Chapter 64
Charlotte tossed and turned several times before she weakly pushed herself up from the bed. She couldn’t sleep. Even closing her eyes was difficult. Whenever she shut them, Aria’s face surfaced, and whenever she opened them, tears would well up. The way she had sent Aria off kept pricking at her like a thorn under her fingernail, stinging persistently. In truth, if pain were to be compared, it was no less than a dagger stabbed into her chest.
Like a sleepwalker, she wandered the corridor with nothing but a shawl draped over her shoulders. She hadn’t even put on slippers, yet the floor felt soft under her feet. That was thanks to the thick wool carpet laid down with Ash’s permission—for Aria, who loved to run around. But now it was all meaningless. Aria was gone. Aria was…
“Mom!”
Charlotte’s steps froze, and she immediately turned around. She had heard Aria’s voice. But when she looked back, no one was there. Of course. She knew Aria couldn’t possibly be there, and yet she turned. Such fleeting attachment was terrifying—and enough to break a person.
“Aria is gone now. She went where she was supposed to go.”
Charlotte whispered to herself, urging herself not to cling any longer. But if scolding herself had been enough, she would have let Aria go easily. No, it seemed her love for Aria had been far greater than she had realized. Otherwise, it couldn’t hurt this much. Realizing again how deeply she had loved Aria, Charlotte let out a trembling sigh and stopped walking.
“The attic…”
She had stopped intending to turn back, but when she came to her senses, she was standing before the attic door. Everywhere her eyes landed brought back memories of Aria, and the attic was no exception. As if possessed, Charlotte grasped the doorknob. It was impossible, but for a moment she thought she heard a child’s laughter from within.
She opened the door. The arched window reflected the dark sky outside. The attic should have been just as dark, but to her surprise, it was bright. Just as when she had first discovered this place, a fire burned in the fireplace and lanterns lit the floor.
“…My lady, what brings you here?”
It was Ash. He had dragged a sofa by the window, wearing only an outer coat loosely thrown on. Startled for a moment, he rose to his feet.
“Why is Your Grace here?”
Of course, the manor belonged to him, and he could be wherever he pleased. But still, it was unusual for him to be in the attic at this hour. Charlotte hesitated and tried to turn away, but Ash quickly stood up.
“I was feeling lonely by myself, please come in. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll leave.”
“Just now, didn’t you say you felt lonely and wanted me to come in? Yet you’d leave…?”
“…I was simply startled, since I didn’t expect anyone to come.”
When Ash ran his hand down the back of his neck, Charlotte let out a small laugh. But it was weak, vanishing quickly. Silence fell again, and she slowly pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Then her eyes began to sting, and she pressed the back of her hand against them. That’s when something red caught Ash’s eye.
“…”
Ash took a step toward her. In just a few strides, he was right before her, and he reached out to shut the half-open attic door. With a click, the door closed, and immediately, he guided Charlotte to sit on the sofa. She followed without resistance. But when Ash knelt on one knee before her and met her gaze, shadows loomed across her face.
“May I see your hand?”
“….”
“As I thought, I didn’t see wrong.”
As she extended her hand, Charlotte noticed the deep nail marks engraved in her palm. Her nails had dug into the flesh, blood had welled up, then dried. It must have been when she pressed her hand against her eyes that Ash had noticed.
Ash gently smoothed over the wound, then realized she was barefoot. Taking the blanket draped over the armrest, he laid it across her knees.
“Your feet are bare too. Weren’t they cold on the way here?”
“Because you allowed carpets to be laid down, it was fine.”
Ash let out a quiet sigh and stood. From a built-in shelf on the wall, he retrieved a small tin case. Opening it revealed ointment. Taking Charlotte’s hand again, he applied it gently, asking in a soft voice:
“Were you unable to sleep because you were worried about Aria?”
“…Yes.”
She paused before answering, but there was no hesitation in her voice. She did not deny her sorrow. Proof of that lay in her tear-filled eyes when Ash lifted his gaze.
Ash hesitated for a long time before finally brushing a lock of her silver hair behind her ear. His hand instinctively wanted to caress her cheek, but he restrained himself.
Spending the night in the attic, Ash had thought deeply. He too was worried about Aria, but more than that, he worried about Charlotte. He had pondered endlessly how he might console her. Yet none of the words he’d carefully chosen felt right. Her grief could never be soothed with mere words.
At this moment, all he could do was quietly listen to her heart.
“I should have told Aria that I loved her. Foolishly, I only waved goodbye…”
“…”
“What was Aria thinking then? Did she resent me for not answering when she called me Mom? Was I ever a good mother to her?”
“…”
Charlotte’s voice trembled as emotion surged. She bit her lip and looked away.
“I may not have been a good mother, but Aria was a good daughter. She caused mischief, yes, but she was kind and lovable… I still remember holding her for the first time here. She was so frail and thin, and yet, so warm…”
“…”
“Even this morning—Aria woke so early. She told me she had never gotten up at dawn before, but then…”
Aria had woken unusually early, washed, dressed neatly, and didn’t doze off at all—as if her words about never rising early had been a lie. Thinking back, she did often stay up until late, full of energy.
Charlotte suddenly felt all blood drain from her face. Aria’s words echoed again in her ears.
[“Aria might not be able to wake up.”]
[“Hm?”]
[“Aria has never woken up at dawn. She sleeps when the moon rises and wakes only when the sun is high.”]
…Why had Aria said that?
Was it really because she feared she might oversleep and miss leaving with the Kenises?
But Aria had never once said she wanted to go with them. Her answers had always been vague. The one who assumed she wanted to leave… was Charlotte herself.
“Your Grace.”
“…?”
“Did Aria truly want to leave with the Kenises?”
“…My lady, why do you say that?”
Maybe it was just longing making her imagine absurd things. It could be baseless. But the more Charlotte thought, the more certain she felt.
Aria hadn’t wanted to go with them.
With that realization, Charlotte understood the expression Aria had worn at the end. It had meant she wanted to stay in the North. Aria was honest but, unlike most children, never threw tantrums—only clung softly. That’s why all she could manage was calling “Mom” at the end.
Now, tears spilled freely down Charlotte’s cheeks, though she had not shed them even when she saw the carriage depart. She covered her mouth. What she thought she had done for Aria’s sake had ignored the child’s true feelings right before her.
“Your Grace. If Aria really wanted to stay… and I failed to see it…”
That talk about not being able to wake early—it had only been an excuse.
“My lady, please don’t think like that.”
“….”
“My lady!”
Ash grasped her shoulders as her breathing grew harsh, almost hyperventilating.
“It’s as though I forced that child to go. I should have been more careful, but I…”
At that moment, Ash shouted firmly:
“Charlotte!”
“!”
“…I know this isn’t the time, but calm yourself. Think clearly.”
Charlotte widened her eyes in surprise, then slowly nodded. He was right. Regret now would not change anything.
“…Forgive me for shouting.”
“No, it’s fine. Truly…”
As her ragged breathing eased, Ash gently wiped her tears and spoke softly.
“What if we go and bring Aria back?”
“!”
“If you travel south from Nostrid for about three hours, you’ll reach Alexia Village. It’s a cluster of shelters, and beyond it lies the cliff road. No one dares travel that path at night, so travelers rest in Alexia until dawn. The Kenises are likely staying there too. If we leave now, we could catch up.”
How much she wanted to. But reality did not support her wish. Charlotte clenched her fists again, but not hard enough to hurt herself this time—because Ash’s hand was wrapped around hers.
“Maybe growing up with the Kenises would be better. Even if I bring her back, I cannot adopt her. Unless I marry, I have no right—there isn’t even a fiancé…”
“I know. But think of it the other way: if you had a spouse, you could adopt her, couldn’t you?”
“…What?”
“I’ve heard that a child adopted after marriage remains recognized as family, even after divorce.”
Charlotte didn’t immediately grasp his meaning. But the words and actions that followed made everything clear. Ash lifted her hand and pressed his lips softly to its back.
“I will become your husband.”
Looking up at her, his eyes brimmed with resolve—and something like affection—as if he would do anything for her.
“I am cursed and cannot truly bind myself to anyone anyway. So…”
Every word carried his sincerity. For Charlotte’s sake, Ash was willing to propose.
“Please… use me as your means.”
