Chapter 15…
“Right… getting something like this from someone like me wouldn’t make you happy at all… I’m sorry, Aryan. I… I was thinking only of myself again…”
Clarissa’s voice flowed out like a sigh. Aryan, startled, quickly swung his arm in response.
She shook her head so earnestly that Clarissa forgot all pretense and had to suppress a laugh that threatened to escape.
When she barely managed to cover her face with both hands, her shoulders began to tremble.
Aryan, mistaking the trembling for another emotion, immediately forgot what he had been about to say and shouted:
“I-I’ll take it!”
Only after hearing Aryan’s almost screaming voice did Clarissa lift her head, as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you! Aryan. You really are like an angel!”
She smiled at him with a perfectly clear face, not a tear in sight.
Aryan blinked in surprise at how quickly Clarissa’s expression had changed. Then, a moment later, realizing he had been fooled, he gave an awkward laugh and scratched his cheek with his finger.
With a thoroughly satisfied heart, Clarissa grabbed Aryan’s hand before he could say anything else and stepped forward toward the carriage waiting for them.
The streets were beginning to empty at a noticeable pace.
Through the thinning crowd, the Lisette Marquis’s carriage appeared.
Now, they were less than thirty steps away.
As Aryan reluctantly looked up, swallowing the sting of parting, he noticed Clarissa’s gaze fixed on something.
At the end of her gaze were a boy and a girl, begging.
Was there a problem? As a vague sense of curiosity formed in his mind, Aryan’s eyes met Clarissa’s.
Her expression had stiffened for some unknown reason.
Aryan became acutely aware of her tense expression.
“Yo—”
“Marie.”
Unable to contain his curiosity, Aryan’s lips parted halfway, but Clarissa, with no hesitation, called to Marie who was following behind.
“Go to the bakery and buy plenty of the leftover bread.”
Marie, caught off guard by Clarissa’s sudden command, responded hesitantly.
“What? But my hands…”
“You can set them down for a moment and go!”
Clarissa’s authoritative tone made her seem a little anxious. Aryan quietly looked up at her.
Moments later, Marie returned, holding a generous bundle of bread, having fully carried out Clarissa’s order. Clarissa’s expression finally softened.
“Clarissa! I’m back!”
“Yes, good work.”
“But… why this? Wasn’t what you had before enough?”
Marie’s question was the same one Aryan had wondered about. He perked up his ears, focusing on their conversation.
“What?”
But soon, seeing Clarissa respond sharply, both Marie and Aryan shivered.
Marie, accustomed to this, hung her head low and admitted her mistake.
“…I’m sorry.”
“If you have time to bow, just hand it over.”
With that, Clarissa snatched the bread from Marie and held it close. Then she turned to Aryan, offering the most beautiful smile.
“Clarissa?”
“Wait just a moment.”
Aryan couldn’t understand it. Why she smiled so beautifully, and why she ran with the happiest expression toward someone other than him.
At the end of her run were the boy and girl in question.
Clarissa knelt in front of them, taking bread from her bag and placing it before them, one piece at a time.
In an instant, the children were surrounded by heaps of bread.
They stared at her in astonishment, then, once they saw her nod, they hurriedly stuffed bread into their mouths.
Clarissa’s face bloomed like a flower as she watched them.
She waved off the children’s chatter, but her lips twitched occasionally. Then she quietly offered them more bread.
Even when pouting, the moment their eyes left her, she watched them with a small smile and gentle expression.
Aryan stood frozen, as if turned to stone, staring at Clarissa’s sunset-brown hair and sparkling golden eyes.
Clarissa didn’t glance back at Aryan for a long while.
Aryan’s pale, delicate fingertips brushed his heart.
It was strange—an ache blossomed where there shouldn’t have been any pain.
Clarissa didn’t let go of Aryan’s back until he safely entered the mansion.
The Marquis of Matthias’s house at night was eerily quiet, and Aryan returned to his room, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
Though Belisa had stopped bothering him recently, Aryan still wanted to avoid provoking her in any way.
Lying on his old creaking bed, he sank deep under the thin blanket, recalling the events of the day, one by one.
Amidst a day that was ordinary yet different at every moment, Aryan pondered the meaning of the smile she had shown before parting.
And the pain he felt at that moment.
“Even though Clarissa smiled… why does my chest hurt?”
A small crease formed between his brows. No matter how much he thought, he couldn’t figure out why.
Eventually, Aryan gave up and closed his eyes tightly.
Yet, having already started thinking, sleep wouldn’t come.
He spent a long time pondering how he could possibly fall asleep.
Caught in a chain of thoughts, Aryan finally gave up and rose.
A thought crossed his mind—one that might resolve everything.
“…Should I look it up?”
The name of this feeling.
No one was watching, so Aryan quietly, carefully slipped out of bed.
He tiptoed to the center of the room, lifting the corner of the old carpet.
Beneath, there was a small groove, just enough for a finger.
He slid his finger in and lifted.
Creak—
A space about two spans wide was revealed.
Several dusty books were inside.
Aryan picked up one labeled “Imperial Language Basics—Words and Explanations.”
Belisa had hated Aryan learning properly.
She moved all the books intended for him to her private library and forbade him from reading any without permission.
Aryan clutched the book he had hidden the day before Belisa took all the books, and carefully returned to bed.
Relying only on the faint moonlight, he opened the old book.
Thin silver hair swayed in the night breeze.
The boy quietly thought of the girl he knew.
“Clarissa… she’s still a little scary, but…”
Warmth spread across Aryan’s pale cheeks.
The whisper of paper filled the quiet night.
His white fingers paused, touching the word he sought.
“Kind: having much affection; or being deeply attached.”
Cherry-like lips bloomed into a delicate smile.
Eyes narrowed, a blue sea rippled within them.
Aryan’s gaze hurried downward.
“Affection: a feeling of love or closeness.”
“Love.”
Only that word struck his heart.
His face flushed red, every inch of him burning.
A great resonance began in his chest, reaching his ears.
“To love: to cherish and value a person or being deeply; or the act of doing so.”
He remembered the storybooks from his childhood, held in the arms of his late nanny, featuring the beautiful princess and the brave knight.
He had read it over and over; at the story’s end, the two held hands and professed love. And:
“And they lived together happily ever after.”
Aryan closed his eyes tightly and exhaled slowly.
