Episode 3
“I’m sorry.”
That simple apology landed softly on Ayla’s round head.
Right after, a quiet sob escaped from Ayla, muffled against Estella’s chest.
Maybe it was the pressure of feeling like she shouldn’t cry, but the eight-year-old did her best to hold back her tears, making little choking sounds.
Estella hugged her tightly and said it again.
“I really am sorry.”
After a moment, a faint voice came from within the hug.
“…It’s okay.”
Of course it wasn’t. Estella had tried to leave her behind.
Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t say anything more.
Just as she squeezed her eyes shut, Ayla began to ask something.
“Then… I…”
But the child couldn’t finish the question. Her small lips opened and closed without sound, her warm breath brushing against Estella’s chest.
Estella gently pulled her away.
“It’s okay. You can ask.”
Ayla’s face was a mess of tears, sweat, or maybe just rainwater soaked from Estella’s clothes. Slowly, her lips moved.
“Then… will we stay together now?”
Estella understood instantly.
What Ayla had really wanted to ask was, “So you’re not going to leave me?”
But even at her young age, Ayla was clever enough not to say it out loud — afraid it would push her cold stepmother away again.
Estella smoothed Ayla’s messy hair and answered.
“Yes. It was only six months, but I was still your guardian. So from now on, we’ll stay together.”
****
Holding Ayla’s hand, Estella stepped out of the train station — just in time for the clouds to clear.
The once gloomy sky had turned bright and dazzling, like the weather itself was playing a trick on her.
Estella looked up and let out a soft laugh.
She didn’t believe in gods, but in moments like this, it was hard not to think one might exist.
It was as if the rain had been a warning — a way for the heavens to ask her: Are you really going to leave that child? Can you live with your conscience?
“Funny.”
This whole situation… was just too ironic.
Hearing her murmur, Ayla looked up at her.
Estella turned to her and said gently,
“Don’t grip my hand so tightly. You don’t have to.”
She didn’t say the rest aloud—I won’t run away from you.
“…Okay.”
They first went to a small inn in the city of Chaméron.
Maybe it was because she was still wearing her mourning dress, but the innkeeper took pity on her and offered a cheaper room.
‘Even so, it’s still ridiculously expensive.’
Compared to the quiet village of Hamolzen where Baron Bancen’s manor was, lodging here cost nearly three times as much. Big cities were always costly.
Estella quickly dried herself with a towel and changed into fresh clothes.
“Ayla, you can change by yourself, right?”
Nod.
“You have to answer with words.”
“…Yes.”
“Good. Then dry off and change into clean clothes before coming out.”
With that, Estella left Ayla to get changed and sat down at the table with a notebook and fountain pen — both expensive items she had owned before marriage and was allowed to take with her.
Scratch, scratch…
The nib of the pen moved smoothly as she wrote out her current finances. Line after line, reality hit her.
“It’s tighter than I thought.”
She glanced toward the curtain behind which Ayla was changing.
‘I really do need to find work quickly.’
Soon, Ayla came out wearing a black mourning dress just like Estella’s.
After packing away the notebook and pen, Estella approached her.
“You must be hungry.”
“Yes…”
“Let’s go out and get something to eat first.”
* * *
As the mother and daughter in black dresses walked through the city, they drew curious stares.
A young widow, sold off to an older nobleman and then excluded from inheritance — stuck in a limbo between social classes — had recently become a popular topic in social debates. So while people clicked their tongues, they still looked at Estella with sympathy.
Estella’s destination was a small dessert shop — not run-down enough to be judged, but certainly not fancy either.
The place was already full inside, so she settled for a small outdoor table on the sidewalk. She ordered a glass of milk and a slice of bagel for Ayla.
“Aren’t you eating anything?”
“No. I’m not hungry.”
But that wasn’t true — it wasn’t that she lacked appetite. She just couldn’t afford it.
“But still…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll eat later. Just focus on your food.”
Anyone who knew Estella even a little would’ve been shocked.
Estella, turning down food? That never happened.
But things are that bad now.
‘It’s going to be tough finding a place to rent here with a child…’
To make matters worse, the ticket her late husband’s mistress — Selena or Galena, whoever — had given her led them straight to Chaméron.
Known as the second capital, everything in this city was absurdly expensive.
“Here’s your milk and bagel.”
Even that bagel was overpriced.
Back in her old town, one cost just 1 dilan. Here, it was 2.
‘I need to save every coin.’
She watched as Ayla dipped a piece of the bagel into the milk and took a bite. Estella kept her gaze on the girl while mentally running through her options.
‘She’s smart. I can probably leave her alone when I go to work.’
That meant she could get a job. But the question was — what kind?
‘A maid job… might be tough.’
Most maid positions were live-in, and those paid less because room and board were included.
‘But I can’t be a live-in maid. Not with a child.’
That left only day jobs or something else entirely — if she could even find one.
‘And if I can’t get a maid job… then what?’
She honestly had no clue.
Even with all the talk of progress, the world was still harsh for women.
‘My head hurts…’
Honestly, she didn’t even want to think about the future right now. She just wanted to rest. Too much has happened recently.
She let her thoughts go blank for a moment and simply watched Ayla finish her food. The girl drank her milk with both hands, leaving traces on her upper lip.
“You’ve got milk on your face.”
“Oh…”
Estella reached for her bag, looking for a handkerchief.
‘I packed one earlier… Here it is.’
She pulled out a black handkerchief and turned back.
But then—
“Ayla?”
She was gone.
Just seconds ago, the girl had been sitting right in front of her. Now, she was nowhere in sight.
Startled, Estella whipped her head around to look for her.
And then she heard it—
“Daddy…”
The word came from behind her.
A word she’d never heard and never expected to hear from Ayla’s mouth.
‘Daddy?’
Estella frowned.
‘Who is she calling daddy?’
She jumped up from her seat and turned around quickly.
There stood a man with a gentle smile, a servant in worn clothes beside him, and… Ayla.
“Do you know this child, Lord Wyndham?”
Ayla glanced back toward Estella with uncertain eyes.
When the girl’s gaze met hers, both the man — who had just been called “Daddy” — and the servant beside him turned to look at Estella too.
Estella hesitated for a second, then stepped toward the stranger.
“I’m sorry, she must’ve—”
But the man spoke first.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Caught off guard by his unexpected greeting, Estella blinked.
The man gave her a warm smile, then crouched to Ayla’s eye level.
“Do you remember me?”
****
A little while earlier.
“Please, Lord Wyndham, won’t you reconsider just once more?”
The servant from Count Renoir’s household begged Ian Wyndham.
But Ian remained calm, giving the same reply as before.
“No matter how many times I think it over, the answer is still the same.”
“You can’t possibly stay unmarried your whole life! If you must marry eventually, wouldn’t it be best to choose someone like Lady Marianne, who knows you well—”
“I have no intention of marrying. Ever.”
“…That can’t be serious.”
“I’m the one saying it, so it’s very serious.”
Ian’s calm, measured voice left the servant nearly in tears.
“Lady Marianne’s temper is only getting worse, Lord Wyndham…”
The woman in question was the only daughter of Count Renoir — Lady Marianne Renoir.
She had always had a fiery personality, but after falling for Ian Wyndham, it had grown even more intense.
“Please, can’t you just accept the proposal? Doesn’t it break your heart to see a woman proposing for five years straight, Lord Wyndham?”
“I’ve never heard of a culture where people marry out of pity.”
“…How can you be so cruel to a woman who’s been your close friend for so long?”
“She broke that friendship the moment she started seeing me as a man. So now, I’m simply responding as one.”
“You know that’s not the kind of ‘as a man’ I meant! Don’t play word games with me!”
At this point, even the servant couldn’t help but wonder to himself:
‘Could it be… he really does prefer men?’
The servant, who had been secretly glancing at Ian Wyndham, slumped his shoulders in defeat.
“Sigh… Then… then at least have a cup of tea—”
But even that was quickly shut down.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the leisure to sit down for tea.”
“…You really are something, Lord Wyndham.”
“Yes, I hear that often.”
“……”
The servant stared blankly at Ian’s polite yet emotionless smile.
And then—
A small, pale hand suddenly slipped into the scene.
“Daddy.”
