LPST 12

Chapter : 12

The child tiptoed forward, lifting his heels so the cicada wouldn’t fly away. Jacqueline swallowed a laugh that bubbled up and said gravely,

“Alright. No one’s around yet. Everyone must be too busy preparing for the banquet to pay any attention to us. How lucky!”

At that very moment, Benjamin suddenly reached out his hand.

“Miss Somerset, please look at this.”

Startled by his unusually excited tone, Jacqueline’s eyes instinctively turned sideways.

“Huh? What’s that—KYAAAAAH!”

Instantly, something grotesque filled her entire field of vision. Jacqueline shrieked involuntarily.

Her legs went limp, and she collapsed right where she stood.

Benjamin’s eyes widened in shock, and looking flustered, he pushed what he held slightly closer to Jacqueline’s face.

“It’s not a cicada, Miss—it’s just its molt.”

“KYAAAAAH!”

Jacqueline’s scream shook the entire Preston mansion. In an instant, the previously bustling estate fell completely silent—as if time itself had stopped.

It was an utterly strange sight.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Benjamin Preston.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Benjamin hung his head low, his expression utterly deflated. His eyes, scanning the floor, looked more dejected than ever.

His pouting lips seemed barely able to hold back tears—either sorrowful or indignant, perhaps both.

The heir to the Marquess of Preston must not cry.

Biting his lower lip hard, Benjamin drew in a shaky breath. His small hands clenched into tiny fists.

In contrast, Jacqueline lifted her chin slightly. She never bowed her head, no matter the circumstance. That was the grace expected of a well-bred lady like her.

Windsor, as usual, remained stern and aloof. His inscrutable gaze suddenly sharpened with severity.

“Tormenting a lady is unworthy of the Preston heir. Do you understand just how despicable your actions were today?”

“Lord Preston, that wasn’t—”

Jacqueline started to explain in a flustered tone, but Windsor’s reproachful stare made her clamp her mouth shut.

“This isn’t something for you to intervene in, Miss Somerset. It concerns the Preston family alone.”

Jacqueline’s expression slowly faded away. Each time she witnessed his unwavering resolve, she was reminded anew that Windsor had once been a soldier.

And of the nickname pirates had given him.

She finally realized just how considerate he’d been toward her. His overwhelming presence was suffocating—

Not metaphorically, but literally; the air in the room felt thin, making it hard to breathe. Jacqueline had to take several deep breaths just to steady herself.

Benjamin, forcing his trembling lips to move, finally managed an apology.

“I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ll be more careful and won’t let this happen again.”

“Your apology should be directed not to me, but to Miss Somerset.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Somerset.”

“No, I—”

Jacqueline flusteredly waved her hands to refuse, but Windsor was quicker. His stern voice fell heavily upon Benjamin’s head.

“Remember always that you are the future Marquess of Preston.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“You may go now. Confine yourself to your room until dinner. And Miss Somerset, please stay behind a moment.”

“Yes, Lord Preston.”

Gulp.

Jacqueline unconsciously swallowed hard. It seemed her turn had come.

Benjamin shuffled toward the door with heavy steps, then paused and turned back to look at her. A deep emotion briefly flickered in his light brown eyes.

“…”

Jacqueline’s eyes widened. The emotion in the boy’s gaze wasn’t resentment—it was worry. Benjamin remained sweet and kind, and Jacqueline truly adored this precious child.

Wanting to reassure him, she gave a defiant little tug at the corners of her mouth. She turned her head slightly, making a silly face only he could see.

But this time, Benjamin didn’t smile.

Click.

“…”

The door shut, leaving a heavy silence to settle over the study—the same oppressive quiet that so often descended whenever the two of them were alone together.

Just then, Madam Ritz entered with a tea tray. After placing the silver tray down, she quickly slipped out of the room, as if eager to escape the tense atmosphere.

Jacqueline quietly inhaled and stared helplessly at her teacup.

“If you’re thirsty, feel free to drink some tea, Miss Somerset.”

“Yes, Lord Preston.”

She wasn’t actually thirsty, but Jacqueline slowly reached out her hand anyway. Doing something—anything—felt better than suffocating in the silence.

With practiced grace, she steeped the tea, then carefully poured it without making a sound.

After a brief hesitation, she filled Windsor’s cup as well. He didn’t even glance at the teacup she offered, his eyes fixed solely on her face.

Sensing her gesture had gone unnoticed, Jacqueline took a small sip of her own tea with quiet disappointment.

No sooner had she set her cup down than Windsor’s voice cut through the air. Jacqueline’s eyes twitched slightly.

If only she hadn’t put the cup down just yet.

“I assumed Miss Somerset and I shared the same view regarding Benjamin’s education—was that merely a delusion on my part?”

The calmness of his question gave it weight—an inexplicable authority and pressure.

He was not someone swayed by volatile emotions, nor one to lash out in anger at any moment. Thus, his words carried far greater gravity than those of others.

Jacqueline added sugar and milk to her bitter tea, then slowly stirred it with a teaspoon—as if buying time to answer a difficult question.

“I don’t believe it was a delusion.”

“Then explain to me why Benjamin was holding a cicada’s molt. The Benjamin I know wouldn’t behave that way. Not once has anything like this occurred before your arrival at the estate.”

“Allow me to explain, Lord Preston.”

Jacqueline elegantly took a sip of tea, then placed her cup down. The lingering sweetness on her tongue reignited a flicker of courage.

The teacup settled onto its saucer with a soft clink, slicing through the silence.

Jacqueline met Windsor’s gaze directly. Her expression remained impeccably composed, yet her mind buzzed with frantic thoughts like a hummingbird in flight.

Why did I have to scream right there? If I’d just held it in, he wouldn’t have noticed. Next time, Jacqueline Somerset, build up your nerve.

Taking a quiet breath, she continued with dignified resolve.

“This incident isn’t Benjamin’s fault, Lord Preston. I gave him permission to touch it.”

“Is that part of your practical instruction? And what subject precisely involves touching cicada molts with bare hands?”

“Well… if I must categorize it—natural science? Biology, perhaps?”

“Miss Somerset.”

Windsor’s voice grew slightly lower. Jacqueline instinctively knew this was the moment to summon her courage.

“Do you know what Benjamin truly enjoys, Lord Preston?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, Windsor’s brow furrowed. He met Jacqueline’s challenging gaze, and after a long pause, finally spoke.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It matters very much.”

Jacqueline nodded firmly, forcing strength into her jaw to keep it from trembling.

“As I’ve mentioned before, Benjamin loves ships. He’s read every article about the Black Fleet’s exploits without skipping a single word. The same goes for insects—his eyes light up whenever he talks about them, as if…”

“Regardless of what Benjamin enjoys, he remains the future Marquess of Preston. That fact will never change.”

Windsor cut her off firmly before she could finish. But Jacqueline shook her head. This time, she had no intention of backing down easily.

“Even if he were His Majesty the King himself, everyone deserves to have something they love. That passion would make his life richer and more vivid. I was the same.”

Confidence gradually returned to her voice. Jacqueline was certain of her educational philosophy.

“Ever since I was young, I’ve especially loved painting. That led me to wonder about the artists who created those works, and once I became curious about them, I naturally wanted to learn about their lives. Thus, I began studying the kingdom’s art history, which refined my eye for paintings. Because of this, I can perceive far more depth in a single artwork than others might. A life filled with passions is undoubtedly richer and more vivid. I want Benjamin’s world to be full of colors—not black and white.”

“Very well. Suppose one’s interest in art contributes to noble refinement. But what advantage does an interest in insects offer the future Marquess of Preston?”

Marquess of Preston this, Marquess of Preston that—

Jacqueline’s eyes finally narrowed in irritation. Talking to this stubborn man felt even less productive than talking to a wall.

The conversation kept circling back to the same point without progress. Her tone grew sharp—perhaps even tinged with anger.

“Must there always be some tangible benefit to loving something?”

“The world Benjamin will live in isn’t as kind as you imagine, Miss Somerset. Con artists will sweet-talk him to get their hands on the Preston fortune, and others will envy his position as future Marquess and hope for his downfall.”

“…”

“At such times, do you truly believe something as trivial as an interest in cicada molts or ships will protect him? No. What will safeguard Benjamin are the knowledge, refinement, and social wisdom he acquires as the future Marquess of Preston.”

Jacqueline had no reply. Windsor’s calm voice had seized her by the scruff of the neck and yanked her out of her fairytale reverie into harsh reality.

He wasn’t wrong. She had been naive; he was rational. Perhaps others would even side with him.

But Jacqueline couldn’t easily accept his words—not when she remembered how unnaturally accustomed Benjamin was to suppressing himself for his age.

She parted her lips as if to speak, then bit down hard on her lower lip again. She had realized it was time to yield.

Windsor was utterly closed off—he wouldn’t listen to her advice, and her arguments would echo emptily into the void.

“I’ll be more careful to ensure this never happens again.”

No—more carefully, so I’m never caught again.

Her previously resolute expression now showed signs of regret. Windsor watched her silently for a moment, then gave a nod.

“I’ll give you one final chance to prove my trust isn’t misplaced. I hope you won’t disappoint me again, Miss Somerset.”

“I’ll do my best, Lord Preston.”

“Your best isn’t enough—I expect results. You may go now.”