The image of her first, blood-drenched apparition flashed in his mind, and with it, the contrasting memory of her composed beauty once the vision had faded.
He burst into her room without knocking, forgetting all decorum. Inside, he found her sitting as usual, and a startled Laura with wide eyes.
Laura, recovering quickly, scolded him furiously, but her words fell on deaf ears. Francis only had one focus.
“Lady Beatrice,” he began, his voice uncertain.
When her golden eyes met his, he lost all resolve. The question he had rehearsed—the one about whether she had wanted to die—dissolved on his tongue.
“Would you… would you like to go out for tea with me sometime?”
Beatrice tilted her head, and Francis, not quite grasping his own words, stumbled on.
“I mean, just for a cup of tea…”
The clumsy invitation hung in the air. Laura looked at him as though he had grown two heads, her expression both incredulous and furious.
Beatrice, however, remained unfazed.
“Sure. I have plenty of time,” she replied simply.
“What?! My lady, you’re agreeing to ‘that’?” Laura exclaimed, scandalized.
“Was it that strange?” Beatrice asked.
“Strange? It was awful! The worst! My grandfather wouldn’t have used a line that bad when courting my grandmother! It’s the worst I’ve heard in 30 years!”
“Laura, you’re not even thirty yet.”
“I mean it’s the worst I’ll ever hear in my ‘future’ 30 years!”
Francis, rarely one to blush, felt his ears burn as red as embers. Beatrice ignored both his embarrassment and Laura’s outrage, standing from her seat.
“I’ll prepare and meet you in the parlor,” she said, brushing off Laura’s protests.
“Y-Yes, my lady,” Francis stammered, retreating.
As he left, Beatrice let out a soft chuckle. Laura mimicked her, though her amusement was far more annoyed.
Francis, still burning with embarrassment, didn’t realize how closely Beatrice was studying him.
She thought to herself that his “ability” might hold the key to her repeated lives. For now, he was her first tangible clue. She would need to keep him close.
* * *
Beatrice appeared in a simple, light dress, devoid of any waist cinching or intricate lines. It draped straight down from just above her chest, fluttering gently with the breeze.
Though the design resembled sleepwear, the hand-stitched embroidery and carefully placed decorations betrayed the efforts of her maids and designers to elevate it beyond such associations. Draping a delicate, web-like shawl over her shoulders gave her the semblance of being dressed for an outing. Her low-heeled shoes made soft, deliberate sounds with each step.
Beatrice stood beside Francis at the main entrance, waiting in silence while Laura fetched the carriage. Neither spoke, the quiet between them stretching long and heavy.
While their faces remained composed, Francis’s mind raced furiously. The question he had originally wanted to ask was now buried under the weight of his earlier, blundering invitation: ‘Would you like to go out for tea with me sometime?’
As Laura had so brutally pointed out, not even his grandfather would have used such a line on his grandmother.
Just as Francis was internally berating himself, someone abruptly wedged between the two of them.
Quite literally. The newcomer placed a hand on each of their shoulders and shoved them apart to claim the space between them.
Only one person in the ducal household would dare to act so brashly.
“Felix,” Beatrice greeted.
“Where are you two going?” Felix asked, his sharp golden eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Francis stiffened, recalling the look Felix had given him during their earlier encounter—a protective glare meant to ward off any man foolish enough to approach his youngest sister. And here he was, guilty as charged, with no defense to offer.
“We’re going for tea,” Beatrice answered nonchalantly. Francis winced. He should have stopped her from responding.
“Tea? Tea? Why are you going out for tea? You can have tea here.”
“He suggested we go out,” Beatrice replied matter-of-factly.
“Who did?”
Instead of answering, Beatrice simply looked at Francis. Felix followed her gaze, and now both pairs of golden eyes were fixed squarely on him.
Under their combined scrutiny, Francis found it impossible to feign ignorance. Slowly, he turned to face them, noting Beatrice’s neutral expression and Felix’s sharp, disapproving glare.
It almost seemed like Felix’s eyes were saying, ‘Weren’t you the one who said you couldn’t get married?’
“…Because the weather’s nice,” Francis offered weakly.
“Oh, the weather’s nice, huh? Sure, the weather’s great. So great, I think I’ll join you,” Felix declared.
Still dressed in his indoor attire, Felix gestured toward them before disappearing to change. Laura returned moments later, announcing the carriage’s arrival, but Beatrice remained rooted in place. With no choice, Francis stood motionless beside her.
In the end, all four of them climbed into the same carriage.
The silence was suffocating, even worse than when Francis had been alone with Beatrice. Felix sat with his arms crossed, glaring daggers at Francis, while Beatrice stared out the window, seemingly indifferent to the tension.
Laura, ever tactful, broke the silence. “My lady, this must be your first outing, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Beatrice confirmed quietly.
The two men turned their attention to her, their expressions equally shocked. Though they were aware of her isolation within the family, hearing it stated so plainly seemed to strike a nerve.
Unbothered by their reactions, Laura continued, “Is there any particular place you’d like to visit?”
“Not really,” Beatrice replied.
“Well, noble-exclusive cafés are on Prea Street, while Rosayu Street has a wider variety of restaurants. However, Rosayu is frequented by wealthy merchants and commoners as well. Prea might be the better choice.”
Laura glanced at Francis as if prompting him to speak up, but he avoided her gaze, clearly regretting his lack of planning. She sighed softly, then turned back to Beatrice.
“Which do you prefer, my lady?”
“What about you?” Beatrice asked, catching Laura off guard.
“Me? I… prefer Rosayu,” Laura admitted after a moment of blinking. “But Prea Street is strictly for nobles, so someone like me wouldn’t be allowed into the establishments there unless running an errand. I’ve never tried their tea or desserts.”
“Then let’s go to Rosayu Street,” Beatrice decided.
Laura’s face lit up with joy. Not only was Rosayu a familiar place where she could make excellent recommendations, but the thought of Beatrice valuing her opinion was immensely gratifying.
She instructed the driver to take them to a particular café on Rosayu Street.
The carriage arrived without incident, stopping in front of a quaint establishment named Walbaret. Francis stepped out first, offering his hand to Beatrice, but Felix brusquely nudged him aside with a shoulder.
The look in Felix’s sharp golden eyes screamed, ‘Back off.’ Though Francis understood his concern for his sister, it still grated on his nerves. For the sake of avoiding conflict, he sighed silently and turned to assist Laura instead.
Laura accepted his hand with a raised brow and a slight smirk before stepping out. Meanwhile, Beatrice naturally took Felix’s hand to disembark.
“This is the place, my lady,” Laura announced cheerfully.
Walbaret was a small but elegant café, painted in white and brown with a triangular roof of deep red. Its pristine garden featured five tables, each perfectly suited to the setting.
A little girl, perhaps just over ten, played in the bushes, picking flowers. Her brown hair was braided on either side, and she wore a fluttering green skirt.
“Is she a customer’s child?” Francis wondered aloud.
“No, she’s the owner’s daughter,” Laura explained. “She’s grown so much since I last saw her.”
Laura opened the café door with its intricately carved flower-shaped handle.
“I really like this place, but I can’t come often. It’s a bit pricey for my salary. But the sandwiches here are amazing, and so are the tea and desserts.”
“Still, it’s just food for commoners, isn’t it?” Felix muttered as he stepped inside first.
Laura shot him a sharp glare for a split second but quickly lowered her eyes, schooling her expression. Beatrice, noticing Laura’s reaction, mimicked her exaggerated glare briefly before walking in. Francis followed, bewildered by their antics.
The café was a cozy two-story establishment, its large windows letting in ample sunlight that made the space warm and inviting.
The group ascended to the second floor, where a polite waiter guided them to a table and handed out menus. Laura hovered by Beatrice’s side, offering her recommendations.
“The herbal tea here is especially good. They have various sandwiches, but the classic one is their best-seller. If you don’t feel like sandwiches, the cookies and cakes are great too. The ones with cream are rich, but since you don’t eat much sweet food, perhaps this one…”
Beatrice tilted her head slightly, listening. ‘Do I not eat much sweet food?’ she wondered. She had never paid it much attention.
Following Laura’s advice, they ordered three different herbal teas and two types of sandwiches. Neither Francis nor Felix seemed inclined toward desserts, so they didn’t order any.
Laura looked visibly disappointed until Beatrice casually added, “Let’s get a cheesecake packed to go.” Laura beamed at the suggestion, her bright smile making Beatrice think, ‘She’s so easy to please.’
When the tea arrived, silence fell over the table. Francis sat stiffly, ruminating on how things had come to this point.
Initially, he had wanted to ask Beatrice about Theodor’s alarming suggestion. But faced with her calm demeanor, he had chickened out and suggested tea instead. Now, thanks to Felix’s suspicious glares, bringing up the topic was impossible.
Francis finally mustered the courage to speak. “My lady—”
“Just drink your tea,” Felix interrupted bluntly, cutting him off.
Francis scowled visibly. He couldn’t fathom why Felix was so hostile. Surely, he wasn’t coming across as improper?
Felix, meanwhile, was thoroughly annoyed. The herbal tea, delicate and aromatic, tasted like bland water to him. And the polished knight who had sworn to protect his sister now seemed uncomfortably close to courting her.
He had initially felt relieved when Francis mentioned he couldn’t marry due to his paladin vows. But now, on what should have been his last day at the estate, he had invited Beatrice out for tea. The audacity!
Felix didn’t particularly cherish Beatrice, but as her older brother, he felt obligated to shield her. Having grown up isolated within the family, she had no experience dealing with men. If someone as obvious as Francis approached her, she might fall for it.
“Why are you so wary of me?” Francis finally asked.
Felix turned his head sharply, glaring. “Why should I find you agreeable?”
“I’m not asking for that. I’m saying there’s no need to be overly suspicious.”
“How could I not be? You’re practically drooling over her.”
Francis’s face froze in shock. He couldn’t deny that his actions might look questionable, but ‘drooling’ was a step too far.
“I am ‘not’ drooling over her.”
“Sure you aren’t. And I suppose I don’t know why I’m here, trailing you two? Didn’t you say you couldn’t get married?”
The waiter arrived with their sandwiches, glancing nervously between the two men before retreating hastily. The tension was palpable.
Beatrice, meanwhile, seemed utterly indifferent. Following Laura’s guidance, she picked up a sandwich and took a bite. Slowly chewing, she looked down at it. ‘Delicious.’
“It’s true. I can’t marry. But please don’t misunderstand—”
“Oh, I’ll stop misunderstanding when you stop slobbering. Just drink your tea and go.”
“Must you speak so harshly?”
Beatrice polished off her first sandwich quickly and picked up another. The bread was soft, the vegetables crisp, and the ham subtly salty. The sauce, lightly sweet, tied the flavors together perfectly.
Felix raised a brow, noticing Beatrice’s focus on her food. “Do you have no thoughts on this?”
Chewing her sandwich, Beatrice calmly swallowed before answering. “I do.”
Francis tensed, worried that Beatrice might agree with Felix’s accusations. Felix, on the other hand, puffed up smugly, expecting gratitude for his protective stance.
Beatrice’s response shattered their assumptions. “I was just thinking how Sir Vellenoze might be drooling over you, Felix.”
“What?!”
“Excuse me?!”
“Vellenoze can’t marry because he’s a paladin. That means he couldn’t marry you,’ Felix,” she added matter-of-factly.
Even Laura, returning to the table with packed sandwiches, stared at Beatrice in disbelief.
“Lady, what are you even saying?”
Beatrice looked at them innocently, tilting her head. ‘If that’s not what this is about, then what is it?’
“Laura, have the sandwiches wrapped up for later.”
“Did they suit your taste, my lady?”
“Yes.”
Beaming, Laura left to handle the request. Felix, however, was less composed.
“That’s ‘not’ what I meant!” he barked.
Unbothered, Beatrice resumed eating.
Francis buried his face in his hands, groaning softly. Felix’s raised voice and Beatrice’s indifference only made the entire situation more surreal.
Finally, Felix exploded, grabbing Francis by the collar.
“You ‘touched her hand’?!”
“That wasn’t how it happened!”
“It wasn’t?!”
“It wasn’t inappropriate!”
The two began arguing loudly, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mess. Laura returned just in time to find Felix gripping Francis’s shirt while Beatrice calmly finished another sandwich.
Though the scene was an utter disaster, Beatrice mused to herself: ‘The sandwich is delicious.’
* * *
Once the chaotic situation finally settled, Beatrice climbed into the carriage, gracefully holding the neatly wrapped cake and sandwiches. Francis, looking thoroughly drained, excused himself, saying he would return on his own. Felix, smiling smugly, told him to “get lost” before joining Beatrice in the carriage.
Beatrice handed the packages to Laura, who sat nearby, and opened the carriage window to glance at Francis, still standing beside the carriage.
“See you next time,” she said.
Francis, fatigue etched on his face, looked at her for a moment before nodding. Given how today’s outing had been thoroughly ruined by her brother, arranging a proper meeting next time seemed like the best course.
“I’ll send you a letter,” he replied.
“Can you send one?”
“Of course. There’s something I couldn’t say today, though.”
“What is it?”
“Next time we meet, just call me by my name.”
Beatrice tilted her head, puzzled, but nodded once. It seemed like such a small request, but Francis felt his ears heating up. The thought of not hearing his name from her dry, detached voice anymore left a strange ache.
He didn’t fully understand why “Sir Vellenoze” grated on him so much, but it did.
“All right,” Beatrice agreed.
“And drop the formalities. I’m not someone who deserves your deference.”
“Fine.”
“You—! That bastard, again!”
Felix, overhearing their conversation, exploded, leaning out the opposite window to hurl a string of curses at Francis. But Francis, seemingly immune by now, didn’t even glance his way. Instead, he bowed politely to Beatrice.
“Farewell, Francis,” she said, his name falling softly from her lips.
Francis had asked for the informality, so Beatrice didn’t hesitate. Yet speaking his name in such a peaceful moment felt strange. She realized she had never called him that in any of her lives—not in such a quiet, bloodless moment.
“Drive,” Felix barked to the coachman, prompting the carriage to move.
As they left, Beatrice reflected on the oddity of saying Francis’s name without the chaos or scent of blood that usually accompanied their encounters in her past lives.
Inside the carriage, Felix wasted no time expressing his frustration.
“Let me tell you something,” he started, frowning deeply. “No good ever comes from guys who flirt so blatantly.”
Beatrice turned to him, her head slightly tilted. ‘What exactly is he so worked up about?’
“Why do you dislike Francis so much?” she asked.
“You call him by his name just because he asked? Don’t you have any pride?”
“I don’t see how pride has anything to do with it.”
Felix grumbled under his breath.
“Do you… like him?”
“I don’t dislike him,” Beatrice replied.
“So you don’t like him either,” Felix concluded.
Surprisingly, Felix understood Beatrice better than most. He relaxed slightly, leaning back against the cushioned seat with his arms crossed. Confirming that his sister had no romantic feelings for Francis seemed to ease his mood.
Beatrice, however, found his behavior incomprehensible. Felix had always been emotional and impulsive, and his actions rarely made sense to her. This was just another instance where trying to understand him seemed futile.
“Do you like me, at least?” Felix asked abruptly.
“I don’t dislike you,” she replied, her tone unchanged.
“Good enough,” Felix said with a satisfied smile.
Beatrice gave the same response as before, but for some reason, it pleased Felix greatly. He leaned back further, clearly content, leaving Beatrice to think once again: ‘My second brother is as difficult to understand as ever.’
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