MDRH 40

Chapter 40

But this time, instead of the sharpness of interrogating a child, there was a faint hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

At that, Lucillea averted her gaze and pursed her small lips.

“…Because I must.”

“What?”

“…”

Lucillea sneaked a glance at Elbadin, then opened her mouth again.

“Because I mustn’t take away Your Highness’s precious time!”

“…”

A brief silence passed. Elbadin tilted his head, his narrowed eyes questioning.

“So you avoided me… for such a trivial reason?”

At that, Lucillea’s head shot up.

“How is that trivial?!”

Clenching her tiny fists, she spoke with serious eyes.

“Grandmother always said—time is more precious than gold! And especially for someone in such a high position like Your Grace, even a single minute or second can change the fate of many people!”

Her expression grew even more grave.

“If I hang around and waste Your Grace’s time, couldn’t I end up ruining the lives of many people?!”

“…”

Hmm. Elbadin fell silent.

Judging from the way she was sweating nervously, the excuse was most likely a lie.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to scold her for the bad habit of lying.

For some reason… he didn’t want to.

It was cheeky and ridiculous, and yet oddly convincing at the same time.

Elbadin gave a short laugh, looking down at Lucillea.

“Then, the reason you were about to leave the glass garden just now—was that the same reason?”

This time, surprisingly, she shook her head.

“No.”

Elbadin raised a brow at the unexpected answer.

“Then why?”

“You seemed like you came here to rest, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

Glancing at the blue flower she had just transplanted earlier, Lucillea added:

“I don’t know why, but when I come into this glass garden, my heart feels calm. Looking at the flowers makes me feel happy.”

Then she tilted her head back and grinned at him.

“Isn’t it the same for you, Your Grace? That’s why you came here, right? To rest?”

“…”

“You’re always so busy, you must be tired.”

Taking his silence as agreement, Lucillea stepped closer and continued.

“You came because you wanted to rest in a place like this—beautiful to the eyes, soothing to the heart, fragrant in the air. But if I showed up, I thought I’d disturb you. I know I tend to talk a lot.”

Elbadin slowly nodded.

At least on that last point, he agreed completely.

And her excuse this time sounded plausible too. It even connected back to her earlier excuse about not wanting to waste his time.

A playful impulse stirred in Elbadin as he lifted his chin slightly.

“And do you truly think the head of the Grand Duke’s house is someone who would tire so easily?”

Lucillea widened her eyes and replied almost like she was giving advice.

“Anyone gets tired if they overwork themselves. And if fatigue builds up, eventually, the body breaks down.”

“…Let me guess—another of your late grandmother’s sayings?”

When Elbadin himself mentioned Briola, Lucillea’s brows twitched.

She gave a small laugh, then her expression softened.

“That’s right. My grandmother went through a lot of hardship because of me—things she never should have had to endure. That’s probably why she passed away early.”

“…”

Lucillea’s tone was casual and calm, yet at the end of her words lingered a resignation far too heavy for a child.

Elbadin looked quietly at her.

On that small pair of shoulders weighed the shadow of guilt from losing her grandmother.

And that troubled him. She was too young to carry such feelings.

Perhaps that was why—

From his mouth came an awkward, clumsy comfort.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“…What?”

Startled, Lucillea lifted her gaze.

Elbadin met her eyes directly. For once, the habitual arrogance that always colored his gaze was gone.

“The death of someone can never be the fault of those left behind. That belongs only to the realm of the gods.”

He paused briefly, then continued in a low voice.

“To try to shoulder that weight is arrogance. The duty of those left behind is not guilt… but remembrance.”

“…”

Remember…

Lucillea whispered the word quietly to herself.

Elbadin went on.

“What the departed truly wish for is not for the living to collapse in sorrow. It is for their life to be remembered—for that memory to be carried forward, and for the living to fight harder for their own. That is the only duty of the ones left behind, and the greatest respect to the ones who are gone.”

And in that moment—

Elbadin realized. The words he spoke now were not only for her, but for himself—words he needed to hear, after spending eight long years tormenting himself over Radia’s death.

“…”

“…”

An awkward air lingered between them.

Ahem.

Elbadin awkwardly raised his hand above Lucillea’s head, then withdrew it, speaking gruffly.

“In any case, stop thinking like that. You’re already too small, and brooding over useless worries like that is exactly why you’re not growing taller.”

“…”

Sniffling, Lucillea’s eyes narrowed into a sharp glare.

“Yes, yes. Then Your Grace should make sure you rest well and stay healthy, so you can grow big and strong too!”

She snorted defiantly.

That cheeky retort made Elbadin chuckle despite himself.

He nodded.

“Thank you for the kind words.”

“Ugh! That wasn’t kind words!” she huffed, fists trembling with dirt still clinging to them.

“Very well. Then let me give you kind words. Eat your carrots and stop being picky, so you can grow up tall enough to reach my chest.”

“Wha—! That’s not kind words, that’s a curse!”

Lucillea stomped her feet in protest, declaring she’d grow taller than his chest.

Elbadin’s laughter grew louder at the sight.

In all the past eight years, never once had such cheerful laughter rung out in this quiet glass garden.

Finally catching his breath, he extended his hand to the still-fuming child.

“Alright, then. Grow not to my chest, but taller than my head. Is that better?”

“…”

“So, forgive me now. Little one.”

Lucillea glanced at his large hand, hesitating.

“But… my hands are dirty…” she murmured, looking down at her soil-stained palms.

Elbadin pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Kneeling down on one knee to meet her eye level, he began to wipe her hands himself.

Lucillea flinched at the unexpected gesture, shrinking her shoulders.

Her expression clearly showed she couldn’t understand what was happening.

That amused Elbadin, and he smiled again.

“What, is it so strange for me to wipe a little dirt off your hands?”

“…Yes. Very.”

Lucillea answered honestly.

“I thought… Your Grace would never do something like this.”

“Something like this?”

“Mm… being kind?”

“…”

At those words, Elbadin’s hands faltered briefly, then continued wiping her small hands carefully.

And only then did he realize—this was something he hadn’t done since Radia’s death. He hadn’t smiled like this, nor reached out to anyone first.

When he stayed silent, Lucillea too said nothing.

She only quietly felt his large hands, clumsy yet gentle, carefully holding hers.

When her hands were clean, Elbadin folded the handkerchief and tucked it away.

Then he stood, extending his hand to her again.

This time, though still hesitant, Lucillea finally placed her fingers against his.

To hide her embarrassment, she looked away and grumbled.

“…And stop calling me little one. Master Noah calls me that, you do too… I don’t understand why everyone keeps calling me that.”

Leading her toward a bench by the fountain, Elbadin chuckled softly.

“Then what should I call you?”

“Obviously, by my name—Lucillea.”

His gaze lowered briefly to her, then lifted again.

With a faint smile, he replied simply.

“Very well… Lucillea.”