YWPWYLFDM 16

Chapter 16

Hurrying over to the familiar tree she always used, she climbed up with quick, practiced movements.

Though autumn was approaching, the lingering heat kept the windows slightly open. From this distance, she could hear their conversation well enough.

“Cloud isn’t here yet?”

She glanced into the room but saw only Byron, sitting alone and looking weary, as though he hadn’t slept a wink.

It seemed she had arrived earlier than Cloud—her shortcut proving faster than the stairs he always took.

As Aila anxiously scanned her surroundings, waiting for Cloud to appear, there came a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Byron’s voice was hoarse, slightly strained. Moments later, Cloud stepped in through the open doorway.

“My lord, the news you’ve been waiting for has arrived.”

“What? What did it say?”

Byron, who just a moment ago looked lifeless and drained, bolted upright at Cloud’s words. Clearly, this was the news he had been desperately awaiting.

Aila leaned forward, listening intently. If Byron had longed for this report so badly, it must be important for her as well.

“Fortunately, the message says he has made a full recovery.”

With a heavy thud, Byron collapsed back onto the bed, his legs giving way beneath him.

“…Thank goodness.”

The relief in his voice was so genuine that Aila swallowed hard.

So someone had been ill… is that why Byron has been so depressed?

She strained her ears for a name, but their conversation continued without a subject—only vague references.

“The cause? Did they say what caused him to collapse? Surely there must’ve been some diagnosis, some explanation.”

Byron’s tone was urgent.

“…According to the informant, several physicians were called, but none could determine the exact cause.”

“But he’s healthy now, correct?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Aila bit her lip in frustration. No matter how hard she listened, no specific details emerged.

And to make matters worse, a familiar voice began calling out for her.

“Young miss! Young miss!”

It was Laura. Having come outside and not finding Aila in her usual spot, she sounded flustered as she searched for her.

…I can’t stay here any longer.

Reluctantly, Aila climbed down the tree. Snatching up a random branch from the ground, she stepped out from behind the trunk, feigning innocence.

“Laura, I’m here.”

“Young miss! What on earth were you doing over there?”

Seeing Laura’s stern, displeased expression, Aila widened her eyes and put on her most innocent look.

“Ah… I just picked up this stick. I was going to use it to practice tonight instead of my dagger.”

“Do you know how worried I was when I couldn’t find you? What would our master say if I lost you? You really think of no one but yourself, young miss.”

It was absurd for her to exaggerate so much over just a few minutes, yet Laura scolded her harshly, piling on the guilt.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“As long as you know you were wrong. Now, no more training—let’s go inside. You need to wash up and get ready for dinner.”

When Aila lowered her head meekly in apology, Laura finally looked satisfied.

“Young miss, tonight you’ll be dining with the master. Aren’t you excited?”

Laura’s voice came from behind as she gently dried Aila’s hair with a soft towel after her bath.

“Yes, I’m happy.”

It was a dramatic change. Just this morning, Byron had sat slouched with a face full of despair.

So who was it that had recovered? Who could restore him to such vigor so suddenly?

…A selfish man who cares nothing for anyone else’s pain.

While silently criticizing Byron, Aila glanced down at her freshly washed hands—and suddenly froze.

There was only one person Byron cherished as much as his own life.

Mother. It was Mother who had been ill.

Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, stifling the gasp threatening to escape.

Why… why would Mother…?

Ophelia had always been healthy. Though she looked delicate, she hardly ever caught so much as a cold. She often boasted about it.

It was said her body struggled to bear children, but even that wasn’t due to poor health.

A memory flashed—Ophelia flexing her slender arm with a laugh, claiming not even Roderick, the strongest man in the empire, could best her.

Aila’s mind went blank.

But she could not let her shock show.

“There, all done. Now put on a nice dress and go meet the master, young miss.”

Laura’s cheerful words snapped her back to reality.

She hadn’t seen her father in some time. To everyone else, she was a girl who lived only for her father’s affection—how suspicious would it look if she didn’t appear overjoyed?

“Mm-hm! I want to wear that one.”

Feigning excitement, Aila pointed at a dress.

It was a white gown with sky-blue ribbons.

Elegant, perhaps too much so for a child, but she had loved it as a girl because Byron always praised her when she wore it.

It was a special-occasion dress.

But now, looking at it again…

…It’s Mother’s style.

With her pale skin and silvery hair, Ophelia looked good in anything, but nothing suited her better than a white dress with a soft sheen, often accented with pastel tones.

The image of Ophelia, smiling warmly in a similar gown, surfaced vividly in Aila’s mind.

Just how far does his obsession with Mother go…?

Thinking back to the times she had worn such dresses to please Byron, acting sweet to remind him of Ophelia, Aila shivered in revulsion.

“Are you cold?”

Noticing Aila rubbing her arms, Laura asked with mild concern. But it wasn’t genuine worry—just annoyance at the thought of being inconvenienced if Aila caught a cold.

“No. It’s just because I washed up. Let’s hurry and get dressed—I want to see Father.”

Aila shook her head quickly, urging her along. With a resigned sigh, Laura helped her into the gown.

When Aila finally entered the dining room, dressed and prepared, Byron was already there waiting—something rare indeed.

“Come here, my daughter.”

He welcomed her with a radiant smile.

It was unusual. Normally, if she wasn’t already waiting for him, his displeasure became a nightmare—sharp sarcasm, endless reproaches about how deeply she had wounded him, until she knelt and begged for forgiveness.

But now he was smiling despite her tardiness. This was not normal.

“Father!”

Though unsettled, Aila couldn’t ignore him when he stood there with open arms.

She ran into his embrace with a bright smile, and he immediately stroked her hair.

“I missed you so much, Father.”

The words slipped easily off her tongue, insincere yet necessary. Well, not entirely insincere—she had longed for Byron to regain his composure. Only then could she continue shadowing him for information.

“Yes. And you’ve kept up with your training even while I was gone, haven’t you?”

“Of course. I worked hard—for you, Father. I exist only for you. In the past, now… and always.”

Reciting the familiar mantra, she earned his satisfied smile.

“Good. Then let’s see if it’s true.”

But Byron never trusted words alone. With a snap of his fingers, he called out:

“Cloud.”

“…Yes, my lord.”

Cloud, standing a step behind, quickly bowed.

“Is what she says true?”

“Yes. The young lady has been diligent in her training every day. Her skills have improved greatly.”

“I see.”

Kneeling before him, Aila’s legs were beginning to go numb, but she endured his touch as he lovingly caressed her hair—while secretly imagining slicing off his remaining hand, just to make the moment bearable.

“Then, it’s time to begin what I instructed earlier.”

“…My lord, the young lady is still too young.”

The words that followed jolted Aila from her dark fantasies.