ITAYA 68

~Chapter 68~

As I took the book from Miss Weidon, Countess Crenbel suddenly interrupted.

“Wait a moment.”

“What is it, Countess?” Gwenndolyn replied smoothly.

It was like they were acting out a well-rehearsed play.

“Her Grace probably cannot read the ancient language. Kaelersk was a poet from the time of ancient tongues. I’m afraid this book might be too difficult for her.”

She looked at me apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I should have checked in advance.”

Oh, so that’s their game?

I nearly laughed but held it in. They wanted to show everyone that the Duchess couldn’t read the noble’s ancient language—a core sign of true aristocratic education.

A satisfied smile appeared on Gwenndolyn’s lips. She watched my reaction eagerly, hoping I’d prove I didn’t belong here.

But I could see through every shallow trick.

Ancient language really was a symbol of high noble culture, something only the more educated families bothered to teach. For most, learning a dead language was pointless.

But I wasn’t like most.

I opened the book casually. Gwenndolyn and Countess Crenbel looked confused.

I spoke calmly.

“No need to apologize. But it is a problem that, as my invited instructor, you didn’t check this beforehand.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. So, for this reading—”

I cut her off as I began to read the ancient script aloud.

“The title is One Lazy Afternoon. It’s one of Kaelersk’s prose poems. One lazy afternoon, at a sunlit café window, I first saw her. I was just a passerby, and she was reading a small green book. Her tea-colored eyes moved slowly across the page, and I couldn’t look away.”

That was the first page.

I was about to turn it when Countess Raynglass raised her hand.

“There are two interpretations of Kaelersk’s poetry, aren’t there? Do you know them?”

“The first is that ‘she’ is truly a lover—Kaelersk’s wife, who died young. The second is that ‘she’ refers to the Emperor. Kaelersk was once the Emperor’s loyal subject but grew distant after some conflict. Some think this poem expresses his longing for his monarch.”

“Excellent. Kaelersk is famous for his love poems. Do you know why?”

“He believed love is the reason humans exist—that among all emotions, love is the most complex and beautiful art.”

Gwenndolyn finally burst out, shocked.

“You know the ancient language? That can’t have been easy. Did you learn it as a marchioness?”

“I learned at the academy. It wasn’t a required course, and only a few took it, but I did.”

Actually, it was my grandfather who had pushed me to take those classes.

‘Nobles enjoy culture that only they understand, Ana. It’s foolish to be proud of that, but since those are the people you’ll deal with, you must match them. One day, even useless knowledge becomes your strength.’

He was right, as always.

“I remember chasing after Professor Dellerman’s classes back then. He was such a great teacher.”

Just mentioning that I’d graduated from the academy would be more impressive to them than any long story.

As expected, Gwenndolyn’s expression turned sharp. But someone else reacted first.

“…You liked Professor Dellerman’s classes?” It was Countess Raynglass. Until now, she had only been watching silently.

Did she know him?

“Yes, I really did.”

Professor Dellerman was the oldest professor at the academy, now retired to the countryside.

“What did you like about them? Most students found his classes boring and sleepy.”

“I enjoyed them. It felt like listening to my grandfather tell old stories. And he was such an experienced man—his side stories about noble society were fascinating.”

“…Professor Dellerman will be pleased. Thank you, Your Grace.”

I blinked, not understanding why she was thanking me. The chilly mood in the garden became even more awkward.

“He’s my father.”

“Ah…!”

“He spent his life teaching. But he often felt discouraged about his classes… He’ll be glad to hear what you said.”

I quickly reviewed what I’d just said, relieved I hadn’t made a mistake. Professor Dellerman really was a wonderful man.

“I didn’t know, Countess. Please tell him—his teaching has always helped me, and his classes became a part of who I am.”

“I certainly will.”

Countess Raynglass stood and swept the gathering with a stern gaze.

Her final look rested on Countess Crenbel, Gwenndolyn, and then Miss Weidon.

“I thought our young ladies were sincerely building their education. Maybe these gatherings seem silly, but they are a rare chance to connect with Estus’s past.”

Lady’s Reading was a long-standing tradition.

“I was once a part of it, so I had high hopes.”

She sighed.

“But I’m disappointed. To use this group to target one person… Gwenndolyn, Miss Weidon, and the rest of you. Do you really understand Kaelersk’s poetry? Have you even studied the history of his time?”

Countess Raynglass’s disappointment was clear.

“Did any of you even want to learn today? I’m truly disappointed. This won’t be ignored.”

A few young ladies went pale.

“If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace. Thank you for gracing this silly event. It was meaningful for many reasons. I hope we can speak again someday.”

“Me too.”

She smiled gently and left. Countess Raynglass really was a true lady—someone who belonged in classic literature, and someone who truly cared for culture and poetry.

Suddenly, Miss Weidon burst into tears.