133.
After that, the courses began arriving one by one.
It was a lavish meal.
A chilled, sweet aperitif to start, followed by a delicate appetizer of smoked salmon rolled like a flower. Then came a warm soup, a dish of tender white fish pan-seared in butter, and after that, lamb chops, finished off with a refreshing lemon sorbet for dessert.
And throughout the entire meal, Benedict did nothing but observe me, as if waiting for the right moment to speak, yet he didn’t say a word about why he’d invited me.
Unable to bear it any longer, I finally broke the silence.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
Benedict flinched, caught off guard.
But it was only for a moment. His face grew resolute as he finally spoke.
“Not long ago, you asked me why I saved you.”
Oh, no.
I set my cutlery down with a weary expression.
And just as I had anticipated, Benedict uttered the words I expected.
“I agonized over it dozens of times, and I finally understand the reason. I…”
Benedict swallowed hard, then continued.
“I am in love with you.”
What am I supposed to do with that?
The thought sprang to mind as soon as he spoke, but I felt no joy, no delight, not even surprise.
Just indifference.
With an impassive expression, I looked at Benedict and asked,
“So, if the count declares his love for me, am I supposed to receive that sentiment with joy?”
Benedict looked momentarily taken aback.
“No, I only…”
He stammered, attempting to explain himself, but I cut him off.
“Forgive me, but I feel nothing for you, Count. Especially someone who treats people like objects to be controlled as they please—I don’t even see them as human, let alone a potential partner.”
“…My lady.”
“If you’ve said all you need to, then I’ll take my leave.”
And with that final remark, I turned and walked out.
* * *
Since that uncomfortable dinner, Elze kept her distance from Benedict.
Though he approached her a few times after that, each attempt was met with her unwavering boundaries, making it nearly impossible to have a proper conversation.
The mansion was steeped in a tense, precarious atmosphere, as if everyone was walking on thin ice.
‘Why doesn’t Lady Lepherian understand me?’
Benedict grew increasingly anxious.
To claim Elze, he had made the greatest sacrifices of his life.
Using the Schmaikel merchant guild to pressure Kalleid, for one, had cost him the trust of the Duke of Kalleid—a significant business connection he might never regain, no matter how hard he tried.
Yet Elze remained as cold as ever.
[“That’s none of my concern.”]
Facing her unyielding demeanor left Benedict feeling frustrated and agitated.
Ending up with nothing but losses didn’t sit well with him. He had to find a way to improve their relationship somehow.
Then one day, Benedict received some news.
“The Countess of Martin has reached out to the Duke of Kalleid regarding Lady Lepherian.”
“Oh? For what reason?”
“She simply expressed a desire to meet Lady Lepherian. Apparently, she’s concerned about the various events that transpired at the imperial ball.”
“Hmm…”
Benedict’s eyes gleamed with intrigue.
Come to think of it, Lady Martin and Elze shared a rather close bond.
When Elze had escaped from the Marquess of Offenheir in the past, she had sought the Countess’s help without hesitation. Even at the recent ball, the countess had shown her support for Elze.
If that was the case—
‘Perhaps a meeting with the Countess of Martin would lift her spirits…’
With his mind made up, Benedict turned to his aide.
“Bring the countess here.”
A few days later.
An unexpected visitor arrived.
It was none other than Brigitte.
“Brie?!”
I couldn’t hide my surprise, my eyes widening in disbelief.
Brigitte greeted me with a gentle smile.
“How have you been?”
“…”
For a moment, I was at a loss for words.
Every time Brigitte asked after me with that warm concern…
…a bittersweet ache seemed to pierce my heart.
“But more importantly, how did you get here, Brie?”
“Oh, about that.”
Brigitte explained her situation. She had contacted the Duke of Kalleid, wanting to see me, only to be surprised when she learned I wasn’t there. Then Benedict reached out, informing her that I was with him and asking her to cheer me up, as he was worried I seemed a bit down…
‘Could it be that Benedict is actually trying to look out for me?’
A strange feeling stirred within me again.
If he had that much time, he could just… let me go.
At that moment—
“Greetings, Countess Martin!”
A cheerful voice rang out.
From a distance, a beautiful woman with long, flowing silver hair approached us with confident strides.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Marguerite, a friend of the Count of Luneburg.”
“Oh, hello. You must be the lady who attended the imperial ball with the count?”
“Yes, that’s right! I’m so happy you remember me.”
Marguerite beamed.
“The count specifically requested that I make sure to show you a warm welcome, Countess.”
“Oh my, how thoughtful of him.”
The two of them began chatting amicably.
Meanwhile, I felt my shoulders tense.
I remembered that, in the original story, Brigitte was one of Marguerite’s closest friends.
“…”
Almost unconsciously, I reached out and lightly held onto Brigitte’s sleeve.
I knew in my head that my behavior was childish.
But—
‘Brie is my only friend.’
I bit down on my lower lip.
I couldn’t help it, even if it was jealousy.
Brigitte had become…
too precious to me.
“Hmm?”
Noticing my gaze, Brigitte met my eyes with a soft smile.
“What’s the matter, Elze?”
“It’s… nothing.”
Embarrassed, I released my grip on her sleeve.
But Brigitte reached out, taking my hand in hers.
“Are you just happy to see me?”
She chuckled softly, speaking in that warm tone of hers.
“Let’s make sure to see each other often from now on.”
“…”
Her radiant smile dazzled me.
Gazing at that smile, I nodded carefully.
“Yes.”
Brigitte’s smile grew a bit warmer.
And as for us—Marguerite observed us closely.
* * *
Marguerite guided Brigitte and me to the greenhouse.
Outside, winter’s chill winds howled, but inside the greenhouse, it was as warm as spring.
“My, the flowers are so beautiful,” Brigitte said, looking at the blossoms with a soft gaze.
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve tended to these flowers myself.”
“Oh, you did, Lady Marguerite?”
“Yes. Bened—oh, excuse me. The Count of Luneburg assigned this task to me as a way to pass the time. I’m grateful for it.”
Marguerite flashed a sheepish smile, having almost called Benedict by name.
Brigitte’s eyes glinted with interest.
Addressing each other by name was something only close friends did, indicating Marguerite’s level of intimacy with Benedict.
A delicate aroma of tea drifted through the air.
As Marguerite poured the tea herself, she suddenly turned to Brigitte with a casual question.
“By the way, has Joseph grown much?”
“…”
Brigitte’s gaze sharpened, looking at Marguerite warily.
“How do you know about Joseph, Lady Marguerite?”
For a brief moment, Marguerite’s ever-present smile faded.
What kind of expression was that?
Like a child who had been happily playing but was suddenly told by a friend, “You’re not my friend.”
After a pause, Marguerite’s eyes curved into a half-moon smile once more.
“I apologize if I upset you, Countess. The Count of Luneburg mentioned your son to me a few times, so I must have developed a bit of an attachment on my own.”
Brigitte scrutinized Marguerite for a moment before shaking her head.
“No, it’s nothing. I may have been a bit sensitive.”
After all, Brigitte’s story of leaving the Rosenkreuz boarding school was quite well-known. The previous count had abandoned his wife in the boarding school, only to die in an accident alongside his mistress, leaving Brigitte as the acting head of the family on behalf of her young son…
It was a rather striking tale, after all.
“But enough about that. I brought a little treat with me as a gift.”
Perhaps sensing the need to dispel the tension, Brigitte gestured to the maid who had followed her.
The maid placed a small box on the table with a respectful bow.
When Brigitte opened the box, a sweet aroma wafted out.
“Do you remember? It’s cherry pie.”
Brigitte asked me in an excited tone.
