Chapter 24…
Bellisa forced a smile and continued with her carefully chosen, polite words.
“Yes… and on top of that, she even tidied up Aryan’s room before leaving.”
“Tidied up” was an understatement. Most of it had been torn out and redone, decorated with luxury items. Aryan’s room—while still far from satisfactory—had at least become barely presentable.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“We are grateful for Miss Clarissa’s consideration.”
“Yes, you should be.”
Bellisa’s eyebrow twitched.
The faint spasm at the corner of her mouth was unmistakably visible to Clarissa.
“For the room of the family’s eldest son to look like that—if someone had seen it, they might have said you don’t treat him as ‘your own son’ at all, don’t you think?”
At Clarissa’s words, the servants standing behind Bellisa let their eyes dart about, each harboring different thoughts.
Swallowing the anger surging up inside her, Bellisa clenched her fists tightly.
“My lady, I believe your words go a bit too far.”
“Oh my, I only meant that there might be people who think that way.”
Despite Bellisa’s low, warning tone, Clarissa merely flicked her lips lightly.
“Of course, no one would actually think that. Right, madam?”
Clarissa’s tongue was sly and serpentine, sharp and cunning.
Bellisa pressed her lips together.
No matter how angry she was, she had no intention of stepping willingly into a pit dug right before her eyes.
Hiding the trembling at the corners of her mouth, Bellisa quietly nodded.
She narrowed her eyes and forced a smile, though her discomfort was plain to see.
“Thank you for coming out to greet me, but you don’t look very well. I came to see Aryan anyway, so I think you may go back inside now.”
Clarissa dismissed her outright, to the point that one could no longer tell who was the host and who was the guest.
Bellisa hurriedly excused herself, claiming she had something else to attend to, and disappeared from Clarissa’s sight.
The rippling golden waves vanished from Clarissa’s eyes.
Relief washed over her at having removed yet another irritating woman from her view.
Since she said that in front of the servants, she probably won’t dare do anything else to Aryan for a while… probably.
Still, she couldn’t be completely at ease.
Just a little more. Faster.
Unable to hide her impatience, Clarissa quickened her pace.
“That damned woman!”
That afternoon, the very day Clarissa had brushed past her with such cold disregard, Bellisa could no longer contain her fury and screamed inside her silent room.
Soon, a vase adorned with blue roses went rolling across the floor, leaving its marks on the soft white carpet.
Still not satisfied, she roughly tore apart her once neatly arranged golden hair and bit down on her lower lip.
Then she hurled anything she could grab onto the floor.
Crash, bang—when the sound of ornaments clattering filled the room—
“Mom?”
A young boy who looked just like her stood there, rubbing his eyes and staring at Bellisa.
“Oh, Varga.”
The eyes that had been blazing red instantly softened with affection.
As if she had never screamed in rage, Bellisa bent down with a gentle smile and called to her son.
“Did I wake you, because of me?”
Her fingers brushed through Varga’s fine, golden hair.
With eyes as blue as midsummer skies, Varga shook his head.
The woman’s red lips touched the child’s forehead.
“My lovely son.”
Varga quietly accepted the warmth given to him.
Bellisa’s hands traced his cheek as though handling something priceless, and she whispered with desperate longing.
“I’m sorry. Just wait a little longer—everything will become yours.”
“Mom?”
Despite Varga’s sleepy yet questioning voice, Bellisa simply pulled him into her embrace.
Her eyes, chasing after something shapeless and unseen, flickered close to blood-red.
Feeling the breath of her young son filling her arms, she reaffirmed her resolve again and again.
“For you… I can endure anything. Anything at all.”
When Aryan finished his lessons and hurried into the reception room, Clarissa was reclining on a long, cushioned chair prepared for guests, gazing passionately at something.
Normally, Clarissa would have greeted him first without fail, so Aryan couldn’t hide his confusion as he cautiously called out to her.
“My lady?”
“Ah!”
Clarissa startled in a most uncharacteristic way and hurriedly hid whatever she had been holding behind her back.
Her flushed cheeks and raised voice—none of it was like Clarissa at all.
“I’m sorry—when did you get here?”
“Just now…”
Even as she smiled brightly in greeting, Aryan couldn’t quite suppress his curiosity.
“Yes?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
Yet lacking the courage to press further, he quickly shook his head.
“Is that so? If Aryan says it’s nothing, then it’s nothing!”
Watching Clarissa simply laugh awkwardly despite the unsatisfying end to his question, Aryan felt a strange churn in his chest.
What was she looking at?
If he asked, she might answer willingly—but the fear of being refused was stronger.
Still unable to even name that feeling, Aryan silently nodded.
“Did your lesson go well? Count Shupel’s pointl— no, I mean, what did you learn today?”
“Today we learned about the origins of ancient languages, and…”
Just as always, Clarissa gently asked about Aryan’s day, and Aryan did his best to share everything with her.
As their conversation began to warm—
“Ah! W-wait!”
A familiar scream reached their ears from somewhere not far beyond the reception room.
Clarissa and Aryan both turned toward the sound at the same time.
Unlike the clueless Aryan, Clarissa understood its cause all too well.
Having quickly assessed the situation, her brows lifted in clear irritation.
With a long sigh, she asked Aryan for his understanding.
“Just a moment, Aryan.”
Aryan obediently nodded, watching Clarissa rise from her seat.
Raising her voice, Clarissa called out to Marie.
“Marie! Is it still not ready?”
“Y-yes, j-just a moment, Lady Clarissa!”
Despite the urgency in her voice, Marie showed no sign of appearing.
“What on earth is she dawdling over?”
In the end, Clarissa pursed her lips and started walking.
“I’ll be right back!”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Clarissa dashed off.
Her chocolate-colored hair rippled as it vanished from Aryan’s sight.
In the place she left behind, there was only the wind—
No. A small, white piece of paper lingered in Aryan’s view.
It was clearly whatever Clarissa had tried to hide in a hurry.
Aryan’s heart began to race.
An unfamiliar impulse threw his thoughts into chaos.
Almost reflexively, Aryan rose to his feet and reached toward the trace she’d left behind.
“No, this is Clarissa’s…”
Despite his murmured protest, his body moved faithfully.
The paper rustled as his fingertips touched it.
“I shouldn’t…”
And yet, with the sheet now resting in his palm, Aryan could not bring himself to let go, staring down at it in silence.
Outside the reception room, Clarissa peeked out and first raised her voice at Marie, who was pleading from behind a pillar.
“Marie, what are you taking so long for?”
Marie, clutching a piece of meat in her hand, looked up at the scolding Clarissa with eyes full of grievance.
Of course, Clarissa felt not the slightest twinge of guilt and complained again.
“The surprise is completely ruined now!”
“B-but…”
Marie’s eyes quickly welled up with tears.
At times like this, Clarissa found it hard to believe Marie was ten years older than herself.
In the end, instead of shouting again, she clicked her tongue loudly and stepped in to salvage the situation.
“Where’s the kid?”
“Over there…”
In a voice on the verge of dying out, Marie pointed behind the pillar.
Clarissa swallowed the sigh rising in her throat. Bending slightly, she gently called to whatever was behind it.
“Whitey, come here.”
At that kind voice, a white shape cautiously stuck out its snout.
