IWMHWD 109

Chapter 109. What Love Is
2024.02.17

“It wasn’t because of Baron. It was because of the men who kidnapped me.”

“Did you see who kidnapped you? Their faces?”

“Yes. The one who ordered it must have been Maximilian. I couldn’t see his face because of the backlight, but it was definitely his voice.”

“Ha. I see.”

Cordelia explained everything in detail. She said she lost consciousness the moment she smelled the daisy scent, and while being carried off by two clumsy kidnappers, she used Ebrard’s treasure to escape. At that, the two men’s expressions turned strange.

“For this to be Maximilian’s plan, it’s far too sloppy. To send just two men?”

“I thought the same. Besides, the men who took me didn’t look like knights at all. They seemed more like farmers dragged in from Ansen. They couldn’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Hmm. Very strange. No matter how desperate he is, he’s not the type to leave things so poorly handled.”

Baron stroked his white beard. Leonard spoke up in his stead.

“You said you heard Maximilian’s voice while you were unconscious?”

“Yes. I’m certain of it.”

“That is also strange. I only left your side urgently because I saw Maximilian.”

“Baron, you saw him too?”

Cordelia grew confused. Maximilian was nothing more than an ordinary man now. Was it really possible that in such a short span, he had slipped away from Baron and come to kidnap her? It didn’t add up.

“Then, is it true Maximilian is in Willas?”

“Uncertain. As soon as we realized you were missing, we sent people across Willas, but they couldn’t find even a trace of him. And just now, I received this via carrier pigeon.”

Baron pulled a small note from his coat and handed it to Leonard. It was written in code, so Cordelia couldn’t read it. Leonard’s face hardened as he scanned it.

“Lord Menupio reports that Maximilian has been spotted in northern Ansen and is currently being pursued.”

Seeing Cordelia’s bewilderment, Baron kindly explained.

“That doesn’t make sense. From Ansen, even by ship, it would take at least ten days to reach here.”

“Exactly. Which means the shadow magicians who follow him must have used some trick.”

No matter how fast Maximilian was, he couldn’t outrun birds. His elusive movements left the three of them in a short silence.

Then Leonard lightly placed his hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. She flinched, stiffening instantly at his touch. Leonard noticed her reaction but pretended not to.

“We’ll sort that mystery out later. For now, you should rest.”

“Indeed. You must have been terribly shaken. Don’t linger here—go and get some rest.”

“Yes, I suppose I should.”

When she had left the mansion earlier, it had been bright midday. Now the surroundings were dark. She hadn’t eaten all day, and though hunger gnawed at her, her fatigue was overwhelming. More than anything, she just wanted to collapse onto her bed.

So much had happened in just a single day, it was hard to believe.

Cordelia trudged out of the room. Leonard followed closely behind. Feeling awkward, she glanced back.

“I can walk by myself.”

“I know.”

Until now, she had never once felt uncomfortable around Leonard, yet walking down the corridor with him in this moment made her unbearably self-conscious. She could feel every breath he took behind her, every step he made.

The more aware she became, the faster she walked. Fortunately, her room wasn’t far, and they soon arrived. She was about to bid him goodbye and slip inside when his voice stopped her.

“Cordelia.”

“Y-yes?”

“I think I need to say this properly.”

“Say… what?”

Her heart, which she had barely managed to press down, suddenly leapt wildly again. In the dim corridor, his face seemed almost luminous. Her stomach churned as if she might be sick.

“If something happened to you before I could tell you this… I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

“T-tell me… what?”

“My feelings. Originally, I wanted to do this with flowers, or at least take you somewhere beautiful and say it properly.”

“Master!”

Cordelia panicked, terrified of hearing more.

Yes—this feeling, as if someone’s hand were rummaging inside her guts, her fingertips sweating uncontrollably… it was fear. She had a dreadful certainty that whatever words left his mouth next would completely change their relationship.

“I’m tired. Can’t we… talk later? Later?”

“…Alright. Rest well.”

Leonard gazed at her slowly, as if to imprint her face into his eyes, then finally turned and left. Cordelia waited until he disappeared from sight, then fled into her room, shutting the door behind her.

When the coffin arrived at the Embly estate, everyone already knew whose body lay inside. The young lady, as beautiful as a rose, had finally fallen with the season’s end, like the flowers she resembled.

The butler, somber-faced, ordered preparations according to the funeral rites of Ershe.

Anton filled his daughter’s coffin with the roses she loved most and spent half the day before it. The other half, he spent staring at Daniel, who so closely resembled Rosalyn.

The flowers withered.

They dried and crumbled, leaving only brown fragments in his hands. Stroking his daughter’s cold forehead, Anton muttered again that day:

“If I could see you once more, I’d gladly give my own life.”

“Master.”

The butler approached carefully, bowing his head.

“Today we must proceed with the burial. The flowers have already withered.”

In truth, the burial was already several days overdue. Anton had delayed it with excuse after excuse.

The butler, who had watched Rosalyn since birth, knew all too well how dearly Anton had cherished her, and he understood the grief. But the living had to move forward.

“My lady deserves to rest in peace.”

The butler’s words stabbed sharply into Anton’s heart. Rosalyn had not yet been laid to rest because of her father’s selfishness. Once more, Anton caressed his daughter’s face.

“…Very well. Prepare.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fearing he might change his mind, the butler quickly ordered attendants to move the coffin.

Anton walked slowly toward the ancestral burial ground of House Embly. The sky was dazzlingly clear—Rosalyn’s favorite kind of weather.

“Master! Master!”

A young attendant came running breathlessly.

“What is it?”

“A man has come seeking you. We refused him politely because of the funeral, but when he mentioned the name Atilay, I thought I should tell you.”

“Atilay? Did he limp?”

“Yes, sir. He did.”

Annoyance and anger flared in Anton, only to die down as quickly as a dying flame. To be precise, no emotion lingered long anymore.

“Bring him here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Soon after, the boy returned with a blond man. As expected, it was Maximilian. Despite the summer heat, he was wrapped in a thick cloak, and if not for his limp, he might have gone unrecognized.

Anton couldn’t help but sneer at the sight.

“So. Where have you hidden the disciple?”

“…I’m sorry, my lord.”

“I never expected anything anyway. What surprises me more is that you dared come here yourself. Fitting, though—since today is Rosalyn’s burial, you can lie beside her.”

Anton already knew of his failure, thanks to the spies shadowing Maximilian. At first, he had raged at the fool’s incompetence, but in the end, he thought it just as well.

Since coming to the Embly estate, Maximilian had made no move against Daniel. Anton realized that, once he had cooled, there was no way Atilay would keep throwing his life away just to kill the boy.

In truth, Anton was simply exhausted. If not for the burden of his role as family head, he would have lain down beside Rosalyn long ago.

“My lord, please. Grant me just one more chance.”

“Enough. The only way you can earn my forgiveness is in death.”

Maximilian fell to his knees, bowing low. Anton, too weary to rage, simply gestured to a nearby knight.

“Take him away. Kill him. Mutilate the face and throw the body in the river.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My lord, please!”

Two knights grabbed Maximilian by the arms. He wept and shouted, but Anton ignored his cries and walked on. He would have continued ignoring him—if not for the name that left Maximilian’s mouth.

“There is a way to bring Rosalyn back! I swear it, my lord!”

“…You are filled from head to toe with lies and hypocrisy.”

At Rosalyn’s funeral, to use her name like that—it stoked Anton’s rage anew. His smoldering anger suddenly blazed, and he thought not only to kill him, but to have him torn limb from limb.

“My lord, didn’t you see how Leonard Atilay returned alive?!”

“You must think me a fool. He himself said he survived by transferring his soul. Do you believe I’d be deceived by a few words from your tongue?”

“It’s not a lie! That means Rosalyn’s soul can be transferred too. My lord—please!”

Maximilian shouted desperately, but Anton ignored him, walking on.

The burial site drew close. Petals crumbled in his hand, tickling his palm. The butler came near and spoke.

“The preparations are complete, sir.”

“…Good.”

The newly hired nanny brought Daniel, dressed in black. The boy whimpered, sleepy and fussy. Before closing the coffin for the last time, Anton whispered his farewell.

“I’m sorry… for everything I could not give you. My daughter. Please, in that place… in that place…”

He should say, rest in peace. He should let her go.

But it felt like there was a gaping hole in his chest, one that would never be filled.

Anton closed his eyes for a long time, then opened them again. He turned to the attendant and said:

“Bring Maximilian back.”