TMET 18

18. The Girl and the Boy
 

There was no information about what Ansi de Lubelsa had been doing in the year leading up to that fateful ball—when she reappeared in society.

Could it be that she had spent all this time impersonating someone else so boldly?

Hennet’s face darkened with unease.

It was true that the Belgader Empire—or rather, society itself—was a difficult place for the weak to survive.

That woman had lost everything too. So, in a way, he could understand. And yet, knowing that it ended with her impersonating his beloved left a bitter aftertaste.

“How did you come to know Damion?”

Ansi raised her head at the question. Maybe it was the emotionless expression on her face, but she felt like a wall—distant and impenetrable.

It was as if she were asking, “Who are you to ask that?”

“And who are you, sir?”

Perhaps she had expressed emotion, just not the one he expected. Either way, faced with this clearer wall, Hennet decided to play a stronger card.

“I am Hennet de Maron.”

“…Ah.”

The woman paused, seemingly recalling the name. With a sigh, she stood and closed the book she had been reading as Hennet approached with his fountain pen in hand.

“Let me ask again. Why is my fountain pen in your possession, Lady Lubelsa? Did you steal it?”

“I apologize for selling your item without permission, Sir Hennet, but I didn’t steal it.”

“Then where did you get it…?”

“I can’t say.”

Hennet furrowed a brow.

To be so bold in front of the rightful owner—wasn’t that some nerve?

He didn’t know what Damion saw in her that made him think she’d be helpful, but Hennet knew one thing for sure: he needed to warn his friend of this potential threat.

Without realizing it, he had approached close, now separated from Ansi only by a glass display. He finally spoke.

“As a courtesy, I’ll say this plainly. Damion is a dear friend to me. That’s why I must advise against your relationship with him.”

“Don’t interfere.”

Ansi’s answer came immediately, her tone sharp enough to make Hennet flinch.

There was a chilling glint in her eyes as she stared him down.

“This is between Damion and me. I’m telling you not to interfere.”

Her tone was cold and confrontational.

Yet strangely, there was a sense of urgency behind her words—something desperate.

To Damion, this woman must have meant something beneficial.

But what did Damion mean to her?

Suddenly, Hennet found himself curious about that.

Sunlight danced on the river’s surface as it broke on the water, flowers filled the riverside, and the joyful sounds of people drifted by on the breeze, announcing that spring had truly arrived.

Ansi held down her hat as the wind lightly blew past her. Her ivory dress, almost white, fluttered elegantly behind her.

“Ansi.”

A voice as refreshing as the wind called out to her. Damion stood among the boats docked along the river.

Fortunately, it seemed his friend who had visited a few days earlier hadn’t succeeded in dissuading him.

“The weather’s beautiful.”

As Ansi approached, Damion greeted her with a bright smile.

Dressed lightly for the boat ride, he wore a fitted white shirt with a beige vest and jacket, without a necktie or cravat.

Ansi glanced around him. But Damion was alone. His family hadn’t come along.

“Didn’t the Duke and Duchess join the boating party?”

Damion didn’t answer. He simply watched her as she looked around, and when she finally met his gaze, he spoke.

“Did you want to meet them?”

“Well, they’re your family.”

She thought it would be good to see them in a casual setting like this.

But then again, if she did see them here… she might really push Cardian into the Benew River.

Regret and relief mingled in her heart.

“You’re already worried. Even if they’re family, I don’t want to share your attention with anyone else.”

He had no idea what she was thinking, and spoke as carefree as ever.

Devoting her attention solely to this man was something she could never promise. Damion de Orphey was merely a tool for her revenge—he could never be her goal.

Still, for now, keeping him close was her top priority.

“Even if your family were here, I would’ve had to focus on you anyway. The boat only seats two.”

Damion’s lips curled into a soft smile. With the grace of morning dew, he stepped onto the boat and reached out his hand.

“Come.”

Ansi took his firm hand and climbed aboard. The boat began to glide smoothly toward the center of the wide Benew River.

The once-crowded riverside grew quieter, the surface of the water calming, until only a gentle breeze surrounded them.

It hit her then—how far they’d come without any turbulence.

Ansi looked at Damion, who had just set down the oar.

“Do you go boating often?”

“When I was young, I wanted to be a boatman.”

“Huh…”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It just… doesn’t suit you.”

“What about you, Ansi? When you were seven or eight—did you have a dream?”

“I…”

Ansi lifted her head slightly, revealing the clear blue sky under her hat.

She had a time like that too—when she, like him, could chase daydreams without a care.

“I don’t think I had a specific dream. The world was just so interesting and lovely. Everything seemed kind to me back then.”

“Sounds like that’s no longer the case.”

“Because both I and the world have changed.”

“But some people still show you all the kindness you used to receive—condensed, perhaps.”

Ansi turned her eyes to Damion. He sat casually, arms crossed, pointing to himself with a nod of his chin. She let out a soft laugh, which he mirrored.

“I don’t know if it counts as a dream, but I remember thinking this once.”

“What thought?”

“When I was little, I loved tarts. I thought they were the most delicious thing in the world. So I decided I had to taste every tart there was before I died.”

“…Really?”

She’d said this before—hadn’t she?

A long time ago, to a scruffy boy who had jumped into a river.

He didn’t know how to swim. He must’ve meant to die. But when Ansi offered a long branch, he clung to it desperately.

She didn’t remember his face well… but somehow, he resembled the man in front of her now.

“Damion, do you know how to swim?”

“A bit early in the season for water play, isn’t it?”

“I’m not suggesting we swim.”

“I’m looking forward to summer then.”

“Do you know how to swim, though?”

“All Belgader’s soldiers must know. And I’ve known since I was young.”

“That’s… a relief.”

Ansi furrowed her brow slightly.

She hadn’t meant to say that. A relief… Why had those words slipped out?

But she quickly found the reason.

On the day she disguised herself as a lady of House Larwill, hadn’t she wished she could drown him in the river? If he knew how to swim, he would’ve escaped, and she would’ve lost her chance for revenge… How fortunate she hadn’t acted on that rash impulse.

So that “relief”—was a message to herself. It had nothing to do with the boy who tried to die back then.

Ansi quickly composed herself. Damion, meanwhile, simply watched her.

The black hair and blue eyes were the same. But the girl from back then was no longer a naive child. She had grown into a woman who saw the world through reality’s harsh lens.

“Why’d you go into the water if you couldn’t even swim?”

A girl’s voice echoed in Damion’s ears.

“…Because I wanted to die.”

“That’s strange. Don’t you have even one reason to live?”

The little girl had pulled the coughing boy out of the water and asked him so earnestly. Damion couldn’t meet her wide, innocent eyes.

“…I’ve never thought about it. Why do you live?”

“Because there are still too many tarts I haven’t tasted.”

“What?”

“I read it in a book. Everyone has a reason to live. I thought about it and realized… if I died without eating every tart in the world, it’d be such a waste.”

It was the most ridiculous reason to live. But the young girl had looked utterly serious—like she’d just discovered the meaning of life.

“My dad says there’s fig tart, cherry tart too. Wouldn’t it be such a waste to die without tasting them? Oh! And apricot tart.”

“…”

“Anyway, you should find one too. Something that’d be a real waste to die before achieving. That’s your reason to live.”

That night, Damion returned to the Orphey estate and carefully asked Elma:

“…Have you ever had apricot tart?”

The next morning, when he awoke, Elma had left one on his bedside table. As he bit into the sweet, sweet tart, Damion thought:

If I had died without tasting this, it would’ve truly been a waste.

A faint smile spread across his lips as he remembered.

“What’s with that look?”

Ansi tilted her head. Damion leaned toward her slightly and replied,

“Because I’m grateful you’re here in front of me.”

“I’ve always been here. And I’ll… continue to be.”

“You must keep that promise, Ansi.”