Chapter 11…
“Cl… Clarissa?”
Hearing Aryan’s gentle voice, still unbroken by adolescence, Clarissa slowly nodded.
“Mm.”
She nodded with a smile like sunlight, though her hands, clasped together, trembled slightly.
Aryan quietly pressed his hand into hers, then released it.
As if confirming the presence of the other.
Led by Clarissa’s hand, Aryan safely emerged from the box, still looking around as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
Am I… dreaming?
Swallowing an overwhelming flood of unspoken emotions, Aryan struggled to convince himself that the figure before him wasn’t some illusion he had conjured. Only then did he manage to speak, his voice heavy.
“How… did I get here?”
But before he could finish, Velisa eagerly swallowed his words.
“Oh my, so you were hiding there, weren’t you, dear boy?”
She really likes calling him ‘dear boy’…
Clarissa’s expression stiffened at Velisa’s brazen tone.
Aryan, too, turned toward the source of the voice.
Seeing Velisa’s gentle smile, his face drained of all color.
“I apologize, Lady Clarissa. Aryan is more mischievous than he seems. He often plays pranks like this.”
Hm. Clarissa snorted, observing Velisa’s act.
Velisa’s red lips moved elegantly as she addressed Aryan in a voice as sweet as dripping honey:
“You must have fallen asleep while playing… isn’t that right, Aryan?”
Anyone listening only to Velisa’s calm face and voice would think her a truly kind and loving mother.
And that was the opinion of most people present.
Aryan’s head fell limply.
Clarissa silently shifted her gaze between Aryan and the box in which he had been trapped.
She had been subtly tormenting Aryan for a long time—ever since she first married into the Count’s family.
“Is that so?”
Clarissa asked gently, but with unmistakable firmness.
Aryan avoided her gaze, letting his eyes crawl along the floor.
When Velisa deliberately cleared her throat, Aryan’s head jerked up like he had been struck by lightning.
“Hmm… I see.”
Clarissa’s voice froze cold as ice.
With those words, she snapped to her feet.
Her eyes fell on Aryan’s small frame and the equally small blue box.
The box was not large; even someone of Clarissa’s size would struggle to curl up inside it.
Thirteen years old—the age when a boy truly begins to grow.
Yet Aryan had barely grown over the past few years.
No, he couldn’t grow.
“Mary.”
“Yes?”
Clarissa had realized the reason.
“Lift it.”
Right at this moment, she felt it to her bones.
“Yes.”
Mary obeyed, lifting the box.
Though it was somewhat heavy, she managed to carry it without difficulty.
Clarissa furrowed her brows, nodding at Mary.
Step by step, she approached the small window relative to the size of the room.
Clarissa’s jaw lifted, then dropped.
Mary looked at her tiny master with wide eyes, then nodded firmly.
“One.”
To shove a child, only half-grown, into this cursed little crate…
Clarissa’s voice deepened with anger, which refused to subside.
Mary’s arms stiffened as she understood the instructions.
“Two.”
“Lady Clarissa?”
How dare she smile like that?
Velisa’s face remained flawless, terrifyingly beautiful, as she confronted Clarissa.
All while her stepson was trapped inside the box.
Crazy…
A curse climbed up Clarissa’s throat.
It was aimed at Velisa, but also carved deep within herself.
Why hadn’t she realized sooner?
[You might think I’m childish.]
Long nights spent awake, exhausted from the day, bitter confessions quietly shared.
[I hate the night.]
All the images of Aryan from the novels, once thoughtlessly passed over, now flickered before her eyes.
The boy startled behind her, the grown man confessing his fear of night.
In Clarissa’s mind, the two merged into one.
She focused on only one person as she called out the final number.
“Three.”
The box in Mary’s arms flew into the air.
Then, crash! The sound of breaking glass exploded, shards scattering like fireworks.
“Ahhh!”
“Gah!”
“What is the meaning of this?!”
Some screamed, some swallowed in shock.
Velisa glared at Clarissa with hawk-like eyes.
“Why?”
“You… don’t know, and you’re asking?!”
“Yes.”
But Clarissa replied brusquely, without even blinking.
As everything that had been annoying her was destroyed in an instant, Clarissa finally felt relief.
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry, madam.”
Her rationality slowly returned.
Clarissa, imitating a pure noble girl, smiled sweetly.
Among the shocked crowd, she alone bloomed like a flower.
Yet the atmosphere remained frozen, as if winter had settled in.
After scattering the audience just enough, she clasped her hands neatly and put on a pitiful expression.
Pretending ignorance after causing chaos wasn’t Velisa’s skill alone.
“I came to see Aryan.”
Her voice, flowing like rolling pearls, was sweet.
“And that box almost kept me from seeing him.”
Her words were sharp, lined with hidden blades.
Clarissa knew just how adorable her white, round cheeks, cherry-red lips, and large eyes were.
So she used that loveliness to mask herself as an innocent, naive girl.
“Such a naughty box deserves to be thrown away.”
“Hey!”
Velisa’s eyes narrowed sharply, scolding Clarissa.
But the more she did, the more the kind, gentle image of the Countess she had built faded.
For a brief moment, Clarissa’s face showed the happiest expression in the world, then it disappeared.
Before the many spectators, she looked helpless—one hand under her chin, the other folded across her arms, nibbling her small, pretty lips.
“Of course, madam, you were bothersome too.”
She complained like a child.
“But that doesn’t mean I can throw you away, does it?”
“Wha—…”
Velisa was struck dumb, and Aryan’s eyes widened in shock.
Clarissa clapped loudly in the air and exclaimed:
“In that sense, I believe the treatment was justified. Don’t you agree, everyone?”
The sun had set, leaving behind the new summer evening. Clarissa boarded the carriage with a fresher face than ever.
She recalled Aryan’s white crown of hair, flushed as he looked away from the ever-changing scenery, his transparent silver hair shimmering in different hues with the light, and the moments when their little fingers intertwined and whispered secrets.
[From today on, I’ll come to see Aryan every day.]
Her clear blue eyes softened with emotion.
His lips twitched in surprise but could form no words—and that was enough.
[And on the days I can’t come…]
Clarissa’s eyes curved like a crescent.
Her chestnut hair brushed against Aryan’s cheek, and their foreheads touched lightly, then apart.
[You come to see me.]
Their fingers tangled, gripping slightly tighter.
Aryan’s eyes shimmered with gold, his red lips trembling softly.
A smile bloomed.
“Mm~ hmm.”
Clarissa’s breathy laugh carried a melody.
Beneath her chair, her legs tapped a steady rhythm.
As Clarissa whispered sweetly to Aryan, Mary, busy cleaning up the aftermath of Mathias’s shock and fear, looked at her tiny master with a peculiar sense of wonder.
“Do you really like it that much?”
