WBESFL 47

Chapter 47

Eleanor thought the two of them wouldn’t stay for long.

It wasn’t because they were the type to give up easily, but because each of them—the Marquis and the Viscount—had plenty of responsibilities to attend to.

One was a duke’s representative, and the other was the head of his house.

There was no time to lounge idly in Oklama. So, Eleanor figured that if they held out just a little longer, the demands of their work would eventually force them to return to the capital.

Yet Sinclair and Ernst had brazenly stayed in the castle for four full days.

It wasn’t as if they were idle aristocrats; Ernst was busy even here with work. Sinclair seemed comparatively more relaxed, having finished all the tasks he had been assigned.

“They absolutely won’t leave.”

Resolute in her determination, Eleanor pondered how she could drive them away.

Even when she tried to convey her intentions through Ernst, who was relatively easier to communicate with, he would leisurely and politely refuse, suggesting they take their time.

Leisurely? Just looking at him, it was obvious that the head of his house had come down here, and in real time, the Viscount’s affairs in the capital were piling up.

Ernst was like a soft, fluffy chiffon cake—so gentle that it was hard to get through to him.

Sinclair, on the other hand…

“If I meet him, we’ll definitely argue again.”

Thinking back to their verbal sparring on the first day made her head throb. She could certainly argue with him, but facing the male lead was something she was reluctant to do.

“Miss, is something troubling you?”

Kenneth asked, noticing that Eleanor was unusually inattentive during class. Eleanor, lost in thought, reacted a beat too late.

“No, nothing.”

“You don’t seem focused at all. Are you thinking about something else? Do you remember this part?”

Eleanor looked at the section Kenneth indicated and gave an awkward smile. She didn’t remember it. Caught in her attempt to evade the truth, she quickly admitted and apologized with a sullen expression.

“Sorry. I wasn’t able to concentrate, so I don’t remember.”

“If your condition isn’t good, we can postpone the lesson. Forcing yourself to absorb something you can’t will just make you forget it later.”

Kenneth closed the book with a thud, ending the lesson. With the heir training session cut short, Eleanor felt even more drained. She hadn’t been able to accomplish what she needed to because of the two men her brother had brought.

She felt annoyed, and a pang of guilt for being so distracted.

She had been so preoccupied with the original story’s protagonists that she had neglected her own growth.

Even though she came here to escape being just the sister of the female protagonist, she found herself thinking about the main characters more than anyone else.

As Eleanor let out a sigh from deep within her chest, Kenneth asked again, concern in his voice.

“Nothing serious is happening, right?”

“No, nothing.”

“…Is it because of your guests?”

Kenneth had guessed boldly, risking rudeness, but Eleanor gave no answer. Unlike when the Maxil siblings visited, she hadn’t postponed the lesson and kept up with it diligently, which seemed unusual.

Her involvement in actual affairs meant the lesson wasn’t urgent. She could have waited since the guests were present, yet she adhered strictly to class time.

“They’re not your friends?”

“…I can’t exactly say no, but also not yes. They are, however, friends of my brother.”

“Then they aren’t particularly close to you.”

It was unusual for her brother’s friends to come and occupy the sister’s space. Yet they weren’t complete strangers either. It was peculiar in every sense.

“Sort of. They came here as my brother’s representatives.”

“Is there a problem with your brother?”

“I wouldn’t say there’s a problem, but it’s nothing serious.”

Eleanor gave a plausible smile—a clear contrast to her ambiguous answer. Kenneth decided to offer encouragement rather than press further.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll handle it well.”

“Oh, do you really think so?”

“I don’t know your brother well, but I’ve observed you for some time. You’re strong. So don’t let others sway you—stick to your own will.”

Even without knowing the full situation, his advice felt accurate and sincere.

Eleanor realized that Lydia was referred to as “the young lady’s sister.” In the capital, she had been known as “Lydia’s elder sister.”

It was a strange feeling. In a world where she had always been seen as merely the female protagonist’s sister, she finally felt recognized as an independent person.

“Thank you for saying that, Kenneth.”

Eleanor smiled, her happiness evident. Kenneth smiled faintly in return.

“I’ll pause the lesson until your guests leave. Make yourself comfortable.”

Eleanor no longer stubbornly insisted on continuing the lesson. With these two guests—or intruders—present, she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyway.

‘I’ll think of a way to drive them out.’

Heading back to her room after parting with Kenneth, Eleanor busily schemed ways to evict them.

Eventually, they might leave on their own, but what if they stubbornly held out until the others in the capital had to replace them?

At least the two here were preferable; the other two in the capital were even more unbearable. Vincent and Leopold were both people she greatly dreaded for different reasons.

Frowning in frustration, Eleanor was climbing the stairs to the third floor when Lisa, coming down, noticed her and called out, “Miss.”

“Oh, Lisa. Where are you headed?”

Eleanor was puzzled at the urgency on her maid’s face. What could be so pressing that her maid, waiting in her room during class, needed to leave?

“I was on my way to you, Miss.”

Lisa descended two steps at a time and stopped in front of Eleanor.

“Why?”

“Your Viscount is in the room right now.”

Who? Viscount? …Sinclair?

“He’s waiting to speak with you.”

Eleanor’s jaw dropped, and Lisa urged her quickly.

Sinclair Tess sat elegantly on the sofa.

His presence brightened the room, as if the persistent gloom from the rainy season had lifted.

Yet Eleanor couldn’t hide her irritation as she sat across from him. Lisa poured tea into Eleanor’s cup, sensing the tension, and left the room.

Once alone, Sinclair spoke in a leisurely tone.

“Compared to Stikov, this room is modest.”

Eleanor’s brows twitched. Oklama was a provincial estate, and the castle was small for a lord, so it was natural. Stikov was a count’s estate in the capital, after all.

“Did you come to pick a fight in my room?”

“No, it’s nothing much, but you sound rather aggressive.”

Sinclair smirked. “Modest” could be nitpicked or ignored—it was ambiguous. Eleanor frowned in response rather than arguing.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I’d rather not strain my mouth.”

There was only one reason he would have come to her: thinking of Lydia, he wanted her to return to the capital.

Eleanor scoffed.

“Haven’t you heard from Ernst? I’m not going back to the capital.”

Her tone left no doubt about her resolve.

Sinclair’s brows twitched, his mood clearly uneasy. He rested his hand on his cravat but, true to himself, did not act impulsively.

He closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, then looked up, meeting Eleanor’s gaze with his jewel-like teal eyes.

“Fine. Let’s put everything else aside.”

He had heard from Ernst about Eleanor’s conversation. After waiting four days as she suggested, he could no longer tolerate inaction.

A flash of intensity crossed his delicate yet sharp eyes.

“Why insist on being a baron when you could be a count?”

While staying idly in Oklama, he had pondered this as well. But he could not fathom why Eleanor clung to the barony.

The Stikov countship was prestigious with a deep family history. She could one day ascend as a countess and enjoy some measure of influence.

Why reject the position of a respected family head to become a minor baron? Sinclair could not find an answer after three days and nights of thought.

“…Not everything in the world works out logically, Sinclair.”

Eleanor understood exactly why he asked this question. Others might have wondered the same, but Sinclair was particularly analytical.

His noble consciousness was rooted in his family, not just himself.

Even among nobles, concerned with status and honor, he could not understand Eleanor’s choice. Even if she explained, he still would not comprehend.

“I just… want to do this.”

“So, why?”

“…If I tell you, you’ll understand?”

You, the male lead who loves Lydia, would understand?

Sinclair’s eyes darkened at her dismissive attitude. He had disliked this about her since the academy.

He clenched and relaxed his fists, twisting his lips in a half-smile.

“Is it because the reason is base that you don’t want to say?”

“What?”

Eleanor frowned.

“You want to leave everything to Lydia and live comfortably by yourself.”

“…Watch your words, Sinclair.”

Her expression hardened, but Sinclair showed no hesitation.

“It’s better to be honest, Eleanor Stikov. You want to leave everything to your sister and live freely while she handles it all.”

“Sinclair, you…”

“Act like a sister if you’re a sister.”

The word “sister” suddenly constricted Eleanor’s chest. She went pale, and Sinclair paused his teasing.

The blasted sister.

Kenneth had called Lydia her sister. Yes, that was the norm in this world.

Eleanor was Lydia’s sister—the role she had always been expected to fill.

She wasn’t allowed to define Lydia as her sister freely. She was merely an extra sister beneath her sibling.

That suffocating frustration pressed down on Eleanor.

‘I didn’t even want this, so why?’

Kenneth’s words echoed: don’t be swayed, push forward with your own will. Eleanor refused to return to being just an extra sister in the story, controlled by the original male lead.

She wanted to exist outside the story, to live beyond the original narrative.

She wanted to live as herself, not the female protagonist’s sister.

She longed to escape this tiresome world.

‘I’m not Lydia’s sister.’

To make her intention clear, she spoke.

“I—”

Her voice caught in her throat.

“I’m…”

She forced out the words.

“I am not merely Lydia’s sister…”

Sinclair’s eyes widened in surprise.

Eleanor glared at him through reddened eyes.

“Do not interfere, Sinclair.”

“…”

“I have no intention of returning to the capital to live only as Lydia’s sister.”

Gasping like someone pulled from water, she struggled for breath.

She forced the remainder of her words out.

“So leave.”

Please.

Sinclair’s eyes slowly returned to their normal size, and he regarded Eleanor with an expressionless face, like a stormy sea beneath the surface.

“Leave my room now, Sinclair.”

Eleanor covered her eyes with her hand, issuing him a command.

Silently, Sinclair rose from the sofa and walked to the door.

Just before opening it, he glanced back at Eleanor.

“Everyone wants to live as they wish.”

His cold words cut sharply as he exited.

Lisa, who entered the room in his place, rushed to Eleanor, alarmed. Leaning her head on Lisa’s shoulder, Eleanor could not speak.

Sinclair burst into the room.

Ernst, sitting at the table drinking tea and reading, looked up at him.

Normally reserved, Sinclair was uncharacteristically agitated.

He poured a glass of water from the kettle and drank it in one gulp.

His glove tip got wet, marring his handsome features.

“Why the rush, Sinclair?”

“Don’t talk like that. Why are you so relaxed?”

He removed his wet gloves, placing them on the table, and looked at Ernst. Despite the rain outside, Ernst appeared as calm as if in a sunny forest.

“Did you fight with the young lady and come back?”

“You already know the answer.”

“See? I told you not to go meet her.”

Among them, Sinclair had the next most complicated relationship with Eleanor after Leopold. Sharp and cold in her presence, unlike others.

In Beyrn, Eleanor would have managed to avoid a confrontation, but in Oklama, she no longer sought to avoid conflict.

Not trying to fight, but unlike in Beyrn, she did not intend to be obedient.

Hands on his waist, calming himself, Sinclair spoke coldly.

“Eleanor has changed.”

“Yes, I said I’ve changed.”

The moment Ernst first saw Eleanor in Oklama, he realized she had changed, as if the ten-year-old girl from long ago had suddenly transformed.

She had changed once again.

“…She said she isn’t Lydia’s sister.”

Ernst paused, lowering the book. He looked at Sinclair.

“She really said that?”

“Yes.”

“…”

Ernst was at a loss, and Sinclair sneered.

“Perhaps the Viscount has a tendency to overestimate Eleanor?”

He strode toward Ernst, leaning over the table with a cold smile.

“I’m not like you, Ernst Lerner.”

Ernst met Sinclair’s gaze calmly with his golden eyes.

“I will take Eleanor to Beyrn. Lydia wanted that, too.”

“…She wouldn’t have wanted you to act like that.”

Ernst paused slightly, then spoke. Sinclair brushed his golden hair aside.

“I know. I don’t care if she wanted it or not.”

Smiling gently at Ernst, who looked up at him with a serious expression, Sinclair said:

“If she’s truly changed, the outcome will reflect it.”