Chapter 19
Alfonso frowned slightly when he heard his name being called and turned to look at her.
The expression on his face was not so much displeasure as it was puzzlement.
“…‘Alfonso’?”
Only then did Charlotte realize she had called him far too casually.
Calling him Alfonso had become so familiar that the mistake slipped out before she could stop it.
“…That was a mistake.”
“For something that was a mistake, it sounded quite natural.”
“I also sounded natural when I recited Nuhof’s poetry.”
At her calm excuse, Alfonso narrowed his eyes.
As if he were trying to determine whether Charlotte was lying.
But Charlotte was someone well accustomed to lying, and more than that, she knew the most efficient way to cover up a mistake.
Be shameless.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Surely you’re not planning to get angry just because I called your name?”
“…That isn’t the case.”
“Since it’s come to this, you should call me by my name too. Charlotte.”
“Very well, Charlotte.”
She had said it expecting him to be flustered.
But contrary to her expectations, Alfonso called her name without hesitation.
As a result, the only one left flustered was Charlotte, whose heart reacted to hearing her name spoken after such a long time.
“Was that the only reason you called me?”
Ah.
Only then did Charlotte remember what she had momentarily forgotten because of her blunder.
I need to find out at least a little about the problem Alfonso is facing.
She had called him impulsively without even thinking of what to say.
But if she said she had no business with him, Alfonso would simply leave.
What should I do?
Charlotte’s mind was in chaos, like a child who had just knocked over a shelf full of jars of jam and pickles.
Outwardly, however, she remained as motionless as ever.
She didn’t even have time to think of a proper answer.
If she delayed any longer, Alfonso might question her again.
Without thinking, Charlotte blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I… I had something to ask.”
“If it is something I can answer, please ask. What is it?”
“Well, that is….”
Charlotte hesitated and stared intently at Alfonso.
At first she had only looked at him in an attempt to find a question to ask.
But in that brief moment, her gaze changed into something far more selfish.
She couldn’t stop staring at him, as if entranced.
To the point that she wondered whether she had really stopped him to learn more about his situation, or simply because she wanted to look at him longer.
Maybe it’s the latter.
Even though she knew she should never become entangled with him again.
Even though she feared that her selfishness might lead to his death once more.
Every time Charlotte had Alfonso before her eyes, she lost her patience.
No—
It would be more accurate to say she lost her reason.
If she didn’t carefully control her expression, it felt as though she might start smiling strangely… or crying just as strangely.
Like a madwoman, she wanted to grab his hand and tell him she had missed him.
That she was sorry.
Emotions she could never say aloud lurked deep inside Charlotte.
Whenever she lost her composure, they suddenly surged to the surface.
Yes.
Just like now.
“…Charlotte?”
As the silence stretched, Alfonso looked puzzled.
More precisely, Charlotte’s expression had become strange.
She’s making that expression again.
An expression mixed with longing, sorrow, grief, and joy.
It was the same expression she had worn the first time they met at Mabel’s garden.
Does Charlotte even know what kind of expression she’s making right now?
How she was looking at him with a face that seemed full of stories.
She probably doesn’t know.
If Charlotte had realized what kind of expression she had made that day—
—Are you still trying to recall your memories?
—…Yes. No matter how I look at you, you seem like a stranger.
She would never have dared to say such a lie.
Anyone who saw her would think I was her former lover.
What exactly was she hiding?
In truth, Alfonso had already been puzzled earlier.
—Whose opinion is this exactly? It can’t possibly be yours. Your retainers’?
That remark from Charlotte.
You could only say something like that if you knew the person well.
She had assumed so naturally that Alfonso could never do such a thing.
And then there was the way she had suddenly called him Alfonso.
And that gaze.
Charlotte, who was practically a stranger to him, behaved as though treating him this way was completely familiar.
But how?
For anyone else it might be possible.
But Alfonso had no conceivable connection with Charlotte.
Yet she behaved as if they did.
What kind of question was she trying to ask?
Just as Alfonso was about to urge her to speak—
A small voice slipped from Charlotte’s lips.
“…Me?”
It was far too quiet to be a question directed at someone.
For a moment, Alfonso wondered if he had heard wrong.
“What did you just—”
He stepped closer to Charlotte, intending to ask again.
But he never heard the question repeated.
Because in the next moment—
“Charl, there you are.”
The door burst open and an unwelcome visitor appeared.
* * *
Footsteps sharp as a whetstone splitting stone echoed down the corridor.
The surroundings were so dark that even shadows could not be seen, only the sound of steps.
As Alfonso walked along the corridor, he recalled what had just happened.
The moment Charlotte murmured something to herself, and the lounge door burst open.
“…Quincy?”
The unexpected visitor who entered the room was Quincy.
While Charlotte had been dealing with Rohan, Quincy had been speaking with the elderly Lady Aloise.
Once that conversation ended, he had come looking for Charlotte.
At an extremely unfortunate moment for Alfonso.
The moment the door opened, the strange atmosphere between Alfonso and Charlotte vanished like a bursting soap bubble.
Charlotte had immediately come to her senses and erased her expression.
She looked surprised and walked toward Quincy.
“How did you end up here, Quincy? Weren’t you with Lady Aloise?”
“Our conversation ended, so I came looking for you. I thought you would be with Rohan Aloise, but when I couldn’t find you I searched for quite a while….”
Quincy’s gaze slowly turned toward Alfonso.
“…I did not expect to find the Duke of Eduard with my sister.”
The gaze that resembled the gentlest spring weather when directed at Charlotte became icy cold when it turned toward him.
Seeing them like this, they really do look like siblings.
Perhaps it was because they shared the same green eyes.
Or because both could smile with the corners of their mouths while still appearing expressionless.
Alfonso couldn’t be sure.
Quincy smiled with crescent-shaped eyes and spoke.
“When you rejected Noah’s proposal so decisively, I wondered whether you might harbor some ill feelings toward our family. But seeing this, I’m relieved that such worries were unnecessary.”
In other words:
You rejected Noah’s proposal without hesitation, yet you have the audacity to be alone with Charlotte?
“I merely declined due to a prior engagement. There is no ill will involved.”
“Of course I know you are not that kind of person, Duke. After all, you rejected the proposal so coldly—it would be strange if you had suddenly changed your mind now. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“…Who knows.”
Alfonso’s eyes narrowed slightly before returning to normal.
There was no reason to continue clashing with Quincy here.
More importantly, Alfonso had noticed that Charlotte’s steps toward Quincy had been slightly unnatural.
So it would not be good for her if he remained here any longer.
“I hope you won’t make the mistake of drawing conclusions too quickly. My thoughts may have changed.”
“That—”
“Since this meeting was unexpected, I will take my leave. The two of you seem close as siblings; it would be improper for an outsider to linger. Until next time, Lady Noah.”
Quincy tried to add something more, but Alfonso dismissed him lightly and left.
As he walked away, his thoughts remained on Charlotte.
More precisely, on the words she had quietly murmured just before Quincy entered.
Though her voice had been so soft it was almost doubtful whether he had heard it correctly, Alfonso had caught every word.
—Do you… hate me too?
The hesitation and trembling in her voice had been vivid.
It sounded as if a drop of rain might fall from the end of her words.
He couldn’t even tell whether the imagined drop was rain or tears, but that was the feeling it gave him.
She was truly a strange person.
When she received the proposal, she had looked displeased the entire time.
Yet the question she had finally managed to utter after so much hesitation was simply whether he disliked her.
Alfonso stopped walking and summoned the face from his memory into the darkness.
The face of the woman who had smiled faintly while speaking about the person she loved.
The moment when the woman known as a cruel and cold villainess spoke of love.
—I can’t explain it in detail, but let’s just say it’s because of love.
—He’s a good person. Very soft-hearted, naturally kind. Someone completely different from me…
How should that expression be described?
The face of someone who had grasped the most tragic kind of fortune—
one that looked both happy and unbearably sad.
