FWTR Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Estelle quickly calmed her surprise at the sudden summons.

‘I don’t know what it’s about, but this might be a good opportunity. I should tell him about breaking off the engagement.’

It was better to inform him directly than to let him hear about it later and face him a second time.

This would be the first time meeting the Duke of Winchester since her return to life.
The last time she had been to his office or even crossed paths with him in the hallways was when he had worried about Melody’s pregnancy. It had been a long time.

Now that there was nothing left unseen, she felt a slight nervous tremor.

“My lady, don’t worry. It seems the Duke wishes to discuss matters regarding your coming-of-age ceremony,” the butler said kindly, attempting to console her.

He must have thought Estelle was frightened by the Duke’s summons.

“Let’s go to the study.”

Not bothering to correct his misunderstanding, Estelle didn’t deny it.

“Woof!”

As she turned her head, a dog with golden fur came bounding over, wagging its tail enthusiastically and flopping down at her feet.

“Oh, it seems Master Lucas has returned home and was out walking the dog,” the butler explained.

Before he could finish, the dog’s owner hurriedly appeared, his steps rushed.

“Riri! You can’t just run off on your own.”

“Woof! Woof!”

It was Lucas Winchester, the second son of the Duke of Winchester and a genius who had become a fencing professor at Rueette Academy at a young age.

He was a kind man, popular with his students, but he had always been cold toward Estelle.

When Estelle had died, Lucas hadn’t shown the slightest reaction.
Perhaps he had even wished fervently for her death.

“Because of you, Mom died! It should’ve been you, not her! If it weren’t for you, Mom wouldn’t have died!”

Those were the words he had often hurled at her.

“Butler, why are you here with her?”

“The Duke has summoned Lady Estelle.”

“Father? About what?”

Lucas stood the dog upright and asked the butler, ignoring Estelle’s presence entirely, as he always did.

Facing Lucas now, Estelle wondered for a moment if she had really returned to life.

“It’s unpleasant, so could you stop pretending I don’t exist?”

Her calm remark was met with a heavy silence.
Both the butler and Lucas seemed visibly taken aback.

“What did you just say?” Lucas broke the silence, frowning as he glared at her.

“I said I’d prefer if you just left.”

Lucas hated being called “brother” by Estelle.

‘Why did I even try so hard?’

But back then, Estelle had made a point to always call him “brother.” Without that term, they would feel no different from strangers.

At one time, she had hoped that by doing so, she might at least be recognized as family.

‘It was all useless.’

Lucas, who had merely waited for the funeral to end, had mourned for half a year when that dog died.

To him, Estelle was less than the dog—nothing more, nothing less.

“Did you eat something bad?” Lucas snapped.

“You never call my name, either,” Estelle replied evenly, meeting his gaze. She didn’t even feel it was worth expending emotions on him.

“Are you insane?” he said, his pink eyes filled with disbelief as he bit his lips furiously.

“P-please, calm down, both of you…” The butler, sensing the tense atmosphere, broke out into a cold sweat as he tried to mediate.

“Lucas. You’re the one who hated being called ‘brother.’ You’re the one who hated having me as your sister.”

“…What?”

“Don’t forget that.”

As Estelle passed him, she whispered the words. It felt satisfying to clearly lay out who had brought things to this point. She even thought she should have done it sooner.

“I’ll head inside first, young master,” the butler said nervously, trailing after her.

“…Is that really Estelle?”

“Whine…”

Even after she had disappeared from view, Lucas stood frozen in place for quite some time.

***

Arriving at the Duke of Winchester’s Study

Estelle paused to steady her breath as she reached the Duke’s study.
When her face settled into calm composure, she gave a small nod, and the butler knocked twice on her behalf.

“Lady Estelle has arrived,” he announced.

“…Let her in,” came the curt reply from inside.

As the door opened, the study looked exactly as it had the last time she had visited.
The painting of Rahelrn was still there, Lucas’s knighthood certificate was framed on the wall, and Melody’s portrait sat on the desk.

But as always, there was no brooch among the decorations—the one she had gifted him long ago. No doubt he had thrown it away as soon as he received it.

Just as he had sent her away at birth to her late mother’s family, the Count of Madel.

The Count, weakened by the death of his daughter, had no strength to care for Estelle and left her in the hands of his second wife.

While the Count’s wife would smile kindly in front of others, she secretly abused Estelle—locking her in the attic or feeding her bread so hard it was barely edible.

The narrow, dark attic was always as cold as winter, and it was the reason Estelle came to despise the season.

Winter, like the attic, was where she was confined even when she had done nothing wrong.

As a child, she had convinced herself she hadn’t been abandoned and had waited for the Duke of Winchester.

Every time she was locked in the attic, she clung to the belief that her father would come to rescue her.

When she was eight years old, the Duke finally came, spurred by the Count of Madel, who had learned of the abuse.

The Duke’s frosty expression was her first impression of him, but he had taken her away.

“I heard Lady Estelle has returned from the Count of Madel’s estate?”

“Word is spreading among the servants about the abuse she suffered at the hands of the Count’s wife. It seems they urged the Duke to bring her to the manor.”

It didn’t take long for Estelle to realize that he had come only because he had no other choice.

To gain his approval, she tried her hardest in everything. Etiquette, history, culture—she wouldn’t go to bed until she had mastered them all.

“Ah, say it again, little Melody.”

“Did you just call me ‘Daddy’? Say it one more time, please.”

But what she heard was the joyful tone of his voice when Melody called him “Daddy.”
When Estelle addressed him, his face would twist with disgust.

“Every moment, you were cruel only to me.”

Not even her imagination could comfort her with the excuse that he was simply not a warm man.

“You called for me, Your Grace,” Estelle said, her tone calm and even.

The quill in the Duke of Winchester’s hand, which had been scratching across the paper, slowed down.

“…At this coming debutante ball, I intend to formally announce your engagement to His Highness, Prince Leonov. Make sure there are no mishaps,” he stated, his tone dry as he continued reading through documents.

As expected, the reason the Duke had summoned Estelle was purely administrative. He had no interest in how the preparations for the ball were going or whether she faced any difficulties.

“I have already met with His Highness,” she replied.

“There’s no need to report every little thing. You may leave now,” the Duke said dismissively, giving a half-hearted nod.

“I’ve asked His Highness to call off the engagement.”

“You asked to call off the engagement?”

“Yes. I spoke to him first about it.”

Only then did the Duke lift his head to look at her directly. He appeared healthier and more vigorous than the last time Estelle had seen him, though that was likely because she had returned to the past.

“Estelle Winchester.”

The narrowing of his eyes signaled just how angry he was. Estelle’s body instinctively remembered the meaning of that expression, and her gaze dropped slightly.

“You decided on such a critical matter without consulting me and had the audacity to inform me afterward? At first light, you will go to His Highness and apologize!”

Even now, he didn’t ask whether Leonov had done anything to her or show any concern for her reasoning. He didn’t even inquire why she had made such a decision.

It was clear proof of his utter indifference.

“No.”

Had he needed a second confirmation? Estelle had expected nothing, yet the bitter taste of disappointment crept in regardless.

Bang!

The Duke slammed his desk, the deafening noise reverberating through the room. Estelle suppressed the fear that threatened to rise, meeting his gaze head-on.

It was the first time.

The first time she had truly held the Duke’s gaze.

His eyes, filled with anger and laced with disdain, no longer frightened her.

“Do you have any idea what your engagement to the crown prince means? Have you lost your mind?!”

The sight of his disappointed face no longer unnerved her.

“Your Grace, your priorities are misplaced.”

“…What?”

“Instead of scolding me for not consulting you, shouldn’t your first concern have been whether His Highness had done something to me?”

The tension in his furrowed brows gradually eased.

“…That’s what a father is supposed to do.”

Estelle murmured quietly as she turned and left the study.
Her words, like always, would never reach the Duke.

—

As she massaged her stiff neck and ascended the stairs to her room, Anna hurried to catch up to her.

“Ah, my lady. You’ve returned…?”

Seeing her timid, cautious expression only deepened Estelle’s exhaustion.

“I don’t need any assistance, so you can leave,” she said.

“While you were out, an invitation arrived for you, my lady.”

Anna handed her an envelope bearing the white dove insignia of the Marquisate of Aslan.

“…The Aslan Marquisate?”

Estelle frowned, puzzled by the unexpected invitation from a house with which she had no prior connections.

“Why would the Aslan Marquisate send me this…?”

—

‘The Invitation
Hello, Lady Estelle Winchester.
I am Olivia Aslan, the eldest daughter of the Marquisate of Aslan.
I hope my sudden greeting has not startled you.

On the night of the full moon, the Marquisate of Aslan will host a masquerade ball.
You are welcome to wear a mask of your choosing, and we have prepared an enjoyable event for you to attend at your leisure.

Would it be all right to ask for your presence?
I should also mention that a guest awaits you at the Aslan estate.

We look forward to meeting you, along with our guest.’

—

Estelle considered the reason behind the invitation and recalled the Imperial Knights who had trained on the Winchester estate.
The Knight Commander at the time was none other than the Marquis of Aslan.

Michael had watched the bloodshed beside him, his gaze indifferent and detached.

“Could the guest waiting for me be Michael?”

Suspicion crept into her thoughts as she wondered if the sudden invitation was related to him.

When she held the parchment closer, a faint citrus scent lingered on it.

Secret messages were sometimes exchanged by soaking them in lemon juice before writing.
It made her wonder if this letter, too, held hidden words.

As Estelle held the invitation near a candle flame, a faint brown line of text emerged at the bottom.

“With all the longing in my heart, Michael.”