Chapter 11
Maybe it was just my imagination, but my mother’s voice sounded softer than usual.
When I looked up, she was gazing at me with a slightly more relaxed expression.
My heart suddenly started to race.
It felt like a moment when a very difficult-to-tame cat finally makes eye contact with you for the first time. My face heated up. I was so happy I wanted to jump with joy.
But wait—I couldn’t show how excited I was. If I looked too eager, my mother, who was always distant, might step back again.
I forced myself to calm down, erasing any trace of excitement. Instead, I simply smiled and nodded quietly.
“Yes, I’d love to read it.”
During our stay at the inn, I kept discovering new sides of my mother.
She could prepare her wash water, choose her clothes, and even change by herself. Compared to her, I was still clumsy with changing, even in simple travel clothes, so she had to help me.
Of course, I could have called a maid, but my mother seemed to dislike having others around. So, I chose not to call for one either.
Maybe, if I managed to spend this trip without causing her any trouble, she might invite me on more trips in the future.
But seeing her like this was completely unexpected.
I had always thought of her as the perfect example of nobility.
She always sat with her back straight, as if she had a rod of steel in her spine.
Even on chairs with backrests, I had never seen her lean back.
Her expression was always cold and strict. She had never even visited me in her nightclothes—until now.
Had I ever really known my mother at all?
Before I could dwell on this thought, she called to me from outside the door.
“Sorry, but my hands are full. Could you open the door?”
I didn’t even have time to wonder before I rushed over and opened the door.
To my shock, my mother stood there holding a tray of food.
She had brought food? Herself?
As I stood there, stunned, she set the tray down on the small table in the room.
“…I made this myself. It won’t be as good as what the chef prepares, but I hope you enjoy it.”
At this point, I didn’t think I could be surprised anymore.
“You know how to cook?”
Looking a little embarrassed, she replied,
“I learned when I was young. It comes in handy when I travel or go on retreats.
It wasn’t something a noblewoman needed to learn, so I never taught you.”
Indeed, the food was simpler than what the inn would normally serve, even in the countryside.
But it had a warm, homemade taste.
She simply said, “I’m glad you like it,” in her usual tone, but I could tell she was pleased.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I was talking with my mother. Something warm and full started rising inside me.
My heart felt ticklish.
At this moment, I felt like I could say I was happy.
And yet, for some reason, I suddenly felt like crying.
I could have been this happy all along.
A quiet voice seemed to whisper that inside me.
No, thinking like this was arrogant. Maybe it was even selfish.
I pushed the thought aside and kept talking to her, determined to enjoy this moment.
It was a wonderful time.
But I let my guard down.
The problem came the next day in the carriage.
I tried biting my lip and closing my eyes to endure it, but it was useless.
My stomach churned. My body grew cold.
I must have gone completely pale.
The long journey had worn me out.
Just sitting in the carriage shouldn’t have been exhausting, but the constant jolting was too much.
I hadn’t known this before, but when I was weak, I became especially prone to motion sickness.
But if I showed weakness now, she might never want to travel with me again.
I wanted this trip to go perfectly so she would have good memories of it.
So that next time, she would want to travel with me again.
I tried to endure it, but then—she stopped the carriage.
“Let’s take a short break.”
Realizing I had made her worry, I quickly protested.
“I’m not that tired, Mother. I can handle it.”
But she took my hand gently and helped me out of the carriage.
“If something is hard, say so. That’s not being irresponsible.”
I suddenly remembered—
That time when she had cried, saying she wanted to raise me to be responsible, but had instead raised me to endure everything alone.
I realized how she must have seen me at that moment.
I didn’t want to hurt her anymore.
So, I quietly whispered, “Thank you.”
She looked into my eyes with warmth.
“A parent finds joy in taking care of their child. Thank you for giving me that joy, Carmilla.”
Nearby, there was a beautiful forested retreat.
The clouds let beams of light shine through in long streams, making the scene neither too bright nor too dim.
Dry twigs snapped softly under my feet.
The scent of sandalwood filled the air.
The birch forest was silent and calm. The wind rustled the leaves gently, making a soft, dry sound.
It was like the peaceful quiet of an early morning garden.
The rows of pale trees stretched endlessly, making it feel as if we were walking through eternity.
We didn’t need to speak. It was comfortable just like this.
My mother must have felt the same.
The silence was peaceful, like gentle ripples spreading in the air.
Then, as if the forest spirits were playing a trick on us, it suddenly began to rain.
At first, the raindrops fell lightly, but soon they grew heavier, soaking my cheeks and forehead.
It didn’t seem like it would stop soon.
I had never been caught in the rain alone before. Feeling lost, I looked up at the sky.
We had walked too far.
By the time a maid arrived with an umbrella, we would be completely drenched.
“Uh… Mother…”
I turned to her in confusion.
She simply took my hand and led me under a tree.
As we stepped beneath it, the rain poured down outside, but under the tree, it felt strangely quiet.
“I never thought trees could block the rain,” I murmured. “I always assumed the gaps between the leaves would let it through. Ah—!”
Something landed on my shoulder.
I looked over—and froze.
A bug.
A hairy, crawling bug.
And it was climbing toward my face.
“Aaaaaahhh!”
I screamed louder than I thought I could.
I was completely frozen in panic. My mind went blank.
Then, my mother calmly stepped forward—
And grabbed it with her bare hand.
“It’s okay. I got it. Don’t be scared. It’s just a small bug—it can’t hurt you.”
Her gentle voice made my eyes sting with tears.
“How are you so calm? And you used your bare hand…!”
She watched the raindrops fall from the leaves and spoke matter-of-factly.
“I grew up in the countryside. I spent my childhood running through the woods.
That’s why city life never really suited me.”
This was new.
Then, with a slightly somber voice, she added,
“I was never a perfect fit as the Lady of Armen. That’s why I wanted you to grow up to be someone who could fill that role.”
She hesitated, then sighed.
“But now I wonder if that was truly the right path for you.”
Then she ended the conversation.
For the rest of the rainstorm, she remained silent.
And I thought—
Of a young girl running through the forests.
Of my mother—no, of Helena, as a child.
Maybe she never truly liked the city or even her own life.
It was a thought I had never considered before.
But now, it made sense.
Maybe, just like me, she was struggling too.
