089. Warning (1)

A chill winter wind, sharp as blades of ice, swept through the room. The frost-laden air danced across Bella, tousling Owen’s hair as it invaded the space. The open window let snowflakes drift in, slickening the floor and draining the warmth from the room. Even the enchantments meant to maintain a cozy temperature faltered against the biting cold.

“You must have thought you knew ‘The Flower of the Empire’ better than anyone else, didn’t you?” Bella’s voice was light, almost teasing.

“…And are you claiming you didn’t?” Owen shot back, his tone clipped.

“I did. I read the novel ten times over,” Bella said with a casual laugh, stepping closer until she stood directly before him. “But you? You must have read it more than I did, right? You, with your desperate gaze fixed on Lucia, must have practically memorized it.”

“….” Owen offered no reply. It was true, but admitting it aloud served no purpose. Bella already knew the truth.

“But I bet not once, during all your readings, did you pay attention to Bella’s story. Even Owen’s tale—what you remember of it is probably only because of Lucia.”

“What’s your point?” His tone sharpened.

“There isn’t one, really. It just works out for me. Thanks to that, even a simple little trick like this caught you off guard,” Bella said, her voice dripping with mockery.

“….” Owen clenched his jaw, unable to deny her claim. Everything she said was true.

“With the heavy snowfall, you won’t be able to return quickly. Missing your engagement would be even better, but knowing you, you’ll find some desperate way to make it.”

“Don’t act like you know me,” Owen growled, his teeth gritted in frustration.

“How could I not know you?” Bella retorted with a light laugh. “Owen, I know you as well as you know Lucia.”

Her words were whispered close to his ear, her voice brimming with confidence. Straightening her posture, Bella’s gaze gleamed with certainty.

“You said it yourself—you’re Owen now. And I believe it.”

Anger simmered beneath Owen’s expression, but he couldn’t deny her statement. As much as he hated to admit it, he ‘was’ Owen. His thought patterns, his behavior, even his instincts—it all mirrored Owen’s inescapably.

And most importantly….

“Owen would do anything for the one he loves. That’s the kind of person you are. I know it.”

Both Owen and the man he had become shared the same kind of love—deep, unyielding, and unwavering. Perhaps this love had always been inherent, but being in this world, ‘being’ Owen, had amplified it. Or maybe, this was the first time he had truly experienced such love, and he simply couldn’t express it any other way.

“Even if you’re stranded by the snow for a week, I don’t mind. That’s all the time I’ll need,” Bella said with a smirk.

“You…” Owen’s voice tightened with fury.

“Staring daggers at me won’t change anything. No matter what expression you make, I’ll still enjoy looking at you,” she said, her tone mocking and unbothered.

Owen shot her an incredulous glare, but she continued unfazed, smiling as if taunting him further.

“While you’re stuck here, why don’t you think about what’s happening in the capital? Doesn’t it intrigue you, just a little?”

* * *

The day after Owen departed for the north, Lucia received a letter from the son of Marquis Celid.

[To Lady Lucia Edelte,

I have a humble request to make of you.

An upcoming soirée will soon be held at the Celid estate…]

As if to freeze everything in its path, the winter wind lashed against the room, swirling around Bella and tousling Owen’s hair. Snowflakes swept through the wide-open window, creating a slick layer on the floor. The temperature, once warmed by enchantments, dropped to an icy chill.

“You must have thought you knew ‘The Flower of the Empire’ better than anyone,” Bella said, her voice tinged with mockery.

“Can you say otherwise?” Owen shot back, his tone sharp.

“I did, actually,” she replied with a faint chuckle. “I’ve read the novel ten times.”

With deliberate steps, Bella closed the distance between them until she stood directly in front of him.

“But you? You probably read it even more than I did, didn’t you? Considering how desperately you longed for Lucia.”

Owen didn’t respond. The truth of her words left nothing to deny, and he saw no need to confirm what she already knew.

“But, I’d bet you never focused on Bella’s story—not even once. And as for Owen’s tale, you probably only remember the parts tied to Lucia.”

“What does that matter?” he asked, his voice low and even.

“It doesn’t. Not for me, anyway. Thanks to that, even a simple scheme like this was enough to trip you up.”

Owen fell silent. Bella’s accusation, no matter how bitter, held no lies.

“With this snowfall, you won’t be able to return anytime soon. Missing your engagement would be delightful, but I imagine you’d find a way to overcome even that,” Bella said, her words dripping with amusement.

“Don’t act like you know me,” Owen growled, his teeth clenched in frustration.

“How could I not know you?” Bella countered, laughing lightly. “Owen, I know you as well as you know Lucia.”

She leaned closer, her words a quiet whisper laced with certainty. Straightening, Bella’s gaze gleamed as though she had already won.

“You said it yourself—you’re Owen now. And I’ve come to believe it too.”

Though anger simmered within him, Owen didn’t refute her. He couldn’t. As much as he despised it, he ‘was’ Owen, his thoughts and actions inextricably shaped by the man he had become.

And most damningly of all…

“Owen would do anything for the one he loves. That’s the kind of person he is. And you’re no different.”

Her words struck a nerve, not because they were false, but because they echoed a truth Owen couldn’t deny. He and the man he had become shared a love that was profound, consuming, and without restraint. A love that had been ingrained in his very essence.

“Even if the snowfall traps you for just a week, that’s all the time I need.”

“You—” Owen’s voice cracked with restrained fury.

“Glare at me all you want; it changes nothing. No matter what expression you make, I still find it captivating,” Bella said with a teasing smile, as if daring him to lash out.

Though irritation clouded his expression, Owen kept his composure. Her taunts and laughter, as maddening as they were, failed to draw the reaction she sought.

“While you’re stuck here, why don’t you think about what’s happening in the capital?” Bella leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Doesn’t it make you curious?”

The day after Owen departed for the north, Lucia received a letter from Edward Celid, the son of Marquis Celid.

[To Lady Lucia Edelte,

I have a small favor to ask.

An upcoming soirée will soon be held at the Celid estate. I sincerely hope you will attend.

I don’t believe this request should be difficult, but if it is, I am willing to provide a little help.

However, I hope that help won’t be necessary.

Edward Celid.]

The letter was brief, containing only the essentials. Lucia dismissed it immediately. She had no reason to care about a letter from her former fiancé, especially one she’d parted with on unpleasant terms. Moreover, with her engagement to Owen approaching next month, there was nothing to gain by indulging Edward’s whims.

Thus, she ignored the letter without a second thought.

“Where is Marie?” she asked later that day.

“She said she couldn’t come. She collapsed earlier,” one of the maids explained hesitantly. “It seems her lunch contained nuts, but Marie has a severe nut allergy, so…”

Lucia’s expression darkened. At Edelte Manor, the staff were required to undergo thorough allergy testing as part of their employment. This precaution was standard among noble households to prevent such accidents.

An oversight like this was virtually unheard of—possible, but exceedingly rare.

Then, the words from Edward’s letter echoed in her mind:

[I hope the help won’t be necessary.]

Suspicion rooted itself deeply in her thoughts. She sent a letter to Edward, demanding an explanation.

The reply came quickly.

[To Lady Lucia,

You are correct in your assumptions.

I trust my gift has aided in your decision-making.

I hope you will honor the Celid estate’s soirée with your presence. I have something important to discuss.

Edward Celid.]

The lack of remorse in his words was infuriating. He admitted to orchestrating the incident with Marie, yet expressed no guilt, as if the ends justified the means. It was as though he lived only to see his plans unfold as desired.

Lucia’s hand trembled as she read the letter.

“How dare he touch my people?” she seethed, her voice low but brimming with fury.

Marie and Owen—those were the only two people she truly considered her own. For Edward to harm one of them was unforgivable.

[You’ve harmed one of mine, so you’d best be ready to lose something in return. I always repay in kind.]

She sent her reply with cutting finality. Edward’s response came just as quickly, as though her warning had been expected.

[I’m afraid I have nothing to lose. I form no attachments, so there is no one I would call my own. In that sense, Lady Lucia, you and I are very different. You, after all, have people you hold dear.]

Below this chilling observation, Edward included his terms.

[Attend the soirée. If you do, your precious maid will remain unharmed. You have my word.]

It was a transparent ploy, a trap set to ensnare her. Yet Lucia had no choice but to comply.

[Since you insist, I shall grace your soirée with my presence. But be warned—if this turns out to be nothing more than a trivial ploy, you’d best be prepared for the consequences.]

No matter how noble her position, Marie’s life was precariously balanced. Lucia couldn’t rely on the Edelte family to act on behalf of a common maid. Protecting Marie fell solely to her.

Lucia also knew Edward would escalate if left unchecked. Marie’s allergy had been exploited; there was no guarantee worse wouldn’t follow. For the safety of her people, Lucia resolved to confront Edward and end his schemes once and for all.

 

 

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