Chapter 8
The speed of the carriage gradually slowed down before coming to a stop in front of a large mansion. Mr. Schuwald, who had been riding with me, opened the door first.
“Are we here?”
“Yes. I hope you like it.”
Mr. Schuwald grinned and got off, then asked the coachman to bring the step stool.
I followed after my mother, who had gotten off ahead of me.
Unlike our old house, which was located by the roadside, this one was set farther inside, much larger in size yet giving off a cozy feeling.
I stood there absentmindedly, taking in the mansion and its surroundings. By then, Mother had already gone inside.
“Bella. Let’s go in.”
“Yes. Let’s.”
Holding up my dress, I headed toward the front door. The moment I stepped inside, a wave of warmth greeted me. Inside, people who seemed to be servants were bustling about.
The moment they saw us, they greeted us politely.
I approached Mr. Schuwald.
“You don’t have to do things like stoking the fireplace anymore.”
“Well, that’s…”
“Isn’t it a relief?”
I smiled faintly.
“It really is.”
The mansion had two floors above ground and one basement level. The basement could be used as storage, apparently. It was about the same size as the house we used to live in when we were in the capital.
He had said almost everything had been taken care of, and it didn’t seem to be a lie. From the lamps to the candlesticks, everything was high-end and reminded me of the items we once used.
I scanned the decorations hanging on the walls. Some of them were even familiar. I thought they had all been sold off, but it seemed some had survived, somehow.
When I looked back, I saw Mother standing still in one spot. She was in front of our portrait.
In the most prominent place in the central hall hung the one and only portrait of me and my mother.
I was wearing a black dress with rich frills and a black bonnet adorned with dazzling jewels. My mother wore a similarly black but more elegant dress and a captivating hat with a lace veil.
Back then, we looked so alike that no one would have doubted we were mother and daughter.
The painter who worked on the portrait asked us to smile dozens of times, but not once did we smile while it was being painted.
At the time, I knew nothing. I truly believed my future would be bright and full of promise. Or maybe I wasn’t even of this world to begin with. That’s the kind of extreme life I lived.
Back then, I really could’ve done anything for my mother. But somewhere along the way, my heart must have weakened.
I kept watching my mother as she stared blankly at the portrait.
I thought about the moment when she risked her life to save me. I wondered what she might be thinking now.
I had to prevent her powers from manifesting before she caused any incident. At the very least, if they did manifest, I needed to have a way to hide them.
I’d searched through every book I could find in secret when she wasn’t looking, trying to find a method, but I hadn’t found anything yet. There was nothing in the original story either, so I had no choice but to figure it out myself.
If she gets discovered, she’ll be forced to brand someone—so if things go wrong, I really might have to run away…
Even if it’s like that, I want to live a long, long life—even if it’s thin and meager. Warm and comfortable, too.
