truly call them friends. Certainly not Sinclair.

‘If I called him my friend, he wouldn’t stay quiet.’

He wouldn’t throw a public tantrum like a proper noble, but he would surely enter a state of extreme anger.

“They’re not my friends. They’re friends of my sister.”

Eleanor spoke the truth concisely. Technically, they could be considered candidates for her sister’s fiancé, but she didn’t phrase it that way.

“I see. But why have they come to see you?”

“They wanted me to go up to the capital.”

“Excuse me?”

Eleanor realized she had spoken the truth too carelessly. She had no intention of going with them and had meant to send them away without telling anyone.

Yet, in the flow of conversation with the now relaxed Vanessa, the words had slipped out.

“Don’t tell your aunt.”

“…Okay… But are you really going to the capital?”

“No? Am I crazy?”

Eleanor smiled brightly. Ah, I see. Vanessa quickly relaxed.

“Then why do they want you to go with them?”

“Well…”

Even as an extra, Eleanor was still the older sister of the female protagonist, so she had some utility. She could inherit the countship in place of Lydia and let her sister live freely.

Eleanor avoided explaining the front part and instead gave a rough explanation of the latter part.

“If I inherit the barony, the position of heir in my family will go to my sister. I guess there’s some talk about that.”

“But the count has already given permission, right?”

“Yes. My parents’ and my sister’s opinions are separate matters.”

“Oh, so your sister didn’t want to inherit the countship?”

It was hard to give a definite answer. The letter had suggested she didn’t need the countship, but it wasn’t that she disliked it. It was more of a plea not to fight over succession and just come back.

Now that Eleanor thought of it, the content of that letter had been surprisingly heartfelt. She had expected ten spoonfuls of whining, but instead it felt like ten spoonfuls of the sorrow of a sister leaving her family behind. She had been taken aback.

That shock had been swept away by the idea of descending to help, then forgotten when she heard friends were coming, and now it resurfaced.

What exactly had Lydia written? The original story often mentioned that the sisters were close, after all. They were both grown adults.

‘Maybe it’s because a family member who would cuddle the heroine is gone.’

That seemed plausible to Eleanor. After a short pause, she finally answered Vanessa’s question.

“That’s not it. She doesn’t dislike being the heir.”

“Then why do they want you to go with them?”

“Because it’s somewhat unfair for me to leave everything to my sister.”

“But you said the person involved doesn’t mind. So why does a third party…?”

Vanessa’s trailing words became smaller as she realized the third party was a noble.

Eleanor understood. Indeed, Lydia herself wouldn’t care.

Having been her sister for eleven years, and once her sole reader, Eleanor knew Lydia well. She would come down out of concern that her sister would be lonely living far away, but she wouldn’t calculate succession and come down worried about it.

Ernst’s earlier words were correct, but Eleanor didn’t need to dwell on them. Lydia’s concern was simply that her sister would live far away.

“Why do you look like that?”

Vanessa suddenly lowered her head, worried at Eleanor pressing her temples.

“I got my blood pressure up from yesterday’s events.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing much, just lost an argument. Now I remember what I should have said in reply.”

Ah. Vanessa nodded. She knew the frustration of losing an argument only to think of a counterargument later. It had happened to her too, though against Eleanor.

“You’re not going to the capital, right?”

“No. I like it here. I want to inherit the barony too.”

Eleanor spoke with conviction. Vanessa felt reassured. Her only lingering concern was Ernst and Sinclair.

Both were handsome young men.

One looked sharp, the other gentle, but neither seemed the type to back down easily.

Vanessa looked at Eleanor. She appeared elegant and pure but not particularly assertive. It seemed she might yield, or maybe not. Still, she had resolve. Vanessa quietly rooted for her sister in her mind, hoping she would stay in Oclama to secure the barony for the family.

After finishing her inspection, Eleanor sat on the study sofa, pressing her temples. She had slept poorly the night before and had been active since morning, so her head ached slightly.

After a quick sandwich for lunch, she rested. She couldn’t rest long, as she had guests coming.

No sooner had she thought that than there was a knock. Outside, Lisa announced the guest’s name. Eleanor told her to let them in.

Mahogany doors opened, and Ernst entered. He had requested tea early that morning and arrived exactly on time.

“You don’t look well. Headache?”

His pale golden eyes assessed her sharply. Eleanor shrugged to avoid complaining.

“Why did you want to see me?”

“I’m personally curious about something.”

“What’s that?”

Ernst smiled and instead of asking directly, slowly walked around the study, his steps deliberate. Eleanor watched, puzzled.

“What are you doing, Ernst?”

Eleanor approached. The desk was covered with paperwork. Nothing confidential, but it wasn’t suitable for an outsider to see.

“Do you remember something from before?”

“What do you mean?”

The vague question raised Eleanor’s eyebrow. How could she recall something unspecified?

“When I was a child, when you and Lydia visited Oclama.”

Ernst withdrew his hand from the desk. Eleanor felt relieved and began organizing the papers.

“I secretly picked an apricot to give you.”

“…Oh?”

Eleanor didn’t remember. She had visited Oclama a few times with Ernst, but he had never secretly picked an apricot for her.

“But the apricot was rotten. I didn’t know and was excited to bring it, then when cut in half, a larva fell out.”

Eleanor grimaced. Though she didn’t remember it, just hearing it made her shiver.

The larva from a halved rotten apricot.

“Then it fell onto your hand,” Ernst continued casually.

Eleanor shuddered.

“When did this happen?”

“When I was seven. You would have been nine.”

Eleanor paused. She had become Eleanor at ten, so she naturally had no memories before that.

Ah, so something awful happened at nine. She muttered silently and looked at Ernst.

“So, you came to see if I remembered?”

“Of course not. I came to hear about life in Oclama.”

“Then why mention the larva?”

“Just popped into my head. It was a vivid memory.”

Ernst returned to the sofa. Eleanor, feeling slightly awkward, put the papers away and joined him.

“What have you been doing in Oclama?”

“Eating, sleeping, playing, working. Before you came, Stella and Cain visited.”

“Sir Maxeil of the Royal Knights’ Deputy Commander? Were you close?”

“Not really… But Stella and I are friendly.”

Eleanor hesitated, recalling Cain’s confession. Denying closeness after that seemed cold.

“Anyway, lived normally.”

“You got lost in the mountains too. Why leave that out?”

“Oh, right. I’ll add that too.”

The night spent in the mountains with Vanessa felt distant. Nearly a month had passed. About two months since leaving Bayrn.

“I like it here.”

Eleanor sipped jasmine tea, speaking honestly.

“May I ask why?”

“Too many reasons, but simply, I like the freedom.”

There was no stronger reason than freedom. People like Sinclair don’t dream of it. Most people, at least once, long to be free.

Fortunately, Ernst wasn’t like Sinclair. He seemed to understand.

“I see. Oclama feels free, indeed. I feel freer here too.”

Eleanor laughed at his comment, having only been there a day.

“Why laugh?”

“Just surprised you feel freedom in one day.”

“Yes. After a lifetime of constraints, even a brief taste of freedom is obvious.”

Her words flowed naturally but carried weight. Eleanor hid a smile behind her teacup.

Ernst became marquess at fourteen. His parents died in a carriage accident, leaving him as the sole heir. Many coveted the Marquess of Lunner. Even four years from adulthood, he inherited and led the family.

His childhood changed slightly, yet he still addressed her respectfully as ‘sister’. His life could hardly have been free. In the original story, he liked Lydia, his only escape from a stifling life.

‘If only I hadn’t lost the notes I made from the original story.’

Eleven years had passed living as Eleanor. Some details of the original story were hazy, though fortunately, it was a romance novel without wars or monsters.

“I’m glad you understand the feeling.”

“Everyone longs for freedom at least once.”

“Though I doubt Sinclair does.”

“He might, surprisingly.”

Eleanor imagined Sinclair desiring freedom. But with his perfect appearance and stuffy noble mindset, it was hard to picture.

‘He’d rather make laws from one to a hundred and enforce them than ask for freedom.’

Academy memories surfaced. Nobles behaving against noble norms was hard to understand.

“You’re sure Sinclair wants freedom?”

“I don’t know personally. But I think so.”

“How do you know?”

“Only someone who felt similar oppression would know.”

Ernst smiled knowingly. They weren’t close, so Eleanor was surprised. Perhaps he had more in common with her than Lydia.