THBO 35

Chapter 35

Instead of heading straight for the dining table, “Mother” stood quietly by the doorway with her arms crossed.

The siblings—none of them entirely free of guilt—made the same silent vow at the same time.

Just for today, let’s behave. We have to listen, no matter what.

In the entire empire, the only person who didn’t know Marisa Lucien’s true personality was Armand Lucien, hopelessly in love with her.

And even Armand Lucien, on very rare occasions, came to his senses.

Whether she knew or not that her two children—troublemakers—had suddenly turned docile, Marisa stroked her hair and let out a long sigh.

“Go on.”

“……”

“……”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Good morning.”

As Marisa approached the table after receiving their polite greetings, she lost all words at the sight of the first son’s face she laid eyes on.

I went to the trouble of giving birth to him so handsome—what on earth has he been doing to himself?

Even under her reproachful gaze, Alexis maintained his shameless expression.

Marisa rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Hah. All day yesterday I only imagined slapping someone’s cheek—I never imagined my son would end up looking like this.”

“Mother, I mean—”

Cecilia fidgeted, trying to interject, but Alexis calmly explained first.

“I deserved to be hit.”

“Of course you did. What exactly did you do to make Cecile slap you? Were you that eager to rub salt in your already upset sister’s wounds?”

Naturally, there was no answer.

After glaring at the siblings, who had fallen into silence as if by prior agreement, Marisa shook her head.

“Confine yourself to your room for two days, Alexis Lucien.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cecilia made no attempt to defend her younger brother.

He couldn’t go around with that face anyway, so for Alexis’s own sake, two days of reflection was probably for the best.

“Shall we sit now?”

As soon as everyone was seated, Marisa took a sip of sparkling water and looked Cecilia straight in the eye.

Ugh.

So much for being protected—now it was her turn.

Cecilia tried hard not to fidget with her hands hidden beneath the tablecloth.

Beside her, Alexis calmly ate strawberries, watching the scene with infuriating ease.

“Cecilia Lucien.”

“……Yes, Mother.”

Marisa opened the conversation, and Cecilia answered as meekly as possible.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me?”

A lot—don’t I?

She hesitantly raised her eyes to meet her mother’s troubled gaze.

Faced with eyes full of worry and distress, her spirits sank on their own.

“I’m sorry, Mother.”

“That’s not it.”

“……Pardon? Ah—well, um. That is, yesterday—or was it the night before last? The Baron Rivil’s daughter—”

Marisa cut her off with a gesture.

“I’ve already heard enough about what happened yesterday.”

“……”

“I’m not ignorant of the circumstances, nor am I asking you to recount something painful in your own words.”

Cecilia quickly pressed her lips together and listened.

“What I want—more precisely—is an explanation, Cecile.”

“……”

“My daughter went through something so insane, and I was the last to hear about it in Scharten. At that moment, my hear—”

Marisa cut herself off again.

The hand pressing firmly against her furrowed brow carried a tangle of complicated emotions.

Silence born of a parent was more frightening than raised voices or scolding.

Cecilia waited anxiously, Alexis observed in silence, and Marisa remained still.

After a long while, when Marisa finally lifted her gaze again, most of her emotions had settled.

Like the sea after a storm—calm and clear. Cecilia found herself drawn into her mother’s composure.

“Cecile.”

“Yes.”

“If you had told me everything yourself, I would have been furious at the one responsible. But if you don’t tell me anything at all, all I can do is feel sad.”

“……”

“Which you choose is your freedom—your decision. You’re a proper adult now. But…”

Watching Cecilia flinch slightly, Marisa slowly rested her chin on her hand.

“I was honestly hurt by your choice not to tell me. No matter how old you are, whether you’re a child or an adult, you’re still my daughter, and I’m still your mother.”

It hurt a little.

“I hope you’ll remember that I—no, that we—will always be your hiding place, your place of rest.”

Maybe more than a little.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not it.”

“……Thank you, Mother.”

“Correct.”

Marisa lightly rang the bell on the table.

A soft knock came from the side door, and the attendants began serving breakfast.

Dropping a sugar cube into her tea, Marisa continued casually.

“By the way, Cecile. I heard you stopped Alec because you wanted to discipline that girl yourself.”

Cecilia blinked with a grape still between her lips, while several sharp gazes rained down around her.

Stirring her tea with a spoon, Marisa declared—

Her deliberately stern tone was filled with sincerity.

“The Baron Rivil’s daughter must pay an appropriate price for what she’s done.”

“Mm…”

“If she doesn’t pay a fitting price, then—well—your father will step in personally. He’s very angry about this.”

“Father knows too?”

Cecilia cried out before she could stop herself, and instantly, Marisa’s and Alexis’s gazes burned hotter than the midday sun.

The look clearly said, She still hasn’t come to her senses.

As soon as Cecilia snapped her mouth shut, Alexis sprinkled green pepper over his scrambled eggs and muttered,

“You should consider it fortunate, Sister, that Father is handling it himself.”

Does that mean if I had stepped in, everything would’ve been reduced to ashes?

Cecilia wisely chose not to ask.

Instead, she turned her stiff neck toward her mother. Marisa, sipping her tea, raised an eyebrow.

“So then, my daughter—when will you meet the Baron Rivil’s daughter?”

“Around lunchtime today… I plan to meet her and talk.”

“I look forward to it.”

“I also look forward to it, Sister.”

The word ‘looking forward to it’ sounds refreshingly cheerful.

Cecilia forced a hollow smile.

Unaware—or unconcerned—that she was screaming internally, the two Luciens simply enjoyed their breakfast.

I’m going to lose my mind.

I thought this earlier at dawn too—Eugenie Rivil is the one at fault, so why am I the one suffering?

* * *

Breakfast ended at noon, with sunlight pouring straight down from overhead.

The meeting with Eugenie Rivil was set for 12:30—exactly thirty minutes away.

Staring at the second hand of an antique clock, Cecilia turned things over in her mind.

If Father intervened directly, the entire Rivil family could fall into ruin.

In other words, before the baron and his wife were swept away for failing to raise their daughter properly, Cecilia had to administer a suitable punishment.

A suitable punishment.

Since Eugenie Rivil had indirectly tarnished the Lucien family’s honor, Cecilia fully intended to punish her appropriately.

The question was whether it would be “appropriate enough” by her own standards—and by Alexis’s and her parents’ standards as well.

“I’m exhausted.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

The urge to massage beneath her eyes was blocked by a practical concern: her makeup would smudge.

With one sense shut off, the others sharpened immediately.

Her neck, strained from having her hair pinned up; the ornate dress weighing down her entire body; the heavy jeweled accessories adorning her everywhere.

Perhaps because she had expended so much emotional energy since yesterday.

Adornments that normally didn’t bother her felt like they were dragging her down today.

Downward.

Into the abyss.

Rolling, falling into the deepest depths—into that darkness.

She gathered her scattered thoughts and focused on the steady ticking of the second hand.

The warmth of sunlight tickling her fingertips was vivid. Even the lingering heat at her toes, still there after a full night.

Her toes curled, tension spreading to her peripheral nerves.

A strange shiver wrapped around her entire body.

Cecilia, who had been smiling bitterly without realizing it, finally opened her eyes at the sound of a knock on the door.

At her permission, Kallia and Blanche entered—along with the very source of all this trouble: Eugenie Rivil.

With a grateful glance toward Blanche and Kallia, Cecilia calmly looked the girl over.

Her eyelids were badly swollen.

She must’ve cried a lot.

Fear clearly lingered in her defiant eyes, but whether from stubbornness or pride, Eugenie Rivil was doing her best not to show it.

“I don’t quite understand.”

At Cecilia’s casually tossed remark, everyone else in the room stiffened.

“With things having blown up this badly, shouldn’t you be doing some self-reflection, Baron Rivil’s daughter?”

“……”

“If it were me, I’d be agonizing over what I did wrong and clinging to anything I could to make amends.”

Eugenie Rivil seemed completely unconcerned with the expressions directed at her.

“I’m still young.”

“Oh, really?”

She couldn’t possibly be unaware of the contempt radiating from Kallia or the killing intent from Blanche.

If she were an object, she’d certainly be a piece of work.

Cecilia hid her renewed amazement.

“So. Does that become a reason for me to overlook what you’ve done?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m at an age where I can make mistakes. I’m still young—an age where I deserve protection. So I—”

“Was there ever an age where you’re forgiven for trampling over others? Did such an age exist?”

The girl’s face flushed red all the way to her ears. Cecilia shrugged indifferently and pressed on.

“An age where mocking others is acceptable? Where throwing stones at people is fine? Where humiliating others without restraint is allowed?”

“……”

“Is that your sense of morality?”

Naturally, no answer came.

In the silence that followed, Cecilia inevitably thought of yesterday.

Her reaction to the claim ‘Eugenie Rivil is still young’ was completely different yesterday and today.

Yesterday, she was the one who had stopped Alexis using that very reasoning.

And today, she was scolding Eugenie Rivil for using it.

Alexis Lucien had understood her perfectly.

The reason she wanted to spare Eugenie Rivil had never been because she was a naïve young lady fresh from her debutante ball.

Whether fortunate or unfortunate, “Cecilia Lucien” was never generous enough to be a saint.

In truth, the real reason she had stopped Alexis was—

Eugenie Rivil’s face was now fully flushed, tears clinging to the corners of her eyes.

Watching her quietly, Cecilia snapped her fingers.

If you want a more literal, more polished novel-style, or dialogue-smoothed version, just tell me which tone you prefer.