Chapter 5:
Ian sat reclined on his bed, slowly writing a reply one letter at a time, completely unfazed by the ink splatters.
Watching this, Cain eventually muttered bluntly,
“You’re writing the reply yourself now?”
“Yes.”
“What brought on the sudden change of heart?”
“I won’t write much, so I don’t need a scribe.”
Though he brushed it off casually, both Ian and his aide Cain knew that wasn’t the real reason.
He wanted to write with sincerity.
He also wanted to show who “Ian” was, not just the Duke of Dayban.
That wasn’t something a ghostwriter could express.
“Won’t the young lady be disappointed?”
Cain’s unnecessary comment was met with a reply from Ian, who didn’t even bother lifting his head.
“If she were the type to be disappointed by my bad handwriting, she wouldn’t have kept sending such heartfelt letters.”
“You pretend not to care, but you seem quite sincere.”
The scratching sound of the quill briefly stopped. Ian’s calm, navy eyes turned to Cain.
“She treats me without pretense. I’m simply responding in kind. That’s all.”
“Of course, how could it be anything else.”
Even though his commander’s emotions were completely composed, his gaze carried a quiet intensity—enough to make Cain instinctively avoid eye contact.
Cain decided to stop probing into Ian’s feelings with needless remarks.
After all, his role was to follow the Duke of Dayban’s orders. Nothing more.
“If you’ve got time for small talk, go deliver this properly.”
The neatly folded letter slipped into an envelope, sealed so the contents couldn’t be read.
Just as Cain took the letter and turned to leave, Ian spoke.
“Wait.”
When Cain turned back, Ian was holding a delicate silver necklace.
Cain immediately recognized what necklace it was.
“You’re not thinking of enclosing that, are you?”
“……”
“That’s a keepsake, isn’t it?”
“More than a keepsake—it’s a lingering attachment.”
The “person” Cain referred to was Ian’s mother.
But strictly speaking, it wasn’t exactly her keepsake.
When young Ian had started defeating even seasoned knights in swordsmanship, his father once asked what he wanted as a reward.
Ian, wanting to see his ailing mother smile, chose this necklace from the ducal treasure vault.
It looked pretty and precious—something that seemed like it would suit his mother well.
But it was never actually delivered to her.
Her health had rapidly declined, and the necklace was forgotten.
“Just keeping this all this time really is my own lingering attachment.”
He later found it in a pouch and carried it out of habit.
Of course, he knew it was meaningless to keep holding on to it like that.
Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to lock it away or return it to the vault.
“So if I let it go like this instead…”
Maybe his mother would be happy—thinking that her son had finally found someone he could rely on.
It was only a guess, but…
“Survive.”
That was the one thing his mother had said.
Survive—no matter how unfair or difficult things were, survive.
So Ian survived.
He earned the Emperor’s trust and climbed to the highest possible rank for a noble.
But what remained in him was a desolate, withered heart that even he had long ignored.
The letters from Lady Charte felt like drops of rain falling on a heart he hadn’t even realized was dried up.
Maybe if he’d stayed as he was, it would’ve been fine.
But now that he was aware, he couldn’t help but hope this connection wouldn’t be severed.
“Be careful not to tear the envelope when you send it.”
The silver chain slid quietly into the envelope just before it was sealed.
The emerald hanging from the chain caught the light and shimmered before vanishing inside.
“Still… isn’t that necklace important to you?”
“If it’s never going to see the light of day in my hands, it’s better off with someone who’ll treat it more preciously.”
With that, Ian leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.
Soon, the sound of his loyal aide leaving echoed in the room.
In order to return to the capital quickly, a full recovery from his injury was necessary.
Recalling how slow his healing had been, Ian let out a sigh. The road ahead was still long.
Betty was about to take her diary from the drawer when she spotted a white handkerchief beside it.
“I never got to return it.”
It was the very handkerchief Felix Charte had handed her when she was drenched.
She had left it untouched for so long that she had almost forgotten about it.
“Losing one handkerchief isn’t a big deal, right?”
If another maid had been in her position, she might’ve used it as a shameless excuse to get closer to Felix.
But Betty wasn’t chasing hopeless dreams of rising in status.
“Anyway, I need to write the letter first.”
The lady had practically thrown paper and a quill at her early in the evening, sending her off.
Betty could more than guess the reason.
“I really don’t want to get involved…”
Knowing something was going on between the duke’s knight and the lady while pretending not to notice—it wasn’t easy.
“Huh…?”
She opened the envelope that Lady Charte hadn’t even checked, and something glittered inside.
When she turned it over on the bed, a necklace with a luminous emerald emerged.
Staring blankly at the clear emerald hanging from the fine silver chain, Betty quickly picked up the letter.
“You need not worry about my injury. I assure you it’s nothing serious.
I only hope the enclosed necklace pleases you.”
Oddly enough, the handwriting was completely different from the previous letters—it was rough, messy, with ink blotches from too much pressure.
If someone else had written it, it wouldn’t have looked like this.
And it didn’t seem distorted due to injury either. The differences were too distinct, even in the smallest strokes.
‘No way… was someone else writing the letters before, and now he’s doing it himself…?’
That thought made her feel like she’d taken one step closer to the duke.
She could understand why he might’ve hidden his handwriting at first.
But now… there was a quiet joy in realizing she’d become someone he no longer felt the need to hide that from.
The fact that the letter was handwritten—and neither sender nor recipient was explicitly named—tickled her heart even more.
It felt like the letter wasn’t addressed to Lady Charte, but to the person beyond her: Betty.
And if that was the case, the necklace in her hand was also a meaningful gift personally sent through his own hands.
As she sat at her desk and picked up the quill, it was only natural that excitement filled her fingers.
“To His Grace the Duke,
Thank you for replying so quickly and letting me know you’re all right.
Not being able to see you in person, I was very worried about your condition.
If my guess is correct, this last letter was written by Your Grace yourself. I can’t express how happy I am that you’re taking such care with my letters.
Even if the handwriting isn’t neat, I’d be even happier if you continued to write to me personally.
Personally, I believe what matters in letters is the heart behind the words—not the style of writing.
So please feel free to write however is most comfortable for you. And if replying ever feels like a bother, you don’t have to at all.
Just between us, I used to have terrible handwriting as a child.
Even now, when I lose focus, those habits sometimes come back.
As always, I hope for your continued well-being.
—Vivian Charte
P.S. The beautiful emerald necklace arrived safely, though I forgot to mention it earlier. I hope it’s not some family heirloom of the duchy. If it is, I might feel compelled to return it out of guilt.
P.P.S. As the recipient of a gift, I promise I won’t return it. That was just my way of saying thank you—it truly is a lovely gift.”
It seemed the lady had found it surprisingly convenient when she had Betty apply the seal once before. Since then, she had entrusted Betty with sealing all letters sent in her name.
Naturally, Betty was also in charge of sealing the latest letter to the duke.
The lady didn’t even touch the letter anymore.
‘I need to press it before the wax hardens.’
At first, she had worried about making a mistake. But now she’d grown quite used to watching the wax drip and sealing it at the right moment.
“My lady, this came with the letter His Grace sent yesterday.”
Betty looked down with satisfaction at the cleanly stamped seal, then took the necklace from her pocket.
“What’s that?”
“A gift from His Grace. It was in the envelope…”
Unlike the flood of gifts that had come in all at once before, this one felt like it held very special meaning.
She wasn’t sure how to emphasize its importance, and her voice trailed off.
