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Chapter 42
“Milady, how was the festival?”
As Ena brushed Elle’s hair, she casually struck up a conversation.
“…It was fun.”
Though, in the end, she had upset Caron.
Still, Elle’s expression looked genuinely cheerful as she spoke, and Ena let out a quiet sigh of relief inside.
“Oh? Milady, what’s this?”
Something snagged on Ena’s hand as she brushed—an unfamiliar necklace.
Elle’s cheeks flushed the moment she heard the question. She raised her hand shyly to her face and answered.
“Lord Caron gave it to me as a gift.”
“Heavens! The Master himself? He must really treasure you, milady.”
Ena’s voice rose excitedly, sounding even more thrilled than the recipient herself.
Elle simply touched the necklace resting against her neck, then calmly replied.
“No… I insisted that he buy it for me.”
At those words, Ena bit down on her lips and clutched the back of her own neck.
She had always respected and followed the Master, but this time—this time, she couldn’t help resenting him.
Unable to hold it back, Ena burst out, pointing at the necklace reflected in the mirror.
“A necklace like this—I could’ve bought it for you myself! And yet, you had to beg for it before he finally gave it to you? Really?”
“Ena?”
Flustered, Elle quickly took Ena’s hand that still held the comb.
She didn’t know what misunderstanding had made Ena so angry at Caron, but the truth was Elle was happy.
And now she worried—worried that because of a careless remark, Ena might start thinking poorly of Caron.
“I just don’t understand what the Master is thinking! It’s frustrating even for me!”
“No, it’s not like that! I was truly happy. It’s precious to me. It was the first time I ever chose something myself and received it as a gift!”
At Elle’s words, silence hung in the room.
Ena stared back in shock and asked quietly,
“…The first time?”
“Yes, the first. Jewelry has always felt too extravagant for me. And I’ve never had the chance to choose anything for myself, let alone receive it.”
“Milady…”
Ena’s voice trembled faintly. Elle tilted her head, puzzled by the intensity of her maid’s reaction.
“I’m happy right now, Ena.”
Whether or not she dared to hold feelings for Caron, Elle felt her life itself was far more than she deserved—almost as if it didn’t even belong to her.
Each day was filled with things she had never even dreamed of having.
And Caron was the one who made that possible.
He was someone she couldn’t help but love, yet someone she had no right to love.
The necklace he gave her carried a meaning far greater than a simple gift.
It was also her last keepsake—the final fragment of her longing. A silent vow never to reveal her feelings.
“If that’s how you feel, milady, then I’ll accept it… though I don’t like it.”
“Thank you.”
“In that case, I’ll fetch your jewel box. Something so precious should be kept safe.”
But when Ena turned to leave, Elle stopped her with an awkward little smile.
“Ah… I’ll just keep wearing it.”
“You’ll at least remove it when you sleep, won’t you? It must feel heavy.”
“It’s fine.”
Even saying this felt like revealing too much of her heart toward Caron. And that made her feel guilty.
After all, someone like her being tied to Caron could only bring him trouble.
“…Alright. But if it gets uncomfortable, you must take it off immediately.”
“Alright. I will.”
With preparations for bed complete, Elle stood up. Ena bowed politely.
“Good night, milady.”
“Good night, Ena.”
When the door closed, Elle was left alone in the large room.
She lay down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her fingers still playing with the necklace.
It all felt like a dream. Love—she had thought it was something she’d never know in her lifetime.
The festival had been the same. In the slums, you never got to choose what was given—you simply received what came, and you had to be grateful. That was the world Elle had lived in.
But today had been different. She chose, she looked around, she wandered freely.
“…I’ll treasure it.”
The necklace. The memory of today.
And this feeling in her heart.
Elle slowly closed her eyes.
The atmosphere in the office was heavy.
The steward shifted uneasily, watching Caron’s every move.
For over ten minutes now, Caron’s eyes had remained fixed on the same page. His pen hadn’t moved—only bled ink until it had soaked through the paper.
“Master.”
“……”
“Master?”
“Steward.”
At last, after repeated calling, Caron spoke softly.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Am I… underestimating Elle?”
The question was strange. The steward glanced between the ink-stained document and Caron’s face before carefully replying.
“Do you mean Lady Elle? Did something happen at the festival?”
“There did. Something very serious.”
Caron muttered indifferently as he finally lifted his pen from the ruined paper.
But it was already too late—the page was drowned in black ink.
Propping his chin on one hand, Caron stared blankly at the sodden sheet.
“She hasn’t even fully healed from her past wounds yet. Surely you don’t mean…?”
“Elle told me she loved me.”
His quiet voice filled the office, so low that it made even the steward shudder.
Collecting himself, the steward stepped closer, answering with conviction.
“Lady Elle did? Then isn’t everything proceeding just as you desired, my lord?”
What Caron wanted was for Elle to cling to him, to beg for his love.
That way, she could carry out the coming tasks without resistance.
Or, failing that, he would have preferred her to fall for his wealth or his power—anything would have made things simpler.
But instead, Elle had chosen the most difficult path of all, ignoring every thread Caron had carefully spun in his mind.
Caron drummed his fingers against the desk, then let out a hollow sigh.
“Who speaks of love with a face like that? Even I, who’ve never truly been loved, could see it.”
“What sort of expression was it, my lord?” the steward asked, perplexed.
Caron cast him a sidelong glance, then lifted the ruined sheet.
“She looked like she was about to cry.”
“……”
“As if she were speaking of some dream that could never come true.”
The sodden paper tore apart under its own weight. With a blank expression, Caron tossed the pieces into the wastebasket.
Yes. That was what unsettled him so deeply.
It felt like she had confessed with a face that already knew their love could never be.
And what had he done to deserve that?
He had told her to love. Told her that falling in love would be better. Begged her to fall.
Had she done so, he had planned to shower her with wealth, with jewels, with authority none could dare touch.
To let her live in security within a strong, unshakable Phairos.
So why… why did she look at him like that, with those eyes?
A soft sigh escaped Caron’s lips.
“My lord.”
The steward’s voice was full of concern, but Caron barely seemed to hear.
“Why that expression? Is she still afraid of me? Or does she feel some kind of obligation—that she must submit to me?”
But Caron already knew the truth.
The problem wasn’t Elle’s confession or her strange expression.
The problem was that he himself had found them so distasteful.
“My lord.”
“Speak.”
Caron’s voice was cold as he waved a hand, permitting him to continue.
“…Do you intend to marry Lady Elle?”
“……”
Caron’s lips pressed shut, as if caught off guard.
By now, the steward’s concern had grown into something else. As the one who had served the House of Phairos for generations, he spoke solemnly.
“What you’ve told me of your plans… this seems different.”
“It’s the same.”
But his eyes flickered for just a moment. Having served him so long, the steward did not miss it.
“My lord, forgive me, but I must speak. I owe Lady Elle much, and as one who has dedicated my life to Phairos, I cannot stay silent.”
“Go on.”
It would no doubt be the usual lecture: don’t hurt Elle, be clear with her, and so on.
Caron’s face showed a hint of boredom.
“Lady Elle is… forbidden.”
“…What?”
Caron’s brow twitched. His tone grew sharp at such unexpected words.
Until now, the steward had always urged him not to wound Elle. And yet now—now he said the opposite.
Was this a sign the old man was ready to hand down his duties to his son and retire? Caron frowned, deeply troubled.
“You intend to use Lady Elle to keep the nobles in line. I know that.”
“That’s enough. It’s late—you must be tired and speaking nonsense.”
Caron scowled and raised a hand, trying to silence him.
But once a sword has been drawn, it will not return to its sheath.
“My mind is clearer than ever, my lord. I know, too, that you mean for the enemies of Phairos to grow desperate and make a move on Lady Elle, so you can capture them all at once.”
The steward’s words struck right at the heart of it. Caron’s expression froze, turning icy.
To be continued…
