“Well. At least it’s not poison.”
Olivia gave a playful smile as she met the eyes of Anne and then Madame Marie, before glancing down at the letter in her hands.
She slowly unfolded the neatly creased paper.
“…”
Olivia’s eyes trembled violently.
Raindrops pattered heavily against the tightly shut windows.
Her gaze shifted from the letter to the windowpane, now smeared transparently with rainwater.
“Who is it from?”
Anne asked carefully.
But Olivia continued to stare blankly beyond the window for a while.
As a flash of lightning illuminated the dim room, Olivia finally came to her senses and replied.
“…It’s not Edgar. And it’s not the Princess either. You don’t have to worry.”
Her calm voice trembled ever so slightly.
With a glance, Olivia expressed her wish to be left alone. Anne and Madame Marie quietly stepped out.
Pausing at the doorway, Madame Marie turned to look at Olivia once more.
Seeing her pale face so clearly shaken, Marie turned away and closed the door without a sound.
The rain poured harder. The outside world was a sea of gray, blurred by the heavy downpour. When her racing heart had slightly calmed, Olivia picked up the letter she had briefly set down.
“To Miss Olivia Blanchet,
I am writing to speak about the matter of your broken engagement with Duke Johann Leopold.”
As her eyes scanned the neat handwriting, Olivia’s heart began to beat rapidly once again.
The sender of the letter was none other than Princess Kranz.
What could she possibly want to say about the broken engagement between the two? No matter how much she thought, there was only that incident.
Olivia placed her hand over her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.
“It took me a long time to write this letter.
But I could no longer turn a blind eye to the pain you are in.
Please forgive my cowardice for not speaking up sooner, and also forgive the rudeness of asking for your forgiveness in such a one-sided way.”
“…”
The reason for the broken engagement… wasn’t because of Olivia.
At that, Olivia let out a long sigh of relief.
Surprisingly, Princess Kranz confessed that she had someone else in her heart all along.
The unexpected letter startled Olivia and piqued her curiosity.
Moreover, the lofty image of the princess she had built in her mind shattered completely.
She was just a young woman—perhaps a bit prideful—but not so different from any other lady her age.
Olivia found herself wanting to cheer her on.
The Princess explained that it was not the right time to make their relationship public and begged Olivia to forgive her for merely watching the situation unfold.
In every graceful stroke of her writing, Olivia could feel the joy of the princess being with her beloved, and the deep guilt toward Olivia.
The letter was packed full with words—line after line, with more to come.
Olivia, now calm, resumed reading.
That’s when the thunderstorm struck.
A tremendous crack-boom! exploded, and startled Olivia dropped the letter, slamming her knee into the table.
The table shook violently from the impact, knocking over a coffee cup.
“No!”
Olivia sprang up, swatting the cup aside and hurriedly picking up the letter.
The tidy handwriting began to blur and smudge like spilled ink on a canvas. At the same moment, the cup shattered on the floor.
Another thunderclap struck the earth.
“Ah! No, no…”
Panicking, Olivia pressed the sleeve of her blouse against the letter, trying desperately to blot it dry.
Her white cuff was soon stained in an ugly blend of brown and purple. Madame Marie would have fainted at the sight, but there was no helping it.
Despite her efforts, the ruined ink would not return to its original form.
Olivia stared in dismay at the now-blemished letter.
She was desperate to know what came next—but there was no way to find out.
Scratch, scratch.
Following the movements of her pale hand, the quill’s feather swayed as its tip scratched across the page.
In the silence of the night, while everyone slept, only Christian’s soft breathing could occasionally be heard.
Irenne wrote steadily.
She wanted to say something—something that Miss Blanchet might consider presumptuous. But Irenne had to say it. She couldn’t bear for the two to drift further apart.
“I don’t know why you chose divorce.
But what I do know—what I’m certain of—is that Duke Leopold regrets it deeply.Perhaps I’ve come to understand this… because I’ve fallen in love myself?
I’ve come to notice the signs in people in love.
That man always looks at his wristwatch. I learned it was a birthday gift from you.(In case you misunderstand—please know it was not I who noticed this habit, but one of my maids. Since then, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.)
I respect your choice. But still, I dare to make a suggestion. Only if—only if—you still have feelings for him.
If you parted ways simply because you weren’t sure of his heart… could you give him one more chance?
Perfect love doesn’t exist in this world. Everyone stumbles at the beginning. I did too.
I hope my words, long as they are, convey my sincerity.
If my intrusion has upset you, I apologize.
May the grace of the Divine be with you, now and always.
—Irenne de Kranz.”
Irenne set down her quill and laced her fingers together, resting her elbows on the desk as she waited for the ink to dry.
Dear God…
Let Christian recover and walk again.
Let Duke Leopold cross the ocean safely, and not arrive too late.
Let Olivia live in peace.
Under the starlight twinkling beyond the crystal-clear glass, Irenne prayed for a long, long time.
They’ve lost it. Totally mad.
The carriage carrying Johann and Maurice barreled through the rain toward Pier No.1.
Maurice leaned his head against the carriage wall, furiously crossing himself.
Oh, dear God!
The windows rattled violently. Outside, it was impossible to distinguish the pier from the sea, or the sky.
The roads were slick and treacherous with water. The terrified horses couldn’t pick up speed.
“I’m too young to die,” Maurice muttered, shuddering.
“You won’t,”
Johann replied, in a strangely detached tone, his voice calm, almost inhuman.
“I feel like I’m going to die.”
“Then get out.”
His tone was completely indifferent.
Maurice glared, frustrated, but Johann remained with arms crossed, legs folded, eyes shut.
Unbelievable. Maurice’s temper, dulled and suppressed over the years beside Johann, suddenly resurfaced.
“Why the hell are you doing this? What’s the point of this madness?”
He figured he might die anyway—might as well speak his mind. Maurice had nothing left to lose.
“Why? Why now? Why do something you’ve never done before, and in this insane weather, no less?!”
He shot Johann a deadly glare.
He regretted never confessing to the lady he liked. If he were going to die, maybe he should have at least proposed.
The old him, too embarrassed by the thought of rejection, felt far away—and deeply pitiful now.
“If the story ends with us drowning on the way to the Dumblin finals, everyone will laugh at us. ‘What fools!’ they’ll say.
What about the captain? What about the crew?
And me? I haven’t even been married! Why now? Why this nonsense?”
The rattling carriage fell into a strange silence after Maurice’s angry rant ended.
Johann, still unmoving, slowly uncrossed his arms and pressed a hand to his eyes.
“…I don’t know.”
His monotone reply sounded almost bored.
That indifferent demeanor felt completely at odds with his reckless act—trying to sail in a storm like this.
Maurice’s jaw dropped.
No way.
No—come on. He couldn’t be.
But…
Maurice had known Johann since birth. Johann was born when Maurice was four.
His mother had died giving birth to him. From that day forward, the Duchy of Edinburgh was shrouded in grief.
When Johann realized what his mother’s death meant, his childhood was over.
His birthday was also the Duchess’s death anniversary. Until the Duke passed away, no one celebrated Johann’s birth.
He grew up in complete neglect and emotional coldness.
The first person to ever celebrate Johann’s birthday was his wife—Olivia Blanchet.
Johann didn’t understand love. His life had been frozen in emotional winter for as long as he could remember.
When his wife once said, “I’m glad you were born,” he didn’t know how to react.
What expression to make. What words to say.
He doubted if it was even something to celebrate.
To him, it was just a day filled with business trips. He brushed past her, too busy to care.
Still, she never gave up. Every birthday, she threw a grand party for him.
Even if it was orchestrated by Diane Brooke, it was done all the same.
So this… is love.
Maurice swallowed hard.
If someone was important enough to go through this for—riding through a storm like this—it had to be love.
The world called that… love.
Ehem. Maurice cleared his throat.
Normally he didn’t meddle in love affairs, especially with no experience himself.
But these two clearly needed a push.
To die without ever understanding his own feelings—how unfair that would be. Maurice resolved then and there: he’d say what needed saying, and not get on that ship.
He wanted to live.
“People only act out of character for two reasons,” Maurice said. “One: when they’re about to die—they do crazy things.”
He glanced sideways at Johann, who still had his eyes closed.
“And the other is when they’re in lo—”
At that moment, something slammed into the side of the carriage.
Shards of glass and rain burst inward as a window shattered.
A large object struck the horses’ heads and thudded to the ground. Spooked and tangled, the horses screamed and collapsed.
“It’s dangerous! Hold o—ARGHH!”
With the driver’s scream, the carriage tipped violently.
On instinct, Johann yanked Maurice into his arms and shielded him.
BANG! The carriage crashed and flipped.
The wheels spun in midair, hurling water into the stormy night.
The sound of rain grew faint.
In the agony of his body breaking apart, Johann saw his own wrist—wrapped around Maurice’s head—come into view.
There was no ticking sound.
He tried to raise his arm, but his consciousness slipped away.
