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Chapter 2
The End of Boyhood
Having mostly finished his preparations to enter the Imperial Military Academy, Leopold was enjoying a rare stretch of leisure. Invitations to balls and banquets piled high on his desk, but he couldn’t even be bothered to pick up a pen to decline them properly — instead, he just tossed them aside.
Just as he was about to finally deal with them, pen in hand, his attendant entered with a message.
“Young master, His Grace the Grand Duke wishes to see you.”
It was rare for his father to summon him; they hardly ever saw each other.
Wondering what could have prompted it, Leopold left the eastern wing where he stayed and walked down the long colonnade connecting it to the main building.
The Ronail forest surrounding the ducal estate was always dark except for the single road where carriages passed. Perhaps because of that, Leopold had once seen a ghost in those corridors as a child. Terrified, he had run out of the mansion, gotten lost in the woods, and fallen asleep in an old guard post. The household realized the boy was missing only when he came home, happily singing and with his mouth stained red from eating wild raspberries.
His father hadn’t scolded him too harshly, though he had been utterly dumbfounded when Leopold confessed he’d been playing in the forest. As for his mother—she had divorced the Duke when Leopold was a year old and returned to her homeland. Their marriage had been political, meant solely to produce an heir.
As he grew, Leopold spent his days wandering the forest and later devoted himself to hunting. He became a fairly skilled huntsman, and whenever the Grand Duke went hunting in Ronail with the Crown Prince, Leopold was always invited to accompany them.
The Crown Prince, only twenty years older than Leopold, was astonishingly similar to his father—so much so that when the two rode side by side, Leopold often thought they looked like light and shadow.
The Crown Prince treated his young nephew with great affection, often declaring publicly:
“If I ever become Emperor and remain without an heir, I’ll adopt Leopold as my own Crown Prince.”
Naturally, many young noble ladies tried to capture the heart of Leopold Reinharke, heir to the ducal house and possible future heir to the Empire. Yet none succeeded. He declined almost all invitations, except for the few that were absolutely necessary—and even then, he always left before ten o’clock.
Society nicknamed him “the Cinderella Gentleman.”
Every time Leopold overheard it, his cheeks turned crimson.
It wasn’t that Leopold had no interest in women. On the contrary—he already had someone in his heart. His first love.
Unattainable love, as they say, is the essence of a first love—but Leopold’s was especially impossible. Because the woman he loved existed only inside a painting.
When he was twelve, Leopold began sneaking into his father’s study and discovered a painting in the small bedchamber behind it. Its title was Persephone in the Afternoon.
In it, a woman—surely Persephone—stood half-undressed, one leg in the underworld, the other in the sunlight of the earth above, gazing wistfully at a bunch of yellow daffodils.
Leopold had stared at it so long that goosebumps rose all over his body. Overwhelmed, he fled to his room. But the image of her long legs and soft curves refused to leave his mind.
After that, he would sneak into the study during the day to stare at the painting, and at night he would lie in bed lost in thought—imagining her soft voice whispering his name, or the two of them dancing hand in hand. No matter how long he dreamed, it was never enough. Each morning, he would find himself running back to that study.
Eventually, he begged his father.
“Father, does the woman in that painting truly exist?”
The Duke nodded, and Leopold’s voice trembled with excitement.
“Where does she live? Could I meet her just once?”
The famously cold Grand Duke burst out laughing.
“That painting is over a hundred and fifty years old, boy. If you want to meet her, you’d best start digging through graveyards. Shall I tell you where she’s buried?”
Leopold sighed in disappointment, and his father gave him a strange, knowing smile.
Like the wild trees of the Ronail forest, his son had grown freely, without direction. The Duke decided it was time to turn him into a man.
Naturally, René came to mind.
Her reply arrived swiftly—she would be free for two months in summer.
Receiving her letter, the Duke summoned Leopold. It was midday, yet the sky was dark with heavy clouds, and from the open window came the sound of rain pouring down with frightening force.
“Boarding…?” Leopold repeated uncertainly.
The Duke nodded. His dutiful son, who had never once disobeyed him, did the same. The Duke’s eyes swept over him from head to toe.
This foolish boy, he thought. In this heat and humidity, he’s buttoned his shirt to the collar, wearing a vest and even a jacket.
Even the Duke himself wore nothing more than a thin shirt. The sight of his stiff, overly proper son made him sigh.
“René will meet you at the station. You’ll stay at her house for two months and learn what she teaches.”
“Learn… what, exactly?”
“A very special kind of etiquette.”
“But I already know all the rules of etiquette.”
“What you’ve learned are court manners. What you lack are the manners of ordinary life. You’ll soon be living among common people at the academy, but you know nothing about their world. Do you even know how to change your own bed sheets? Or polish your shoes?”
Leopold blushed, lips pressed tightly shut. Clearly, he had plenty to say but dared not speak. The Duke smirked and took a sip of water from a glass on the table.
“The lady who will teach you is very experienced in such matters. Live with her, learn how ordinary people go about their days. That way, when you enter the academy, you won’t make a fool of yourself among your peers.”
“Is all of this really necessary?”
“Leopold.”
The Duke placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and said quietly,
“It’ll be a more enjoyable summer than you expect. You’ll see.”
Leopold could only sigh at his father’s faint, amused smile.
The next morning, when the sweltering heat pounded even the depths of the Ronail forest, Leopold climbed into the carriage—dressed, of course, in his usual perfectly buttoned, overly formal attire.
The Duke watched him from the window, chuckling softly.
His son’s face looked as though he were being sent to the gallows.
He had no idea what awaited him at the end of this journey.
Still smiling faintly, the Duke turned and entered the small bedchamber beside his study. His gaze fell on the painting hanging there—Persephone in the Afternoon. Tilting his head, he whispered to the woman on the canvas.
“What do you think, Liri?”
He traced her face gently with his fingertips.
“Will the curse of Reinharke devour him—or will he overcome it? What will become of the little monster born and raised in Ronail forest?”
The Duke’s smile deepened as the rain continued to fall.
All the way on the train, Leopold’s mind tormented him with one wild imagination after another. As the train neared its destination, his heart began to pound.
When he had first protested his father’s decision, the attendants had persuaded him to pack quietly. They told him stories of others like him—sons of noble families who failed miserably once they had to live on their own.
One young lord had quit university within three months, unable to endure dormitory life. Another, during his first meal at the military academy, had absentmindedly gestured for someone to bring him water. Unfortunately, that “someone” had been a senior cadet—and the humiliation that followed haunted him for the next four years.
“His Grace is right, young master,” one attendant had said.
“You really can’t do anything on your own.”
“But honestly,” another joked, “does someone who’s destined to become the next Emperor need to?”
Leopold had sighed heavily.
“Fine. Then tell me—how do you even change a bed sheet?”
His valet, Mr. Jerome, had only grinned and demonstrated. Leopold succeeded on his third attempt—but still went to his father the night before his departure, begging to be excused. The Duke, of course, had refused.
“Maybe I should just run away and forget the academy altogether,” Leopold muttered.
But he couldn’t.
The Reinharke family, and the imperial line itself, demanded discipline. His future had been decided long ago.
Still… he wanted to run.
What kind of woman was this René?
What if she was a stern, middle-aged matron with a cane, barking orders and scolding him whenever he failed?
What if she struck him across the neck for his mistakes?
Leopold shuddered at the awful image.
As the train slowed, his heart sank. There was no escape now.
Then, glancing out the window, his eyes widened.
Standing on the platform of the country station—dressed in a pale pink dress and holding a white lace parasol—was Persephone in the Afternoon.
“That’s impossible…”
He whispered without realizing it and shot to his feet in disbelief.
The flowers embroidered on her fluttering skirt seemed to smile at him as they swayed in the breeze. Between the soft waves of her brown hair, the woman from the painting lifted her lips into a radiant smile and gazed toward the sky.
Leopold’s heart dropped—and then, with a deep, sudden thud, began to race.
He clutched his chest, breathless, as warmth surged through him.
In that moment, he understood what countless novels had tried to describe.
He had fallen in love.
And that this summer would turn his entire life upside down.
