~Chapter 43~
Eileen was lost in thought. Somehow, Cedric didn’t seem like the type who could give her an objective view of things.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, just wondering what kind of person your uncle is.”
“My uncle is the most trustworthy person there is. Honestly, if you can’t trust him, there’s no one else you can trust.”
“That much?”
Cedric didn’t notice Eileen’s lukewarm reaction. Instead, he looked pleased at the chance to finally talk about his uncle.
“He’s the one who taught me swordsmanship. Actually, I learned a lot from him. My father… well, he was always too busy.”
His voice carried warmth and deep trust.
“…I see.”
Eileen bit back her words, fiddling with the hilt of her sword while watching Cedric’s excited expression.
That was his strength—and his weakness. Once someone was inside his circle, he gave them his unconditional trust.
Cedric simply couldn’t be strict with the people he cared about.
With someone like Cassel, his capable lieutenant, that wasn’t a problem. In fact, it was a good thing—since Cedric’s stubbornness was balanced by Cassel’s advice, which Cedric would always listen to.
But with Diana…
When it came to those close to him, Cedric was endlessly soft. Eileen couldn’t help but wonder if that was really okay.
But in Diana’s case, it wasn’t as if she was bad at heart. So maybe judging too quickly would be a mistake.
Still… maybe Diana would know something.
Cedric wouldn’t give her an objective answer. Cassel was loyal to the Lowell family, so asking him about Cedric’s uncle felt awkward. The same went for the other servants and knights.
But Diana—though she had lived in the main castle longer than anyone—wasn’t bound by duty or sworn loyalty. She might be different.
“…That’s burnt. Don’t eat it.”
Eileen had to put her serious thoughts aside when Cedric continued stuffing cookies into his mouth.
“They taste fine.”
“No way. Look at the color.”
“They’re good.”
When Eileen tried to take the plate away, Cedric even lifted it out of reach like a child.
She gave him an incredulous look.
“If you like them that much, ask the cook to make some.”
“They were placed here on the table. That means they’re for me, right?”
“No. I just put them there. You barged in.”
And that was exactly what had happened.
The clumsily baked but well-meant mountain of cookies, paired with warm milk, even made Mary chuckle.
But before Eileen could taste even one, Cedric had barged in, sat down, and started eating them like they were his own.
Of course, Eileen’s eyes weren’t kind as they followed him.
“I come here at this time every day now, don’t I?”
“Exactly. Aren’t you busy? People would think you’re not the head of the Lowell family.”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“…Actually, yes. I was hoping to talk to someone else.”
Diana.
Eileen gave him as polite a dismissal as she could.
But Cedric ignored it and popped another cookie into his mouth—the second-to-last one.
“Too bad. Whoever it was, they’ll have to eat something else. I’m finishing these.”
“I haven’t had a single bite.”
“I tried them for you. They’re good. Don’t worry.”
As he ate the very last cookie, Eileen just stared, dumbfounded.
“Did I ask for a taste test?”
“I won’t spread rumors about how bad you are at baking. Don’t worry.”
Eileen dropped back into her chair, half-laughing as she shook her head.
“You think I made those?”
“…You didn’t?”
Crumbs clung to his lips as he put the empty plate down, looking honestly shocked.
Eileen debated pretending not to notice, but in the end handed him a handkerchief—otherwise, he’d leave looking like an undignified family head.
“You really thought I made them?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you?”
His confused face made her realize—sometimes, no matter how well she thought she understood him, Cedric’s feelings were impossible to follow. Like right now.
“…Guess I thought there was finally something you weren’t good at.”
Cedric accepted the handkerchief but didn’t use it, just staring blankly at the plate.
“Then who made these awful things? The cook couldn’t have.”
“Didn’t you just say they were good?”
“That was because I thought you made them.”
Eileen hesitated, wondering if it would be too much to wipe his mouth for him. But then Cedric’s next words caught her off guard.
“…If you had made them, I’d have found them delicious no matter what.”
Their eyes met.
“…You really wondered who I’d make them for, didn’t you?”
But Cedric quickly dodged the question.
Eileen gave him a half-smile.
“If I had made them, I would’ve given them to you first.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Now that she thought about it, it had been a long time since she’d enjoyed that kind of peaceful hobby.
Back when her grandmother had become too frail to bake pies or cookies, Eileen had given up on it too. Instead, she’d spent her days reading aloud to her grandmother at the window, keeping her company.
That habit had stuck—maybe that’s why she still preferred sitting by the window with a book. Those memories were the last clear ones she had left.
“…But didn’t you say you had another guest today?”
“I said I wanted to talk to someone else—not that a guest was coming.”
She corrected him, then frowned. Who else could she possibly sit across from and talk with so casually? Cedric was the only one. Maybe, at most, Diana—if things improved between them.
“Who else would come see me in this castle?”
“There is someone. That—…no, never mind.”
“Who?”
Cedric immediately tried to backpedal, realizing his mistake.
But really, who else could it be? Someone had made those cookies—not very well, but with effort—and left them as a gift. If they weren’t for him, then who else?
If she really made them herself, it must’ve been to show sincerity.
His gaze shifted to the window. A small bouquet of wildflowers sat in a slender vase there—bright blue blossoms, carefully picked by someone.
The sight unsettled him.
Hibis flowers—tough blooms that survived the harsh northern cold—grew in bunches near the guest quarters of the castle. They could easily be gathered into a bouquet.
“…The other day, you were talking with that prince from Arwyn.”
“…What?”
This time, it was Eileen’s turn to be caught off guard. She replayed Cedric’s words in her mind before understanding what he meant.
“You mean Theorn Arwyn? Why?”
“Did you get close with him?”
“No. Not at all. I only met him once when he arrived. Actually, I even forgot he was here—he’s been so quiet.”
Her only worry about him had been the chance of him running into Diana.
But lately, Diana’s focus had been oddly fixed on her. Maybe it was a blessing—Eileen doubted Diana even realized there was a foreign prince staying in the castle.
“…As long as you’re not close, that’s fine.”
But then, who had given her the bouquet?
Eileen wasn’t the type to leave something she disliked out in plain view. And Cedric knew she loved sitting by the window. That meant she had liked the flowers enough to keep them there.
Flowers…
The practical, no-nonsense Eileen, liking something as frivolous as flowers—it was unexpected.
