“It’s been a while, Shailoh! I’ve missed you so much.”
“…Claire.”
Claire, tears glistening in her eyes, embraced Shailoh with fervent intensity. “How could you be so heartless and not send a single letter? Do you know how much I cried?”
It was a lie. From the very first day Shailoh had arrived at the baroness’s residence, she had faithfully written a letter every week and dispatched it through a messenger. But no reply ever came. The correspondence, which began as weekly, then dwindled to monthly, eventually ceased altogether this year. Claire must have intercepted them somehow.
Shailoh offered a gentle smile and gracefully extricated herself from the embrace. “Is that so? I did send quite a few, but they must have gotten lost along the way because of the distance.”
“Is that so? We shouldn’t be standing here. Let’s go inside. Mother, Father, and Brother are all waiting for you.”
Claire took Shailoh’s hand with the practiced grace of a hostess welcoming an honored guest, leading her into the mansion. As Shailoh followed, feigning reluctance, an unfamiliar sense of disquiet settled over her.
The duke’s residence had transformed into something even more opulent and extravagant than before. The crystal chandelier in the entrance hall cast dazzling prisms of light, while the porcelain and paintings adorning the walls were unmistakably the work of renowned artists.
“Shailoh. It’s been a long time.”
The duchess, elegantly poised on the sofa, greeted her. She remained as beautiful and youthful as ever, but the cloying scent of her perfume nearly caused Shailoh to retreat a step.
The duchess approached with a tender expression and clasped Shailoh’s hand between her own. “Have you been well? You’ve blossomed into a fine young lady.”
“I’ve been well. Have Mother and Father been well too?”
“Of course. Your father and brother are occupied with business matters and aren’t at the mansion right now. I hope you understand.” After caressing Shailoh’s cheek with a delicate touch, the duchess proceeded directly to the matter at hand. “About your debutante.”
“Mother, I’m not going to have a debutante.”
“What?”
The duchess and Claire stared at Shailoh with widened eyes, visibly startled by her unexpected declaration.
“I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’m an adopted daughter and not originally a noble, so there’s no reason for me to attend a debutante to become one.”
“Oh my goodness, Shailoh!” The duchess released a shrill cry and frantically fanned her flushed face. “Are you protesting because we sent you away to the baroness’s residence? Is that what this is about?”
“Shailoh, if you still hold any resentment towards me—”
“No, Mother. And Claire, I don’t hold any resentment towards you either.” Interrupting Claire’s plea, Shailoh spoke with quiet conviction. “I don’t want to live as a noble. That’s not the path to my happiness.”
“…”
She bowed respectfully to the two shocked women. “Please remove me from the noble registry. Just as you gave me back my original life, I want to return to it. Thank you for everything.”
A heavy silence descended upon the parlor, thick and oppressive as a swamp.
“Stand up, Shailoh.”
At the cold command, Shailoh straightened her bowed back. The duchess, her affectionate façade now discarded, regarded her with a glacial expression.
“Fine. If that’s truly your wish, then there’s nothing I can do. If I had known you’d leave like this, I wouldn’t have taken you from the orphanage.”
“I’m sorry.”
Shailoh apologized with composure, lowering her eyes. The duchess exchanged a meaningful glance with her daughter before making a quiet request.
“But you can grant me one favor, can’t you?”
“A favor…?”
“Claire’s birthday is approaching, and we’re planning to host a celebration.”
“Congratulations, Claire.”
“Thank you,” Claire responded with a radiant smile. “You’re like a sister to me. You can attend one last time, can’t you?” Her hand reached out like a spider and grasped Shailoh’s arm.
Shailoh suddenly recalled her own birthday that had passed without a single congratulatory letter. The baroness had belatedly realized it and celebrated with a splendid cake alongside the staff, but the hollow feeling in Shailoh’s heart had only deepened.
“I’ll gladly attend, Claire.”
Unlike before, her heart neither ached nor felt burdened. After all, this would sever her ties with the duke’s family once and for all.
Shailoh smiled brightly at Claire, who regarded her with a challenging gaze as if daring her to refuse. “Happy birthday, sincerely.”
Claire’s cold eyes scrutinized Shailoh as if measuring the sincerity of her words but soon lost interest and turned away, her curiosity satisfied.
Later, Claire’s birthday celebration unfolded with unprecedented grandeur. Carriages arrived in an elegant procession, each disgorging guests whose names servants announced with practiced formality. The affair rivaled imperial gatherings in its opulence. Claire, radiant as the evening’s star, commanded attention from every corner of the room.
“Congratulations on reaching adulthood, Lady Claire,” offered one distinguished guest with a respectful bow.
“Thank you. It’s an honor to have you here,” Claire replied, her voice melodic with practiced charm.
Another guest remarked, “You’re becoming more like your mother every day. She was the flower of the social scene.”
“That’s too generous,” Claire demurred, though pleasure flickered across her features. “I’m still far from reaching my mother’s level.” Her gaze deliberately shifted sideways. “Oh.”
With calculated grace, Claire fluttered her fan and glanced toward Shailoh. Only then did the assembled guests notice her presence, their expressions shifting with sudden recognition.
“She’s my sister, Shailoh,” Claire announced, the words falling like pebbles into still water.
“Oh, I see,” murmured the guest, recollection dawning in her eyes as she examined Shailoh with undisguised curiosity.
Feeling like a specimen displayed for public examination, Shailoh forced her features into a mask of serenity. The realization struck her with painful clarity—this was precisely why they had summoned her early. To establish her as merely a supporting character before Claire’s debutante. The intention was so transparent it didn’t even merit a bitter laugh.
“Claire, I don’t feel well,” Shailoh said, her voice soft but steady. “I think I need to rest a bit.”
“What? Are you feeling very unwell?” Claire’s brows drew together in a semblance of concern.
“I did have a bit to drink earlier,” Shailoh explained, the half-truth easier than elaboration.
“Ah.” Claire, who had been poised to deliver a sharp retort, noticed something beyond Shailoh’s shoulder and slowly lowered her raised hand, her expression transforming.
Naturally, Shailoh turned to follow Claire’s gaze. A gentleman was approaching their small circle, his presence already rippling through the assembly.
“Who could that be?” someone whispered.
“I don’t recognize him,” came another hushed response.
The man commanded attention the moment he appeared. His platinum blonde hair swept back from a face of striking angles, his eyebrows forming gentle arches above eyes sharp as cut gems. Broad shoulders filled his impeccably tailored suit with the perfection of a classical statue. It seemed as though time itself had paused to admire him. As he approached with measured steps, Shailoh held her breath, her pulse quickening traitorously.
The spell broke when Claire’s voice, soft as silk, floated between them. “I didn’t expect you to come. Thank you.”
With a jolt of recognition, Shailoh realized this was the same man who had offered her comfort by the lake two years ago. His once youthful features had matured into sculpted perfection as he took Claire’s gloved hand and pressed his lips to it with practiced gallantry.
“Of course, I had to accept the young lady’s invitation,” he replied, his voice deeper than Shailoh remembered.
Claire turned toward Shailoh with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Shailoh, let me introduce you. This is Baronet Karl, who resides abroad. He’s a distant relative of a friend of mine, and I met him through that connection.”
“Oh.” The single syllable escaped Shailoh’s lips before she could contain it.
Karl. A name she hadn’t known during their brief encounter. For two years, she had nurtured the hope of seeing him again, imagining their reunion in countless ways. Yet now, faced with the reality, she felt neither joy nor excitement—only a nervous tension that tightened her throat. Swallowing against the sudden dryness, Shailoh carefully parted her lips.
“By any chance—”
“Nice to meet you, Lady Shailoh,” he interrupted. His greeting was as polished and impersonal as a newly minted coin.
His turquoise eyes, which had once reflected her soul with transparent warmth, now regarded her with the cold distance of polished glass. Though unmistakably the same man, he seemed determined to deny their previous encounter. Her heart plummeted as if she’d received a death sentence, vitality draining from her limbs.
The rosary hidden beneath her gown seemed to burn against her skin, a physical reminder of the memory she had treasured. She had preserved that dreamlike encounter in the deepest chambers of her heart, rehearsing this moment of reunion countless times. She had contemplated every word she might say when they met again. Yet of all the scenarios she had imagined, none had included being dismissed as a stranger.
Had he truly forgotten her, or was he deliberately pretending not to know her?
Seeking answers, Shailoh held his gaze in silence, but his returning look remained as emotionless as a mirror that reflects without absorbing. After a weighted pause, she ventured softly, “You look a lot like someone I know.”
“Is that so?” The man nodded slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting in what was unmistakably a practiced social smile devoid of genuine recognition.
Just as Shailoh prepared to press further, Claire, sensing the undercurrent of tension, interrupted with a delicate cough. “Oh, right. Shailoh, didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”
“Oh. Uh-huh.”
Claire nudged Shailoh’s side with her elbow, the sharp contact jolting her back to awareness. Shailoh nodded a moment too late, her thoughts still scattered by the encounter.
“There are several rooms prepared as lounges,” Claire said with practiced concern that didn’t reach her eyes. “Go and rest.” Without allowing Shailoh a chance to respond, Claire turned away with elegant dismissal, resuming her conversation with Karl as though her sister had already vanished.
Feeling as if an invisible hand pressed against her back, Shailoh retreated from the banquet hall, her steps quickening with each breath. Her intention to find solace in the lounge shattered the moment her fingers closed around the cool metal of the doorknob. The room wasn’t empty as she’d hoped; voices filtered through the narrow crack in the door, intruding upon her quest for solitude.
