Chapter 35 – Vivian
Inside the train to Ascalitz.
The train, exhaling white smoke, was speeding along the tracks.
Leaning against the window in his private compartment, Michael thought about Estelle, whom he had just seen. Their eyes had definitely met, and they had acknowledged each other. She still had the habit of forming her lips into a round shape whenever she was surprised.
He had wanted to approach her, amazed by the unexpected encounter.
That was until he saw the man standing beside her.
The man had naturally placed his hand on Estelle’s shoulder and even called her by name.
‘He was wearing a sword, so he must be a knight guarding her. But is it normal for a knight to casually touch the lady he serves?’
Although carrying a suitcase, the man was unmistakably dressed as a noble.
‘Is she planning to escape with that knight on this train heading south?’
Estelle wasn’t the type to act on impulse, especially when she knew the risks. Besides, there wasn’t a knight she was close enough with to run away like that.
‘No… It’s not like I know everything about Estelle. Since her engagement with the crown prince was broken… does she hate the idea of marrying me that much?’
She had insisted she wouldn’t cause any trouble, that she would live quietly, and that even if he had children with another woman, she wouldn’t interfere.
For a wife to say that to her husband-to-be—it meant she had no interest in him at all.
Love.
He didn’t dare to wish for it, yet the thought alone made his heart ache.
She looked even thinner and more unwell than when he had last seen her at the Aslan Marquisate. He wanted to ask if she was all right.
This time, he had promised himself he wouldn’t make her miserable and had even agreed to divorce her first. But seeing Estelle with another man still soured his mood.
This petty feeling was jealousy. It wasn’t new to him.
‘Now, of all times… It’s nothing new. It’s happened before.’
Whenever she met Leonov, when her engagement was finalized, and when she was preparing for her wedding, it had always been the same.
Even when he deliberately let her go, trying to rid himself of the urge to chase after her, his heart always burned with pain. If he could, he would tear it out.
“What are you thinking about? You don’t look well. Are you feeling sick?”
Olivia, sitting across from him, tapped on the window and asked with concern.
The slight vibration pulled Michael out of his turmoil of thoughts.
When she reached out to touch his forehead, he avoided her hand.
“Did I startle you? I was just checking if you had a fever.”
“…You know I don’t like being touched.”
“Yes, I know. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
Olivia retracted her hand awkwardly.
“El, if you’re feeling unwell, let me know. We can stop and rest if we need to.”
For just a moment, Olivia looked like Estelle.
El.
The only person who had ever called him that was her.
It was a kind of affection he would never receive again.
He had no intention of letting someone else fill the void.
“El?”
“Anyway, don’t call me that. It’s disgusting.”
Irritated, his words came out harsher than intended.
“You told me not to call you ‘Your Highness’ in public to keep your identity hidden. But you didn’t have to say it was disgusting.”
Olivia pursed her lips in a sulky manner.
‘How annoying.’
She seemed genuinely hurt, but he didn’t have the energy to comfort her with kindness—not even Olivia, whom he thought of as a younger sister.
“Sigh… Fine. Just use my name. We’re heading south anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
“…All right, Michael.”
From the way she made a point of calling him ‘Michael’ instead of ‘El’, it was clear she was upset.
He was too exhausted to placate her.
The empress ordering his marriage to Estelle was already giving him a headache—how could he afford to leisurely travel south like this?
Michael had only agreed to this trip because Marquis Aslan had insisted on retrieving something from his sister, who lived in the south.
To be honest, Michael had no acquaintance with the marquis’s sister, and the journey felt like an unnecessary hassle.
But the marquis had been so persistent, worrying about his daughter, that Michael had reluctantly agreed to go with her.
‘If he’s that worried, he should go himself or send his knights.’
Thinking of knights brought back the image of the man standing next to Estelle, messing up his thoughts again.
‘He looked oddly familiar.’
The way he carelessly placed his hand on Estelle made Michael uneasy. The man seemed insolent and improper, which only added to his unease.
“…Have I seen him somewhere before?”
His face wasn’t common, so it felt strangely familiar.
“Who are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing, just talking to myself.”
Michael initially tried to change the subject but then reconsidered. Since Olivia was well-connected in social circles, there was a high chance she might recognize the man.
“A young man with platinum blond hair and pink eyes.”
“Hmm? There are only two people with pink eyes. And if he’s a man with platinum blond hair… isn’t he the second son of the Duke of Winchester?”
“…Ah.”
Why hadn’t he recognized him immediately?
As soon as he realized that the man was Estelle’s younger brother, the suffocating frustration in his chest dissipated.
“Yes, that’s right. It was Lucas Winchester.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
A sudden question arose in Michael’s mind—why were the two of them together?
Estelle and Lucas didn’t get along. In fact, it was closer to Lucas outright rejecting Estelle. So, it was strange to see them together now.
‘Well… I guess I don’t need to worry.’
Lucas Winchester had been utterly devastated by Estelle’s death.
During the trial, when all the truths were exposed, he had even rushed at Melody with his sword drawn.
Wanting to deepen his guilt further, Michael had shown him Estelle’s diary. In it, she had written about how she longed to be close to Lucas despite his cold words and how she felt sorry for taking their mother away from him.
Upon reading those lines, Lucas had collapsed to the floor, clawing at it and sobbing uncontrollably.
‘So, he did care about Estelle after all.’
At the very least, Michael felt reassured that Lucas wouldn’t harm her.
“Did you see Lucas Winchester earlier?”
“Yeah.”
“Then he must be on this train. Now that I think about it, his maternal family, the Count of Madel, is in the south.”
At Olivia’s words, Michael suddenly bit his lip in concern for Estelle.
When she had heard of Count Madel’s death, she had been so shocked that she fainted.
Since it wasn’t an accident, his death would proceed as expected.
‘She’ll suffer again this time.’
However, there was still time before Count Madel’s death. So why was Estelle heading south already?
She had once lamented not seeing him one last time before he passed.
‘Something has changed. Estelle didn’t go south before Count Madel died.’
Of course, her broken engagement with Leonov was different this time, but he had assumed that was solely due to his own interference.
Now, she was taking actions that differed from what he remembered.
‘She said she heard the cry of a newborn.’
Could it be that her memories were returning?
‘This is getting complicated. There’s nothing good to be gained from remembering that horrible past.’
…A newborn.
Michael had heard about it from Estelle but had deliberately buried it in his mind. If he let his guard down, it would surface, so he had tried not to think about it.
No matter how much he tried to erase it, he could never truly forget. He could only pretend to.
A memory like a lump in his heart, an eternal presence.
‘Our first child, mine and Estelle’s.’
His father, the emperor, was merely the cause of his mother’s suicide.
Michael had never longed for a father who, out of deference to the empress, neither called for him nor sought him out.
That was why, in his second and third lives, he had deliberately let events unfold that led to the emperor losing his authority, all to avoid marrying Estelle.
A ruthless father and a rebellious son—it was an oddly twisted relationship.
But if there was one thing he never wanted, it was to pass that same misfortune onto his child.
The doctor had said that the stillborn baby had been a girl who resembled Estelle.
Since Michael had received the title of Grand Duke of Amillénon upon marrying Estelle, the child would have been named ‘Vivian Valderman Amillénon’.
Vivian—her name was meant to symbolize the shimmering ripples on a lake, wishing for her to be surrounded only by gentle love.
‘But I will never meet her.’
If she had looked like Estelle, then perhaps she had clear, water-blue eyes.
He imagined the child’s appearance as he pleased, despite never having seen her. What kind of personality would she have had? What kind of life would she have lived?
He knew all too well that his own character was far from ideal. He hoped she wouldn’t take after him.
He imagined carrying Vivian on his shoulders while holding Estelle’s hand, walking together.
In that utterly false, impossible vision, Vivian was a truly lovely child.
‘Ridiculous. To think about a child I never even met…’
In his imagination, she filled the space with bright, innocent laughter, making Estelle smile.
Even Michael, who had long forgotten how to smile comfortably, felt something shift within him.
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