HWWRC Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The wound that had barely healed now throbbed again, as though salt had been sprinkled on it. She could have lied. But because it was Ash she was dealing with, one side of her chest stung bitterly.

For Charlotte, who always drew a line between herself and others, Ash was someone she thought she could at least greet in passing, exchange light conversation with, and perhaps even call an acquaintance. She thought they had gotten a little closer. But maybe that was all a misunderstanding.

“I see. I understand.”

A bitter taste spread between her tightly pressed lips. Had it been anyone else, she might have let her face twist with pain, but Charlotte’s expression remained calm and gentle. In fact, her lips even curved faintly in a smile. Of course, neither Baron Bervel nor his wife knew that this was merely an act. Among the many things Charlotte had learned while enduring wounds over the years, this skill had been the most useful.

Thud— A dull sound rang from somewhere nearby.

All three of them turned their heads toward the pier. While Anna tied the rope to a post, Aria came running off the boat toward Charlotte. Out of habit, Charlotte opened her arms.

“Mom!”
“!”
“Mom…”

Aria buried her face into the hem of Charlotte’s dress and hugged her tightly. Her face was hidden, but her shoulders sagged weakly, and her voice carried no strength. Charlotte held Aria close and patted her shoulder.

She embraced her to comfort her, but the warmth that spread from Aria’s small body seemed to chase away Charlotte’s own heavy mood. Somehow, it felt like she was the one being comforted.

“Aria, did something happen? Wasn’t the boat fun?”

Aria shook her head without lifting her face. Anna, who had followed behind, also looked confused. When Charlotte brushed her cheek against Aria’s head, the child snuggled even deeper into her embrace.

“Mom, I want to go home.”
“Alright. Let’s go home together.”

Aria usually loved playing. Anna would have to persuade her, and Charlotte would need to coax her before she reluctantly returned home. Even then, she wouldn’t wash right away—she’d clutch her toys or play with Suu first. She had never once begged to go home like this before.

Charlotte, worried, wore a serious expression. The baroness tugged at her husband’s sleeve.

“Dear, let’s take them with us on the way to the lord’s castle.”
“That would be best. Calling for a carriage will take time. Please ride with us.”
“…Then I’ll trouble you.”

Normally she would have declined, but if Aria was unwell, she couldn’t afford to be picky. Charlotte gently stroked Aria’s hair again and again. Until they boarded the carriage, Aria clung to her mother’s embrace and refused to let go.

Baron Bervel had only just returned to the castle when the searchers from the eastern snow mountains arrived, carrying something loaded onto a horse. Squinting, the baron studied the large burlap sack. Having served as Ash’s aide for six years, he could usually guess whether the searchers had brought back simple game or the corpse of a monster—the kind of thing that lately furrowed Ash’s brow.

Fortunately, it did not seem to be a monster. The blood seeping through the sack was bright red. The blood of monsters was usually black or dark purple.

“Baron, why are you only arriving now?”
“Am I late? I thought I came right on time.”
“You’re not late exactly, but since you weren’t here, His Grace’s temper fell entirely on us…”
“So the reason I couldn’t find Baron Bervel was because you were wasting time complaining?”

For whatever reason, Ash’s mood was especially sharp that day. The mountain searchers, who had been grumbling to Baron Bervel, all fell silent the moment Ash appeared.

“Perhaps if I send you to the far north edge, your grumbling will stop.”
“Still, complaints are better than silence. I get nervous when the searchers are too quiet.”
“That’s true. By the way, why were you delayed?”
“Was I really so late?”
“Not terribly, but usually you’re punctual.”
“Ah, I was escorting Lady Blanche back on the way.”

At the mention of Lady Blanche, a silence instantly descended. Only Baron Bervel, oblivious to the mood, failed to notice the shift.

“…I see. In that case, it can’t be helped.”

He didn’t look like he meant it. Pedro muttered under his breath, earning a clamp over his mouth from Edmond.

“Oh, come to think of it, the young lady asked after Your Grace. She wondered if you were alright, saying you shouldn’t overexert yourself while unwell.”
“And how did you respond?”
“What else? I told her Your Grace had long since recovered.”

Pedro let out a groan he couldn’t suppress. The other searchers reacted similarly. Only then did Baron Bervel realize how poor Ash’s complexion was. Normally calm and steady like still waters, his face was pale now, shadows darkening his features. He hadn’t even looked this grim when monsters were discovered.

“So.”
“Y-yes?”
“So what exactly did the young lady say? She must have replied to that.”
“Ah, well…”

Baron Bervel racked his brain. He had spoken with Charlotte, yes, but during the tea party his attention had been far too divided—eight parts on his beloved wife, two parts on Charlotte.

Not that he’d been rude, of course. Charlotte had been smiling as she replied: ‘I see. I understand.’ But now that he thought about it, wasn’t that odd? Normally one would say, ‘I must have been mistaken,’ or ‘I must have misunderstood.’

Only belatedly did he notice the strangeness, and under Ash’s unnerving gaze, he repeated Charlotte’s words exactly.

“She said: ‘I see. I understand.’ And she was smiling.”
“What?”
“That’s all she said. She was smiling the whole time.”
“She was smiling? That’s the scariest thing I’ve heard yet.”

Pedro muttered again, and this time Edmond didn’t bother to stop him. Anyone would be angry to learn they had been lied to after worrying so long that someone might never wake again. Ash, the very one who had lied, quietly rubbed his face with a hand, a heavy sigh slipping from his lips.

Baron Bervel glanced toward Pedro and Edmond, silently mouthing: What happened? The searchers only shook their heads.

Back at Stéria Castle, Charlotte immediately took Aria to her room. The sharp sting of her reopened wound had already faded, replaced by the weight of her concern for her daughter.

She ordered Anna to prepare a warm bath, gently patting Aria’s back. At last, Aria lifted her head. Yet she still clutched her sleeve tightly, refusing to let go.

Charlotte carefully examined her. No fever, no sign of pain. Just a deeply troubled expression. Was it because she hadn’t played with her enough, choosing instead to talk with the baroness?

“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Mom.”
“What is it, Aria?”

It seemed she wanted to say something, but the words came slowly. She clung to Charlotte, whining softly. Charlotte didn’t push her. She wrapped a blanket around her daughter’s shoulders and waited patiently. Thankfully, it didn’t take long.

But what Aria finally said made Charlotte’s heart plummet.

“I want to stay with you forever, Mom.”
“!”
“Being with you is the best.”

Could it be… that she overheard the baroness? No, impossible. At that time, Aria had been on the opposite shore, playing on the boat. She couldn’t have heard. She had come straight back to the castle after.

Charlotte’s heart raced, but she forced a calm smile as she comforted Aria.

“Yes, Mommy also—”

She wanted to say, “Mommy also loves being with you.” But she couldn’t. She had already resolved to send Aria away for adoption. She couldn’t afford to grow even more attached. Smiling, she let her words trail off, though her lips trembled. She needed to change the subject.

“Aria, wouldn’t you like to live somewhere warm?”
“Somewhere warm?”
“Yes, Nosetri is so cold. And you feel the cold easily.”
“If you hold me, Mom, I’m warm. So I’m fine.”

Each word pierced Charlotte’s chest. Should she never have brought Aria to the castle? To give her affection, only to take it away—wasn’t that cruel?

“No, Aria. You’ll be happier in a warm place.”

Charlotte pressed her forehead gently against her daughter’s. Warmth. Aria was so warm. And surely, the person to care for her should be warmer, richer, more capable than Charlotte herself.

“I can’t stay put any longer.”
“Where are you going, my lord? Lord Theodore will return tomorrow!”
“And so what? My granddaughter says she has a child now, and I’m supposed to sit idly by?”
“Marquis!”

The Blanche marquis’s steward was desperate to stop him. He hadn’t simply been delivering Charlotte’s letter—had he known what was written inside, he would never have delivered it at all! Blocking the doorway, the steward tried everything to restrain him.

The marquis had tried to stay calm after reading Charlotte’s letter, even writing a reply. He told himself it was a misunderstanding, that she had chosen the wrong words, that there must be some mistake. He tried to carry on with his work. But in the end, he couldn’t bear it. He leapt to his feet.

“Prepare the carriage at once!”
“Marquis Blanche!”

All the servants of the household rushed to stop him, but it was no use.

“You must not! Absolutely not!”
“Out of the way.”
“If you mean to go, you’ll have to step over me first!”
“I’m wearing boots. That will hurt quite a bit.”
“My lord! Please, calm yourself and think carefully!”

The steward truly believed the marquis might trample him, but even if it came to that, he was determined to restore his master’s reason.