YWPWYLFDM 14

Chapter 14

It was a voice so gentle it was chilling. A voice that somehow carried the faint tremor of suppressed tears. Hearing it, Aila felt the hair on her entire body stand on end.

Startled, she forgot all about pretending to be asleep and instinctively recoiled from his touch. And then—her eyes locked with Byron’s strangely hollow gaze.

Disaster. She had done something she should never have done, unable to suppress her visceral rejection.

“…F-Father? When did you come in?”

But there was still a way out. Aila feigned surprise, arranging her expression as though she had just woken up.

Yet Byron seemed even more startled than she was. His golden eyes widened, frozen in place, as if only now realizing that she wasn’t Ophelia, but that child.

For an instant, disgust flickered across Byron’s face as his eyes fell on Aila’s bright blue irises.

What could he possibly be feeling?

Looking at Aila—who so resembled the woman he was obsessed with, and at the same time the enemy he loathed more than anything—what sort of emotions must be twisting inside him?

Aila had no wish to understand. The only thing that welled up inside her was a deep, instinctive revulsion.

But she couldn’t let it show.

If she wanted to survive—if she wanted to discover what Byron was plotting—she had to play her part.

So she smiled brightly.

“Did you perhaps come because you wanted to see me, Father?”

Her face radiated pure happiness, as if she couldn’t believe such a thing. She even tilted her head forward slightly, as though begging him to stroke her hair.

But Byron did not reach out. He only turned his back on her.

“…It’s late. I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

His voice was hollow, empty of spirit. With those words, he strode back up the ladder and out of the room.

To come at midnight, reach for her head only to stop halfway, and then leave again—Byron was always eccentric, but this was the first time Aila had seen him so unstable.

What in the world is going on?

Left alone, Aila steadied her pounding chest and forced herself to think.

If Byron could suddenly appear like this in the middle of the night, moving around in secret after dark was far too risky.

Tonight she had been lucky—mere seconds away from being caught sneaking out. She couldn’t count on fortune bailing her out a second time.

…For now, it’s better to lay low.

She was curious why Byron was acting so strangely, but if she got caught slipping out at night… the thought alone was horrifying.

Even explaining how she’d left the room would be difficult. And if she somehow smoothed it over, he might still assign someone to watch her.

Worst case—if he discovered that she knew she was Roderick’s daughter—he might silence her forever.

He never used to visit me at night like this… it’ll go back to normal with time. It has to.

For now, she could only hold her breath and wait for things to settle down. Only then could she roam the night again, gathering information as before.

Pitiful though it was to have her fate hinge on the enemy’s mood, she had no choice.

…One wrong step, and it’s a plunge into the abyss.

Though it was still the long days of summer, tonight felt endless.

Time flowed on, heedless of Aila’s anxiety, as if she were balancing on a tightrope.

She had thought Byron’s instability might calm with time, but things didn’t resolve so quickly.

Since that night he hadn’t returned to her attic room, but his unsettled air remained. He always seemed on edge, as though he could burst in again at any moment.

If this were misfortune for him, then perhaps it was fortune for her—but she couldn’t dismiss it so lightly.

Something about it filled her with unease, with a bad premonition.

In her first life, before she regressed, nothing like this had ever happened. Of course she felt nervous.

She wondered if this was the consequence of her meddling—her nightly investigations of Byron. But no, if she had been discovered, he would have confronted her or put her under surveillance, not skulked about in unease.

Then… could there be someone else with memories of the future?

Byron and those around him showed no sign. Could it be Roderick? Or Ophelia?

But would it make a difference? Byron was still running away from something. Her parents still didn’t know where she had spent her childhood.

And…

Please, anything but that.

Please don’t let it be the worst possibility.

That her parents had returned to the past carrying the memories of being murdered by their daughter—or of their daughter killing her own husband. That would be far too cruel.

She had long resolved to one day apologize for her foolish past mistakes. But for her parents to remember them vividly, to relive that pain—that was something else entirely.

The memory of that horror was hers alone to bear.

“What are you thinking so hard about, young lady? You shouldn’t be lost in thought while holding a blade.”

Aila was pulled back to the present by Cloud’s voice. She realized belatedly that it was training time.

She had been repeating the simple motions of swinging a dagger, following Cloud’s example, when her mind had drifted away.

“Sorry.”

In truth, the endless repetition was tedious. For someone who could already run, leap, even flip through the air, being told to start again from baby steps was frustrating.

Still, spacing out in training wasn’t wise, especially with so many eyes watching her.

Byron’s condition had thrown the household into disorder, but that didn’t mean she could let her guard down.

“…Would you like to take a short break?”

Given the circumstances, she half-expected Cloud to scold her. But instead, his voice was unexpectedly gentle.

“Really?”

“Of course. It’s better than getting hurt while distracted by wandering thoughts.”

His reply was kind, even accompanied by a faint, awkward smile—something rare on his usually stoic face.

…Strange. He’s been kinder to me lately.

Though Cloud had always treated her with more respect than others, that had only meant he didn’t look down on her. He had never gone so far as to smile or speak kindly.

Why the sudden change?

The only difference was that Byron had been spending more time shut away and less time with Aila.

…Could it be because of that?

Not being dragged into Byron’s presence was a relief to her. She was frustrated that she couldn’t investigate him, but not having to smile sweetly at that wretched man was liberating.

Still, if she were her old self, she would have been full of nerves in this situation. Perhaps Cloud had noticed, and that explained his oddly gentle behavior.

So he’s softer than I thought. Is it sympathy?

Being pitied by an enemy wasn’t exactly pleasant. But Aila decided to see it differently.

If she could exploit that sympathy, perhaps she could draw information out of Cloud.

He would never openly betray Byron, of course. But maybe she could at least glean a hint.

It won’t be easy… but maybe worth a try.

Now was as good a time as any. She steeled herself.

Outwardly, she looked like a twelve-year-old girl. But inside, she was eighteen—legally an adult. Though not old by any measure, Aila liked to think herself mature. Even so, what she was about to do required a good deal of courage.

“Um… Cloud…”

She tugged at his sleeve, putting on the most pitiful, innocent expression she could muster.

The thought of how it must look made her feel almost sick with disgust at herself. But outwardly she was just a child, so she pressed on.

“What is it, my lady?”

Though he tried to hide it, Cloud looked a little flustered at her sudden behavior.

Aila often played the sweet, doting daughter before Byron, but never in front of anyone else.

“Um… tell me. Did I do something wrong to Father?”

Her eyelids trembled as if on the verge of tears, her voice pitiful and small.