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Chapter 63
“Aunt, but I just got here.”
“I’ll always be here, you know. If you have something you want to say, or if you get curious again, you can just come back.”
“As your aunt says, it may be better not to stay here too long.”
Only then did Betty come to her senses, as if cold water had been poured over her, at Ian’s gentle advice.
That was right. She hadn’t come here just to explain the situation to her aunt.
“Aunt, if a stranger comes, please be careful. If anything happens, or if something strange occurs, please tell me right away.”
“You said you weren’t caught up in anything dangerous.”
“…I’m sorry.”
All Betty could do was give a small, apologetic smile.
The matters she had been unwillingly entangled in—Prowell, Sharte, Davan, and even the imperial family—were connected to too many powerful houses.
Most of these were things Betty herself wasn’t in any position to explain directly to anyone else.
“His Grace the Grand Duke has assigned people to keep watch, so there shouldn’t be any serious problems. If you feel something might happen, you can even contact the Grand Duke’s residence directly.”
Though his true identity had already been revealed, Ian still held firmly to a polite, respectful attitude, and Mirin gave him a strange look for it.
Eventually, Mirin pretended not to notice and replied courteously.
“Thank you for your concern. If even His Grace’s people are this thoughtful, then I can see what kind of man His Grace must be.”
Her tone wasn’t mocking—rather, it carried the reassurance of earlier.
“What your mother wanted was your happiness. Whatever path you choose to walk, as long as you find happiness, I’ll support you.”
When her aunt tucked her hair gently behind her ear as she spoke, Betty felt tears threaten to fall for no reason at all.
Betty forced herself to smile somehow and said,
“If my father really was someone of House Prowell… if they really are my family… then I think I truly could be happy.”
For the first time, she thought she might finally find something like the happiness she had long forgotten.
What greater fortune and joy could there be than to have them as her family?
At last, her heart began to flutter faintly with joy.
If I really, truly, could call them my family…
That would be wonderful.
The carriage ride back to the Grand Duke’s residence was steeped in silence.
Betty sat without once raising her head, staring intently at the bundle of letters she had received from her aunt—the ones her parents had exchanged.
Ian’s gaze drifted toward the worn stack of papers in her hands.
What an uncanny coincidence.
The letters between her parents reminded him of how he and Betty had first come to know of each other’s existence—through letters.
For them, too, it had all begun this way.
“I suppose there was a reason I always liked writing letters to Your Grace.”
Apparently, Betty had been thinking the same thing. As if sensing his gaze, she finally lifted her head and said something similar.
“If you ever feel the need… you can keep sending them. Anytime you want.”
Only after Ian said it did he realize what a foolish remark that was.
“I mean—not right now. Only if I happen to go far away again.”
But adding the excuse only made him sound more awkward. He was about to ask her to just pretend she hadn’t heard when Betty quietly replied first.
“My parents didn’t exchange letters because they lived far apart.”
The letters spoke of a time when her mother was still working as an actress in the troupe and her father was in the capital.
If they had wanted to meet, surely they could have.
It was simply that they wanted to share everything in their lives with each other. That was why they wrote.
“If you’ll accept them, I’ll write. No matter what happens, I don’t think we’ll always be able to sit face to face like this.”
“Of course. Anything you send me… I’ll always…”
Ian had never even been this nervous when standing before his own father.
He felt like the world’s greatest fool, his thoughts frozen, and let out a long sigh.
“If you want to see me in person, just send word. I’ll come to you.”
“How could I possibly summon Your Grace like that?”
But the truth was, no matter where Betty chose to live, Ian knew he would end up visiting her constantly, as though bewitched.
He had already visited House Prowell so often that, while the Marquis and Marchioness welcomed him warmly, they sometimes cast him strange looks.
“You can. Anytime.”
He emphasized the words, just in case she misunderstood.
For a moment, Betty’s smile faltered and vanished. Even such a small change left Ian inwardly uneasy.
“I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable with me.”
That was why it pained him that she had gone back to calling him “Your Grace.”
Hearing his name fall from her lips had been far more delightful than he’d expected.
“I don’t feel uncomfortable.”
If anything, she paid too much attention to him.
Because she cared so much, she hated the idea of hurting his feelings.
So, she couldn’t help but tread carefully around him—more than mere politeness demanded.
“You can call me by my name, like before. That’s what I mean.”
At last, Ian spoke aloud the very thing he had wanted most.
Did he truly want so desperately for Betty to see him, to acknowledge his existence?
The answer was yes.
“As long as you don’t feel uncomfortable with it.”
Ian watched her carefully, half-expecting her to say it was uncomfortable.
She tilted her head, thoughtful for a moment.
“Then… Ian… nim?”
Still, dropping every honorific altogether felt strange. So she chose a compromise.
“I don’t think I could call you ‘Sir Ian’ again, like before.”
Her soft laugh that followed was enough for Ian to be satisfied.
“Don’t feel pressured. The Prowell family all call me differently anyway.”
That was true. Even the Empress, out of old habit, still sometimes called him “Sir Ian.”
The Marquis of Prowell, depending on the situation, shifted between “Grand Duke Davan” and just plain “Ian,” with no consistency at all.
“So… Ian-nim, do you really think I’m part of House Prowell?”
Even these letters, full of trivial details from the days when Aron was still living with House Prowell, were proof enough.
“It’s not hard to verify the truth of such things.”
But because it was such a weighty matter, and because Betty needed reassurance, there was still a need for final confirmation.
“If that would ease your heart, I can look into it again, just as I did regarding your mother. With clear direction and purpose, it will be easier.”
Ian had no trouble guessing what she feared.
Even now, her clear eyes held a subtle trace of dread.
It was the fear of disappointment, after raising her hopes so high.
Joy had only brushed her heart briefly before worry crowded in once more.
“And if you do that, will it be certain?”
Betty didn’t even know how to describe this feeling herself.
But one thing was clear.
“I don’t want anyone to be disappointed. I’ll be fine, but… if the Marquis, the Marchioness, if they were deeply disappointed in me because of this, I’d feel truly sorry.”
It still felt like walking on clouds—so unrealistic.
Every time she thought back on it, no matter how likely it seemed, she couldn’t quite believe it.
“Don’t worry. You are more certainly a Prowell than anyone.”
For some reason, Ian seemed even more confident than she was.
“Me?”
“You resemble them. In every way. Perfectly.”
That was why the Marchioness of Prowell, the Marquis himself, even the Empress—all had been drawn to her.
Some might call it illusion or coincidence, but to Ian, it felt closer to destiny.
For the Prowells, who had so desperately longed for their lost family… and for Betty, who so desperately needed a place to belong.
“So don’t worry.”
Perhaps the Prowells had guessed Aron might have built a family somewhere. But surely they hadn’t imagined he had a daughter already grown.
“…Yes.”
What Betty had needed all along was exactly this kind of certainty.
A single firm word from Ian, one that made her believe everything would be alright no matter what happened.
