Chapter 48
***
On the fourth day of their stay in Cando, heavy rain poured down from the morning. Sheets of water lashed the windows, as if to swallow the city whole.
Going outside in such weather was dangerous, so they decided to spend the day quietly in their room.
To ease the boredom of a rainy day and to teach a little more of the Empire’s language, Ethan played “Twenty Questions” with Noah.
The sight of the boy resting his small chin in one hand, thinking so intently, was so endearing that both Elisa and Ethan found themselves smiling endlessly.
They enjoyed themselves for some time before the downpour finally began to ease. Glancing out the window, Elisa rose and put on her coat.
“Where are you going?” Ethan asked.
“The department store. We don’t know how long we’ll be here, so I should buy some underclothes and other necessities.”
“Then I’ll come with—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
When Ethan tried to stand, Elisa pressed lightly on his shoulder.
“There are too many nobles at the department store. Someone might recognize you, and with your injured leg it’s better you stay. Besides, someone has to look after Noah.”
At her words, Noah clutched at the hem of her skirt. His bright eyes showed he wanted to come along, but Elisa shook her head firmly.
“It’s raining, so you can’t. I’ll be quick. Stay here and play with your father.”
She stroked both her sulking men, then left the room.
With Elisa gone, Noah soon lost interest in their game and began scribbling something on paper instead.
“Why don’t you speak?” Ethan asked quietly, watching him.
Noah blinked up at him with wide eyes.
“Why don’t you use your voice?”
At the repeated question, the boy flinched, clutching his pen so tightly his small shoulders trembled.
Most people would have stopped there, unwilling to push an already fragile child.
But Ethan did not relent.
“If you can speak, then why don’t you?”
He gripped Noah’s shoulders firmly and met his eyes. It wasn’t right to press on a wound—but sometimes, it was the only way. If left alone, the wound would only fester.
“Our Noah can talk, can’t he?”
Now was precisely that moment. Even if it broke his heart to see the boy in pain, he needed to hear the truth.
The more Ethan pressed, the paler Noah grew. His face crumpled in torment, tears spilling as he slowly began to write.
I mustn’t speak…
The shaky letters sprawled crookedly across the page.
Never… never speak…
“Who told you that?”
Startled, Noah dropped his pen and shook his head violently.
“I’m not scolding you,” Ethan murmured, pulling him into a tight embrace, his voice soft and low.
“I just want to hear your voice. You must sound beautiful—like your mother.”
That was all, nothing more. He repeated it again and again until the boy’s trembling eased.
Noah looked up at him with eyes clouded by fear and confusion, as though weighing whether it was safe to answer.
“It’s all right,” Ethan said firmly, clasping his small hand. “You can speak. I’ll protect you.”
The gentle certainty in his tone finally coaxed Noah’s lips to move.
“…Everyone said so.”
It was little more than a whisper, but Ethan’s heart leapt. He really can speak. He leaned closer, straining to catch every word.
“They told me… that no one must know I’m Mother’s child. So I must never, ever speak…”
“…Ha.”
Just a few words were enough for Ethan to grasp it all. His head bowed as a long sigh escaped him.
So that was it. To hide the fact Elisa had given birth to Noah, she and the Leslie family had repeated the same command again and again—never speaking.
And the boy had obeyed. No matter how much it hurt, he had borne the silence, guarding the secret with his tiny, fragile body.
The thought made Ethan’s chest twist until it nearly tore apart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hugging Noah tightly. “I’m so sorry…”
If only he hadn’t left. If only he had stayed by Elisa’s side, the child would never have suffered so.
It was his fault—all of it. His vision blurred red with grief.
“I’m sorry, Noah. Truly sorry…”
As he repeated his apologies, Noah’s eyes filled with tears too. Biting his lip to hold back sobs, the boy lifted a small hand and patted his father’s back.
When Ethan finally raised his head, their gazes met—and Noah gave him a shy smile.
“It’s all right,” he said. His voice was halting, unfamiliar after so long unused, but he forced it out, steady and clear.
“You really are Elisa’s son.”
Ethan’s eyes softened with warmth as he looked at him.
The rain, which had lashed down since morning, had stopped at last. Elisa had been gone for nearly two hours.
“Shall we go meet Mother?” Ethan asked, holding out his hand.
Noah nodded vigorously and clasped it tight.
…
Perhaps because of the rain, the department store was more crowded than usual. Nobles filled the aisles at a glance.
Good thing I didn’t bring Ethan.
Even standing still, his striking looks drew stares—and with crutches, even more so. If anyone here recognized him, it would be a disaster.
No one will recognize me, will they?
Since Noah’s birth, Elisa had rarely attended society gatherings, save for formal events, and even then she had hidden herself as much as possible.
She had drawn some attention at the last victory banquet, but most of those nobles would still be in the capital.
Still, she could take no risks. Her husband and child were waiting, so she moved quickly.
The war had strained the economy, and calls to abandon luxury for practicality had grown louder. Ready-made clothing had surged in popularity, though the more conservative nobles still preferred tailored wear.
Count Leslie was no exception, and under his influence, Elisa had never worn ready-made clothes. Not once.
She had worried about it—but her fears were unfounded.
“They’re well made,” she murmured. Without being told, one would never guess these were not custom tailored.
She wanted to buy everything.
But size was an issue. Ethan was taller and broader than most men; off-the-rack clothes would surely be too small.
And Noah, small for his age, would find them too large. Shirts could be managed, but trousers were another matter.
“Can the length be altered?” Elisa asked a clerk, holding up a pair.
“It can, but it will take a little time.”
“How long?”
“At least an hour.”
“I’ll wait. Please do it.”
Leaving the trousers to be altered, Elisa chose shirts, vests, and coats for both Ethan and Noah. Before long her hands were full.
“I’ll have to buy mine tomorrow.”
She could have had the packages sent to the inn, but she didn’t want to risk a clerk recognizing Ethan. Better to carry them herself.
The innkeeper had lent her clothes, so she could manage a few more days without new ones.
Still, I should at least buy underclothes.
Since they were small and easy to tuck into other boxes, she purchased those as well.
By the time she left the store, the rain had stopped. The sun peeked shyly through the grey clouds.
“Thank goodness.”
Relieved her parcels hadn’t gotten wet, she adjusted her load and stepped toward the exit—only for someone to seize her arm.
Startled, she turned—and her eyes widened in shock.
“Sir Grenville…?”
