Chapter 45
Thread Telephone (1)
Her mind felt hazy.
Her body felt weightless, as if she were floating in lukewarm water.
In the fog of semi-consciousness, Aria’s awareness slowly returned.
She twitched a finger.
And then—
A crushing headache struck, as if someone had slammed the back of her skull.
“Ah…”
A weak groan escaped her lips.
As dull sensations sharpened into full awareness, her entire body ached as though she had been beaten.
Her breath was hot when she exhaled.
She was definitely not in normal condition.
With great effort, she reached for the bedside bell cord and gave it a tug. By the time she made it back onto the bed, she was practically crawling.
The door opened soon after.
A maid entered, and upon seeing Aria, her eyes widened in shock.
“Oh my goodness! Miss Hilton, what happened to you?”
“…What?”
“What’s with the bandages on your neck? And—more importantly—your fever is terrible!”
Bandages?
Aria lifted a hand and touched her throat.
Instead of skin, her fingers brushed against coarse fabric.
Startled, she tried to sit up—only for the world to spin violently around her.
She reached out weakly.
“Wait… a mirror…”
The maid quickly handed her a small hand mirror.
Aria took it, and what she saw made her grimace.
Her flushed face was damp with sweat, strands of blonde hair sticking to her skin. Her lips were pale.
She looked sick.
But the most jarring part was the stark white bandage wrapped around her throat.
At least… there was no visible blood.
Frowning, she traced the bandages with her fingers.
No wonder my neck felt strange when I woke up…
When did this happen?
Like flipping through the shelves of a library, she slowly sorted through her memories.
She had hyperventilated.
Lost control.
Clawed at her own throat.
Then…
Bonita’s voice had calmed her down.
They had talked through the door.
That was the last thing she remembered.
“Cough, cough.”
Her throat was dry, her body sluggish. It seemed she had collapsed at some point from exhaustion or fever.
And then—
A voice.
“Damn it. How badly did she scratch herself?”
Aria’s eyes narrowed.
…Was that real? Or a dream?
Something had happened while she was unconscious.
If it had just been a dream, she wouldn’t have woken up bandaged.
Luke was here…
She didn’t know why he had come, but it was clear he had treated her wounds.
Her hands, which had been caked in blood the night before, were now completely clean.
Though… judging by the stained sheets, he hadn’t thought to replace those.
“I must have had a nosebleed while sleeping,” Aria murmured casually, preempting any suspicion.
She lifted the soiled blanket.
“I think the sheets need to be changed.”
“Oh! I’ll bring fresh ones right away,” the maid responded.
Fortunately, the stains weren’t too excessive, so the maid believed her explanation without question.
“I’ll also let His Grace and the young lady know that you won’t be joining them for breakfast today.”
“Thank you.”
At Aria’s gratitude, the young maid beamed.
Before leaving, she turned back, still worried.
“I’ll be back soon, so please stay in bed!”
“I will.”
Even after hearing Aria’s agreement, the maid still looked hesitant.
But she had a job to do.
With one last glance, she exited the room.
****
“…So, we’ll have to eat without Miss Hilton today.”
Hearing Luke’s explanation, Bonita’s eyebrows drooped.
Disappointment and worry were written all over her face.
Luke sighed inwardly.
At least that’s a relief.
He felt guilty for Bonita, but he was honestly glad he didn’t have to face Aria today.
If he saw her now, he wasn’t sure he could suppress the urge to wring her neck.
Last night was already too close.
Aria Hilton.
That wretched woman.
After she had made him think of Elodie, he had spent an eternity pounding his fists against the wall.
And even then, he hadn’t been able to vent his rage.
He had wanted to break something.
But he couldn’t—not in the duchy, not where someone might notice.
And so, the self-loathing had simply festered.
Even after all that, he had still crawled back into her room like a thief in the night.
Cleaning the blood and bits of torn flesh from her hands, dressing the wounds on her throat—
It had been miserable.
At one point, he had even felt the urge to vomit.
Luke shifted his gaze to Bonita.
Her pink hair.
Eyes a slightly deeper shade.
Her soft, gentle features—so much like Elodie’s.
Just looking at her made him hate himself even more.
What the hell had he almost done?
Had Aria even been in her right mind last night?
Or—
Was she playing some twisted game, intentionally mimicking Elodie to toy with him?
The thought was enough to make his stomach churn.
But then—
No. That’s ridiculous.
Elodie had only ever touched his face like that in bed.
During the day, she had been different.
Even when he reached for her playfully, she would simply laugh and push him away.
No matter how close Aria had been to Elodie, she couldn’t have known something that private.
It was an impossible theory.
And yet—
The revulsion boiling inside him was impossible to suppress.
His jaw tightened.
“What are you standing around for, loitering outside the dining hall? The child is hungry—get inside already!”
Catherine’s sharp voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Luke quickly composed himself.
Neither Bonita nor Catherine needed to see the expression he had just been making.
****
Bonita lay sprawled on the floor of the playroom, idly fidgeting with her fingers.
But without Aria, she was bored.
And worried.
The maids were around, but they were too careful with her—too stiff to be proper playmates.
That was when Catherine appeared.
“Madam? Did you come to see the young lady?”
“Ahem. I was just passing by, don’t get the wrong idea.”
Her usual prickly demeanor.
Still, Bonita was a little happy to see her and peeked up with a polite greeting.
“Hello, Madam.”
“Tch. We saw each other earlier—what’s the point of greeting me again? No need for that nonsense.”
“…Okay…”
Catherine walked in and sat down on the plush sofa.
Bonita, still seated on the floor, tilted her head up to look at her grandmother.
Blink, blink.
Catherine could feel the wide-eyed stare and internally broke into a cold sweat.
She had come all this way, but…
Now what?
She struggled to remember what she used to do for fun as a child.
…Nothing comes to mind.
After all, her childhood was over sixty years ago.
The only thing she vaguely recalled was cutting up all her dolls with scissors and thinking it was the most entertaining thing in the world.
Luke and Oliver?
Well, they were boys.
They broke plenty of things too.
But Bonita…
Bonita was quiet, timid.
Catherine briefly imagined her granddaughter snipping her dolls into pieces—then quickly dismissed the thought.
“……”
“……”
A somewhat unpleasant silence settled between them.
Bonita considered drawing but didn’t feel like it today.
She hadn’t seen Aria since yesterday morning, and it put her in a gloomy mood.
Her fingers twitched restlessly as she stared at the floor.
Then, Catherine spoke.
“Bonita. Do you like that Hilton girl that much?”
It was a careless question, said without much thought.
But—
It happened to be the right one.
Bonita’s face brightened slightly.
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“You don’t need a reason to like someone. You just do.”
Catherine stared, momentarily speechless.
…Well. She’s not wrong.
Liking or disliking someone rarely came with a logical explanation.
Even if there was one, the feeling itself always came first.
Two people could do the same thing—one would be annoying, the other endearing.
That was just how emotions worked.
But that was the perspective of a child.
Catherine, as an adult, felt a twinge of jealousy.
She crossed her arms and grumbled.
“Hmph. I suppose that girl treats you well?”
“Of course.”
Bonita nodded.
Then, with a small, dejected voice, she mumbled,
“But she’s been sick since yesterday… I’m really worried. She won’t even let me into her room.”
“Young children have weak immunity,” Catherine replied. “You shouldn’t go near sick people.”
“…Immunity? What’s that?”
“It’s the body’s defense against illness.”
Bonita blinked.
“Then… does that mean I can never go into Aria’s room again?”
Her expression crumpled in disappointment.
Catherine panicked at the sight of the teary-eyed child and quickly added,
“W-What nonsense is that? She’s not sick forever. Once she recovers, you can be with her again.”
“…But I want to see her now…”
Bonita trailed off miserably.
Catherine floundered, waving a hand vaguely in the air.
Then—
An idea struck her.
“Ah! Even if you can’t see her, there is a way to talk to her as if she’s right next to you.”
Bonita’s eyes lit up.
“There is?!”
“I’ll teach you something fun. Want to try it?”
Bonita vigorously nodded.
Catherine gestured to one of the waiting maids.
“Go fetch some string and paper cups. Oh, and scissors and glue as well.”
The maid executed the order with impressive speed and efficiency.
Before Bonita could even admire her professionalism, Catherine had already snipped the bottom out of two paper cups.
Bonita looked at them in wonder.
Cups made of paper…? How strange…
Meanwhile, Catherine threaded a string through both cups, securing it tightly.
Then, she handed one to Bonita.
“Stand over there and hold this cup to your ear.”
“Like this?”
Bonita obediently followed instructions, pulling the string taut between them.
She stared at the cup’s opening in confusion.
And then—
Catherine leaned in and spoke into her cup.
[How about now? Can you hear me?]
“!”
Bonita’s eyes went wide.
That’s cuutte