IWMHWD 118

Chapter 118 – What Love Is
2024.02.26

Leonard was deeply missed. Come to think of it, except for the time she had gone to Abrams for Craig’s funeral, she had never been apart from him for this long.

“I like you.”

The memory of his calm words and steady gaze surfaced. His eyes had held nothing but absolute certainty, free of any doubt. Cordelia found that both astonishing and curious.

Why on earth does he like me?

Compared to Leonard, she had nothing special. She wasn’t extraordinarily beautiful like Lydia, and she even had the experience of a previous marriage. So how on earth had Leonard fallen in love with her?

“Love… love…”

Cordelia murmured the word as if hearing it for the first time.

Of course, she held her master in special regard. After all, he had pulled her from that hellish mire and allowed her to live like a human being, making him more precious and special than anyone else in the world.

The longer they stayed apart, the more she missed him; the first thought upon waking in the morning was always of him. But whether that feeling was close to what he called love, she had no way of knowing.

It would be easier if she could face him in person—maybe then she could find an answer.

I should have just ignored whatever letter Father sent.

If only she had ignored that letter, whatever it said, she could have avoided this miserable situation.

Cordelia fiddled with the ring Leonard had given her, blaming herself. Even after the recent kidnapping incident, she realized she had been complacent. She hadn’t imagined that Anton would bribe her father and lay a trap to prevent her from using magic.

It also made sense why the first kidnapping had been so sloppy—it now seemed deliberate, perhaps to test her abilities or to lower her guard.

Chelsea still hadn’t returned. Growing bored of waiting, Cordelia rose and wandered near the patio. The sun was strong but not unbearable.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shoulder firmly.

“Huh?”

“Why are you out here alone without a maid? What if you collapse?”

Anton had come running, his face flushed as if from exertion, and in his other hand, he carried the parasol Chelsea had left behind.

He hurriedly shaded Cordelia with it, but she didn’t feel entirely pleased by his strange display of concern. And his tone—it sounded as if he were speaking to his own daughter, which only heightened the sense of disconnect.

“Let’s get to the shade.”

“Marquis Embley.”

Cordelia gently withdrew her shoulder and stepped back.

“Have you already forgotten that after you kidnapped me, you fed me a lethal poison that would melt my insides?”

“……”

“I am not your daughter.”

“I know. You’re not our Rosy. Rosy…”

He stopped mid-sentence and stared down at her again. Cordelia noticed the storm of emotions in Anton’s eyes but could not tell whether they were longing, anger, or sorrow.

“If Rosy were healthy, she could walk around even at midday without a parasol.”

“If you miss your daughter so much, go to Ansen instead of treating me like this.”

Cordelia had subtly asked Chelsea about Rosaline’s whereabouts and was told with an ambiguous smile that “the lady was unwell and went to Ansen to recuperate.”

Cordelia assumed Rosaline was deliberately hiding because she had a child without her husband.

“Rosaline.”

Anton closed his eyes and let the name linger in his mouth before swallowing.

Cordelia gazed silently at him. Despite being the one who bribed her father, orchestrated her kidnapping, and poisoned her, his actions were full of contradictions.

Though he seemed not yet forty, his eyes sometimes held the emptiness of a man well over sixty.

Without a word, Anton moved his lips slightly, then suddenly grabbed her wrist, causing the parasol to fall to the ground.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“To Rosy.”

“Isn’t Rosaline Embley in Ansen?”

Cordelia immediately cast a defensive spell, but her weakened body crumbled like a sandcastle under waves—laughably easy for someone as strong as Anton.

“Oh, Miss.”

She met Chelsea, returning with a glass of iced tea. The maid quickly lowered her eyes upon seeing Cordelia held by Anton.

Ignoring the servants’ curious gazes, Anton led her inside and up to the top floor—an area Cordelia was never allowed to enter. The scent of roses hit her nose as soon as they entered the hallway.

Anton stopped before a door and took a deep breath. Cordelia had a premonition that something unimaginable awaited inside.

“Ugh.”

When Anton opened the door, the overwhelming scent of roses made her instinctively frown, as if a concentrated rose garden had been compressed into the room.

Looking around, she realized she hadn’t exaggerated. The room was decorated with countless roses, and at the center, lying among the petals on the bed, was a woman.

“Oh my…”

Anton released her wrist and staggered toward the bed, naturally stroking the girl’s face. Even through the freezing magic, which made her fingertips numb, he didn’t care.

“Rosy, Rosy.”

No matter how much makeup was applied or the strong rose scent masked decay, the dead and the living are unmistakably different.

Having spent months with Craig’s corpse, Cordelia could tell that Rosaline had not been dead for just a day or two.

“They’ll know you’re here, and Atilley will arrive soon.”

Anton kissed his daughter’s forehead lightly and stood up, consumed by the grief of losing a child.

Only then did Cordelia understand why his eyes couldn’t convey any emotion—his heart was shattered, unable to hold anything at all.

“Even if your master is the strongest mage in Ershe, they cannot bring the dead back to life.”

Cordelia swallowed and spoke cautiously.

“She’s alive.”

“Pardon?”

“Your master came back from death. If he could survive, why not my daughter?”

“What are you saying? My master never truly died. Transferring a soul is not the same as resurrection.”

“Then why not transfer my daughter’s soul back too?”

Anton insisted stubbornly, defying reason. At least to Cordelia, it was completely nonsensical.

“They say the Atilley family possesses magic to revive the dead.”

“Really? That’s impossible. Resurrection magic is strictly forbidden—trying it is punishable. You know that, don’t you, Marquis?”

“Well, what’s the difference between transferring a soul and returning from death?”

“Completely different. Are you saying you poisoned me and called my master here just to revive Miss Embley?”

“Atilley will fully restore my daughter. Rosy will be waiting for me too.”

He was immovable, firmly believing what he wanted to believe. Nothing Cordelia said could reach him.

Stroking Rosaline’s arm gently, Anton finally met Cordelia’s gaze for the first time since entering the room.

“I harbor no ill will toward you. If your master cooperates willingly, I’ll tell you the antidote. Take it in time, and life can continue.”

“No, resurrection is impossible. It’s sad that Miss Embley left the world at such a young age, but…”

“My daughter isn’t dead yet! Her soul is still somewhere here with me!”

Before Cordelia could finish, Anton shouted. Unlike his usual gentle demeanor, he was intimidating, as though facing someone who had killed his daughter. But Cordelia neither flinched nor stepped back.

“Don’t make foolish choices, Marquis. What could you gain by clashing with Atilley?”

“If my daughter returns alive, I need nothing else. If you could understand even a tenth of my feelings, you would not dare blame me.”

Anton’s rough breath was filled with despair. His eyes reddened with emotion.

“How I raised and protected my daughter… the only child left by Lara… my daughter, my treasure, my heart…”

“Marquis.”

Cordelia stepped closer, carefully holding his hand. Anton flinched but could not pull away.

“The dead cannot return.”

“You don’t understand. Atilley surely knows a way. He will know how to restore Rosy.”

“Marquis, I am still young and inexperienced, but I know one unchanging truth: the dead cannot come back to us.”

“….”

Cordelia gripped his hand tighter. Despite being larger and stronger, it trembled.

“My master did not return from a dead body. He separated his soul from his body and returned to it. I witnessed everything. Moreover, to perform such magic, Miss Embley would need to be as great a mage as my master.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“I have never had or lost a child, so I cannot fully understand your feelings. But I do know that when someone you love leaves, you must let them go. My mother fell ill and passed away after a long time.”

Speaking calmly, Cordelia continued to persuade him. The anxious, grief-filled look in Anton’s eyes slowly began to settle.