OTKL 32

Chapter : 32

An Unwanted Invitation

“A letter….”

For a moment, Alferil frowned as a nagging thought came to mind.

She had completely forgotten about the envelope she had found at the door of the mansion. Triden, assessing the situation, nervously fiddled with his lips as he pondered. Finally, he spoke to Alferil.

“I’ll summon the carriage right away.”

“Huh? Yes?”

“It’s a matter of a few hours, including the time it takes to call the carriage and travel. Once you arrive, read the letter—you’ll understand.”

Without any proper explanation, Alferil grabbed the sleeve of his coat, trying to stop his hurried steps toward the cabin. She had no idea what was happening in this sudden, upside-down situation.

“Wait! You could just tell me what the letter says here!”

“I’m not the type to read someone else’s letter. All I know is that a man named Pascal Müller insisted that this invitation be delivered by the New Year, no matter what.”

Pascal? Her grip on his sleeve loosened at the unexpected name. She couldn’t connect this sudden mention of a childhood friend to the current situation at all.

“B-But the young master hasn’t even opened his eyes yet…”

“Alferil, if you don’t go, His Highness could be in even greater danger.”

What? Before she could even ask in confusion, the door slammed shut. A few seconds later, having regained her senses, Alferil frantically opened the door to follow him, but the noisy clatter of hooves was already raising dust as it disappeared into the distance.

Alferil, left alone, wandered the living room with a pale face, and unconsciously, her hand reached for the doorknob of the young master’s room. She hoped, almost desperately, that this was a dream—or rather, an extremely long nightmare.

When she opened the door, the man lying in the bed with an unnaturally pale face looked exactly as he had before. The thought of leaving him like this made her feel dizzy.

Her only task since arriving in Saint-Kalreum had been to watch over Terencio’s health, but Alferil had failed at that completely. She hated herself for ruining him.

And now, she wouldn’t even be able to stay by the young master’s side. Her pale lips pressed together in frustration.

“Ah…”

A low groan escaped Terencio’s lips, stiffened with pain.

His cracked lips moved as if he were trying to say something. Startled, Alferil immediately thought of summoning Triden, only to remember that he had left the cabin just minutes ago.

Realizing that only the two of them were left in the room, a wave of anxiety swept over her. With her nerves on edge, she approached Terencio.

“Do you want to say something?”

Alferil whispered, brushing his red hair back with trembling hands. He only occasionally twisted his handsome face into a grimace but did not speak again.

“It doesn’t have to be right now—don’t rush. I’ll be back soon.”

The strong scent of opium hung in the room, yet the metallic-tinged sound of Terencio’s breathing made her heart ache—it seemed to prove that even breathing was a struggle for him.

Then, a heavy, clear pronunciation brushed past her ear.

“Sil…via.”

Alferil lifted her head from the bed to look at him. That he was attempting to speak was, according to the doctor, a positive sign that he was regaining consciousness—but Alferil somehow didn’t want to believe it.

It was an exotic woman’s name she had never heard in Triberal. That made the moment feel even more unreal.

“Silvia… Silvi…”

The name escaped from the young master’s lips once or twice, confirming the moment. Alferil slowly raised her gaze to him. The sight before her seemed blurred, as if paint had been smeared across her vision.

Only after closing the door and stepping out did she realize that the haze was caused by tears in her own eyes.

Even if it was someone else’s name that had slipped from his lips, she could not deny that she felt a pang of disappointment. She couldn’t believe that she was hurt by such a clear sign that his consciousness had not vanished.

Why am I feeling like this?

When the Duke was in pain, had she ever wished to take it upon herself even once?

Her heart raced violently. The pounding pulse at her wrist throbbed as if it would leap out of her skin. Overcome with self-loathing, Alferil leaned against the wall to steady her breathing—when her vision suddenly flipped.

“Ar-are you alright?”

Raily had grabbed Alferil’s sleeve, her eyes full of concern.

Still struggling for breath and unable to respond immediately, Alferil only managed a shaky silence. Raily spoke softly, trying to comfort her.

“Don’t worry too much. The doctor is excellent—he’ll wake up soon.”

“Do I look like I’m worried about him?”

“Huh?”

“I wish it were that simple… but what right do I have?”

I need the young master.

If the person who greeted her at the Saint-Kalreum gates hadn’t been him, if he hadn’t held her hand while teaching her the piano, if it weren’t Terencio Heron—she couldn’t have endured any of it.

But it wasn’t someone else.

If it had been someone else, it would have been better. Someone who wouldn’t feel this way looking at a sleeping Terencio, someone who could have watched over him last night, or at least someone he truly wanted by his side.

Alferil couldn’t fully understand why tears streamed down her face. Raily, noticing her distress, gently offered a small hand she had hidden behind her back. In it was a bright yellow flower.

“It’s a rose that doesn’t bloom well in winter. But I wanted to give it to both of you…”

Only then did Alferil notice Raily’s small, reddened nose. The girl’s eyes were pure, full of care, and watching for her reaction—a contrast that made Alferil’s own feelings feel even more terrible.

Alferil lightly touched the rose petals in her hand. The soft fragrance filled her nose, and she bent down as if unable to contain her emotions, hugging the girl.

“Thank you.”

Thump! Suddenly, the old cabin was rattled by knocking. Triden had left just a few hours ago, but Alferil, lowering her gaze in resignation, quickly stood up and smoothed Raily’s rumpled clothing.

“Thank you so much. I’m sorry, but please take care of the young master while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry.”

Noticing Raily hesitating over how to address her, Alferil held her hand firmly.

“Call me by name when we meet again. My name is Alferil.”

Alferil—she murmured shyly. Nodding, Raily smiled faintly as if she had remembered everything. Opening the door, they saw a bear-like, gruff-looking man looming over the small cabin.

The shadow cast on the snow was the only one. A nervous voice arose from the unexpected sight.

“…Lange didn’t come with you?”

“He said he had business in the city and would return separately.”

Alferil blinked rapidly, flustered. Her slightly flushed ears noticed the coachman clearing his throat, then turning to the carriage.

She left the cabin, glancing back several times with lingering feelings. The shabby carriage had no roof or walls to shield her from the cold.

The coachman, seeing her reddened, wounded bare feet, unfolded a blanket from the luggage compartment and handed it to her. She wrapped it tightly around her neck, curling up against the cold.

The wheels began rolling, starting with the plaintive cries of the thin, scrawny horses.

Even wrapped in the blanket, the fine snowflakes stung her cheeks.

The road back to Saint-Kalreum without Terencio was unbearably cold and lonely. And yet, one thought refused to leave her mind, tormenting her:

“Silvia…”

Terencio’s whispered voice was still vivid in her memory.

There were gaps in the past shared by her and the young master. Perhaps that was why his testimony that their lives had once overlapped still felt unreal. Even trying to think further offered no insight—she knew nothing.

Bare winter branches stretched endlessly along the road, some trees blanketed in snow like quilts. Her face, shadowed by the dark hair fluttering in the air, felt somber.

She closed her eyes, and somewhere, she thought she could hear Terencio Heron’s nocturne weaving into her ears.

Before the sun set, she hadn’t expected to get out of the carriage, but the coachman who brought her seemed very knowledgeable about the area.

After swiftly navigating a safe shortcut to Saint-Kalreum, the coachman departed, and Alferil walked along the foggy path. The pale sunlight hung tenuously in the sky.

She had been tense for hours, worried about falling from the hard carriage seat. Her body ached, every part sore, and her legs shook as if they might give out.

After two days without proper meals or rest, her state was beyond exhausted.

Alferil limped along, holding onto her barely-conscious mind. Habitually, she rubbed her numb cheeks when someone’s voice echoed in her throbbing ears.

“Alferil?”