MDCHC 62

chapter 62

“Our Daniel scored a perfect hundred, so we should make something delicious for him.”

In the end, I chose to hold back. Right now, to corner Daniel and demand why he lied would have been far too cruel for a child.

“Since your father has been sick, we’ve only been having soup every day. Haven’t you gotten tired of it?”

Daniel shook his head vigorously instead of answering.

Yes. Perhaps all these small things, one by one, had been making him uncomfortable. The hurried footsteps echoing in the halls, the doctors who came to the house again and again, the worried faces, the hushed whispers.

To Daniel, it must all have felt like anxiety pressing in on him. Maybe that was why he ended up lying.

“I’ll tell the kitchen to make something special for you today. What should it be? Meat? Fish? Or maybe something sweet?”

“I’m fine! I’d rather have them make lots of soup so Father gets better quickly!”

See? As expected, Daniel was such a kind child.

“Really? Our Daniel is so very good.”

I reached out and stroked his hair with empty hands. I hadn’t been able to pay much attention to him because of Lord Winchester, but May must have been looking after him well. Daniel’s lovely platinum-blond hair curled softly under my hand.

“N-no.”

The voice beneath my hand was quivering. I quickly pulled it back, but Daniel’s head was bowed, hiding his face.

“I-I’m not a good boy. I’m a bad boy because I lied!”

And then he burst into tears, confessing everything. His lie hadn’t even lasted ten minutes.

“Is that so?”

Normally, whenever Daniel looked like he was about to cry, I would do everything in my power to soothe him. But not this time.

Watching him cry was painful, of course. Yet I thought it wrong to simply comfort him after he had lied, instead of correcting him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

I’ve never actually seen chicken droppings, but Daniel’s tears must have looked just like the expression “chicken dropping tears.” His lips pressed tight, face scrunched up in misery, and fat tears kept rolling down his cheeks.

“Lying is a bad thing.”

Even though he was sobbing, Daniel nodded at my words. Watching that, I thought there was no need to scold him further. He was already reflecting and regretting it on his own.

All I had to do was quietly wait until his crying subsided, until he calmed down.

“C-countess…”

Daniel wiped his eyes with his small hands and, still hiccuping through his tears, began to stammer.

“You… looked s-sad.”

And from his little mouth came completely unexpected words.

You looked sad.

I was flustered. Since when had Daniel been watching me? And how could he have seen through my feelings so clearly? I didn’t know how to react.

“That’s why.”

As if to speak in my silence, Daniel continued. Another teardrop slid down his round cheek.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s why’?”

This time I brushed his tears away with my hand. His shoulders still trembled, but he didn’t shy away. In fact, he almost leaned into my hand.

“Because you looked sad, Countess Winchester, I didn’t want you to be. I thought you’d be happy if Daniel did well in his studies.”

His explanation was a little clumsy, but I understood exactly what he meant—and the sweet heart behind it.

Daniel had just wanted to make me happy. Since I looked sad, he wanted to bring me good news so I wouldn’t be anymore.

But he didn’t have any good news, anything that would genuinely make me smile. So he lied, just to brighten me up.

What a pitiful excuse of an adult I am… making a child worry about me.

I nearly sighed at myself but held it back. If I sighed now, Daniel would just worry even more.

“Daniel?”

When I called his name, he lifted his head and looked at me. Our eyes met, and I smiled first. His little brow, which had been faintly furrowed with worry, loosened slightly.

“You don’t have to be great at studying. Of course, we did make a bet, didn’t we? I bet that you’d do well, because I wanted a chance to flick this pretty little forehead of yours—flick! But even if I lose, even if you don’t do so well in your studies, I still love you.”

Daniel’s eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. His tears had all dried, leaving his blue eyes clear and lovely.

Maybe it was because his eyes were the same color, but in that moment he almost looked like Lord Winchester.

“Because you’re Daniel.”

I couldn’t allow myself to stay downhearted. Even if I wasn’t destined to be Lord Winchester’s, I was Daniel’s stepmother. That much was certain.

When Lorinus opened his eyes, the ceiling that greeted him was familiar. No—more precisely, one he had grown familiar with.

The ceiling of his old bedroom had simply been a ceiling: wallpaper whose faded color had long since become its own shade, and, at the edge of sight, an antique chandelier hanging down.

But now what he saw was a canopy of delicate white lace.

The ceiling had changed after his marriage.

Perhaps it felt improper to let the new bride use the same bed Lorinus had slept in alone for over ten years. He hadn’t said a word, yet by their wedding night, the bed had already been replaced.

Dark oak swapped for bright hinoki wood, deep wine-colored sheets changed to snowy white, and the heavy velvet curtains around the bed replaced with airy lace canopies.

But for Lorinus, what bed he slept in or what ceiling he saw when he awoke didn’t matter. Whether it was white lace, black curtains, or a starry night sky, all that mattered was that he opened his eyes and was alive. He was a knight, through and through.

Still, lately, there was one thing that did weigh on his mind.

…

Lorinous pushed himself up and quietly turned his gaze.

Neari was breathing softly in sleep beside him. Of course she was—she had stayed up late nursing him.

But it wasn’t just today. She always slept soundly, and he had long since made a habit of watching her when he awoke first.

Strange…

His eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly.

Why does she seem to get prettier by the day?

When he first met her, she had an utterly ordinary face. And yet, somehow, she was becoming beautiful in his eyes.

They say position makes the person—maybe becoming a countess has changed her?

That wasn’t really how the saying was meant, but to Lorinus, it sounded logical enough.

She stood out at the arena, too.

He had spotted her instantly at the tournament. Among all the similar-looking faces, she had stood out like a chestnut among acorns.

And that wasn’t all.

Darling!

It had been the moment when his limbs refused to obey and his mind was going hazy. Among all the shouting voices, hers pierced straight into his ears. That voice jolted him back to focus.

She had wanted him to win. She had made him a drink herself and come all the way there to cheer him on. So he had to win.

With a hand that barely obeyed, he gripped his sword tight, gritted his teeth, and fought on.

At last, he felled his opponent—only to collapse himself. And the last thing he saw before blacking out was Neari running toward him. That was his final memory of the tournament.

Darling…

When he regained consciousness, the first thing he heard was again Neari’s voice. Not the desperate, anguished cry from the arena, but a voice endlessly gentle and warm. A voice that gave him peace.

Without realizing it, he had leaned into her embrace. And that embrace was the most comforting thing he had ever known.

It was like the mother’s arms he could no longer remember from childhood, like the sacred embrace of a saint. Wrapped in it, Lorinus had drifted back to sleep.

…

Once more, he gazed at Neari. So plain, yet so lovely. Two opposing impressions, both somehow true of her.

Why was it only her face he saw so clearly, only her voice that rang so vividly? Why was her small embrace the only place that felt so safe?

“She’s a strange woman.”

A faint smile touched Lorinus’s lips as he said it—something neither he nor the still-sleeping Neari noticed.

Perhaps only the little sage flower placed at the bedside knew.