Episode 20
Helen wiped away the tears that had dampened her cheeks and woke from her sleep. She hadn't been dreaming, yet tears had flowed. They say people don't cry when they're truly in pain; seeing that tears were coming out, it seemed she had almost recovered.
Seeing that her surroundings were pitch black, it was still night. Whether it was a night nearing midnight or one approaching dawn she couldn't tell, but judging by the darkness outside the window, it was definitely night.
"When did I return to the mansion?"
She had definitely been on a bench. If anyone had seen her walking to the mansion while asleep, they would have said they saw a ghost. Therefore, it was more plausible that someone from Count Platini's household, having noticed Helen had disappeared, had come out to find her.
Moreover, she had taken off her outerwear, its buttons fastened meticulously, and was lying neatly on the bed—something nigh impossible without another's help.
"Whoever it was, I'm grateful."
Thanks to them, she hadn't frozen to death, so she thought she ought to find out who had helped her and convey her gratitude. And just then, a familiar voice drew near Helen's ear.
"Then I shall consider the debt from Hexeloff repaid."
Helen was so startled—so breathlessly startled—that she couldn't even scream.
Why was Carlisle here? This was the Platini mansion. It wasn't a place he could come to in the middle of the night. Or could it be...!
Helen covered her mouth with her hand and grasped the situation. The reason she had thought this place was the Platini mansion even after waking was because this place was all too familiar to Helen.
The Everett ducal residence. It was Carlisle's mansion.
There was no need to wonder when or how. The not-unfamiliar figure she had seen while dozing off on the bench must have been Carlisle. At the thought of him lifting her in his arms and bringing her all the way here to the Everett estate, Helen's cheeks burned red.
Before she could fan her cheeks with her hands to cool their heat, Carlisle walked over to the bed. The place he had been sitting was in front of a bookshelf quite far from the bed, and since it was far from the window, it was pitch-dark.
Therefore, Carlisle's figure, walking forward step by step, began to come into view from the bottom up. His appearance was the same as when she had seen him at the Imperial Palace where a party was held in his honor, and at Hexeloff, which he had inevitably visited for the magical beast subjugation.
As Helen focused her gaze on him without a word, Carlisle was the first to open his mouth.
"No answer, I see. Is this insufficient to repay what happened at Hexeloff?"
He was speaking of providing her a place to sleep for the night. It couldn't possibly be insufficient. They had saved each other's lives. No, if anything, she was the one who had received far more than enough. Because she had seen him again when she had thought they would never meet until death, and because she knew he was still alive.
"No. It's enough."
"I'm glad. I truly wished to repay that matter."
Carlisle sat on the wooden chair placed beside the bed. Helen saw a chair that had no reason to be beside the bed and realized he had been tending to her all this time.
Before she could get out words of sincere thanks, or that she rather felt she should repay this kindness, Carlisle placed his palm against Helen's forehead. Helen started, withdrawing her upper body backward.
"The fever has gone down."
"...Has it?"
Could it be true that she had no fever? Helen felt as though her face was blazing. She placed her palm on her forehead, where the sensation of Carlisle's hand remained intact. Just as he said, there was no fever; only a suitable warmth that felt merely lukewarm was conveyed to her palm.
She wanted to add even a meaningless remark, but an ordinary woman's words—not Violet's—didn't seem like they would interest this man. So she lowered her hand and gripped the edge of the blanket tightly. As if to crush even the smallest greed toward Carlisle.
But Carlisle spoke again, and the finely shattered bits of greed gathered back together. They couldn't be stopped by gripping the blanket or by wounding the tender skin of her palms.
"But why did you do it?"
Helen knew what Carlisle was asking. But she didn't answer immediately and waited until he asked in more detail. If she brought up that topic, she would end up mentioning Violet.
"The season may be nearing its end, but it is still winter. Moreover, you should know well how cold a winter night is."
"I know."
"You knew, yet you fell asleep on the bench?"
Helen nodded. She intended to conserve her words as much as possible. But Carlisle was quite persistent, and his tone was as if he were angry at her actions.
"You could have died. Are the count's people tormenting you?"
"No. Never."
"Then you must miss Hexeloff."
The cold here and there was different, after all. Carlisle murmured quietly. It seemed he thought that since she had lived in Hexeloff for a long time, she could endure the capital's cold.
"I suppose so. As Your Grace says, I suppose I miss Hexeloff."
"...Is it because the moon there is beautiful?"
"Yes. Because the moon in Hexeloff is beautiful."
That day, the moon they had watched together when Carlisle stayed a night in Hexeloff had been so beautiful. Not as Violet, but as Helen—it was the first moon she had seen with him.
* Sibello
It was, he swore to God, purely by chance that Carlisle encountered Helen, her body tilting as she slowly drifted into sleep.
Again that night, he had dreamed that dream. A vague dream, yet one in which a person appeared who made his heart ache just by seeing them. On the finger of the bride of winter, a blue jewel had sparkled brilliantly.
And even that had lasted only a brief moment.
The bride of winter vomited red blood, the opposite of the blue jewel, and left behind last words for those who would continue living in this world.
"You'll live happily, won't you?"
The dream always stopped here. It ended with a single tear falling as she closed her eyes, telling him to live happily.
Damn it all, he hadn't been able to fulfill her wish. She had been his only happiness in life; he could not be happy in a world without her. Then, and now.
Would he be happy tomorrow?
Waking from the endlessly despairing dream, Carlisle went straight outside the mansion. If he fell asleep again, he would dream once more.
Carlisle hated winter. In the past—that is, when she was alive—he had thought it was a decent enough season. Because it was the only season that unified the colors of the world.
He walked on snowy roads without looking at the snowy roads. He hated seeing the traces inevitably left behind. If they were traces that would someday disappear, it was better not to commit them to memory.
"It's rather warm today."
No matter what anyone said, it was still winter; to call it warm... Carlisle let out a short laugh at his own words.
Still, it was quite warm compared to Hexeloff. Hexeloff—that place was more terrifying than the magical beasts. It was fortunate the magical beast subjugation had concluded successfully; he had nearly been buried alive by a blizzard before even encountering the beasts.
Remembering the knife-like cold cutting through layers of clothing and the times he had pushed forward, digging through snow piled high enough to cover his ankles, a sudden chill came over him.
Suddenly, she came to mind. Not the person he missed even in his dreams, but 'her'.
If it hadn't been for Helen Platini's help... At the terrible premise underlying that thought, Carlisle firmly buttoned up his coat.
He had been walking unhesitatingly toward his set destination when he changed direction—it was the moment the gently blowing wind stopped. He had planned to visit his beloved, but somehow felt he had to turn his steps around.
Returning to the mansion that way, he saw Helen Platini. She was sitting on a bench in front of a fountain that served its role as a work of art, in a posture that looked as though she would collapse any moment.
She muttered alone for quite a while, then slowly closed her eyelids. Falling asleep while seated, it was only natural for her upper body to tilt to the side.
Carlisle widened the stride of his previously slow steps. He tried to catch her body, having lost its center of gravity, before it fell below the bench. But the distance was too great for that.
Carlisle, who had begun to run through the snow with no other choice, saw her lips calling someone's name before she fully closed her eyes.
Lips that were definitely calling 'Carlisle'.
* Sibello
Helen had to return to the Platini mansion before dawn arrived. Inside the Platini mansion, there were people who woke at dawn to prepare for the morning. Running into them was practically the same as revealing to Countess Platini that she had stayed out all night.
Moreover, she didn't want to cause unnecessary misunderstandings at a time when the Emperor had proposed. If it were misunderstandings mixed with scolding directed solely at Helen Platini, she wouldn't mind even a hundred times over, but if Lucas got involved—
Helen drank a cup of warm cocoa and bid Carlisle farewell.
"I should go now."
Carlisle, too, had thought she would leave before dawn, and it seemed for the best. He wanted to let her sleep until the sun rose, but people's eyes prevented it.
"It's still dark, so I shall escort you."
"I'm fine!"
Carlisle thought he knew why Helen refused, waving both hands vigorously.
He had heard the news that the Emperor, Lucas, had proposed to Helen. He wondered what had happened to a man who showed interest in others' marriages yet had none in the imperial wedding of his own nation. Moreover, since what happened to him was directly tied to the empire's stability, he couldn't help but take interest.
Whichever way he looked at it, it was a good thing. As the Emperor's loyal subject, and as an old friend.
Therefore, her insistence on walking alone on a night when even a foul little rat would be asleep—he suspected it was related to the Emperor's proposal.
"But returning alone is dangerous."
"Wasn't there no one around?"
"Right now, having no one with you, my lady, is the most dangerous thing. If you fall asleep again, there will be no one to save you."
"I can't say for certain, but I won't. Because right now, I don't feel like dying."
Helen answered while putting on her outerwear. There was a hint of playfulness in her tone, but the fact that she didn't want to die right now was sincere.
Helen, having put on gloves as well, waited for Carlisle, who blocked her path, to step aside. She could simply pass by his side, but it seemed like it would look rude.
"Um... Your Grace?"
Helen opened her eyes wide and looked up at Carlisle. He was quite tall, well above the average height for men, so she had to raise her head quite high to see him.
Only when the back of her neck began to feel taut did she realize Carlisle was gazing into her eyes.
With a face somehow steeped in sorrow.