YWPWYLFDM 40

Chapter 40

But Winfred soon realized why. Unlike Ophelia, who always wore a gentle smile, Eila’s face was unreadable, impossible to fathom.

It was striking how much of an impression one’s expression alone could leave.

“Um… Duchess…?”

When Winfred cautiously called to her, Ophelia—who had been gazing out the window—turned her head with a bright smile. There was no trace left of the tears that had welled up just moments before.

“What is it, Your Highness?”

“The Duchess… you were originally from the Tamora Republic, weren’t you?”

He broached the subject hesitantly. She couldn’t tell why he had suddenly brought up her homeland, but Ophelia gave a quiet nod.

“And your family… do they still live in Tamora? Or did they move here to the Empire with you?”

Not stopping at a simple question about her hometown, the young crown prince went as far as to ask about her family whom he had never met. By now, Ophelia couldn’t help but feel his questions were suspicious.

“My family remains in Tamora. I came alone to the Empire.”

Even at such probing, dubious questions, she answered without hesitation. But Winfred’s expression fell slightly when he heard her family was still abroad.

“I see… and… what kind of family is the Hyrling household? Do they all have silver hair like you, Duchess?”

The interrogation—no, questioning—continued.

Ophelia studied him closely, wondering at his intent, while Winfred fidgeted with visible unease, as if her answer held his very fate.

“…No. My silver hair comes from my mother’s side.”

“I… I understand. Then, do you have siblings? Or are you an only child?”

“…”

His questions were endless. Every answer brought another question, as though he might next ask how many spoons sat on the table in her childhood home.

“Your Highness.”

“…Yes.”

Ophelia’s stern tone brought him up short. Realizing he had gone too far, Winfred lowered his gaze, the very picture of a boy chastised by his parents or the duke and duchess.

“And what has suddenly sparked this interest in my family?”

“….”

Though he looked ready to apologize and explain, his lips remained stubbornly sealed.

“Your Highness?”

Ophelia tilted her head and met his eyes as he stared only at the floor. Her warm, patient gaze shook his heart.

Couldn’t he confide in Ophelia? They had shared secrets he’d never dared tell his parents, even from long ago. And if it was her… perhaps she might know something about Eila.

“…The truth is…”

Winfred finally forced the words out. Ophelia gave a gentle nod, showing she was listening carefully.

“Not long ago, I met a silver-haired girl with the surname Hyrling.”

“A girl?”

“Yes. She said she was twelve.”

Ophelia fell into thought. A twelve-year-old silver-haired girl, bearing the name Hyrling?

My brother’s daughters have silver hair, but…

Winfred had never left the Empire, so he must have met her here. And all her nieces lived back in Tamora. Moreover, none of them were that young—her elder brother was far older than she, so his daughters were already grown.

“What was her name?”

Unable to guess who the girl might be, Ophelia pressed him for more details.

His lips moved, reluctant, but unable to hold back.

“…Eila. She said her name was Eila Hyrling.”

“What… what did you say?”

At the sound of the name, Ophelia’s face went pale.

“Eila. She said her name was Eila.”

Baffled by Ophelia’s reaction, Winfred repeated the name.

“When? Where did you meet her?”

Now it was Ophelia firing questions. Startled, Winfred blinked wide-eyed.

“On the road to Mount Primus, last time. Twice, actually… in Grunfeld and again in Bahait, I think.”

He had wanted to keep his encounters with Eila a secret. But with Ophelia’s urgent, almost desperate air, the words spilled from his lips before he knew it.

Ophelia fell silent, lost in thought.

Eila Hyrling.

A twelve-year-old silver-haired girl.

By now, a year had passed, so she’d be thirteen. And yet… everything overlapped far too perfectly with her own daughter, Eila.

“Her eyes… what color were they?”

“Blue. A deep blue that shimmered under the moonlight. Come to think of it, her gaze resembled Duke Weissenhafen’s quite a lot—”

Winfred abruptly cut himself off. He had found his own answer before even asking Ophelia why she was so desperate to know.

A delicate, egg-shaped face, small lips, soft silver hair that caught the light. She bore a resemblance to Ophelia, and yet—her sharp nose, striking eyes, and vivid blue irises were Roderick’s.

“…No… It couldn’t be.”

Could Eila be the missing daughter of House Weissenhafen?

If so, everything made sense. Ophelia’s sudden faint spells, Eila’s cryptic “assignments” for him…

“Don’t tell me… Eila is… your daughter, Duchess?”

He voiced the conclusion that filled his mind.

Ophelia did not answer, but Winfred knew. He could see the truth in her eyes.

A strange expression crossed her face—smile, anger, sorrow all at once—and hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Your Grace! Duke!”

Roderick had excused himself earlier, claiming urgent business, though in truth he had none. Sitting in his study, idly shuffling papers, he lifted his head at the urgent voice.

It was Jacqueline, the knight stationed before Ophelia’s chambers.

“What is it?”

“His Highness the Crown Prince urgently requests your presence.”

Roderick rose, setting the papers aside with a puzzled look.

“His Highness? For what purpose?”

“He only said it was of great importance.”

He had only just left them alone at Winfred’s request, and now the boy was calling for him again—insisting on urgent business. Winfred was not the sort to be fickle, which made Roderick stride quickly back toward the drawing room where his wife and the prince were.

When he entered, the sight froze him.

Ophelia was weeping silently, while Winfred fidgeted in panic, unsure what to do.

“I-I didn’t mean to make her cry…!”

He looked terrified, knowing how fiercely protective Roderick was of his wife, as though he feared a scolding.

“What happened?”

When Roderick had left, Ophelia had seemed so cheerful, delighted to welcome a long-missed guest. Though she had grown tearful more often of late, she would never break down like this in front of the young prince.

“….”

Winfred opened his mouth, shut it, and drew in breath, as though unsure where to begin.

“Roderick… Eila… our Eila…”

Eila?

The sudden mention of their lost daughter’s name made Roderick instantly serious. He sat beside his wife and wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders.

But Ophelia could only sob, unable to speak further.

She had always believed—no, she had felt—that her daughter was still alive. A mother’s instinct, perhaps. However far away, she could still feel her.

Yet all this time, no one had ever brought word of seeing the girl. Until now—when Winfred himself said Eila lived.

When Ophelia could not continue, Roderick turned to Winfred, silently demanding an explanation. With a deep sigh, Winfred repeated the story he had told her.

“…Grunfeld, and Bahait?”

Roderick frowned slightly. Both were large cities in the Empire’s western regions. The claim that Eila had been seen there was hard to believe.

All this time, he had searched for Byron, the man who had rebelled and vanished, convinced he was tied to Eila’s disappearance. No evidence connected Byron to the kidnapping, but the suspicion lingered.

After all, the day their daughter vanished—when the nanny fled with the child—was the very morning after Byron’s failed attempt to assassinate the late emperor.

Byron had blamed Roderick for convincing the emperor to name Hiram crown prince instead of him, out of jealousy over Ophelia. He believed Roderick had advised the emperor in spite, and so he saw Roderick as the root of his downfall.

And the Byron Roderick knew… was absolutely the sort of man who would kidnap his daughter out of vengeance.

But in truth, Byron’s belief had been nothing but a grave misunderstanding.